Last night I asked Ninja Queen, a recent female addition to my life, what was the proudest moment of her dancing career. Without any hesitation she chose the piece that she had choreographed this past semester, not because of the number of compliments she received for her work, but for the fact that so many of them came from people she hardly knew. Oddly enough, strangers tend to be much more honest than those we know well.
Ninja Queen went on to explain that the success of her piece was one of the factors that influenced her decision to choreograph again next semester. She said that she was hesitant to make the time commitment since the semester to come is known to be particularly difficult for those in her major. I thought of explaining my somewhat counterintuitive understanding of time management: in high school, I would magically become more diligent about homework during those weeks in which I had to stay late after school to work on our theater productions. When I had nothing to do in the evenings, I would put off homework until the last minute, but when I only had a few hours between coming home and going to bed, I would just crank out everything I needed to do. It seemed reasonable to suggest that she might actually do better next semester if she made a point of filling up her free time with her choreography.
The only reason I didn't mention this was because I was still waiting to get my final grades for this semester. If they were good, that would support my ideas about time management, but if they were as atrocious as I expected them to be, that would leave my theory with more holes than Lamarckian inheritance.
Today came the moment of truth. I received my final grades, immediately after which I shouted "What!? How is that even possible? You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I could almost feel tears welling up in my eyes. These were not, however, tears of frustration. Quite the contrary: I was laughing my ass off. Somehow, despite having a difficult course load, a part-time job, the 1000-hour quest, and designing for the dance showcase, my GPA this semester was actually higher than my cumulative average.
What made this even more astonishing was the extent to which I blatantly, repeatedly, and intentionally disregarded my professors' instructions in favor of doing things the way I wanted to. I have always been of the opinion that grades should be reflective of how well the student understands the material, not their ability to complete assignments according to arbitrary guidelines. Perhaps, by some weird cosmic coincidence, all four of my professors shared this philosophy. Perhaps this was the first time I was able to balance my innate rebelliousness with the need to actually demonstrate my knowledge of the material. Maybe my efforts to contemplate, analyze, and connect to the world around me have put me so far ahead of the curve that even when I voluntarily cripple myself academically, I still fare better than my classmates. Maybe, just maybe, my ideas about time management are correct: we need to push ourselves in many different ways in order to realize our full potential in any one area.
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Week 25 total: 22 hours
Grand total: 594.5 hours
Required pace: 481 hours (+113.5)
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