#sharon lin

[starsalvation]

—Sharon Lin, Untitled

[beingharsh]

I learned that university students in Germany were leaving their showers on in the summer because the cost of water was included in their rent, but the cost of electricity was not.

"Conservation", Sharon Lin

[profeminist]

An 18-year-old entrepreneur has idea that could change the world — and she might help change the tech industry too

Young entrepreneurs tackle water contamination, Austin-related anxiety, and more at a startup competition for young women.

“Sharon Lin is not your typical 18-year-old.

A freshman at MIT, Lin helped develop an Android app while interning at the US State Department. She's this year's Youth Poet Laureate in New York City. And She was named to Crain's 20 under 20 list.

She's also prospective entrepreneur who's CEO of her own company. And in that role, she could help reshape the tech industry and possibly change the world, if a recent contest is any indication.

Lin won the annual #BuiltByGirls startup challenge and its $10,000 prize. She was recognized for an app she developing to help impoverished communities around the world cheaply and easily find out whether their water supplies are contaminated with harmful bacteria.

"You only have to look at the finalists of the #BuiltByGirls Challenge ... to know that the future is in good hands," said Nisha Dua, the founder of #BuiltByGirls, the organization behind the contest.”

Read the full piece here

GO SHARON GO!!!

[theoffingmag]

it is not her voice i hear but the hymns of the northern village when the morning sun rises incense curling in tendrils of myrrh and rosewood, crimson and gold stinging brick laden grounds

Read: “when my grandmother sings” by Sharon Lin

[starsalvation]

—Sharon Lin, Exodus

[missedstations]

“Diasporic” - Sharon Lin

I have had enough of these chicken feet poems, R says. Everyone is repeating each other: moon, river, fish. So I write about castles, Iowa, that tow truck my dad never had. It’s easy to make up a life when you’re looking for a story. I tell my class during show-and-tell, these shells were from my mother’s dowry, not mollusks I plucked off the beach. It’s a shame I carry with me, unshakeable. I learned to be an imposter was not a skill they taught at sixteen, so I wrote about wandering, disappointment. The editors love sorrow. I read Jonathan Franzen then and David Foster Wallace, voices I wasn’t supposed to have in my head. I’m not always lost in China. I’m mistaken for a local, I know half the words, I get by and I know no one here. In every Chinatown, it’s the same squalor like time never passes, like the Chinaman is always wearing faded silk. I need to get out of my head. I travel in a train passing palm trees, groves, Salinas, dust bowls, a crow hopping by the side of the track, broken wing, no crows around. It’s the same story told backwards, returning to the heartland, foreign faces racing to the city, fields planted gold. I find photos from Tuka of rolling grass and yaks, pink beads and bells and cheeks without bones. Passing a golf course, a boy in red—his name is Kyle, he lives in San Clemente, he has his entire life planned. My name is Sharon, I live and god I can’t say more. I think there is no better place to be. Once in a class where we made dumplings and discussed migration. We are shaped by larger forces, the professor said. A force to push us back in place, pegs loose and rolling. To find myself, I say, I’m here to find myself. I’ll push every peg you need, write about chicken feet and how pepper tastes the same in every city. How many years before I forget the taste. I used to gather my fallen hairs in plastic bags, sweep the bathroom floor for strands. My mother wanders, forgetting, and I do not know where she sleeps tonight. She tells me diaspora means lost and I have nothing to lose. R thinks it’s brilliant how she stopped writing about fish: Do you remember the taste of fish? I only remember the bones.

[theoffingmag]

we remember the lessons learned from those cast away like sand in the wind when the only sound we heard were the mournful wallows from the darkened halls remembering how the timeless night was thrown into the ether

Sharon Lin, “when my grandmother sings,” published in The Offing

[humansofkeyclub]

"Key Club has changed my outlook on so many things. There's not another club with more enthusiasm, more drive, and more endless energy. I love how everyone is so open and so willing to pitch in. Even the new members can easily assimilate to the club because as diverse as it is, Key Club is meant to be a club for anyone and everyone. I love attending service events, because I've learned that even the smallest actions of kindness can have a lasting impact. To be honest, Key Clubbers are some of the most inspiring, kind, and genuine people I've had the pleasure to meet, and I'm so glad to be part of this community!"

-Sharon Lin Humans of Key Club Photographer

New York District Key Club Leadership Training Conference 2014

P.C. Danny Qiu