for the first time in four years, i'm about to spend more than a weekend living at my parent's place. don't get me wrong: there are worse things than being well-fed, retail-pampered, and forced to soak in 80-degree miami sunshine in the middle of winter.

but the weird thing about being home is that ... well, it's my second home. and while this place has plenty of canine activity, snack variety, and familial adoration, it lacks my own feline children, my extensive toiletry collection, and most importantly: my comcast DVR. and on a more sentimental level, being here means that i miss my adopted kin.

growing up, i was instilled with two mantras that continue to serve as the foundation of my life:

1. education is the most important thing in life.
(in case you aren't familiar with my current endeavors, checkmark.)

2. family comes first. period.
(in case you are keeping track, "it's not cheating if you don't get caught" (see emerging unvictorious) isn't really a family-law; it is more of a "best-practices" suggestion.)

while family continues to be central to my life, i'm beginning to be more cognizant of the fact that for the last seven years, my life has been shaped less by the relatives to whom i'm related by blood, and more by the family by whom i'm surrounded on a daily basis. and i think that this phenomenon is a pillar of the twenty-something experience.

it's not that i love or depend on my nuclear family any less. in fact, if anything, i have become closer to my siblings -- see joshua tree, 13 going on 30 -- as we've grown into adults ... well, adult-ish). and it's not that the lessons and influences instilled by my parents are any less prevalent.

rather, it's the notion that when we're away from home, we build a necessary support system that fulfills the obligations of family: it's the immediate parental-like reminder that what's right isn't always easy, that brownies don't count as vegetables, and that safe sex isn't necessarily prudent sex. or something like that.

part of the twenty-something experience is the transformation from dependence on individuals with whom we share genes to a reliance on people with whom we share jeans.

some people call these relationships "family of choice." anthropologists talk about "voluntary family" and "fictive kin." i like to call it "survival of the fittest." but apparently that phrase is already taken.

so i'm hereby calling it the "gene-to-jean" phenomenon.

one of the most challenging issues with the graduate school social landscape is that, unlike college or high school in which a core group of friends defines one's academic, partying, and dinner schedules, no one really has a single nuclear family. there's this widespread "floating" mentality whereby each person's support system is a web of relationships rather than a single trampoline of them.

there is the guy you study with. the girl you play wing(wo)man for. the kids you pre-party with. the guy who lives next door (hi justin!). the section. the learning team. the latinos. the jews. the latino jews. the good influences. the bad influences. the good influences who subsequently become bad influences. and the disproportionately good looking rugby team (hi carter!).

despite the fact that i still feel intensely lonely at school, there's also something to be said about sitting in the same seat (that i didn't choose), in the same classroom, with the same 89 people for no less than 18 hours a week ... and usually far more.

in an experience that tests every ounce of personal conviction, personal satisfaction, and personal growth, this past semester seemed to leave little time or energy to make the personal relationships that are fundamental to the "gene to jean" phenomenon.

which makes defining exactly what i miss difficult: turns out that somewhere along the way, the people who -- by chance -- were physically around me grew on me emotionally. in a lot of different -- and often complex -- ways.

but i guess these relationships wouldn't be legitimately family-esque if they didn't come with issues. or alcohol.

harvard students.
notorious for social elitism.
undignified snobbery.
and of course,
the nastiest cut-throat-ism on the planet.

although i anticipated that most of these stereotypes would be confirmed when i stepped foot on campus, i have been pleasantly surprised -- and almost downright shocked -- by the benign responsibility shown towards fellow classmates and the warmth expressed for the under-privileged and distressed (i.e. individuals at schools such as wharton or stanford). in fact, we had a group hug the last day of classes. we had piggyback races too.

but the funny thing is that when pushed to extremes, the niceties cultivated over the last few months of classes, projects, team building, and homework are trumped by the once-hidden internal demons.

the competitiveness -- the over-achieving, cut throat, devil-take-the-hindmost -- harbored within all of us has surfaced.

smells like teen spirit finals are in the air.

what it comes down to is that this place and this vocation are not for the faint-hearted and easily-intimidated. which begs the question i've been asking since i was accepted: what am i doing?

and if the answer is that i'm an over-achieving, cut throat, devil-take-the-hindmost individual, then i have bigger problems than the fact that i'm failing three of my five classes.

of course, some students are able to blow off the intensity, others become consumed by it, and the rest (like me) swing back and forth between inconsolable panic and scornful enjoyment.

in the quest to distinguish one's self in a system that assigns only three grades -- 1s indicating "superstardome;" 2s meaning "mediocrity;" and 3 being "for-the-first-time-in-your-life-
you-are-setting-the-bottom-of-the-curve" -- competitive advantages are gained on final exams by getting one's hands on the spreadsheets and prepared answers that actually attempt to make sense of entire courses.

which boils down to "whom do you know?" and more often, "whom can you bribe?"

