Thoughts On Perspective

Earlier this week I took my third midterm exam for my physics class, and was extremely disappointed to discover that I received a raw score of 80%.

Now, before you say 'but that's a good score!' just hear me out. 80% may not actually be that bad, but I haven't seen a score that low in a very long time. I expected better of myself. I had spent long hours studying the material, and I felt I was finally getting the hang of it, but that score made me feel like all that work was for nothing. Factor in that this is one of the three classes that will determine whether I get accepted to my major, and it seemed like the end of the world. I was legitimately freaking out.

Two days later, however, I received an email from my professor to the class, in which he said that the class average was 54%. Suddenly my 80% looked a lot better. I hadn't just survived the test--I had destroyed it. Realizing that the curve required to put the class average in the correct range will have me sitting pretty, I let out an obligatory shout of joy and bought myself a soda.

*calculator drop*

So why am I telling this story? It's not to brag. I hate bragging, and that's why college applications were so difficult. It's because my opinion of my score changed when I was able to see a broader context. From just my own score, it seemed I had not done well at all, but with improved perspective I saw that it was actually something worth celebrating.

I think that oftentimes our perspective clouds our judgment in much the same way. We may think we see the whole room, but we're actually looking through a keyhole. Sometimes we don't even realize that the door is unlocked. So even though it's been said many times, I think it bears repeating that we need to see the big picture, because it's something we humans habitually struggle with.

So how do you develop perspective? The short answer is I don't know, because with my limited life experience I'm not in any position to sprinkle you with sage wisdom. I can, however, tell you what works for me, and you may do with it what you wish.

First, identify the worst-case scenario. Assuming everything goes wrong, what will happen? What will the lasting consequences be? This is a great way to weed out the problems that don't matter in the long run. If it won't do any permanent damage, it's probably not worth the energy to worry about.

Second, think of actions you can take to deal with the issue. Is there something you can do to avoid the worst-case scenario? If not, what options do you have for coping with it? Again, if it turns out to be something you have zero control over, it's not worth worrying about.

Third, try to see from another point of view. By no means am I saying you have to adopt someone else's perspective (unless you like it better), but simply to try to understand.  Seeing multiple sides of an issue can help you make better judgments and leads to a lot less conflict.

Lastly, be sure to try both zooming in and zooming out. Sometimes with all the emphasis on the big picture, we lose the benefits of looking closer. Many issues that may at first seem unsurmountable can be broken into smaller pieces, some of which can usually be solved.

At the end of the day, we're all still seeing through keyholes, and we spend our whole lives trying to widen them. Sometimes it isn't easy, but I hope that we can all come to appreciate that a little perspective goes a long way. Perhaps it's a twist of fate that this is my first post since the U.S. Presidential election, but I'll leave that for you to consider.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Turning Leaves

Two months in, college isn't any easier than it was when I started. I mean, I expected as much, but some part of me was hopeful that it'd get better. Unfortunately, as the seasons change, my homework load doesn't.

Before I get going, I'd like to point out that the BYU Grounds Crew has somehow managed to keep the grass green long after the trees have given up. Seriously, it's November--no grass has a right to look this good this late in the year. I have no idea how they do it. Grounds Crew definitely has some magic powers they aren't telling us about.

Now, as for everything else, as I watched the leaves turning vibrant hues and dropping to the ground, I realized that I had actually let myself go, too. I was losing sleep, pulling successive post-midnight days in a row, practicing poor study habits and all but abandoning my standards of room cleanliness. I was irritable, exhausted and far from happy. I even had that maybe I should quit college moment. Through self-neglect, I had turned into a mess, and I saw that my current pattern wasn't sustainable. I needed to fix it, and quickly, before I threw myself into a self-imposed ruin.

So I made yesterday a sort of swift-kick-in-the-butt day, in an effort to put myself back on track. I cracked down on homework, went grocery shopping, cleaned my room and got to bed while the clock still said "PM" for the first time in a week. I even got started on NaNoWriMo (for those who are interested, I'm not going for 50,000 words because I know it won't happen. I'm just trying to see how far I can get.) Then I got up on time this morning, gave myself a good breakfast, made my bed and got a proper start to the day. I even chose to wear laced shoes instead of slip-ons, because in accordance with the bed-making philosophy, the act of tying my shoes actually made me feel more accomplished and capable. With that, I'm happy to report drastic improvement over the last twenty-four hours! I'm feeling happier, more rejuvenated and more in control. Ain't self-regulation awesome?

My thought for the day, then, is that it's never too late to start over. Sure, I completely lapsed on all of the good habits I was trying to build, but I put myself back on the path I wanted to be on, and you can too. Sometimes turning over a new leaf means raking up the old ones and throwing them into the fire, but sometimes you just have to pick back up a leaf you've dropped. Whatever the case, let your colors burn as brightly as the autumn trees--you'll thank yourself for it.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Midterms and Maruchan

Midterms. College students everywhere tremble at the very mention of the word. And they're upon us. Mine have been spaced so that the first set bled into the second, granting approximately zero relief in between. I've already endured the first test out of round two, and I have two more this week (one of them is dance; remember how hard I tried to avoid that class? I'm wishing I'd tried harder.) and calculus next week. At first I thought the concept of having three midterms per class seemed cruel and unusual...and I still do. I realized, however, that the second set takes the place of the first term final in high school, and that made more sense. I understand it, but I don't have to like it.

Thus, life has become an arduous cycle of intensive studying, hasty meals, sleep deprivation, piles of homework and a looming sense of fear and dread. In addition, I also have cleaning checks tonight, which would be a breeze if I had roommates that helped keep the place clean. (Not that I don't like them, it's just that their standards of cleanliness are very different from mine.) That said, it's going to be another long night.

Somewhere in all the chaos, I haven't been grocery shopping, Which means I've fallen back on a time-tested college survival favorite, the universal sign that a wayward student has run out of food and/or money. I'll give you a hint: it's six for a dollar at the store, it cooks in three minutes and it tastes like sodium and sadness. Parsimony, thy name is Ramen.

