cruel and unusual

First midterm of the semester: October 8.

Last midterm of the semester: November 24.

By my calculations, that’s over a month and a half of studying, stress and sleep-deprivation. I think Columbia is out to get me.

change is coming / change has come

I saw Nicholas Kristof today. To be more accurate, I attended a panel talk in which he gave a presentation on “Modern Day Slavery” and the oppression of women in many developing countries around the world today.

I didn’t expect him to be so eloquent (but I guess writers usually are…) or so witty (which could have gone either way in a serious event such as this). Most of all, I think I didn’t expect my own reactions to what I was hearing. For most of the presentation, I felt a numbness in my limbs from the utter shock of the facts that were presented. I felt a cold paralysis, because of the seeming hopelessness of the situation. I also felt relief, for being so fortunate as to win some sort of birth lottery. I could have easily taken the place of any of the girls who were trapped in a cyclical world of oppression and abuse.

When it comes to charity, I’m not one to be quickly convinced. Sometimes, as powerful as I can feel as a priviledged Ivy-League student in the so-called first world, it’s easy to brush off the problems of the world as too large to tackle. It’s also easy to forget about what’s not immediately in front of me, that is, an Econometrics problem set.

It’s not often that my life is turned upside-down like this. Lately, it’s been happening more often. I think that’s a good thing; I like reinventing the person I am… the person I’d like to become.

gradesgradesgrades

I got a B+ in Java Programming, ranked 90th out of 194 students.

B+ isn’t a bad grade, really. It means that I”m ahead of the curve, and at a place like Columbia (where I sometimes lose sleep over the intellect of others) it’s something that I can realistically hope for. B+  is a good job, a pat on the back, a semester well spent learning something that I’ve more or less mastered.

The problem is, I can’t help but cringe at a B+. Not only because I actually had a dream that I was ranked 70th and that the first 71 students in the class got an A, but because I worked damn hard on all those problem sets. The success I felt every time my programs compiled was greater than whatever sense of accomplishment I could get from a B+.

A B+ is a mediocre grade, and I refuse to be mediocre. I guess if you looked at my entire transcript this semester, a B+ isn’t bad in light of the fact that I took 27 credits. But the truth of the matter is, I bombed that final exam. I spent the time gossiping about things like Azia Kim and G. Michael Guy instead of going over static methods. And maybe it was poor judgment that got me this mediocrity, but maybe I was just stretched too thin.

It’s hard to realize when my limits are, mostly because I’m pretty awesome, but also because I refuse to settle for less than my best. The grades I got this semester weren’t awful, but they weren’t stellar either. I’m not sure how I’d present it to my parents, my Academic Advisor (who really told me to stop taking so many classes), myself. And how am I going to learn from this when I’m still signed up for 23 credits next semester?

sensitive matter

Me: My grades this semester have been coming in one by one and it’s making my GPA behave like the stock market.

Him: Well, the stock market isn’t doing so well these days…

Me: Shut up. I hate you.

homecoming

I came back to Montreal last night, on another agonizingly long bus ride. I read and slept for the most of the way, but as soon as we got close enough to the city for me to recognize the highway exit, I turned off the reading light and just sat there, enjoying my return to a city that means to much to me.

It’s a strange mix of fear and love each time I come back, because Montreal holds so much history for me, somewhat painful at times. I think of Big D, I think of my insane parents, I think of the hardships of college applications and clandestine rendez-vous. Because the me coming back from New York, from Beijing, from France is never the same person as the me who left Montreal not so long ago. And it’s scary to try and figure out how this new person fits in with the old life I left behind.

I come back this semester as an insane student who took 10 classes without telling her parents, as the girlfriend of a bboy from Philly, as the ex of Big D, as the new NSOP coordinator for Columbia… I’m not sure who I was when I last left, but it was definitely someone in a different mindset.

