chaos behind, uncertainty ahead

The last time I wrote anything on this blog was almost exactly two years ago. It was right after a semester I at the time thought was the worst I’d ever experienced, right before 2020 came barreling in and uprooted everything we thought we knew. Since then, I feel that I’ve simultaneously morphed into a new person and also made zero progress as a human at all. I’ve spent the two weeks so far of winter break in an immobile rut: sleeping 10–11 hours per night, spending my days wasting away before a screen and binge-watching YouTube and Netflix, occasionally keeping my hands busy with some crafting. It’s been the ultimate rebound from the absolute chaos this past semester’s been, although I can’t keep it up for much longer; for example, there are some important emails to which I’ve procrastinated over a week on responding.

Sabotaging my grand effort to do absolutely nothing, my brain’s been playing solo ping-pong by keeping a set of thoughts constantly bouncing around my head, most of them to which I don’t have enough information to properly answer. (I’ve actually been meaning to journal for weeks, but at this point handwriting my thoughts would take hours, so here I am!) The following conversation between myself and… a more rational version of myself?… illustrates my current state of being.

Q: Why did this have to be the semester I completely crashed (and broke my Dean’s List streak)?

A: Because one of your courses required you to build an entire damn compiler. Also you were in arguably too many leadership roles for one person to reasonably balance. You did great given the circumstances you were in! Also, grades don’t matter, nobody gives a shit about the Dean’s List, and you already broke the streak in Spring 2020 when your university didn’t give anyone the title.

Q: B-b-but what if I want to come back for grad school? Don’t they still technically matter?

A: Yes, somewhat? But you’re more than fine. Your advisor literally told you as much. Plus, the chances of you wanting to come back after going into industry are slim to none.

Q: Speaking of which… in just over seven months I’ll be starting work all the way across the country. Where the hell will I be living?

A: Just pass your classes and graduate first before worrying about that. That’s what your parents have told you the 15+ times you’ve brought this topic up. Even if you started house hunting in June, that’s more than enough time.

Q: Great point. How do I not die while taking a 61-unit schedule during my senior spring?

A: Um… do fewer extracurriculars?

Q: Yeah, so that would work brilliantly if I weren’t already in leadership positions for all of them. What now?

A: Easy! Just efficiently allocate your time to your existing commitments and don’t take on anything else! Should be straightforward enough to say no to new things and maintain minimal effort.

Q: So about that… multiple people have reached out to me with cool new musical endeavors I could partake in, but I don’t yet know if I’d be overwhelmed taking them on. What do I do?

A: I just told you the answer. You know what you have to do.

… hence the emails I’ve procrastinated on responding to for almost two weeks. It’s unfortunately a whole clusterfuck of a dilemma: I’ve been offered music directing opportunities for shows that go up the same week my student theatre organization’s February play will, and as a board member for said org I’m responsible for being around that week in case issues (logistical, interpersonal, or otherwise) need to be resolved. However, I also really want to be personally involved in putting up some more cool new works before I graduate. The obvious rational answer is to turn down both opportunities. I certainly can’t do both, and I also have Omicron-induced doubts about whether in-person theatre will happen at all, but my soul is yearning to do one. I’ll just have to bite the bullet and send those emails in the next 24 hours.

A major contributing factor to this conflict is how rough the fall semester was for me. Here’s some context so that it doesn’t seem like I’m unjustifiably complaining.

I music directed a show for the first time in over two years. It was all in all a great experience! The production staff, cast, and crews were wonderful, and I was constantly amazed by everyone’s passion. I also felt that I was truly able to leverage all the MDing know-how I’ve accrued throughout college. That being said, since this was our org’s first in-person show in a year and a half, we suffered from a gap in generational knowledge, which (along with some other factors) ultimately resulted in a lot of stress during the production process. As I was in both the production staff and the org’s leadership, the show ended up weighing more heavily on me than I otherwise expected.

I also took the hardest courseload of my undergraduate career. On paper, this doesn’t seem to be the case, since I ended the semester with a 38-unit schedule (compared to an average of about 55 units from the six semesters before). However, that was the result of dropping two courses in a drastic attempt to keep my head above water while also writing a compiler. They were relatively inconsequential drops—specifically, I’ll still be able to graduate in four years—but I still kind of felt like a failure at the time.

Additionally, this semester felt like it disproportionately burnt me out compared to previous semesters. After quite a bit of reflection, there seem to be multiple contributing factors. For one, this was my university’s first fully in-person semester since March 2020; after everyone had already become accustomed to the protocols of remote school, we had to return to an environment where, for example, we had to wake up early and travel to campus instead of just rolling out of bed and opening up Zoom on our laptops. Also, for various reasons, the university shortened the length of the semester by a week, forcing courses to remap their lesson plans and assignment schedules to varying degrees of success. It was… not fun, to say the least.