Fortunately, the emptiness is only in my cupboards and not my bank account, so I should be back to having the best meals in the dorm soon enough. I happen to have found a whole slew of seasonal dessert recipes that I'm just dying to try, assuming midterms don't kill me off first.

So how does one persist when the situation seems so dire? The most common college answer would probably be caffeine, but I have none in my possession. Instead, I've found a few other coping mechanisms, which I think you might be interested in.

• Music: never underestimate the power of a good pump-up song. Even a sad or depressing song can act as a cathartic emotional channel, allowing you to get back up and keep going.
• Food: exercise extreme caution, because it's easy to get carried away. That said, there is no better pep talk than that of a Reese's peanut butter cup.
• Short breaks: never study for five hours straight. Trust me, I've done it enough times to know it's a bad plan. Take ten minutes every hour or so to breathe, get a drink or anything else you may need.
• Writing: writing allows you to express emotion and reduce stress. This could be in a journal, on a personal project, or even on a blog. Why do you think I'm typing right now?
• Sleep: your bed is your best friend. Protect your sleep hours as much as possible, even if that means only doing the assignments that are due at midnight tonight. You'll be happier and more productive in the morning.
• Embracing the Pain: I have no idea what sort of switch got flipped in my brain for me to enjoy the novelty of utter misery, but for some reason I can randomly put a goofy grin on my face and become a homework juggernaut. I can't maintain it very long though, and I don't think anyone can, so save it for when you need it the most.

There you have it, my official Toolbox For When Life Stinks. There are other methods that I haven't discussed, and I encourage you to search for them if these don't work out for you. Meanwhile, in the face of the midterms knocking on my door, I've found a Latin phrase that differs from my customary farewell, but I find it all too fitting. See you on the other side.

Nos Morituri te Salutamus!

Lexical Pound Cake

Have you ever heard of lexical density? I hadn't until just recently. In basic terms, lexical density is a measure of how difficult it is to read a particular piece of text. This is calculated by dividing the number of unique words in that text by the total number of words, which grants a percentage value. Lower values indicate text that is easy to read, while higher values show text that is more difficult, or "lexically dense."

For some reason I was strangely enamored with this concept, so I decided to do some more research. I found that in general, works of fiction tend to have lexical densities between 49% and 51%. If that sounds like a very narrow range, just know that I thought so, too. And it warranted an experiment.

Now, I have been known to spend a lot of time doing calculations on relatively stupid topics (If you don't believe me, read this post from my other blog. You will never see gears the same way again). I also happen to be sitting on the complete manuscript for a sci-fi novel I spent most of high school writing, so I figured why not have a little fun?

Knowing that fiction is supposed to be between 49-51%, I wanted to know how my own work of fiction stacks up. I found a text analysis website that calculates lexical density and went to work. I had gleaned from my research that larger samples of text give lower values because you repeat words more often (my book uses the word "the" about 6,800 times), but I had no idea how different the results would be. Putting on my mad scientist hat for a moment, I did an analysis of the entire book, which caused the website to crash a couple of times before it finally worked. Pro Tip: Do NOT try to copy/paste an entire novel. Some websites just can't handle it.

The result? 18%. At first I was utterly shocked. Compared to the roughly 50% goal marker, 18% made my novel look like a Dr. Seuss book, right? I was highly skeptical, and remembering what I'd heard about the sample text size, I wondered what sample sizes were used to obtain the 49-51% figure. Cue more math.

I did another analysis on each chapter of the book individually, and the results were astonishingly different!

Chapter	Lexical Density
Prologue	62%
1	44%
2	50%
3	45%
4	58%
5	50%
6	53%
7	57%
8	49%
9	48%
10	56%
11	53%
12	51%
13	52%
14	53%
15	69%
AVERAGE:	53%

Suddenly it went from a picture book to the Oxford English Dictionary! What happened? I figure a chapter is a good enough mixture of description and dialogue that it should be a good cross-section of the work, but my average is 53%, which is definitely above 49-51%. And just look at the last chapter. That's the kind of number that you'd expect from some stuffy academic dissertation, not YA fiction.

I have a few different writing styles, each one meant for a different purpose. I thought that perhaps lexical density would be proportional to the level of formality, so I ran a diagnostic on one of my blog posts, where I'm definitely not formal in any way. (It was the organization one from last month, if you want to know). The result? 74%. Not what I expected at all.

So what does any of this mean? Frankly, I'm not even sure. But, according to the math, I use a greater word variety than most writers, but according to a reading difficulty index based on a different formula (the website gave me both), my writing is on the easy-to-read side. I didn't think those two things could go together, but I figure that clear writing with above-average word variety has to be a good thing.

I don't know what I'll take away from this exploration of useless stats and figures, and I bet you'll get even less from it, but at least we both know more about lexical density than we did yesterday, right? Plus, I think this has all been rather fun, even if the math says my writing is more like pound cake than meringue. But I think I'll let you be the judge.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Sticky Note Chaos

You may remember me mentioning in an earlier post that I wanted to dedicate an entry to the messages other apartments have spelled out of post-it notes in their windows. This is that post. Prepare yourself.

You may have seen this one before; I used it as a sneak peek earlier. It was the first, and it remains one of my favorites. After this had been up for a few days, they changed it to "Still hungry :(" and a girls' apartment in the building across the lawn replied with "No you're not," followed by "Come say hi." Sadly I didn't get pictures of all of them, so use your imagination.

This is the only one not spelled with sticky notes, but I felt it had merit. There used to be an additional sign that said "Come Date Me!" with a phone number, but by the time I came back for a picture it had been taken down. Too bad.

Remember the first picture? That one's in building 25, which faces building 26. Building 25 is a boys' building, 26 is girls. One day someone in 26 put up the word "Beans" and nothing else. Our dear friends in 25 #3204 (The 'please send food' people) replied with "Beans?" and another apartment in 26 also put up "Beans." Before long, no fewer than six apartments had the word "Beans" with either a period, question mark or exclamation mark, and everyone was confused. Finally the fourth floor of 25 put a lid on it with this:

After that, the windows were silent for a few days, until game day. For every football game, at least five apartments put up something along the lines of "Go cougs" or "Beat [insert opponent here]." Here's a sample.

