I enjoy life most when I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

Let me explain.

I’ve never jumped a fence or run from security, but I do have an affinity for unbounded exploring. Part of my adventurousness may be attributed to my childhood dream of becoming a spy, sneaking into places like a less-cool James Bond. However, my primary motivator is an insatiable desire to experience everything—locations, ideologies, people—seeking the discomfort of new environments as a medium of learning.

Let me take you on a tour of a few of my escapades.

Stanford’s Cecil Green Library: I know, sneaking into a library doesn’t seem very exciting, but it was to me. My illicit incentive was the vast collection of books on Political Economics, titles I couldn’t find in any local library, my favorite being The Oxford Handbook of Public Policy. It was like I had accessed a bank vault of esoteric knowledge, and luckily the only guards were incredibly kind librarians, a couple of whom I’ve gotten to know by name.

Abandoned Bayside Cannery: One of the only spots in the Bay Area untouched by the tech boom. A creekside trail borders the old cannery, with its wooden roof collapsing and paint almost completely faded. As haunted as it looks, I’m drawn to the building as a time capsule. It’s fascinating how much has changed in the last hundred years, and I wonder what industries will go the way of the Bayside Cannery in the next hundred. Aside from its historical significance, the eerily beautiful trail nearby is my family’s go-to spot for long walks when we’re all too lethargic for a hike.

Santa Clara Republican Party Potluck: By far my scariest adventure. I was terrified that someone would upload a candid photo of the event to social media, publicizing my attendance and tarnishing my reputation as a progressive activist. Yet the very fact that I was afraid to eat lunch with Republicans reflects how much I’ve conformed to party lines, socially and ideologically. At the potluck, I made some friends and enjoyed a rare chance to chat politics in good faith. As someone who despises confirmation bias, the exchange of ideas was immensely satisfying. Maybe I also brought some subliminal progressivism to the table along with my homemade cookies.

Hotel Valencia: Unfortunately, this hotel’s elevators require a key card, so my best friends and I resorted to climbing the stairs to reach the rooftop patio. However, our sore thighs were rewarded with plush chairs to lounge in, dramatic sunset views, and the thrill of benign rule-breaking. The open yet secluded roof is our forum to talk about anything from crude oil prices to Stradivarius Violins, with our conversations often wandering to relationships, regrets, or family issues.

California State Capitol: I didn’t sneak in here; in fact, I was invited by Assemblymember Low, but I felt more out of place in those grand halls than anywhere else. It’s hard to blend in when every lawmaker is over twenty years older than me. Moreover, I was leading a team of California Youth Policy Alliance members meeting with those very legislators to advocate for ACA8, an amendment which would lower California’s voting age to 17. As I was training our team of activists, I had no idea if we kids would be taken seriously. Regardless, I was determined to give teens a greater voice in politics; the feeling of not belonging in the State Capitol reflects youth underrepresentation, an issue I feel is of critical importance. After all, current policy will impact our generation most (climate change being a prime example).

I’ve never gotten over my initial discomfort of new environments, but I’ve come to appreciate it. To me, discomfort indicates I’m breaking out of the routine and doing something of substance. In most cases, discomfort is my only barrier to exploration, but that’s a fence which can be jumped.