i'm not sure how the whole finals thing works in other grad programs. but for a business school that tells you the two questions on every exam on the first day of class (analyze the situation and what do you do?), being able to quickly get through the quantitative number-crunching to support your qualitative analysis is what differentiates the boys from the men. the girls from the women. the 1s from the 3s. and the baker scholars from those of us who just bake cookies.

the only reprieve i've encountered in the grueling endeavor to prove that something was learned (*use of passive voice intentional) over the last four months is the format of the test: choose a position and defend it. (see blog below.)

a good friend of mine likes to say that on multiple-choice exams, the answers are already on the paper; all one need to do is pick the right one.

unfortunately (in a completely extremist and unwarranted stereotype) for the bankers, private equity associates, and accountants. who haven't had to use evidence. punctuation. or full sentences. to support their opinions. since ... ever(?) ... those of us who bring mostly-unusable writing abilities to business school are better equipped to express ourselves.

unfortunately for us, without the quantitative capabilities, we're left with nothing to express.

hence the source of widespread panic. and the emergence of competitive demons: the same ones that probably got us here in the first place.

admittedly, there are students who are not affected by the performance pressures associated with the approaching exams. and not only do many of them widely share their knowledge and expertise with the gimp horses (read: me) who are slowing down the curriculum for the fit, but they also remind us that at our twentieth reunion, no one will remember who got the best grades. but we'll always remember who took the time to help us understand the material.

and that's a lesson worth learning -- final exam or not.


important post-script from the ombudsman: it turns out that the outlines, spreadsheets, and prepared answers were mostly useless on the exams. turns out: you actually just needed to be smart. crap.

i have my last first-semester business school final in the morning; tomorrow, my arch nemesis and i meet.

face to face.
spreadsheet to spreadsheet.

just me, beta, and a statement of free cash flows. a menage-a-trois, if you will. (except that chances are good that i'll have no idea idea what's going on.) and as such, i'm having a full-on panic attack tonight. because, obviously, when in doubt, the most effective thing to do is completely paralyze one's self from anything productive.

about two weeks ago, before this final meyham started, i attended a session on taking harvard business school finals. when i went back to review my notes this evening, i realized that this information was too valuable to not share. i like to think of it as me distributing the benefits associated with the $600/day i spend at school.

so as before i dive back into multiples, NOLs, and discount rates (fear not, i have no friggen clue what any of that crap is either), here are:

daniela's notes on taking harvard business school finals
(by the way, these are the notes -- uneditted -- i really took at the session.)

the main question: why?
need to answer: how?
please also describe in the first 150 words "what is the meaning of life."

overall strategy:

• don't give long case summaries. longer isn't always better. except in bed.
  
• the final exam is a decision, so be sure to take a position ( i.e. missionary.)
• just choose whatever position you want. but don't plan to switch half-way through.
  
• uses evidence-based arguments to persuade other party to get involved in previously stated position.
• your position statement should be expressed in two sentences. if it takes you longer than that to get her in bed, she isn't worth your time, anyway.
• be upfront about your position. lie if you need to.
• use an argument. you know woman like the argue.
• each point should be supported with size-estimates. particularly if you are talking about growth or reduction.
  

decision-based finals
-- your options are sometimes explicitly stated, but when they aren't, look for insinuations.
-- hunt for what you want ("the options").
-- "the magic of threes" ... decisions. of course.
-- make a choice. you can't have your final and eat it too.

diagnosis-based finals (hopefully clear of STDs)
-- understand a situation or an outcome. or at least be prepared for surprises.
-- identify causes and show how they result in situation. (too much promiscuity?)

evaluation-based finals
-- evaluate performance! really. how good was it? most importantly, would you go back for more?
-- show how performance satisfies/fails to live up to expectations .
-- set up action plan. (like for next time).


good answers include:
1. recommend a decision (go back to your favorite position)
2. identify decision options (from whom do you get to choose)
3. consider decision criteria (hotness, money, personality, etc)
4. proof of recommended option (i.e. proof that he/she is legal)
5. critique of other options (why are turned-down options inferior to chosen pursuit?)
6. action plan (how on earth are you going to get said-pursuit in bed?)

• outlines goal. goal can be simple (i.e. to sleep with intended target) or more involved. bottom line: know her baggage beforehand.
• it is a plan, not a list (duh) ... like personality faults. get over it. you aren't having sex with her personality anyway.
• has both short-term and long-term steps (do you really want to date her? or just sleep with her?)
• are these hard? (puurrrr) or easy? (roar!)
  