Somewhere along the line our friends at 25 #3204 must've gotten some food, because they then tried to unload some excess peaches. The two responses from building 26 were nothing short of perfect.

Then there's 25 #4102. Poor 4102. All they want is some company, but it never seems to work out. One day I looked up and saw this (and the response) and couldn't help but laugh.

4102 has also tried "Somebody love me," "NCMO Tryouts" and "We <3 Girls" (sorry to say I don't have pictures of those). On the other side of the building, one apartment tried a different approach, which I think has been more successful.

4102 changed their approach, probably trying to be a little less creepy.

And this was the counter-offer from the first floor. Ah, capitalism.

So now you're up to speed on the window conversations. I hope you find them as entertaining as I do, and if I can gather enough to do another installment in the future, I will. In the meantime, I have some sticky notes to put up.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Rainy Day

It's been raining virtually nonstop for the last two days, which can do interesting things to one's mood. Between the cold temperatures, limited outdoor options and complete disappearance of the sun, I haven't been motivated to do much. This is a problem, since I have midterms coming up this week and need to study, but cannot find the drive to do it. Thus, I resolved to make today a good rainy day, to get myself into a more productive mood.

First off, I decided to make cookies, because nothing improves your mood on a cold, dreary day quite like warm, succulent disks of chocolate chip deliciousness. Plus, having cookies allows me to set up a  Pavlovian self-reward system to get my homework done.

In addition I spent a large chunk of time curled up under a blanket and listening to music, because being warm and relaxed tends to make people more productive than being cold and stressed. I also set aside some time to do things I enjoy between study sessions, not only to create study breaks but also to feel like I accomplished something I wanted to do, rather than just things I have to do. I also messed around with my lightsabers for a little while, because it's scientific fact that lightsabers make you smarter. True story.

That's basically it for now. Unfortunately I didn't build a fort in the living room of my apartment this time, although the thought did cross my mind. We had one last week and we'll probably build another fairly soon, so I'll keep you posted. Until then, I have the looming threat of midterms to keep me company. But I also have cookies, so y'know...

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Illness and Injury

I am now sick. I am the fourth in my apartment to fall victim to a particularly nasty cold, meaning only two of us are as yet unscathed. I hoped I would escape this one, but today I woke up to a barrage of congestion, runny nose, headache, nausea, drowsiness, fever and a sharp pain right at the point where the nasal passages intersect with the throat. I hate that.

Fortunately, I've been able to bulldoze through my classes despite how I feel, but I don't have much motivation left over for anything else. In fact, I'm typing this from my bed, with a heavy blanket, glass of juice and rapidly dwindling box of tissues.

Oh, and since most of us are either sick or slowly recovering, we decided to give visitors fair warning.

Now you're thinking but wait, doesn't the title mention injury, too? And you're right. A few days ago I slipped on the stairs to my building and scraped most of the skin off the side of one of my toes (bad day to wear sandals). For such a minor-looking injury, it bled an astounding amount and is still disproportionately painful. Many Band-Aids have been consumed.

By now I think I've solidified that this is the worst I've felt in a very, very long time. Still, I think there's something to be learned from it. I'm stubborn like that.

This cold happened to remind me of one I had last year, which stretched on so long that I actually forgot what it felt like to be in good health. The thought made me realize that when I finally recovered, I didn't think too much of it. This is probably because the path out of an illness is slow and gradual, while the way in is rather quick. As a result, you don't realize you've recovered until you look back one day and think to yourself oh look, I'm not sick anymore. Cool beans.

I'm personally frustrated with that pattern, since I believe one should enjoy the high points just as much as one hates the low points. If I hate being sick, shouldn't I celebrate being healthy? That's my point for the day: appreciate health. Look at yourself and say "Gee, I'm so glad I'm not sick right now!" because someday, when you least expect it, you might wake up with some Death-Virus like I just did. And if you aren't currently graced with the benefits of health, just keep pushing along. The world doesn't change what it demands of us just because we aren't in peak condition, so instead we have to change our approach. Take it a day at a time, and someday it'll all work out. I'm rooting for you!

Hic Manebimus Optime!

How I Became a (Slightly) More Organized Person

There's one thing I'd like to say before we get started. I've always been a messy person. Everywhere I go seems to wind up looking like an earthquake struck, or at least that's been the case for a very long time. In the past week or so, however, it seems a miracle has occurred: I've suddenly become organized.

How did this happen? Frankly, I have no idea. I imagine a "responsible adult" switch got flipped somewhere, but that explanation does little to satisfy my loyal readers, so I'll tell you one other theory: I started making my bed.

I realize that probably sounds dumb, but there are plenty of articles that talk about how making your bed not only makes your room look better, but provides a sense of accomplishment, thus setting you up for a day's worth of successes. Plus, when it's time to go to bed at night, you arrive to a tidy, comfortable setting instead of the disaster you left in the morning. Multiple sources claim that building a bed-making habit works wonders, so I decided to give it a shot. And yes, I just became one of those I-didn't-believe-it-until-I-tried-it-and-you-should-too people. Yep, I'm cringing too. Try not to think about it too much.

After that, I seem to have followed a whole chain of organizational habit-building, including the following:

• Maintaining a clean desk. My workspace looks better than it ever has, and for once I have enough room to actually do work while sitting there.
• Using a planner. I've never been able to keep that up for more than three days before, but now I find myself pulling it out all the time.
• Using a calendar. It's a big version of the planner. I've never used one of these properly before, either.
• Cleaning for no reason. Yep, I turned into one of those people. I kind of hate it. But my room looks nice.

Now, I have no business making claims about my great strides without providing photographic proof, right? Right. First off, I'll show you two of my roommates' room. It looks a lot like they way mine did a few weeks ago.

 In contrast, here's mine now. Not bad, right?

Plus, who doesn't love this bedspread? (apart from vegans, I suppose--I don't think they make "keep calm and eat salad" fabrics.)

