During the course of striving indecently to kill UCLA economics before it kills me, I don't get much time to stop, sit, and think about who I am, and how much I've changed.
When I was in high school, I told myself, "Never grow up!" All around me, I saw old people trapped by their choices because they were afraid to step off of their chosen paths. I told myself never to fear the possibility of giving up and starting over. My happiness would be my highest value, and I'd do anything to preserve it. I was going to be different - happy.
I've received a heavy dosage of reality since then, and I've changed. I don't have much fun any more. I've tried to walk the path of an ascetic careerist, slaking my thirst for happiness with accumulated success. I try comfort myself with the thought that once I graduate and find a job, I'll be able to lead a fulfilling life in my spare time.
But it's time to remember that path I saw for myself so many years ago. The world is the way it is, but I won't let it stop me from being who I am. Life is not meant to be lived in your spare time.
I want to live a chaotic life without routine. I want to be poor. I want to be rich. I want to go as many places as I can and see as much as I can and write about it so I'll never forget about it. I want to do something useful with my brain. I will never, ever do work that keeps me alive but kills my soul, and I believe that there's good, productive work to do somewhere that can actually make people's lives better. I refuse to care about the kind of stuff I have. I want hundreds of friends all over the world. When I'm 40, I hope I'm still talking trash to Will and Weier and Ian and Kevin.
Right now I'm a student, and a pretty good one. I'm good at thinking, at being interested, and I'm endlessly curious. I want to cram as much knowledge as will fit in my brain. I'm intelligent, compassionate, personable, and strong. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and though I'm trying very hard to figure it out, I'm completely fine with not knowing.
When I was in high school, I told myself, "Never grow up!" All around me, I saw old people trapped by their choices because they were afraid to step off of their chosen paths. I told myself never to fear the possibility of giving up and starting over. My happiness would be my highest value, and I'd do anything to preserve it. I was going to be different - happy.
I've received a heavy dosage of reality since then, and I've changed. I don't have much fun any more. I've tried to walk the path of an ascetic careerist, slaking my thirst for happiness with accumulated success. I try comfort myself with the thought that once I graduate and find a job, I'll be able to lead a fulfilling life in my spare time.
But it's time to remember that path I saw for myself so many years ago. The world is the way it is, but I won't let it stop me from being who I am. Life is not meant to be lived in your spare time.
I want to live a chaotic life without routine. I want to be poor. I want to be rich. I want to go as many places as I can and see as much as I can and write about it so I'll never forget about it. I want to do something useful with my brain. I will never, ever do work that keeps me alive but kills my soul, and I believe that there's good, productive work to do somewhere that can actually make people's lives better. I refuse to care about the kind of stuff I have. I want hundreds of friends all over the world. When I'm 40, I hope I'm still talking trash to Will and Weier and Ian and Kevin.
Right now I'm a student, and a pretty good one. I'm good at thinking, at being interested, and I'm endlessly curious. I want to cram as much knowledge as will fit in my brain. I'm intelligent, compassionate, personable, and strong. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and though I'm trying very hard to figure it out, I'm completely fine with not knowing.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/education/18college.html?em
For later.
If generalizations is frowned upon then a generational attack, such as the one that's being made here.
Kids are on scholarship, others pay nearly a quarter of a million dollars to be at the schools they're studying at. These kids work hard.
At least the one's contesting their grade care. Adminstrators, departments, create twisted incentives. Learn! Explore! Discover! they shout, but make sure you beat that guy next to you, because we're grading on a curve. And don't spend to much time learning and discovering, because there are exams every two weeks and departmental pressures require us to give the majority of you C's. (I've heard a lot of my professors mutter to themselves during lecture that they would be fired if they gave an exam in which too many people do well.)
This is a stupid situation. Here's the setup - Here Now UCLA, we have so many smart student! Here Now UCLA, we have high grading standards! Here Now UCLA, we are failing these students. Does a system of that can only measure relative mastery of the material really capture each student's ability? What if geniuses take the class one quarter, or a harder professor teaches the same class next quarter? I suppose 'A' students would have run probabilistic regressions on these possibilities, unlike the rest of use who in these people's eyes, sit on our asses and beg for A's on the street corner, a drain on the economy.
number 2, grading is often outsourced to stressed out graduate students who are just trying to get the damned things done. They make mistakes - refuse to read for understanding and simply match it to an answer sheet. Questioning is not only important, it's necessary in this case. I contested my grade on my last trade midterm, and it went up 2 letter grades - the original grader simply saw that my answers were dissimilar in look, and ignored their content.
