On Arrogance
I'm not sure why I decided to revive my LJ by making this post. It would've seemed more appropriate a year ago. It's more of a rant than a substantial post, but hey, that's what my LJ was originally intended for.
Thinking back, I'm not sure anything really pisses me off more than arrogance I've encountered in many shapes and sizes. It's a frustrating feeling -- the condescension one has to put up with, the "oh-been-there-done-that" mentality that's so tough to communicate with -- and not something that I'm completely innocent of.
If asked to describe me in one word, most of my classmates in high school would have probably picked "arrogant." It was a special arrogance, though, that developed over time. It was a very unique "Oh, Ryan's just being himself again" that probably started when I'd bitch about never setting curves in middle school, even though I ended up with pretty decent grades, continued when I really started using this LJ as a sounding board for some relatively controversial issues that I knew nothing about, such as abortion, gay marriage, the illegitimacy of the idea of Protestantism, etc. (it certainly didn't help when, as a trollish middle schooler, one of my best comebacks was "have fun working at McDonald's in a few years"), and probably reached a climax sometime between my junior year, when I frequently made some not-so-subtle comments about the Smoke Signal staffing decision to not include me on the 2005-2006 staff, and my senior year, when, buoyed by my name's frequent mentioning in the morning announcements often followed by a chiming of the Mission Bell, I took to wearing my MIT and Stanford apparel way too much.
This arrogance was mostly internal, as I had realized sometime in elementary school that the public education system didn't have a whole lot to offer me. Though the official story at the time was that I had moved, I transferred from Forest Park to Montessori simply because I was too arrogant for my 4th grade teacher, Ms. Hsu. I was too good for her protracted method of long division which she forced on me, too good for "Gifted and Talented" classes in which I felt neither gifted nor talented. In hindsight, I think it got to me again in 6th grade, when towards the end of the year, I was the only 6th grader (out of a class of 8 at Montessori) to not go on the private-school version of science camp. I despised my teacher despite the fact that she had allowed me to learn whatever I wanted for two years -- she tried to reign me in, and I was too spoiled to realize that she was just trying to do her job. I entered Hopkins as a complete stranger, and thanks to the help of a few childhood friends who were somewhat sympathetic, I managed to transition back to public school.
The arrogance was fueled by what other people expected of me, as well. I was supposed to be the best. It was always "Oh, what did Ryan get on the science test?" or "How'd Ryan do at the math competition?" (more on that later). Thus, when people fanned the flames, I only got worse. My ego inflated, and I acted the part, more than occasionally making petty comments insulting others' intelligences, both in person and online.
To tell the truth, though, I still haven't been able to come to terms that I was fully aware that I was being a complete douchebag every time I sounded off on one of my elitist rants. I joked about my own arrogance and make more than enough self-deprecating remarks to counteract my antics, I thought, but nobody seemed to realize it. And so the public image inflated, while privately, I think, my friends finally started to realize I had a soul.
A Google search for "Ryan Ko" yields many results, most of which are directed to Ryan Taehyon Ko, a Stanford junior who won the Mathcounts competition in 2001, warranting a handshake with George W. Bush (visible on Google images), and in 2006, graduated from Phillips Exeter and won a silver medal at the 2006 International Math Olympiad in Slovenia. On many occasions at academic events, I was frequently mistaken with the more well-known Ryan Ko, the one who actually had a legit reason to boast and brag. Even MIT mixed us up: when I received my admissions card from MIT, there was a typewritten comment, "Silver medal in International Olympiad" that was clearly crossed out in pen. This kid was the real deal, and I knew it all along -- every time I heard any sort of praise for "Ryan Ko," this guy would come to mind. So why, then, couldn't I have been more fucking humble?
It's a question I still can't answer. I still think what sets me apart somewhat is the fact that I was fully aware of my own antics the whole time. I attribute many a failure due to the lack of popularity that they caused: the Smoke Signal rejection, finishing second on the Conservative ticket to Karinne at Mock Convention, not being elected Academic Challenge president.
This brings me back to the reason for this post. Do all arrogant people realize it, or are many of them simply so narcissistic that they don't know when to let up? This puts me in a Catch-22, then -- I can't be so hypocritical of other arrogant fucks if I don't understand what makes them that way.