Oh, and this is my desk. Also looking pretty good lately.

So that's it. I'm going to try not to gloat about how my room is the cleanest in my apartment, or how I'm mastering techniques usually reserved for Pinterest people. Okay, I'm gonna gloat a little. Here we go.

There. I'm done now.

I'm not going to try to push these organizational behaviors on anyone, mostly because I tend to react violently when people tell me what to do with my space. Instead I'll leave you to ponder your options, and maybe submit a humble suggestion that you try making your bed. See if you like it.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Trial And Error

Normally I would be waiting a few more days before my next post, but quite a bit has been happening recently, and I felt I should make up for my less-than-diligent summer installments, so here we go!

I have now completed a week of classes, and I must say I'm getting used to the college dynamic. By which I mean I've embraced the fact that everything could change at any time. College is a world of spontaneity, and I'm discovering more and more that the the best way to get through it is to stay loose. You have to be simultaneously relaxed and on your toes. I'll let you decide whether that's actually possible.

A thought occurred to me as I was thinking about a certain board game, in which a group of players must work together to succeed. Each round, a new crisis faces the colony, and players must join forces to combat their circumstances. I believe living with roommates is a remarkably similar dynamic. Sometimes the crisis is a communication breakdown which has caused there to be six gallons of milk in the fridge, and sometimes the crisis is that a toilet is clogged and nobody in the entire building owns a plunger.

I'm happy to say that we've survived both of those scenarios. It only got sketchy for a little while.

This week also saw the emergence of new communication methods between apartments. I have heard that putting signs in windows is a fairly common thing, but I've been pleasantly surprised with some of the things other students have spelled out of sticky notes on the glass. It's gotten to the point where entire conversations have developed, and I plan to make a whole post out of it, so in the meantime I'll give you a teaser trailer from an ill-prepared apartment two stories above my own.

And that's just the beginning. More of those later.

In other news, last night my roommates and I went to a friend's apartment to watch the football game against Arizona, which was very fun, if a little long and drawn out. I mentioned last time how the level of school spirit in college is flat-out intoxicating, and I'm finding more and more evidence to support this. First of all, BYU is known for having one of the strongest traveling fan bases in the country. This was proven true when we out-sold the Arizona fans at what was considered their home game. Granted, it's important to note that it isn't technically their stadium, but it's a lot closer to them than to us. Secondly, following our field goal victory in the last six seconds of the game, everybody we saw on the street cheered back and forth with us as we walked home. Drivers honked, passengers yelled and night joggers high-fived us in single file, making it really sink in that everybody was watching. We didn't make it back to our dorm until about 1:00 in the morning, but it was worth every minute.

Come 6:00, of course, I was rudely awakened by the ear-splitting noise of the fire alarm. Now, I've been through plenty of fire drills at various places, but this alarm was something else. It's RIDICULOUSLY LOUD. By the time I stumbled out of our dark apartment and onto the lawn beside the building, I was already checking to make sure my ears weren't bleeding.

That isn't the end, either. Once outside, we had to sit listening to the unholy noise for a solid thirty minutes, barefoot and freezing, while the hall advisors and fire department determined the problem. The verdict: some kindhearted soul pulled the fire alarm for absolutely no reason. I had hoped that college students would have grown past that sort of junior-high-level prank, but I suppose I was wrong. It isn't all bad, though; I may be falling asleep on my feet now, but I had half of my homework done before the sun came up, so it's all good.

That's all for now. Tomorrow I will be using my class-free Labor Day to recover from my sleep deprivation and most likely clean the apartment, which has rapidly deteriorated over the last four days. I have my work cut out for me.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

First Day Of College

Ok, so today wasn't actually the first day of college, but I intended to write a post prior to now. In fact, I wanted to write one when I moved in last week, but it didn't happen. So here we are, on the second day of college. Apologies for that.

I'm in there somewhere!

So what's it like? Well, I'm not at Harvard. But if you didn't already know that, I'm not sure what to tell you. I am, however, at Brigham Young University, and I'm enjoying it, if I do say so myself. College is very different from high school, and the last few days have been a major adjustment. I think I'll take a little time to talk about some notable differences, for all those future generations of freshmen and anyone else who may be interested.

1. Living with other people. I have five roommates now instead of my family, and they behave very differently from my family. It will take time to get used to their individual quirks and behaviors.
2. Classes are much farther apart. On a large campus, the struggle is not only to find your classroom, but to find the building in which the class is held. I've been carrying a map lately.
3. Cooking my own food. My summer culinary crash course is serving me well thus far, but it is difficult to juggle cooking time with homework, sleep and the slim possibility of social interaction.
4. Unrealistic expectations. Most professors will claim that you need three hours outside of class for each hour in class, but if you do the math that often adds up to more than 24 hours each day, let alone the fact that I need to sleep sometime. In a world where it's literally impossible to satisfy everyone's demands, you need to learn to put your sanity ahead of school.
5. Rooming with people who stay up later than you. I sleep like a rock, so it isn't really an issue if I turn in early, but for most people this is a legitimate concern, so take note.
6. More than four classes per day. I have five on some days, which is more than I've had on a single day since junior high.
7. Fewer than four classes per day. I also have days with two. This makes it difficult to establish a routine.
8. Unprecedented levels of school spirit. It doesn't matter what sport you're watching or who the opponent is; if you're in the student section, you're fully invested. No excuses.
9. Love/hate relationships. I've developed a lot of these with various things (but not people, thankfully), school being chief among them. I like being here, but I despise homework.

I heard someone say not to let your education get in the way of college, and another not to let college get in the way of your education. Though it seems paradoxical, both of these are true. And in a way, they both say the same thing: much of our learning and growth is done outside of the classroom. It's those little things that happen each day that make us who we are, and ultimately they're the reason why I have to say I love it here.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

My Final High School Achievement

Greetings! If you read my posts regularly, you'll probably noticed that it has been several weeks since I've written anything. Don't worry, you haven't missed much. Summer has just been far less eventful than high school, and there aren't life-changing milestones coming up every other week like there were two months ago. I've just settled into a calmer pattern of working, writing (other things, I mean; obviously I've neglected this blog a little) and getting sunburned. But high school had one last milestone to throw at me: my final AP score reports.