There are students that fuck up, who think they can talk their way into anything, where merit doesn't enter into their calculations of what kind of grade they deserve. I complain about my generation than probably anyone else I know but this is too much.
For later.
If generalizations is frowned upon then a generational attack, such as the one that's being made here.
Kids are on scholarship, others pay nearly a quarter of a million dollars to be at the schools they're studying at. These kids work hard.
At least the one's contesting their grade care. Adminstrators, departments, create twisted incentives. Learn! Explore! Discover! they shout, but make sure you beat that guy next to you, because we're grading on a curve. And don't spend to much time learning and discovering, because there are exams every two weeks and departmental pressures require us to give the majority of you C's. (I've heard a lot of my professors mutter to themselves during lecture that they would be fired if they gave an exam in which too many people do well.)
This is a stupid situation. Here's the setup - Here Now UCLA, we have so many smart student! Here Now UCLA, we have high grading standards! Here Now UCLA, we are failing these students. Does a system of that can only measure relative mastery of the material really capture each student's ability? What if geniuses take the class one quarter, or a harder professor teaches the same class next quarter? I suppose 'A' students would have run probabilistic regressions on these possibilities, unlike the rest of use who in these people's eyes, sit on our asses and beg for A's on the street corner, a drain on the economy.
number 2, grading is often outsourced to stressed out graduate students who are just trying to get the damned things done. They make mistakes - refuse to read for understanding and simply match it to an answer sheet. Questioning is not only important, it's necessary in this case. I contested my grade on my last trade midterm, and it went up 2 letter grades - the original grader simply saw that my answers were dissimilar in look, and ignored their content.
There are students that fuck up, who think they can talk their way into anything, where merit doesn't enter into their calculations of what kind of grade they deserve. I complain about my generation than probably anyone else I know but this is too much.
The Days are Just Packed
I've noticed that whenever I'm on campus lately I've been walking a lot faster. There's too much to do, and it's going to be this way for a while.
I've been reading Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. Pretty interesting, informative read, aside from this:
"So how did this Mr. Bond(speaking about the bond market) become so much more powerful than the Mr. Bond created by Ian Fleming? Why, indeed, do both kinds of bond have a license to kill?"
Are you kidding me? What a ridiculous sentence, and coming from a well respected Harvard economics professor. If it was meant to be funny, it's completely out of line with the tone of the book, and if it was meant seriously, Niall Ferguson needs to stick his head in a bucket of cold water.
I think it was serious, and it really speaks to this kind of mass delusion I've observed among some economists when they're talking about the financial markets. Even though this book is written in the context of providing some understanding to the meteoric rise of the financial markets and it's current downfall, at times, Ferguson writes about economics with this almost indecent tone of reverence. He compares the ascent of money to the ascent of man, comparing Planet Finance to Planet Earth, gleefully citing statics that express how dominant money is in our lives. Perhaps that's the point of his book - money is now more important to our lives than ever before, but in Ferguson's and other economists' world, it's as if wealth has replaced normal human metrics of a man's worth like integrity, honesty, a sense of justice. Simply amass a pile of money and you can skip right over all of that petty moralizing bullshit.
I think this is a huge problem. Humongous sums of money confer godlike power onto their holders. These days, anything is possible if you have enough money - buy, sell, destroy a country, a person, a species, a town. This kind of power understandable distorts your self perception.
So the wealthy are deluded by their wealth. You can see this happening - Auto industry CEO's flying to Washington on private jets after driving their businesses into the ground to ask for money, John Thain shits on a 35000 dollar toilet, and bankers, so talented at finance, keep luxury cruises on a budget that they beg the government to balance. Their wealth acts as a shining shield of self confirmation - if they could amass so much value, they must have done something to be worthy of it. Their shit smells like roses, their mistakes are merely preludes to success, their inordinate wealth is their inordinate self-worth. You can do no wrong so long as you can point to that your giant pile of money.
I don't think you can make the argument that they deserve it. Financial firms didn't make all that money by working inordinately hard, being more innovative, smarter, or creative. If you're digging a hole and and discover an oil well, do you deserve the millions that you make? likewise, If you're a bond trader and you can convince someone that trusts you to buy a bond that has been carelessly rated triple a by a regulatory agency at a price higher than you bought it for, do you deserve the millions you make? What exactly are you being rewarded for? Are you 'creating' wealth?
I need to read more about monetary policy and banks, maybe this opinion will be revised.
I've been reading Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. Pretty interesting, informative read, aside from this:
"So how did this Mr. Bond(speaking about the bond market) become so much more powerful than the Mr. Bond created by Ian Fleming? Why, indeed, do both kinds of bond have a license to kill?"
