4th of July

Americans are so calm. They are patient and orderly, even though they were practically pranked by the president, who announced there would be a 40-minute fireworks show at 11:00 PM, but nothing happened until 11:59 PM. There was no booing; everyone just sat and waited. When it finally started at 11:59 PM and then ended, people headed back in a very orderly way. In the metro, everyone was calm and lined up, waiting for the trains to work. Even though it was packed and seemed impossible to get a spot, they remained completely quiet and calm.

Celebrating this, while also being reminded of the people in Palestine and other war zones, made me think: "Fireworks look fun, and the sound that mimics bombs hears as something amazing here," while it must be a deeply traumatic sound for people trying to survive with a "at least I didn't get bombed today" mindset. They probably just want to hide in the safest place on Earth, if such a place even exists. Hundreds of billions are spent on the military, weapons, and supporting wars that almost trigger World War III, yet they also spend millions for this 40-minute spectacular fireworks display. This country confuses me. I cannot fully feel the joy I am supposed to feel because I know something is fundamentally wrong.

I am also using this 4th of July fireworks moment to define a new chapter in my life. Graduating from a highly reputable university in this country, a dream I had maybe four years ago, automatically pushes my brain to say, "Thank you, America, for the two-year roller coaster of grad school, where the real lessons were actually all outside the university." It was a time when I got the chance to learn and observe so much from real human interaction, which will hopefully enrich me as a human being on this Earth. I cannot lie; I am deeply grateful for this experience in my late 20s.

The train was supposed to arrive at 2:29 AM, and we reached the station at 2:28 AM. Then, the metro staff started shouting, "Metro is closed!" What do you mean? Finding a way back home with my Indonesian friend in a country that just celebrated its independence day for the 250th time made me wonder: how can they fail to accommodate their people after 250 birthdays? And a 59-minute delay for the fireworks? Have they not learned from the people before them?

Thankfully, I managed to get a Lyft ride back home. Tiredly scrolling through my gallery rewatching the fireworks, I felt happy to have been a part of America's 250th Independence Day. When I arrived home, I jumped, smiled, and laughed randomly because the fireworks truly were satisfying. I would like to say thank you for all the moments that made me feel happy, sad, and confused all at the same time. Thank you, America!