弱智

So I spent the last 10 minutes discussion a complex dilemma with Indie C and Nerdy B regarding my energy levels and whether or not I should try to make it to that Probability class (I know, 4th week of classes and I’m already trying to play hooky). When we finally decided that I should try to get to class, we had to explore other options of keeping me awake. It went down in a pretty ridiculous fashion…

Indie C: I think you should get coffee and go to class.

Me: Ok… but I’d hate to crash from coffee… and it’s like 6 o’clock already.

C: Well, then, just get some tea.

M: Tried that.. and I still almost fell asleep in Java. Why don’t I get decaf coffee?

Nerdy B: Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?

M: No! I mean, I just want a little bit of caffeine, since I’m not used to it… there is still a small amount of caffeine in decaf! They can’t get all of it out.

B: Yeah, but I don’t think trace amounts actually count.

M: Well, I’m pretty sensitive to caffeine… and plus, placebo effect, hello?!

C: You’re trying to get caffeinated from decaf? That is so messed up.

Eventually, after more back-and-forths and me laughing my ass off because I’m stupid like that, I finally got some hot chocolate. Yum.

there’s no place like home

Thursday, at noon, marked the end of my Freshman career. Pretty epic, huh? It really just happened so quickly that I’m not sure I did anything substantial, much less everything I wanted to do. I spent the next couple of days fitting my room – or rather, a year of my life – into boxes. My entire Freshman year: fears, joys, tears, struggles and laughter, all fit into the back of one Acura SUV.

There is always a strange transition period for me every time I return home. Living in residence and having half of my stuff in Montreal plays with my sense of independence somewhat; it’s like a limbo between the kid I used to be and the adult I’ve become. I gather that my feelings of anxiety and … stagnancy are somewhat different from the average American students. It’s curious how the ‘College Culture’ of Canada and USA differ so much. Most of my friends are still living at home, going to McGill, in a city in which they have pretty much stayed since they were born. Whenever I step back into la belle province, it feels like I travel back in time…. my house is the same, my friends are the same… have I really changed at all?

The transition, however, is always less anxious or bumpy than I anticipate. It just feels so natural to be in this city that I know so well; a city that has been so good to me since my arrival nearly 13 years ago.

the final final

So I’m currently preparing for my final final, scheduled for tomorrow (or rather today) morning… and it’s kind of a bittersweet feeling, because freshman year is so over. To be extremely cliched, it was just yesterday that I moved onto this campus…

I’m not quite sure what I expected college to be like, or since I had always wanted to go to Harvard, if I had even expected Columbia to be any thing at all. I didn’t expect to break up with Big D (again). I did expect to get back together with him (again). I thought that I would be doing a lot more activities, but in some ways, I’m also surprised at the amount of stuff I did. I expected to bring on a different personality, to be more confident in myself. I didn’t expect the same “types” of people here: jocks, nerds, bitches.

After a year, I feel very connected and removed from this campus. Connected because, well, because I spent such a large part of this year living, breathing, laughing, crying on these grounds. Removed because… New York is not my home, and I haven’t found ties to ground me here, yet. I’d like to think that my first year at Columbia has changed me for the better, that I learned lessons and experienced college or life as it “should” be experienced. I’m not sure about that, though. Maybe I have been missing out on a whole lot while I tried (occasionally) to get back what I had lost to finally get here.

I’ve always had such optimistic hindsight. (It drove him crazy.) But it somewhat comforting to know that I came from a great place in my life, and looking back, I know that I’ll think that this was a pretty sweet moment as well.

crime and punishment

I just walked out of a Lit Hum exam, feeling pretty good about myself. Until I saw the grade I got on my final paper.

It was an A.

In reality, I’m a pretty bad writer (as evidenced by these posts). I often can’t come up with groundbreaking ideas, and when I do, they end up jumbled on the page. This particular paper was written with the help of sparknotes, wikipedia, minimal sleep and the fact that I hadn’t read the entire book. And yet I got an A? Either my previous lit hum teacher completely missed my genius, or I was just damn good at a BSing my way out of this one.

Yesssssssssss. Thank you, IB diploma.

my hobby #69

Thinking about professors’ sex life (or their lack thereof). Imagining their orgasm face.