Are you kidding me? What a ridiculous sentence, and coming from a well respected Harvard economics professor. If it was meant to be funny, it's completely out of line with the tone of the book, and if it was meant seriously, Niall Ferguson needs to stick his head in a bucket of cold water.
I think it was serious, and it really speaks to this kind of mass delusion I've observed among some economists when they're talking about the financial markets. Even though this book is written in the context of providing some understanding to the meteoric rise of the financial markets and it's current downfall, at times, Ferguson writes about economics with this almost indecent tone of reverence. He compares the ascent of money to the ascent of man, comparing Planet Finance to Planet Earth, gleefully citing statics that express how dominant money is in our lives. Perhaps that's the point of his book - money is now more important to our lives than ever before, but in Ferguson's and other economists' world, it's as if wealth has replaced normal human metrics of a man's worth like integrity, honesty, a sense of justice. Simply amass a pile of money and you can skip right over all of that petty moralizing bullshit.
I think this is a huge problem. Humongous sums of money confer godlike power onto their holders. These days, anything is possible if you have enough money - buy, sell, destroy a country, a person, a species, a town. This kind of power understandable distorts your self perception.
So the wealthy are deluded by their wealth. You can see this happening - Auto industry CEO's flying to Washington on private jets after driving their businesses into the ground to ask for money, John Thain shits on a 35000 dollar toilet, and bankers, so talented at finance, keep luxury cruises on a budget that they beg the government to balance. Their wealth acts as a shining shield of self confirmation - if they could amass so much value, they must have done something to be worthy of it. Their shit smells like roses, their mistakes are merely preludes to success, their inordinate wealth is their inordinate self-worth. You can do no wrong so long as you can point to that your giant pile of money.
I don't think you can make the argument that they deserve it. Financial firms didn't make all that money by working inordinately hard, being more innovative, smarter, or creative. If you're digging a hole and and discover an oil well, do you deserve the millions that you make? likewise, If you're a bond trader and you can convince someone that trusts you to buy a bond that has been carelessly rated triple a by a regulatory agency at a price higher than you bought it for, do you deserve the millions you make? What exactly are you being rewarded for? Are you 'creating' wealth?
I need to read more about monetary policy and banks, maybe this opinion will be revised.
I think I've prematurely become an old man. It's Friday night at 10pm - Some people down on the street are walking around wearing shiny silver plants, sunglasses and vests with no shirt, replete with various plastic jewelry, yelling, and I'm sitting at my desk ready to dive into an ocean of work. Somehow I feel completely normal about it. Someday all of this work is going to pay off.
Labels:
procrastination,
reflections
I've come to the conclusion that the intellectual culture of students at UCLA is diseased.
This is class.
It's mostly silent. The professor rapidly copies equations from his notes to the board, speaking in a monotone, boring himself just as much as he does the students. Behind him, the students who are not asleep or on browsing Facebook on their iPhones/blackberries are copy the equations the professor is copying from his notes to their notes (why not replace lectures with a xerox machine). They write furiously, almost desperately, as if they might get a's by turning a full notebook in with their final.
Occasionally, some poor fool wakes up, wipes the drool from his face and, despite the odds, actually becomes interested in what the professor is saying. He raises his hand tentatively and is immediately skewered with irritated looks, as if his question would actually prolong the class, which is of a scheduled, predetermined length. He ignores the looks, soldiers on and asks the question. It's a good one, but the professor is too busy plowing through the material to treat it with much attention. Though his interest is piqued, he only has ten weeks. He can't afford any digressions. He shunts the question to office hours. The Obnoxious Question Asker looks relieved for it to be done with, and a few minutes later, he goes back to sleep, resolving never to do that again.
Class ends. The professor looks relieved that it's over. He looks strangely lonely up there. The students shuffle out of the room, taking out their cell phones and putting on headphones to start their 'real' lives. Those of them who want letters of recommendation stay behind to inflict terrible awkward, forced conversation on the professor, who fields the questions, glad for some human contact, but he mostly just wants to get the hell out of there and get back to work.
Outside, the students talk about how they're so much smarter than everyone else, and lament about how they are saddled with a bunch of idiots for their group project.
"How did such and such even get in to UCLA? I worked my ass off!"
"I bet she just studied really hard"
They treat the material like some gelatinous muck they have to slog through to reach their goals. They skip class, take adderall and learn the whole course in a night.
