Doors and Switches

This evening, I quit the Solar Electric Vehicle Team, ending a livelihood since the start of freshman year. The decision may seem rash and sudden to some team members and to friends who knew of my heavy involvement with the team. They might wonder if I'm struggling with my classes, being unreasonably mercurial, or suffering a quarter-life crisis.

But actually, lately I've been often very happy. The choice I made wasn't one I conjured up just now, either; it had been simmering in my mind for some time, and I hadn't acted due to uncertainty -- "Aren't I giving up too early?" "What if it gets better?" "Won't I regret leaving, a week from now?"

I finally put my foot down due to a number of things, one of which is experience from surviving what felt like a pretty brutal freshman year. I learned not to stretch myself too thin, because nothing is enjoyable when you can't get enough sleep. I also truly began to believe that I should do what I love. (It's one thing to be told this, and another to believe it.) Life was miserable enough that by the end of spring semester, I considered quitting violin because it was impossible to imagine finding the time to practice sophomore year, when classes were going to be even tougher. I was showing up at some weekly lessons having practiced just the two hours before. All right, then quit, my friends advised. And so I made up my mind to quit, and immediately reversed it. I knew for sure I couldn't stop doing music because I loved it too much.

On the other hand, I've wavered on the issue of remaining with solar car. I've learned and had fun with the team, but when the car was finished this summer and test driving began, it struck me that I didn't have any desire to drive it. And now, I remain the only one from the team last year who hasn't driven Eleanor. When I joined the team, the project appealed to me because it was a piece of engineering -- it was an "engineering stunt" as Hayman described it. But once the novelty wore off, I found that I didn't have an innate love of cars or racing, and I started to have to force myself to go to meetings without the old enthusiasm kicking in. I was afraid to quit because it would seem a shame, a waste of all the time I had put in already. And the more time I continued to put in, I thought, the more a waste quitting would become.

The pieces were already in my mind, then. A couple of things this week just nudged me over the edge.


On Thursday night, I attended a mock interview through UPOP. After grilling me about the efficacy of solar panels, my interviewer asked me about a class project I'd found interesting, and the first thing that came to mind was the 6.01 robot, which we'd programmed to follow a path and track light. "What did you find interesting about that?" he asked. "Being able to make the robot do what I wanted it to," I replied. He asked me about my future plans - did I want to pursue a Masters, a PhD? I honestly wasn't sure about the PhD, and said I'd have to wait and see.

At the end, he revealed that he worked in the power industry, and derived fascination from making things move. "However, it seems your interest is in controlling how things move," he remarked. I had not thought about it that way, but he was correct. Then, he explained that the reason he'd spent so much time probing my future plans was to see if I was open to new possibilities. "There are many doors in life," he said, suddenly sounding grandfatherly. "Like here," he said, turning over my resume and drawing a row of open doors (which, I noticed, resembled a line of open circuit switches in series). "But in fact," he continued, "behind these doors... are more doors." He sketched another row of switch-like doors behind the first row. "And you can always go from here" he said, pointing to a door in the far left of the first row, "to here," -- he traced a line to a door on the far right of the second row. "There are so many doors, you shouldn't be afraid to go through one. It's the people who are afraid to go through a door who get in trouble." The message was cliche, but so unexpected that it stuck. I thought about it.

After the interview, I rehearsed with an improv group for a performance in the MIT Festival Jazz Ensemble concert last night. The group was formed through the musical improvisation class I'm taking, and the professor, Donal Fox, and three other students and I were putting together a version of Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman." I don't have time in my schedule to be here - how am I going to finish that 6.002 pset?, I thought; but here I was anyway. I was apprehensive about having to play a concert in a style of music I was unfamiliar with, after only two rehearsals. In fact, I could have avoided the whole situation and reported falsely that I would be busy Saturday night and wouldn't be free to play the concert. But something made me stay.. I was curious to see what we would come up with, and looking forward to experimenting with a new style of music. And for the two hours of rehearsal, I didn't worry about my other work at all.

My weekend proceeded as follows:
Friday night - I attend an eclectic concert (an amalgam of classical, rock, traditional Chinese, pop, etc.) that Dennis, a classmate from the "Lonely Woman" group, is playing in. Dennis offers to teach me guitar and I get pretty stoked. (5-11:30pm)
Saturday morning - I skip solar car after a short consultation with Kelly. (10am-3pm)
Saturday night - I play in the Festival Jazz Ensemble concert. During the first half, when we're backstage, Dennis gives me an overview of how to play blues. (5-10:30pm)
Today - I call my parents to tell them I'm quitting solar car and picking up electric guitar. I do this tactfully so they are not bewildered. I study circuits and debate attending the solar car meeting tomorrow night. I quit solar car. I rehearse the Brahms violin sonata with Sarah, then rehearse the Mendelssohn string quartet.

Basically, by Sunday, I finally concluded that a) I no longer have the enthusiasm to continue working on solar cars. b) There is a definite opportunity cost in staying on the team. c) When I get out of MIT, I'm still going to be playing music even if I forget every equation I learned. Music is going to make me happy. d) I really want to learn guitar, and here is an opportunity to start.

This is not to say I won't miss anything about solar car - I will see some of my best friends less often now. The people were the best part of the experience, people I've grown close to after spending so much time working - and hanging out - with them. I've confided in some teammates in things I would hardly trust with anyone else.

My explanation to my parents over the phone was based on my earlier points, with the additional stipulation that I'll use the time cleared from solar car to pursue a new academic subject, one I'll put more thought into choosing. When I then mentioned the guitar, my mom said, "Oh, I bet this is just a five-minute fancy" (so my mom does not actually use words like "fancy", but it was in Chinese). And, I admit, maybe it will be a brief romance, maybe it won't. For now I have the motivation to learn, an affinity for the sound of the electric, a little more time on my hands; and that's all I need to get started.