Take a kid from YSP, for instance. This kid simply had no idea he was outclassed, and didn't know when to shut up -- he loved the sound of his voice. I had the misfortune of being stuck next to him on a field trip once, and he sang a horrible rendition of DHT's "Listen to Your Heart" for two hours when I was very clearly trying to sleep. The way he asked me and some other YSP-ers for feedback reminded me of the stereotypical "Does this dress make me look fat?" He would consistently brag about how easy he thought his work was. Later on, when he asked me for advice about college apps, he rated himself (loosely quoted) as not having any trouble getting into college, because he was a "pretty good writer." Jon Huang will remember the quote, as I furiously showed it to him immediately after. The kid's now at Yale, that pompous fuck. I realize that since this post is synced with Facebook he can read this post. I doubt he will, but in the case that he does, I feel a little better that someone shares this tidbit of info with him before he gets a figurative face-ful of concrete at Yale.
More recently, I was shooting around with Bryan Han at one of GWU's gyms. There was a young man, maybe 20, who was skinny and decently fast, had an okay jump shot -- a typical skinny guy who'd be playing basketball on a weeknight. He acted like he owned the place, though. When Bryan missed a long three short, he exhorted, "Muscle! More muscle!" as if neither of us realized that Bryan had missed way short. He'd criticize my form and the way I played, despite the fact that he really wasn't good at all. Things only got worse when a pickup game started -- I swooshed a three and made a pretty ugly lay-in to start, which apparently pissed him off -- and he'd showboat after every point, despite the fact that his team had a six-foot-five guy who was destroying everyone, and he was just picking up loose change. The big guy just shut up and played, seemingly embarrassed by the loudmouth. I realize that some people trash-talk as a tactic to get into their opponents' heads, and it definitely irritated me at the time, but I ran into him later in the week at a local sandwich place, and there he was, talking it up, schmoozing it up with some girls he was clearly trying to impress. It was that snapshot that made me think of the kid from YSP, acting as if they were happy to be king of the world.
Do they really think they're that great, or are they just good actors who have a more pragmatic view of the world, like me?
I didn't accomplish a whole lot my freshman year at MIT. One thing I definitely destroyed was the whole arrogant mindset/act. That's one thing I'm very grateful for -- MIT brings in plenty of high school hotshots, but very few of them act the part after a while -- they get ground down like everyone else and get used to it.
So if you see me being arrogant, or acting the part, I'd ask that you kindly take a moment and bring it up with me. Just let me know it pisses you off. I'll either joke around with you about how oversensitive you are to my humor, or take some honest constructive criticism. Either way, I'm just being myself now -- I have no high school rumor mill or expectations to live up to.
Thinking back, I'm not sure anything really pisses me off more than arrogance I've encountered in many shapes and sizes. It's a frustrating feeling -- the condescension one has to put up with, the "oh-been-there-done-that" mentality that's so tough to communicate with -- and not something that I'm completely innocent of.
If asked to describe me in one word, most of my classmates in high school would have probably picked "arrogant." It was a special arrogance, though, that developed over time. It was a very unique "Oh, Ryan's just being himself again" that probably started when I'd bitch about never setting curves in middle school, even though I ended up with pretty decent grades, continued when I really started using this LJ as a sounding board for some relatively controversial issues that I knew nothing about, such as abortion, gay marriage, the illegitimacy of the idea of Protestantism, etc. (it certainly didn't help when, as a trollish middle schooler, one of my best comebacks was "have fun working at McDonald's in a few years"), and probably reached a climax sometime between my junior year, when I frequently made some not-so-subtle comments about the Smoke Signal staffing decision to not include me on the 2005-2006 staff, and my senior year, when, buoyed by my name's frequent mentioning in the morning announcements often followed by a chiming of the Mission Bell, I took to wearing my MIT and Stanford apparel way too much.
This arrogance was mostly internal, as I had realized sometime in elementary school that the public education system didn't have a whole lot to offer me. Though the official story at the time was that I had moved, I transferred from Forest Park to Montessori simply because I was too arrogant for my 4th grade teacher, Ms. Hsu. I was too good for her protracted method of long division which she forced on me, too good for "Gifted and Talented" classes in which I felt neither gifted nor talented. In hindsight, I think it got to me again in 6th grade, when towards the end of the year, I was the only 6th grader (out of a class of 8 at Montessori) to not go on the private-school version of science camp. I despised my teacher despite the fact that she had allowed me to learn whatever I wanted for two years -- she tried to reign me in, and I was too spoiled to realize that she was just trying to do her job. I entered Hopkins as a complete stranger, and thanks to the help of a few childhood friends who were somewhat sympathetic, I managed to transition back to public school.
