encoded notions

I have come to the conclusion that I am not a physics person.

For a long while, I thought that I really was a physics person, because I found the subject interesting. It offered me something to chase after: a solution for how the world works.

I worked my way through the various genres of physics: Classical Mechanics, Quantum Mechanics, Electromagnetism, and others. Each one shed more light on bits and pieces of how the universe evolves from one moment to the next. I found the most truth in Quantum Mechanics. From that I learned that the universe is governed by probabilities and micro-fluctuations. Things are here and they are not. Light is both a particle and a probability wave. Most of everything is made of vast sums of nothingness. In a single word, Quantum Mechanics was cool.

I went on to study the same courses all over again in graduate school, but from a more advanced perspective. In the first year I finished the four core courses that form the foundation upon which the rest of my graduate career would rest, but something felt out of balance. There was a vacancy in me and I was ignoring something that I could not immediately name. Sure the classes seemed interesting, but there was a growing sense of disconnect between what I was learning and how I saw it connect to my reality.

I think that vacancy was due to my not co-enrolling in computer science courses.

I spent many elective credit-hours as an undergraduate taking various CS courses “for fun”. I can recall being delighted to learn many of the things I was taught in those classes. At the time I even wrote something that made reference to this physics/CS dichotomy:

I don’t think it is ever wise to study something professionally that you enjoy, because your passion for it will tend to dwindle as your list of reasons to despise it grows. University learning does teach you how to think outside of the box, but within the confines of a specific track of study, the trend is to lose originality and become cookie-cutter students.

I look at that rambling now and see that I was desperately trying to justify why I was a physics major and not studying computer science officially.

Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean that you should do it for the rest of your life.

I was an excellent physics student. I understood the explanations of very challenging physics concepts and mental models. It wasn’t too terribly taxing for me and I didn’t have to study much above and beyond the assigned problem sets.

I don’t know when it happened or what directly caused it, but somewhere in that fuzzy temporal space between my undergraduate and graduate career I passed a break-point. The draw that physics had once held for me in the what-else-can-I-learn-about-the-world department started to decay. It’s true that the more you know the more you realize how little you actually know. Subconsciously I was aware of the fact that I was not going to personally unravel all of the secrets of the universe like my optimistic high-school self had wanted. After that idea fell away, it was like tearing off a warm blanket in the dead of winter—eventually you start to notice just how damn cold it is.

I’m a computer scientist pretending to be a physicist. I don’t follow the physics community. I get bored at physics colloquia. I put off physics homework and don’t enjoy it when I finally get around to slogging through it. I didn’t join any physics communities. I’ve only read about three published physics papers. In contrast, I do follow the tech community and I know some of the names of the Important People in it. I can program in about a dozen different programming languages. I’ve coded lots of programs for personal use and at least two for other people to use. I’ve read several published computer science papers for fun. Plus, I even attended a geek conference in some small capacity.

Two years ago I decided to put off answering a question:

Fresh on the horizon: another 4-6 years of delaying the universal question from childhood: “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

I am through dodging this question. When I grow up I want to program computer systems. I want to solve complex problems by building virtual tools. I want to tame vast oceans of data with deft hands and elegant solutions.

I also want to prepare myself for “The Coming Age of Magic”. Computer Science is the modern alchemy. In the past, alchemy was the art and skill of being able to change something common into something special [def]. These days computers are everywhere, and only a programmer can make them work wonders.

To further these newly stated goals, I have transferred from the PhD physics program to the Masters computer science program at the same school. The physical transition may be trivial, but the mental transition is very strange to make. I have always viewed CS classes as a sort of naughty indulgence, as some men might similarly refer to the catalogs they receive that reveal the secrets of a certain Ms. Victoria. I’ve known about this academic transition since mid-November, but it has taken me almost two full months to invert the contents of my brain, relegating physics to the background for a change and dragging my hackish talents to the fore. In a way, it’s like telling a 6 year-old that they can get paid to eat ice cream all day long. Something about that seems…unreal.

Despite some atypical wintry weather causing delays, the new semester will begin for me very soon. Hopefully that vacancy I felt with physics will fade into the past.