The Long and Winding Road
Artifacts for Psychology
My mom has always loved The Beatles. One of the pieces from my early childhood that has survived is a towel adorned with an Andy Warhol-inspired Beatles print. My mom has a Let It Be shirt that must be over twenty years old by now, but she still proudly wears it. One of my only memories of our neighbors is drawing people in a fictitious mall, including the Fab Four in their Sgt. Pepper’s regalia.
When I was in 8th grade, our Music teacher split the semester into two halves, during the back half we’d cover Buddy Holly, but for the first half we’d be deep diving into The Beatles. The unit enthralled me, I devoured every bit of information about the band I could. I’d beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy Beatles CDs, and I listened to them religiously. I insisted on getting a guitar for Christmas, even going to Guitar Center to pick it out, starting lessons in the New Year. Even as the semester transitioned away from them, I still continued with my near-fanatical obsession with the band.
I was at a Half-Price Book store after school when I saw a small, purple and white book in the music section. Lucy in the Mind of Lennon by Psychology professor Tim Kasser. As a Beatles artifact, I had to buy it, and when I got home, it was thrown into my bookshelf and forgotten about, surrounded by other Beatles autobiographies and sheet music.
Then came high school, and suddenly I became aware of everything and everyone. My looks, my clothes, my interests, they all came under scrutiny. My first day as a Freshman, I had worn my favorite pair of basketball shorts, and as I walked down the hallways, I realized how much I hated how thin they made me look.
I was back in the mall with my mom when I confessed everything to her . This was the first time I had ever expressed much interest with my appearance, so my mom showed me the ropes. We perused through American Eagle and Abercrombie & Fitch, grabbing new shirts, pants, flannel, everything.
I quickly assimilated into high school aesthetics and culture. Hypebeast culture was all the rage with young men my age, and none were riding the waves better than Kanye West’s Yeezy brand of shoes, and the New York streetwear brand Supreme. I spent my class time browsing StockX, daydreaming about what pair of Yeezys I’d buy, and thoroughly checking every week’s Supreme drop.
I was worried about being perceived as an outcast, so when my friend told me I should join him on the swim team, I dived headfirst in. It was rough, I was woefully unprepared for the physical demands of swimming, and left my first practice to puke my guts out. My coach told me at the end of the year he didn’t believe I’d make it through the first week. I persisted, and submerged myself in the team. An Under Armor ad featuring Michael Phelps became my guiding light, I was driven to the striking visuals, the haunting soundtrack, the raw humanity of it.
For Christmas that year, I asked for a pair of Michael Phelps XCEED goggles.
With the time demands of the swim team, my guitar lessons tapered off. My instructor had to switch time slots, and I didn’t click with the new guy. Scared of being a poser, I started listening to Kanye West’s music, and fell in love with hip hop. I was introduced to Kendrick Lamar, Tyler, the Creator, Nas, and Post Malone. The Beatles made my 2018-2019 music playlist, but by the 2019-2020 one, they were left out.
It’s Junior year, and I had an English teacher I generally dislike. She emphasized preparing for the AP exam and doing mind-numbing practice of the writing section, multiple times a week. Randomly, she required us to read a book and report our progress, like we were back in elementary school. With no rhyme or reason to it, I grabbed Lucy in the Mind of Lennon. And it was euphoric.
Through the book Kasser does a deep case study into John Lennon and what was going on in his head at the time he wrote Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, analyzing the linguistic style, plot, words, music, and more of the song. Long and short, Kasser concluded Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was a song rooted in Lennon’s depression and isolation than had still lingered after the death of his mother.
The book opened up a world of opportunities. If Kasser could piece together the subconscious themes of this one song, what else could he do? What secrets are people holding onto? How do they bleed through? How can I uncover these secrets?
My older sister had attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and I was shuttled down to the campus frequently with my parents to visit her. As a student growing up in the Chicago suburbs, UIUC was always top of mind for “great” colleges. I quickly decided I would be attending UIUC, and not a college worse. I was competitive, if my sister could make it, than surely I should.
Computer Science was perceived as the “cheat code” to a good job, and despite not enjoying the subject as much as my classmates, it was still my top choice for a major. UIUC’s Computer Science program is notoriously selective, and I reasoned I didn’t have great odds at getting in. UIUC lets you choose a first and second choice major, and while I desperately wanted to have “Computer Science + Philosophy” as my second choice, I rationally decided to put an easier to get into major as my second choice. During my University of Minnesota and Purdue University applications, I had selected Journalism as my second choice, having waded my feet in sports journalism surrounding the NFL draft.
For some inexplicable reason, I selected Psychology as the backup major. I wrote about Kasser’s book, my curiosity with the human brain, and the desire to dig deep into the unspoken, subconscious reason people act as they do. My mind was wavering even further from Computer Science by now, but I wanted a good job. I’m a smart kid and I deserve a good job. And Computer Science was the path.
College decisions trickled in January and February. Minnesota and Purdue had accepted me for Journalism, Indiana, Ohio State, and Penn State had accepted me for Computer Science. The last holdout was UIUC, whose decision date was circled on all my classmates' calendars.
The day ended up being a Friday night, my second-to-last Swim meet. As we all pulled ourselves out of the pool after a quick practice before the meet, the seniors all huddled in the locker room and pulled their phones out. It was jubilation for some, heartbreak for others. My chest pounded as I pulled Gmail up and opened the email.
I screamed.
