If there’s such thing as a mid-life crisis, then surely other smaller segments of life contain mid-crises. Therefore, if college is a segment of time, then the mid-college crisis, as I’ve seen it unfold around me, is both real and prevalent. If/then statements.
Processions of logic to demarcate a thoroughly illogical thought process: the idea that, somehow, whatever you’re doing at 19, or 20, or however old you are in your second semester of your sophomore year of college, is not acceptable or impressive or conducive to “real life” things.
My roommate burst into our room yesterday exuding an aura of faint panic. She had a computer science test tomorrow; she never goes to class because she doesn’t find the in-class instruction to be helpful; and, anyway, what does she even want to do with her life? Why, she asked me, was she taking computer science? I countered by asking what, exactly, you did in a computer science exam.
I pictured a windowless room with rows of computers, illuminating the distressed faces of hundreds of young coders. My roommate once told me that you could write hundreds of lines of code and, if one letter was wrong, none of it would work.
You would have to comb through the existing lines, looking for the errant symbol. I was baffled. Was it actually possible that anyone, anywhere, would ever want to do that with their time? I couldn’t answer her question, and she couldn’t really answer mine, either.