The arrogance was fueled by what other people expected of me, as well. I was supposed to be the best. It was always "Oh, what did Ryan get on the science test?" or "How'd Ryan do at the math competition?" (more on that later). Thus, when people fanned the flames, I only got worse. My ego inflated, and I acted the part, more than occasionally making petty comments insulting others' intelligences, both in person and online.
To tell the truth, though, I still haven't been able to come to terms that I was fully aware that I was being a complete douchebag every time I sounded off on one of my elitist rants. I joked about my own arrogance and make more than enough self-deprecating remarks to counteract my antics, I thought, but nobody seemed to realize it. And so the public image inflated, while privately, I think, my friends finally started to realize I had a soul.
A Google search for "Ryan Ko" yields many results, most of which are directed to Ryan Taehyon Ko, a Stanford junior who won the Mathcounts competition in 2001, warranting a handshake with George W. Bush (visible on Google images), and in 2006, graduated from Phillips Exeter and won a silver medal at the 2006 International Math Olympiad in Slovenia. On many occasions at academic events, I was frequently mistaken with the more well-known Ryan Ko, the one who actually had a legit reason to boast and brag. Even MIT mixed us up: when I received my admissions card from MIT, there was a typewritten comment, "Silver medal in International Olympiad" that was clearly crossed out in pen. This kid was the real deal, and I knew it all along -- every time I heard any sort of praise for "Ryan Ko," this guy would come to mind. So why, then, couldn't I have been more fucking humble?
It's a question I still can't answer. I still think what sets me apart somewhat is the fact that I was fully aware of my own antics the whole time. I attribute many a failure due to the lack of popularity that they caused: the Smoke Signal rejection, finishing second on the Conservative ticket to Karinne at Mock Convention, not being elected Academic Challenge president.
This brings me back to the reason for this post. Do all arrogant people realize it, or are many of them simply so narcissistic that they don't know when to let up? This puts me in a Catch-22, then -- I can't be so hypocritical of other arrogant fucks if I don't understand what makes them that way.
Take a kid from YSP, for instance. This kid simply had no idea he was outclassed, and didn't know when to shut up -- he loved the sound of his voice. I had the misfortune of being stuck next to him on a field trip once, and he sang a horrible rendition of DHT's "Listen to Your Heart" for two hours when I was very clearly trying to sleep. The way he asked me and some other YSP-ers for feedback reminded me of the stereotypical "Does this dress make me look fat?" He would consistently brag about how easy he thought his work was. Later on, when he asked me for advice about college apps, he rated himself (loosely quoted) as not having any trouble getting into college, because he was a "pretty good writer." Jon Huang will remember the quote, as I furiously showed it to him immediately after. The kid's now at Yale, that pompous fuck. I realize that since this post is synced with Facebook he can read this post. I doubt he will, but in the case that he does, I feel a little better that someone shares this tidbit of info with him before he gets a figurative face-ful of concrete at Yale.
More recently, I was shooting around with Bryan Han at one of GWU's gyms. There was a young man, maybe 20, who was skinny and decently fast, had an okay jump shot -- a typical skinny guy who'd be playing basketball on a weeknight. He acted like he owned the place, though. When Bryan missed a long three short, he exhorted, "Muscle! More muscle!" as if neither of us realized that Bryan had missed way short. He'd criticize my form and the way I played, despite the fact that he really wasn't good at all. Things only got worse when a pickup game started -- I swooshed a three and made a pretty ugly lay-in to start, which apparently pissed him off -- and he'd showboat after every point, despite the fact that his team had a six-foot-five guy who was destroying everyone, and he was just picking up loose change. The big guy just shut up and played, seemingly embarrassed by the loudmouth. I realize that some people trash-talk as a tactic to get into their opponents' heads, and it definitely irritated me at the time, but I ran into him later in the week at a local sandwich place, and there he was, talking it up, schmoozing it up with some girls he was clearly trying to impress. It was that snapshot that made me think of the kid from YSP, acting as if they were happy to be king of the world.
Do they really think they're that great, or are they just good actors who have a more pragmatic view of the world, like me?
I didn't accomplish a whole lot my freshman year at MIT. One thing I definitely destroyed was the whole arrogant mindset/act. That's one thing I'm very grateful for -- MIT brings in plenty of high school hotshots, but very few of them act the part after a while -- they get ground down like everyone else and get used to it.
So if you see me being arrogant, or acting the part, I'd ask that you kindly take a moment and bring it up with me. Just let me know it pisses you off. I'll either joke around with you about how oversensitive you are to my humor, or take some honest constructive criticism. Either way, I'm just being myself now -- I have no high school rumor mill or expectations to live up to.