As most current high school students and recent graduates know, AP scores were released this week. I was fairly optimistic about my performance, particularly in English Literature & Composition and U.S. Government, but I wasn't so sure on Statistics. I'm more of a hard calculations guy than a talking-about-what-numbers-might-mean guy, so the entire concept of statistics never really jived with me. I am, however, happy to report that everything worked out all right in the end.

Remember my post about the AP amulets I kept in my pockets? If not, read it. It's a personal favorite of mine. The point is, they worked! I came away with fives from all three of my tests this year, meaning I have now scored a five on every AP test I ever took. That's something I'm rather proud of, even if most of the AP credit won't help me.

In closing, I have a bit of advice to offer to anyone taking AP tests in future years. Most academic professionals will give the same formula for success. It goes something like this:

Hard Work + Dedication + Studying = 5

There is something to be said for that approach, but seeing as I had my Calculus rock with me for every test, I believe there may be an alternate path. Behold.

Pocket + Calculus Rock = 5

I think I'll let you decide which equation is more correct.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

What Would You Do For $2250?

This is the story of how I wound up registered for social dance. First of all, I'd like to apologize for once again not posting on Friday, but I was lifeguarding a swim meet for a massive chunk of the day and didn't have enough time to make it happen. (I'll also point out that it was very strange for me not to be in the pool at this meet, but at least this way I get paid.)

Before we begin, I feel I must establish how much I dislike dancing. Which is quite a bit. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the only thing on this earth that makes me more uncomfortable than dancing is tomatoes. No, I will not explain my irrational loathing of tomatoes. Just use your imagination.

Now for the real story. One of the scholarships I'm on track to receive (amounting to about $2250 for this year) requires that I provide proof of registration in at least 15 credits of classes for my first semester. That doesn't seem too bad, or so I thought. At the time I learned of this requirement, I was registered for 14 credits, meaning I needed one more credit.

This is where things get complicated. In order to come up with one more credit, I would need to add a class, preferably one I might enjoy or that could fill a graduation requirement. I had one plan to add two student activities classes (that's code for fun classes), which are half a credit each. Unfortunately, freshmen register last, and literally all of the options I was remotely interested in already had very long waiting lists. End of Plan A.

Plan B: add a cool class, where I might actually learn something useful to my career aspirations without burying myself in homework. One in particular was Innovation Boot Camp, a one-credit class that only meets twice. That's it. Twice. I would be done before my other classes even got rolling, and the class description sounded right up my alley, including developing creative reasoning and inventing skills. I was ready to register for it...until I realized it was a 300-level class. Regardless of how hard it actually is, I don't think I want to be in it with a bunch of juniors and seniors who actually know what they're doing. I had similar results with the entrepreneurship lecture series class. End of Plan B.

Plan C: take an Honors program class. These classes fill two requirements, since they're essentially cognates of two subjects. I wanted to take one on the philosophy of mortality, because it sounded much better than a repeat of my high school biology class for the same requirement. Sadly, it conflicted with other classes in my schedule, some of which had no other sections available. End of Plan C.

Plan D: music! Music 101, or Music Appreciation as we call it at home, is a three-credit class that involves listening to lots of music, learning about different time periods in music history and some basics of musical genres. It wouldn't be anything I didn't learn in my years of piano theory or French horn, so it should be just a nice, easy opportunity to listen to music. And if I thought my schedule was too overloaded, I could postpone my Intro to Honors course (two credits) and still have the 15 I need for my scholarship. Sound too good to be true? It is. That class was full too. End of Plan D.

Plan E: take a writing class? I want to pursue a creative writing minor later in my collegiate education, and several writing classes would grant me useful knowledge as I edit my first novel and embark on several others. Guess what? They all have prerequisites, which as a freshman I haven't yet filled. I'll be back, cool writing classes. Just you wait.

This leaves us with Plan F. Have you guessed what it is? It's social dance. One credit. There's a reason why the men's sections of social dance never fill up. Why's that? Because most of us guys have a natural and instinctive fear of social dance. That's what it boils down to. We fear it. Being a swimmer doesn't help much, as our kind is notoriously uncoordinated in all things that involve being...on...land. Dancing takes place on land. That's bad.

But here I am. Having exhausted all alternatives, I am enrolled in social dance. Hooray for scholarship requirements. Of course, I suppose there are worse ways to get $2250.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

So This Is Summer

I feel I should warn you that I'm going to go light on the deep, philosophical statements this time around. With it being the season of fast-paced action and shallow beach reads, it only seems fitting to write something goofy. After all, life as a Reject isn't all hard-core motivational speaking. Sometimes it's building a sasquatch nest out in the woods somewhere. More on that later.

First of all, I've been working quite a bit this week. I'm a lifeguard, which means lots of sunscreen, brutal heat, politely yelling (yes, that is indeed possible) at small children, and more sunscreen. So with all that sun, shouldn't I be working up a pretty good tan soon?

The answer is no. Actually, for several years I've been convinced that I'm immune to tanning. I like to joke that I look like Michelangelo chiseled me from stone--not because of muscle, but because I'm that pale. I'm putting forth effort to change that this year, so by the end of the summer I'll be able to call it one way or the other, but for now all I've got is a single random sunburn patch on one leg.

Nevertheless, all this time in the sun has ushered in the summer spirit, so we decided to go up the canyon for a family cookout. Right now I'll point out that it's really awesome to have a good forest close to home. Not everyone has one. Oh, and also I believe myself to be pretty good at building campfires.

The strangest thing was that a short distance from our picnic table, we found a large bowl shape built out of rocks, easily big enough to fit two or even three people. It was rather shabby and uncomfortable, but nothing a few minutes, a lot of rocks and a wealth of Lego experience couldn't fix.