• summarize desired end state (i.e. sleep with, date, marry, etc)
• identifies most significant risk (pregnancy?)
  

remember:
-- be realistic. if you're not attractive, you can't sleep with a super-hot girl. rule of 2.
-- if there is a hot girl in the bar, you can't hit on her and your date. pick one dude.
-- most importantly, never -- ever -- forget to use course CONtraCEPTionS.

after a long unwritten silence, i'm reemerging into cybersexspace -- broken down, demoralized, and (fortunately for you fair-weathered fans) with just as much shit to complain about.

i don't think my self-esteem could be any more deflated. on the other hand, i suppose that conventional wisdom suggests that at rock bottom, there's only one way to go: sideways, right?

hence, the reestablishment of my self-serving, self-deprecating, and self-masochistic forum for venting.

as my first semester of self-investment (with a beta of 1.34 because i'm not so diversified and highly-leveraged) draws to a close, i simply can't recapture the emotional hurricane from the last twelve weeks. but i can give you the gist of the blowj... winds.

... and so:

what i really learned in business school this semester.

nothing will ever turn out the way you planned.
academia. the economy. global politics. bubble wrap. relationships. friendships. family. vacuum cleaners. seriously, no matter how much you plan; no matter how much thought you put in; no matter how much time you put into the little details, you can be rest assured that everything will get fucked up. period.

especially creme brule.

be careful what you wish for.
when i was choosing between schools eight months ago (has it been that long?), eric and i got into one of the only agruments of our relationship (see GMATters). my whole life, i have never been able to escape second-tier-ness. it shouldn't have mattered, but for whatever reason it did. and it was in this no less-dignified arena that i did what i do best: over-achieve, over-excel, and over-compensate for my inadequacies. after i expressed this absolutely snobby frustration to eric, he all but kicked me.

i wish he had.

matt lax tried. but for different reasons.

there are a lot of lessons i've learned this semester. "how to survive on 3 to 4 hours of sleep," for instance. and "how to pretend like i have any fucking clue what is going on during finance class." and, of course, "how to harvard." (for definition, see mincing words)

but the most deeply "anti-everything i stand for" lesson i've learned over the last five months is what it feels like to be ... truly inadequate. at everything. like really this time.

i should have been more careful about what i wished for.

after "setting the curve" for my entire life, i continue to set the curve here too. the bottom of it. like the part of the curve that's no longer curvy. and it feels crappy down here. the only good thing about being this far below is that i imagine it's easier to look up womens' skirts (which, sorry britney, doesn't even do it for me).

other than that, it just sucks.

it's not cheating if you don't get caught.
just kidding. that's a lifelong family mantra. didn't need to learn that here.

everything is more complicated than you think it is.
academia. the economy. global politics. bubble wrap. relationships. friendships. family. vacuum cleaners. seriously, ignorance is bliss.

it's important to remember who you are.
i always say that i was socially raised by guys -- a wolf in chic clothing if you will. i smoke cigars, check out girls, and play texas hold 'em with the best of them. and i have always rolled my eyes at individuals who play their identity cards to excuse inability ... or to get into grad school (see minor-ity problems). losers.

after five months of being a zebra trapped in a lion cage, it turns out that it is actually, and truly, difficult to be a woman -- a jewish, quasi-latina, nonprofit woman -- in business school. the assholes here attribute my uncertainty and lack of verbal conviction to the fact that i'm a woman (they haven't heard me in bed); but that assumption is fundamentally incorrect. it's just that i'm an uncertain person with a lack of verbal conviction -- my two assets and double-x chromosome have nothing to do with it.

so despite my goodwilled belief that the twenty-first century brought (cue patriotic music) equality, liberty, and justice for all (and krispe cream doughnuts), it turns out that today's business world -- and by proxy, business school -- requires that we females prove ourselves.

and frankly, i feel like i have nothing to prove. nothing to add either, but that's besides the point.

in the end, the race is only with yourself.
i'm going to throw the bullshit flag on that one. who are you kidding? the race is with everyone. including you.

in this situation, it's just that i'm still typing my shoes on the business school starting line and the rest of the first-year class is rounding out the first mile.

growing up hurts.
physically: given that i normally get sick about once every-other year, since moving here, i've had laryngitis, two colds, a chronic cough, a near-broken rib, and multiple handicapping leg cramps.

and it hurts emotionally too. this semester -- this place -- has been a deeply lonely experience. although i admittedly thrive off high-stress, high-responsibility, high-room-for-screwing-up situations, i've learned that the best personal growth really occurs when there's a "shared suck" (outside of the bedroom, of course).

making friends here is hard. feeling needed is hard. being noticed is damn-near impossible. and the notion that life is what happens between people makes this a very solitary experience.

i've never felt so lonely in my life. or sexually frustrated, for the record.

when it comes down to it, it's all about family and friends.
but really only some of you.

when we're away from our blood relatives, it's interesting how important friends become. in one sense, friends are the relatives we choose ourselves. and when i take a step back from the everyday grind, i realize that it is all about friends and family ... and the friends we make our family.

in theory, anyway.

and finally
two-thirds of hbs is bs.
no explanation needed.