Why this semester is the best semester of my life

This semester I finally did it. This semester I had a goal and I reached it. This semester, I broke. I hit my limit. With seven classes, two TA positions, and independent study, and two extra-curriculars, my usually effortless balancing act finally failed.

This semester, I got my first B. Ever. I have never ever ever in my live long life gotten a grade below A- in a class. Not in lower or upper elementary schools. Not in middle school. Not in high school. Not my first three semesters at WashU. Heck, I just got $100 and an Engineering honorary award for having a three-semester 4.0.

And then tonight, I checked my e-mail. Will had mentioned getting his Engineering Math grade, and I have the same teacher for Probability and Statistics. Huh. I guess I should check to see if my grade is posted, too. I needed an 88 on the final exam, and it would be nice to confirm my strong suspicion that I had gotten it. Sure enough, waiting in my inbox, was "ProbStats final exam scores". I opened the e-mail, to which an excel spreadsheet of our scores was attached.

I opened the spreadsheet as a Google doc. It was loading too slowly. I opened it as html. Again, too slowly. Really? Must you play with me like this? I know I got an A, but that doesn't mean you have liscence to tease me. They both load. I find my unique four-digit number and look at the score. 41. Out of 50. Whatever my grades say, I know enough about statistics to realize immediately that the ride is over. I am human/mortal/normal/what-have-you, and... and... well, that's it.

To be honest, I thought this week might be the end of the line for my academic perfection. But my concern was purely with Quantum Mechanics. I was easing up a bit after taking the exam today and expecting to brace for the results at the end of the week. And then BAM!

You know the scene in Fight Club where Tyler Durden asks the narrator to punch him? But he wants it to be kind of unexpected. He wants a new experience and he wants it to be genuine. It is entirely over-dramatic of me to make the comparison between that scene and my semester, but I kind of like the idea, because in some ways that's really how it was. At the end of last fall, I looked at my registration worksheet and said "Punch me. As hard as you can." And it did. And I learned a lot about myself and what's important to me in the process.

For starters, I don't like taking 21 credits. Even when I thought I could pull out the 4.0, I was
dissatisfied with my level of understanding of the subjects I was taking (ironically, this was
least true of prob/stat). And they were all great classes. Taken under a lighter load, I would easily have put in twice as much work into most of them, purely because of how interested I was. Notice I say most.

Another thing I realized is that I really love computer science. Definitely more than physics and abstract math (both of which I, nerdily enough, still like). There's just something about it that makes it so interesting and fun and it comes naturally to me. I honestly can't think of a more enjoyable summer job than working on a Google-sponsored computer science project. Combine that with my plans for road trips, camping, canoing, and just hanging out with the people I love, and you have a recipe for the best three months I could ask for. Hold onto that last ingredient.

This semester increased my appreciation and understanding of the idea that no man is an island. I went to a "last lecture" given by Kit Wellman, one of the professors in the Philosophy department. (For the uninitiated, a last lecture is a talk given by professor with the prompt, "What would you say to your students if you knew this would be your last lecture?") He said that the two essential ingredients to the excellent human life are strong relationships and meaningful projects. (cut to my summer plans... cut back) What he said reflected something I had started to feel myself. I've realized that, particularly in the case of my academic prowess, I tend to look down on a lot of people as inferiors. I don't really even do more work than they do; grades just happen for me. But I look down on them. And this is something I wouldn't admit, even to myself.
I have a clear memory from freshman year, thinking about why I didn't really spend time with any of the guys on my floor. I imagined they thought of me as somehow stuck-up and too good for them. But of course, I told myself, of course that's not true. In fact, rather the opposite. I don't spend time with them because I wouldn't be good enough to fit in.

But it was true. They swore, they drank, they weren't as smart as me, they slept around, and they actually thought of this as a tough school to get into. Ha! This was my fallback school. This was the school I applied to on little more than a whim! I'm MIT material and I'm stuck in this "hidden ivy" school with people who are NOT my peers in any meaningful way.

I was stuck-up and too good for them. They were people I had to endure until I found better ones. They were unavoidable, but temporary. I was an island. Or at the very least a penninsula, staring straight out into the sea, where my award was waiting for me to overcome this challenge and demonstrate my worthiness.

I should perhaps mention here the subtle influence I really believe video games had on this mindset. Granted, I won't claim that it was any more than a limited promotion of an already developing attitude, but I do think its influence was there. You see, video games (single player ones, at least) tend to make the player an island. Even if there are other characters in the game, all of the success you have in the game is of your own making. And the games are designed so you succeed. That's what makes them fun. You can rescue princesses, save worlds, destroy worlds, win championships, win battles, and solve problems. You. Sitting there on your
couch, you have power and influence because you put in the time so you would level up and you found that hidden item that wasn't marked on the map. You.

This semester I gave up single-player video games. I realized I wasn't really happy with myself when I played them. I felt like I wasted time. I felt antisocial. I felt like I went over the line when I played almost a full day of Spore last semester, skipping classes and everything. I did go over the line when I played almost a full day of spore. But I really do enjoy video games when I play them with other people. We can talk and laugh about what's going on. We can be competetive. Or, as has happened this week with Fallout, I can just be a spectator, sharing the experience with the person playing the game without the need to have control of it myself. I've been happy with this decision.

I've been happy because I have shared that time with other people. Not because I beat some stupid game (or some stupid class) myself. And you know what? I've met some incredibly interesting people. Grad students, rock climbers, and music junkies, everyone has a passion. Some share my love of technology. Others are motivated by religion and philosophy. I met two people with a vision to restore the WashU radio station to its former glory, and got to know better someone with a dream for a whole new culture among the student body at school.

And now, somehow, the semester is over. Nearly, at least. With two more finals to do today, I probably shouldn't declare the end just yet. I also probably shouldn't stay up much later writing this. For now, I wish you the best with whatever summer signifies for you, and hope to get up a slightly tangential slew of Project 365 pictures very soon. Good night.