By the time I was done with it, our little sasquatch nest was amazingly comfortable. I'm not kidding. I put down flat stones like tiles in the bottom, and I honestly felt like I could take a nap right there. Who needs memory foam when you've got good old rocks?

Call us the Rock Ness Monsters.

Just one more thing. I practiced making a s'more variant that involves cooking biscuit dough on a specialized stick to make a cup shape and then filling it with chocolate and marshmallows. I'm still perfecting my technique (It's very tricky, in point of fact), but when I get it right I'll devote a post to it.

That's all I've got right now. No deeper message, no moral, just me and all of my strangeness. Man, I love summer.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

I Graduated. Now What?

One week has transpired since I graduated from high school, and I have had one very important epiphany: it's really hard to remember what day it is when you aren't going to school or work every day. That is why this post is coming out on a Saturday instead of my standard Friday. I actually forgot it was Friday until it was too late. Go me.

Even so, I'm fascinated by the emotional journey I've been subjected to in the last week. This is roughly how my thought process tracked through the first few days:

Day 1 (Graduation): Wow, this is so nice! We actually did it!
Day 2: I'm going to take a day off. I'd say I earned it.
Day 3: I suppose I should start trying to be proactive now. Where's something to do?
Day 4:  Wait... it's Monday... NO SCHOOL! YES!
Day 5: I'm never going to see any of my friends again...
Day 6: There's still social media, right? *logs on to various networks* Hey, wait a second... am I the only one who didn't go on a senior trip? How come I didn't get invited?
Day 7: You mean I actually have time to pursue my hobbies now?
Day 8: Nope, cancel that. I work six days next week.

And here we are.

That said, I'd like to point out that I did actually accomplish some things in the past week. I think I'll list some of them for you. Perhaps it'll give someone ideas on what to do with all this extra time we've inherited, now that we've graduated. But mostly because I just like lists.

Things I Did After Graduation

1. Got a job (lifeguarding, to be specific. Gotta work on that tan. Actually, I don't tan. I just get less white.)
2. Cleaned off my desk at home. I might actually use it, now that school's over. (I had a tendency to do homework wherever I was when I opened my backpack--usually the living room floor.)
3. Cleaned some more in several other rooms in the house. Mostly mine. I don't think it's been fully cleaned since elementary school.
4. Yard work! Garden planting, lawn mowing...trying to make my skin change from translucent to opaque...
5. Learned to cook some things I enjoy eating (hard core college survival skills, right there. I'm going to need to be a master of making something other than pie. I am good at pie.)
6. Started writing another book (and no, I am definitely not one of those people who starts a hundred books and winds up with a pile of Chapter Ones. I'll cover that in a later post.)

So that's basically it. I was expecting to get through graduation and discover my all-new adult self, but much to my dismay I'm still me. Apparently there is no switch to pull to turn you into a responsible adult. I suppose the best thing one can do is apply oneself and hope for the best. I've found that persistence trumps everything, so with luck I'll get the hang of this post-graduation thing pretty soon. We'll see what strange foods I'm cooking next week.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Spread Your Wings And... Fall?

Today, I graduated from high school. Graduation means a lot of things to a lot of people, but for me, it's the culmination of thirteen years of exhausting work. After this, I never have another day of public school again, and that's just fine with me.

The ceremony was especially interesting because as a French horn player, I was duty-bound to play in the orchestra onstage. Let me just point out to you that it is very difficult to provide the music at graduation whilst simultaneously graduating. Fortunately, it went smoother than I expected.

Apart from that, I realized that the real beauty of the ceremony lies in how it brings people together. I bumped into a lot of friends from way back in elementary school, most of whom I haven't seen much the last few years, and we picked it up like it was yesterday. It felt natural, that the people we started with should be the people we ended with.

Me and my long-lost crowd of elementary school homies

Plus, I got balloons! And who doesn't like balloons? Okay, maybe I have a strange fascination with them that most others lack, but they're still nice. When they behave, that is.

Balloons!

When balloons refuse to comply with your wishes. Dirty rebels.

Okay, at this point the balloons are winning.

I could go on talking about the ceremony, all the extra honorary things I wore over my gown, the strange mix of emotions associated with the event and all that other graduation junk, but today that's not my focus. I'll likely talk about school withdrawal and post-graduation depression in a week or two, but today I've set about to provide you with a meaty philosophy nugget, and that's what I'm going to do.

One of the speakers at the ceremony (a friend of mine, I might add) made the point that "if you're careful enough, nothing good or bad will ever happen to you." I let that sink in for a moment, then heard another bit that's just as good: be more afraid of mediocrity than failure. Now combine that with the theme for this year's graduation, "fortune favors him who dares," and you've got a pretty nice thesis going. They all encourage us to take risks, because risks lead to greater rewards.

During the speeches, a teacher at my school was quoted, saying "spread your wings and soar." The story behind said teacher's incessant eagle metaphors is deserving of its own post, so I might do that later. But essentially, if you combine all of these, you get go out and try something, because even if you fail, at least you're not mediocre. That appeals to me, because as a Reject I've tried and failed at plenty of things, and I think it's really the only way to get things done in life.

So this is what I leave you with: Go out and fail at something. That seems like a really weird piece of advice, and I'll admit that it is, but growing accustomed to trying things no matter how impossible the odds are will lead you to greater success in the long run. Who knows? If you keep trying, you just might accomplish something amazing.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

That Empty Locker Feeling

With only one week left of high school now, the end-of-year procedures have begun, and the nostalgia is hitting hard. AP tests are over, meaning the pressure has been removed from most of my classes, and what remains shouldn't be too hard. Seeing as I essentially only have a stats project left to do (really a glorified free-response problem), I've had some time to think the deep thoughts.

Today was locker clean-out. That's normally a joyous occasion, signifying the end of the work and a beginning of summer. It's one half of a cycle; you find your locker at the beginning of the year, and empty it at the end. In practice, however, clean-out seems to come first, and new lockers second. This is because the distance between clean-out and new locker is only three months, whereas the distance between new locker and clean-out is nine months. The two events serve less as bookends to the school year as they do for the summer. The summer begins with emptying your locker, and ends with getting a shiny new one.

