My sophomore year, I lived on a top bunk on the eighth floor of Unit 3. Not the most enjoyable experience for someone who is 6'3" trying to get into bed after an exhausting day of class and practice.

I hated that daily climb for a while. But eventually I came to realize that no matter what else had gone on that day - a bad test, a frustrating game - from my top bunk on the eighth floor, I could watch the sun setting over the city.

Ninety-nine percent of the day could have been terrible, but I still got that sunset – that one percent moment.

In basketball, it's really easy to recognize the one percents. An extra rebound or a free throw can be the difference between winning and losing.
 
It's harder to recognize the one percent moments in everyday life, but I've tried to make a point of looking for them.

Sometimes it's a song or a sunny day walking to class. Other times it's the smiles on kids' faces, asking for an autograph even after we've lost.

Or even just a really good cup of coffee.

Those one percent moments add up and suddenly the simplest things – things that might seem like nothing to someone else - mean so much more to me.

Being thousands of miles away from my home in New Zealand has helped make me focus on the little moments. Things like the 30-minute BART ride into the city to watch my little brother (a sophomore at Sonoma State) play basketball or spending New Year's Eve in a cramped dorm room with my mom and sister – having my true home with me on the other side of the world.

Moments that add up to something so much more.

During these four years in Berkeley, I've also realized that it's impossible to be "100 percent" all the time, and that it really is OK not to be OK.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder my junior year and it's made the one percent moments that much more meaningful.

I have to spend a lot of time trying to control my emotions – something that's hard for anyone – and that makes me really try to key in on the one percents. I focus on the little moments and sometimes even create them for myself, knowing I'll need it down the road. Things like getting to bed early so I'll be rested for the next day or taking a few minutes to just really listen to the music in my headphones and let my mind relax.

As I've sought help and learned to manage my condition, I've also come to realize that not being 100 percent doesn't mean I'm broken or something that should be fixed. The little moments – good and bad – are all part of where I've been and help shape the person I'm trying to become.

And as my time in Berkeley gets shorter and shorter, the little one percent moments carry even more weight.

A couple weeks ago, I walked into what I thought was the classroom for my sociology section. Turns out section had been cancelled and instead I was sitting in the back of a philosophy class. I probably should have just walked out and gone home, but I stayed.

How many more chances will I have to sit in a classroom at one of the best universities in the world and just listen to the brilliant minds around me?

Or walk down Telegraph, taking in the craziness that is Berkeley being Berkeley?

Or the late night locker room hangouts with my teammates, spending hours just talking and laughing?

As a senior, I've been trying to reflect on these last four years; what I've done, the people I've met, and the memories we've made. Lots of big things but so many little moments that have amounted to something more than I could have ever imagined when I first got here four years ago.   

As a senior, people also ask: "what's next?", "what are you going to do after college?', "how do you want your senior season to end?"

My answer sounds cliché, but it's the truth; I'm just focused on the next one percent.

The next practice, the next rebound, the next cup of coffee.

One percent at a time.  

It all adds up.