I Promise I'm Not Dead

So what even happened to 2019? I'm sure a few of my regular readers were a little bewildered that I was negligent enough to only post three times during the entire year, and yes, that is entirely on me. Here's what happened:

Remember that awful math class I talked about back in September? The one I was panicking trying to review calculus II for so I could pass the pretest to even stay in the class? Well, truth be told it never got much better than that. I suppose it was a little stupid to take a class that was two high-level math courses smashed into one, especially after a two-year hiatus from all math. The schedule was brutal, and combined with the rest of my classes I had little time to do anything aside from homework, eating and sleeping, and most of my other hobbies went out the window for a couple months (along with, occasionally, eating and sleeping).

The good news: I did pass! That math class was without a doubt the hardest academic battle I've ever endured (which is saying something, if you remember how statics went freshman year). By the end of the semester, I was calculating how well I would have to do on the final exam to pass the class. I felt pretty secure in my ability to score 12% and end up with a D-, however I only have a small buffer of allowable D credits and I wanted to save that for future emergencies. I would need to get 46% on the final to squeak out with a C- and preserve my buffer of permissible D's, and that was legitimately cause for concern. I had actual doubts about being able to get 46%, which I think given my academic reputation is more of a commentary on the flaws of the Math Department's methods than anything else. I could rant about that to no end, but fortunately I don't have to because I got a whopping 50%, earning myself a flat C.

This was the lowest final grade I've received in my life, and I shed tears. Of joy.

It's remarkable the kind of perspective shift that happens when your goals change. In high school and even into freshman year of college, when I still needed to apply to my program, the only acceptable result was perfection, and anything less than an A would be considered disastrous. Now, safely in my program, the goal was to simply pass this hellish class, and if I got a C- that would be gravy. A pure C was better than I had even hoped, and as a result I was ecstatic--despite the fact that it's the worst grade I've ever had. Perspective is lovely that way; it lets you be happy with what you have. I need to work on applying that idea more consistently, but I take victories where I can get them.

Thus endeth the year, and the decade. Now is the time when you're probably expecting to hear all the mushy, nostalgic decade-in-review stuff or optimistic dreams and goals for the new year, but the fact is I don't have all that ready yet. Something about being in a stress-fueled death spiral for a few months really saps your creative energy, you know? So next time, I promise. Until then, I'm just happy with my C.

Hic Manebimus Optime!