My problem is that this time, the summer won't end with a new locker. I don't get to look forward to returning to old friends, perfecting my paths across the school and embracing my higher status in the school hierarchy. This time, it's over. This is it. At the end of this summer, I won't be returning to someplace familiar, someplace that has become a part of me through all the laughter and tears. I'll be in a whole new place, far from home, in a sea of strangers, trying to navigate the world I've been dropped into.

That realization is what led me to understand the true significance of my locker. This year, I didn't use it for much. In fact, I put my physics textbook in it on the first day of school, and didn't open it again until I needed to stash my lunch during AP tests two weeks ago. Why, then, should I be sad about letting it go?

The truth is, a locker isn't just a locker. I could've kept my physics book at home. Some would argue that I should have (though I assure you I have excelled in the class without it). I put that book in my locker because I didn't want it to be empty. My schedule did not require that I use it as extensively as I have in previous years, but I wanted to keep something in it anyway. A locker provides a sense of place, a feeling of belonging. It's your spot in the school, a link that ties you to the environment where you spend the craziest years you've ever lived through (thus far, of course). Having something in my locker made me feel that I had a place there. It was a sort of anchor, not something I consciously thought about, but something that was always there. And I think that subconscious stability helped me through what I believe to be my hardest year of school.

That's why it was painful for me to turn the knob and pull the lever for the last time, to take that dusty physics book back to the school library. When I walked away from that locker, I severed my last tangible tie to my school.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it's almost over. I never loved school, homework or getting up before dawn for swim practice. But this is the place where I've practically lived for years. This is where I've been through the good times and bad, growing up and learning new things, and trying to figure out who I am. This is where I met half my friends, and I know that there are some I'll likely never see again. All these things are integral parts of my high school experience. Those memories are tied to this place, and my locker is my slice of that place. It's a symbol of my identity.

So without a locker, what am I? In the past I've identified as a swimmer, a musician, a nerd. Those are all things connected to high school, and without that, what's left? All external sources of self-definition have been removed, and the next time I walk into a classroom, I'll have nothing to tell me what I am. This time, I'll have to discover what I'm really made of. And at the end of the day, once the dust settles, I can tell you I'm excited to find out.

Hic Manebimus Optime.

AP Squared: Advanced Placement Amulets of Power

You might have noticed I was AWOL last week, and I have an extremely short explanation to account for this. Here it is: AP tests.
During the two-week AP testing season, I was rendered unable to do much of...anything, really. In truth, by the time you return from a four-hour testing ordeal on top of a half day of normal school, your brain is essentially liquefied. And that doesn't even account for lifeguard training, National Honor Society service hours or the other things I've been occupied with of late. Simply put, testing survival mode entails meticulous preparation, semi-superstitious rituals, suspension of non-vital tasks and quite a bit of pencil sharpening, culminating in a fit of catatonic post-test trauma.

Thankfully, I survived. I think. It is possible that I'm writing this post-mortem, but not likely; I mean, I've heard of ghost writers, but I don't think that's what the term is supposed to mean.
I took three AP tests this year, which is the most I've done, but only about average at my school. I truly feel sorry for the students in the IB program. One of my IB friends had seventeen tests this year, so I suppose I should count myself lucky with three. These were English Literature and Composition, United States Government and Politics and Statistics.

Of these, the first two were simultaneously the most important and the least stressful, which is a good thing. Stats was a source of incredible stress until I realized the credit will not actually help much in my planned major, so in reality my score doesn't matter. That revelation offered great relief, such that I believe I performed better purely because I was relaxed. All in all, I think I did very well. I'll probably talk about it in July when scores come out.

To what do I owe my success? Definitely these things right here. And I'm only partially joking. I'll explain in a minute. First, let's identify what exactly these are. They're basically "AP Amulets" given to us by a few teachers at my school, to remind us of subject matter pertaining to a specific test. Rather than use them for only the corresponding test, however, many students at my school (myself included) bring them along to all of our AP tests for luck. Let's discuss them one by one:

• The Calculus Rock: These rocks with smiley faces are given out by AP Calculus teachers here. Although the rock itself is not inherently connected to the calculus curriculum, it serves to remind us of our rock-solid preparation for the exam, and also feels very good to hold in your hand when you're feeling stressed. Plus, it reminds you to smile! I took calculus last year, but I still brought my rock to all of my tests this year. I got 5's on both of my tests last year with it in my pocket, so why mess with a good thing?
• The Statistics Dice: These were given out by my AP Statistics teacher. They are, quite obviously, symbolic of probability, but have a few other perks as well. Mostly when you finish a test section and have time left, you can entertain yourself. Also when a proctor walks by, you can roll a die and fill in the bubble corresponding to the result, which should make them question your sanity. (I'm serious, people actually did that, purely to mess with the proctors.) Because let's be honest, if you really don't know the answer, you should always choose B. Always.
• The Jesus Band-Aid: These are given out every year by my AP English teacher. Why? Well frankly it's a very, very long story that involves everything from Jesus action figures to pencil toppers (they really make those things?) and actually has nothing to do with anybody's religious affiliation. The short version is that this serves to remind us to recognize Christ figures in literature. And maybe to remind us to pray if the situation becomes dire.

There you have it. These are the amulets of AP power. While they don't have magical abilities or anything, I can attest to a legitimate placebo effect. Carrying something like this in your pocket can actually make you feel more confident, which translates to better performance. And most of my compatriots and I don't even bother to stow them in our pockets, preferring instead to keep them on the tables in front of us as a constant motivator. We're weird like that.

Right now, I'm just relishing the fact that I never have to take another AP test again. It's a glorious thing. As for my lucky charms? In all likelihood I'm still going to have them at my college finals. Just you wait.

Oh, and one final message to those stalwart souls in the IB program:
My condolences. Seriously.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

One Reason to be Glad I Got Rejected

Quite a bit of news has surfaced recently about the mumps outbreak at our dear Harvard. In truth, the outbreak began back in February, but had not been publicized previously because precautions were being taken to isolate patients and prevent spread. With over forty confirmed cases up to this point, the university seems to have been unable to contain the outbreak, which means bad things for Harvard students.

