Semester 1 Ending. TFG.

A lack of updates was to be expected from a freshman entering what was advertised as "The World's Honors College" (read: will try its best to work you harder than the Ivy Leagues.) Ironically, the only time I've found for posting comes the day before finals, as this semester has done its best over-saturating me with knowledge to the point where I am now unable to open a book without complete system failure.

The academic composition of these over-saturating weeks has been a careful blend of Foundations of Science 1 and 2, The Human Voice, Calculus and Engineering Foundations 1. The first has been a combination of Physics and Chemistry packed into 75-minute, 5-days-a-week classes, 3 to 6 hour lab sessions and weekly problem sets that currently hold the record for longest time continuously working on the same goddamn piece of paper (14 hours). Needless to say: for someone with no knowledge of physics, complete and utter lack of study habits, and a tendency to ask needlessly complicated questions, Foundations of Science proved to be an enormous challenge and willpower-tester. The pure unbridled genius miraculously contained in my classmates' heads did not make me feel any less inadequate.

The second class, The Human Voice, was a journey into the heart of this so-called "liberal-arts experience". Professor Martin Daughtry is brilliant at what he does, and I doubt anyone who's ever met him would say otherwise. Under his tutelage I learned the basics of Tuvan Throat-Singing, participated in a telemetric concert with NYU New York for the ResoNations UN Initiative, sung a Russian Kozak song in front of the new NYUAD candidates and renewed my interest for the intricacies and mysteries of sound. Would I take this course again? Yes, please.

I will skip a description of my calculus class, for it is not particularly different from Calculus anywhere else. Engineering Foundations however, has been so.

This last class has worked relentlessly to make sure we don't feel like there is a barrier between inventors and students as ourselves. Through inspirational speeches and readings, a one week crash-course on prototype building and notable flexibility on the direction we take our course-long final assignment, this course has earned a very special place in my memory.

Coming out on the other side of the semester I have changed the majors I applied for. Instead of a double major in brain and cognitive science with engineering, I've decided to pursue brain and cognitive science with computer science, leaving engineering for graduate school. Due to my partiality to the Engineering Foundations courses, however, I've decided to keep taking this series of courses as my general electives.

Surprisingly, these academic blocks have not completely consumed my free time. Through extracurricular clubs and groups (which we've had to start from scratch) I've been able to participate in the Corniche Beach Customs competition (One pedal car, 1000 dirham, one race), took part in a short film for the Abu Dhabi Film Festival, sat down to chat with Michael Gazzaniga and managed to secure a significant other (go Girlfriend!).

Overall, its been a hectic, stressful, exhausting, thrilling, adjectiveful semester. After my one week break (I KNOW), I will be returning for more. Hopefully at this point I've gotten the hang of NYUAD. Hopefully NYUAD will not let me get a hang of it till the end.

Highly Volatile Grey Matter

*Head Explodes*

Excuse me while I pick up the remnants of what used to be the back of my skull, the realization that NYU Abu Dhabi may be more than an elaborate hoax played during an incredibly vivid hallucination caused by Inception carries enough power to make this sentence not seem unintelligible.

Now would be a good time to comment on the ethical implications of a World's College, the emotional exercise that this whole experience will be or the gastronomical adventures that I will inevitably submit my poor stomach to. (Sorry buddy, Carpe Diem).

This would also be a great moment to ponder upon the events in my life that led me to this very moment: typing the letter "e" at the end of this sentence. However, a far more substantial and intellectual thought is currently hogging every available neuron I possess:

"FRIDAY IS LIKE 2 DAYS FROM SUNDAY!!!"

*Hastily-Mended Head Re-Explodes*

Very well, it might not be too intellectual, but this simple detail in our calendars, usually taken for granted, has inspired more hysteria and euphoria in me than any roller-coaster, movie climax or dream about falling from a cliff only to discover I have amazing flying abilities, ever has.

My head is spinning, my chest is light and my suitcase... my suitcase is a work in progress, which I must get back to if I hope to make it to Sunday without any more cranial eruptions.

...except one more for the road.

*Head Explodes*

"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page."

- St. Augustine

Little Red Shoebox of Teen Clichés

There is something about a cold, rainy night that just begs to mark the start of my blog about travelling to the desert. It is three days before I set off to Abu Dhabi and so far I've only gone through half of my packing. Along the short-sleeved shirts, jeans and soon-to-be obsolete sweaters lie a red shoebox with my most prized possessions and a hollow tube holding my rolled-up lucky shirt.

The story about the latter is simple, it is a red, threadbare, University of Cincinnati, size L T-Shirt which my dad bought a couple of days before I was born. As a kid, I would wear it for luck on test days, as a teen, I wore it on my first date with the girl who became my first real girlfriend. Now I take it along as a prized memory of those times and as a favor to the ever-gullible me.

The shoebox has a bit more of a story, which I will spare you in the interest of keeping at least some of my readers around long enough to read my other posts. Inside it are little relics, mixCDs from friends and crushes, a brick from my old middle school, plane tickets from significant moments in my life (moving back to Chile, New York, Abu Dhabi) and other trinkets, all of which I'd protect with my life. (Beware Air France, lose this bag and face my wrath).

Seeing these prized possessions out of their usual hiding spot in the uppermost, deepest part of my closet is the clearest indication of the journey I am about to take on. My mind is surprisingly far from my classes and the weather, two very important challenges looming over the Atlantic, but rather concentrated on hoping I will meet more people that will fill the small red shoebox till it bursts. What kind of people? Thank you for asking, rhetorical device, its actually the name of the blog.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live mad to talk mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn burn burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'awww!' "

-Kerouac's On The Road