What has happened?
edit: Maybe not this quarter for myself at least. I'm actually impressed by the first couple of classes. My first environmental economics class was genuinely fucking fascinating, even though the professor basically called me an idiot, and Effective Methods of Social Change is so ridiculous I can't believe it's actually happening. I'll write more about it when I actually know what's going on. And my econ 102 professor is actually concerned about his student's learning and is an interesting, impassioned lecturer! And australian - excellent bonus. The only problem is these classes will be so time consuming that I might not have time to deal with Rod Swanson's bullshit in International Trade Theory. The man hates marriage and wants the world to know.
I just checked out my professor's facebook and his taste in music is incredibly similar to my own. Cut Copy, Feist, Ryan Adams, Architecture in Helsinki, MGMT, my morning jacket? I have the music sensibilities of a 30 year old australian economics doctorate.
This is class.
It's mostly silent. The professor rapidly copies equations from his notes to the board, speaking in a monotone, boring himself just as much as he does the students. Behind him, the students who are not asleep or on browsing Facebook on their iPhones/blackberries are copy the equations the professor is copying from his notes to their notes (why not replace lectures with a xerox machine). They write furiously, almost desperately, as if they might get a's by turning a full notebook in with their final.
Occasionally, some poor fool wakes up, wipes the drool from his face and, despite the odds, actually becomes interested in what the professor is saying. He raises his hand tentatively and is immediately skewered with irritated looks, as if his question would actually prolong the class, which is of a scheduled, predetermined length. He ignores the looks, soldiers on and asks the question. It's a good one, but the professor is too busy plowing through the material to treat it with much attention. Though his interest is piqued, he only has ten weeks. He can't afford any digressions. He shunts the question to office hours. The Obnoxious Question Asker looks relieved for it to be done with, and a few minutes later, he goes back to sleep, resolving never to do that again.
Class ends. The professor looks relieved that it's over. He looks strangely lonely up there. The students shuffle out of the room, taking out their cell phones and putting on headphones to start their 'real' lives. Those of them who want letters of recommendation stay behind to inflict terrible awkward, forced conversation on the professor, who fields the questions, glad for some human contact, but he mostly just wants to get the hell out of there and get back to work.
Outside, the students talk about how they're so much smarter than everyone else, and lament about how they are saddled with a bunch of idiots for their group project.
"How did such and such even get in to UCLA? I worked my ass off!"
"I bet she just studied really hard"
They treat the material like some gelatinous muck they have to slog through to reach their goals. They skip class, take adderall and learn the whole course in a night.
What has happened?
edit: Maybe not this quarter for myself at least. I'm actually impressed by the first couple of classes. My first environmental economics class was genuinely fucking fascinating, even though the professor basically called me an idiot, and Effective Methods of Social Change is so ridiculous I can't believe it's actually happening. I'll write more about it when I actually know what's going on. And my econ 102 professor is actually concerned about his student's learning and is an interesting, impassioned lecturer! And australian - excellent bonus. The only problem is these classes will be so time consuming that I might not have time to deal with Rod Swanson's bullshit in International Trade Theory. The man hates marriage and wants the world to know.
I just checked out my professor's facebook and his taste in music is incredibly similar to my own. Cut Copy, Feist, Ryan Adams, Architecture in Helsinki, MGMT, my morning jacket? I have the music sensibilities of a 30 year old australian economics doctorate.
Someone I know has been diagnosed with cancer. Facebook delivered the news.
I didn't know her particularly well. We've worked together a few times and have a some things in common, like respect.
And even though she has hundreds of caring people around her, I feel deeply compelled to reach out to her, to help comprehend the pain and beat back the fear and point out when the sun is shining and turn the lights on when it isn't. Though I didn't know her especially well, though she may not have counted me among her friends, I want to help, in my own poor, inadequate, hopelessly awkward fashion.
Fuck cancer! Goddamn it is inexorable. Time acts faster than it should, pushing and shoving us towards something we refuse to acknowledge until it's looking us in the eye.
MGMT - Time to pretend. Not perfect but strikes the right tone.
I didn't know her particularly well. We've worked together a few times and have a some things in common, like respect.
And even though she has hundreds of caring people around her, I feel deeply compelled to reach out to her, to help comprehend the pain and beat back the fear and point out when the sun is shining and turn the lights on when it isn't. Though I didn't know her especially well, though she may not have counted me among her friends, I want to help, in my own poor, inadequate, hopelessly awkward fashion.
Fuck cancer! Goddamn it is inexorable. Time acts faster than it should, pushing and shoving us towards something we refuse to acknowledge until it's looking us in the eye.
MGMT - Time to pretend. Not perfect but strikes the right tone.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)