Mumps has become a fairly rare problem in the United States because it is easily preventable with a vaccine. Now you're thinking 'okay, so those students weren't vaccinated, so what?'
The problem is, they were. All of the students currently affected were immunized, as per university regulation, and yet they contracted the virus anyway. So how is that even possible?

Since Harvard students come from all over the country (and the world), these students received their vaccines from many different locations, eliminating the possibility of a bad batch of vaccines. Thus, in my estimation, the only remaining possibility is that the strain of virus in this outbreak is resistant to the vaccine.

We interrupt this post to ask a very important question: why does the biohazard symbol look so darn cool? It's literally my favorite symbol in all the world of symbols. But I digress.

Now, before we all start jumping to conclusions, we should establish what the danger level is for this virus. I'm a bit of a disease junkie myself; I love movies like Contagion, I play games like Pandemic and Plague, Inc. and I have done multiple school projects on everything from cholera to the bubonic plague, so I'm personally fascinated by the logistics of this type of outbreak.

The virus is basically non-lethal, seeing as the symptoms consist of inflammation, fever, aches and pains and headache, and nearly all patients make a full recovery. So essentially life and limb are not at stake here, but it can make for a very unpleasant few weeks.

In order to minimize the number of students enduring those unpleasant few weeks, Harvard has admonished their students to take the outbreak seriously and to 'stop infecting each other.' The virus is transmitted through saliva, mucus and respiratory fluids/vapors (so it isn't exactly an airborne pathogen, but I wouldn't let anyone breathe on me if I were them), so as a word of warning to anyone who is actually at Harvard, do try to minimize contact with any of those fluids.

Returning to the title of the post. I'm not actually glad I got rejected, and I never will be, but I may have secured a unique benefit: I wasn't at Harvard for Admitted Students Weekend (refer to previous post). Cases began in February, meaning that anyone who has stepped onto the Harvard campus since February has been at some degree of risk. Theoretically anyone visiting the school on that weekend, including me if I had been accepted, could have been infected. And seeing as the virus is not currently contained and seems to ignore immunization, undocumented cases are roaming the campus at this very moment, infecting more unlucky souls. The threat is real.

So I suppose I get to count my blessings this time, since I'm currently at home, at precisely zero risk of mumps. But that could change, if the virus is indeed unaffected by vaccines (cue dramatic music)

In all seriousness, my sympathies go out to anyone unfortunate enough to be enduring the illness, and I hope those uninfected Harvard students will take measures to keep themselves healthy. I have full faith in the university's resources and ability to handle the outbreak, and I wish them the best, but frankly I'm glad it's one thing I don't have to worry about. So I guess I sort of won? Yeah, let's go with that.

Hic Manebimus Optime.

Non-Admitted Students Weekend

This past weekend was the Admitted Students Weekend at Harvard, an event where admitted freshmen for the class of 2020 are encouraged to visit the school to learn more about what it's like to live there.
I obviously did not spend that weekend in Cambridge, as much as I would have liked it. Being inexhaustibly hopeful, I had tried to keep that weekend clear on my schedule, but my rejection left me with a conspicuous hole on the calendar. So how did I spend that time?

I went to PrepperCon. This is not a prep school convention, as one friend misinterpreted. This is a convention for doomsday preppers. And they had everything. Gigantic trucks, tents, generators, filtration systems, weapons, ammunition, shelters, firestarters and an abundance of preserved food (and therefore free samples). There was even a custom-built hurricane simulator that allowed guests to be exposed to 120-mile-per-hour winds.

While there, I attended a seminar on preparing for and survivng an EMP (electromagnetic pulse, for the layman). As an amateur sci-fi author with an interest in post-apocalypse stories, this was pure gold. I learned a whole bunch of stuff about Faraday cages, phases of disruption and arc lightning, but the most interesting parts were about reconstructing a society after an EMP. Since national infrastructure would collapse, self-sufficiency, sanitation and defense become the largest concerns.

As much as I'd love to keep talking about the EMP class, I know that if you're genuinely interested you can learn more from Wikipedia than from me. This is, after all, a chronicle of post-Ivy League rejection, not post-apocalypse survival, so I figure I should move on to the other displays.

This is a picture of frankly the scariest truck I've ever seen. I'm in there for scale; keep in mind, at 6'3" I'm not exactly short, and this thing is huge. It boasts six-wheel drive, the ability to ford six feet of water and EMP hardening, and it's even street legal. Though why you would worry about street legality in the apocalypse, I have no idea. It burns enough fuel you would never drive it while society is still functioning. Oh, and the zombies all over it are a nice touch.

This is a Vital Dome. It's a survival structure not meant so much for camping, but for replacing your house should it be destroyed. It's designed to last through three years of continuous living, and the transparent panels allow it to glean heat from the sun. It can also be retrofitted with woodburning stoves, solar panels and every kind of furniture to make it your home sweet home in the aftermath of a disaster.

These tents are designed to be mounted on top of your car. Being above ground, you aren't at risk from encounters with small wildlife, and a condensation pad and integrated floor padding ensure that you can sleep comfortably with no accumulation of mold. I actually want one of these, because it would work extremely well for camping. I saw another one on top of a jeep towing a Base Camp trailer, which had a sink, water heater, solar panels, shower, plenty of storage space, a Faraday cage for EMP-proof tech storage and a steel frame thick enough to resist lower-caliber bullets. I want one of those, too, but I'll have to wait until I have a grown-up job. And a car to pull it with.

Lastly, I couldn't leave without a particular machete that caught my eye. I'm going to enjoy having that on camping trips, as well.

I'm highly satisfied with my use of Non-Admitted Students Weekend myself, and I would encourage any Rejects out there to make the most of it. It's our time, and we should make it memorable.

Hic Manebimus Optime!


For more information regarding any of the things I mentioned, refer to these handy links:
PrepperCon
Vital Domes
Base Camp Trailers
Tuff Trucks
EMP Wikipedia Article