All this is to say, I’m now much more cautious about taking on new opportunities than I previously was. In some senses this is a bit unfortunate—it’s my senior spring! I should be doing all the things before I no longer can!—but it also feels like a bittersweet side effect of maturing. I’m learning that I don’t always have to say “yes”; in fact, if I am as competent as my achievements make it seem, future opportunities will crop up to which I will be more equipped to give my all. There are also already multiple groups of people counting on me to do my job well, which I obviously can’t do if I stretch myself thinner. I already feel like I’m no longer as good at putting my nose to the the grindstone for long periods as I was in freshman year; whether that’s because of getting older (cue groans of “wow, you’re only 21, sucks to suck”) or pandemic-induced burnout, I’ll never know.

(This entire post is just one obscenely long self-therapizing session in an attempt to convince myself that I am capable of writing emails to turn people down. Apologies to the two total people reading this post… 😅)

So that’s all the “chaos behind”, but what about the “uncertainty ahead”? I already briefly mentioned not knowing where I’ll live when my job starts on August 1st, but that’s only part of it. This semester has shown me two things in tandem: 1) I’m far too burnt out to continue directly from undergrad into grad school, but 2) I’m interested enough in programming language theory that I’m seriously considering going back to school after a few years in industry. On one hand, there’s a good chance I’ll get accustomed enough to a comfortable Bay Area software gig and a real work-life balance that becoming a student again no longer seems appealing. On the other, based on my current understanding of myself, there’s an equal chance I’ll grow restless and want to come back. (My parents not-so-subtly wanting me to get a graduate degree is definitely an additional factor, but I’d like to think it’s not my primary motivator.)

This is one of those questions I literally cannot answer until at least a year from now, which just kills me inside; somewhat ironically, I don’t like knowing for sure that major variables in my future are nondeterministic, but that’s just how life and the passage of time work! Love to see it.

Truth be told, I have no clue how to end this post. Whenever my friends with blogs write posts, they’re beautifully written, deeply thought out, reflective of all the actual struggles they’ve been through and the interesting experiences they’ve had… and I feel like I’ve just complained about first-world problems for almost 1500 words straight (“wow, you’re good at a few things, make them your entire personality, and now you’re struggling from success and going into a well-paying job? Must be difficult!”).

But as I approach graduation and the world of finally becoming a “real adult”, I’d just like to live more fully, love more deeply, serve more meaningfully without losing myself in the process. I think I’ve already made a step towards this goal; specifically, I came out as bisexual to my peers this semester after at least a few years of questioning and denial, and even if I don’t think I’ll ever tell my parents, that’s still certainly a positive step forward.

I used to include in my year-end blog posts a list of resolutions. Last year, I didn’t post anything but left a list in my journal; here it is verbatim, along with some corresponding reflections.

1. “Actually lose weight and get in shape.”
   Needless to say, this hasn’t happened. This kind of goal never comes to fruition. I don’t think I’ll ever fully shake the body dysmorphia I’ve had since I was a child, but I really need to stop giving it a voice in my yearly resolutions this way.
2. “Explore more music than just the same five MT shows. It’s not like I’ll be able to music direct anyways.”
   Turns out I actually did have an opportunity to music direct! Also, in my effort to “diversify” my music I just ended up back in my middle school Taylor Swift phase. Not complaining, though.
3. “Start to actually eat mindfully and away from the computer instead of stress snacking.”
   Hasn’t happened at all. I tried for a bit, and then habit and a hectic schedule got the best of me.
4. “Actually finish that scarf I started over winter break.”
   I forgot to bring my yarn back from college with me, so this won’t happen…
5. “Become more well-read by reading five intellectually and philosophically challenging books.”
   This straight up didn’t happen because I’ve convinced myself I don’t have time to read for leisure, so I still have a year-old list of 20+ book recommendations to get through.

Seeing as the above goals clearly failed, for 2022, I think I’m going to forgo a list of resolutions in favor of a single general resolution to just like myself more. I’m terrible at taking compliments, although I like to think I’m improving at it. I’ve also never loved the physical body I reside in, but rather I take comfort in my mental capabilities and used to find self-worth purely through my achievements. I’ve gotten better at dissociating those two throughout undergrad, but the process of doing so has left a void that I need to learn to fill without predicating it upon real-life accomplishment. Harder said than done, but I’ll try my best.

And with that brilliantly deep conclusion (wow, look at me and my barely passable writing abilities go 💪🏼), I think I’m done! I’ll be back in a year; maybe sooner, maybe not.

(In five or so years, this will either be very interesting for me to reflect back on or a terrible bore to read… oops. Thanks for reading if you’ve gotten to this point! I’m going to go write some emails now.)