Of course we live in different times. I remember vividly how I had to make my first adult decision. I was 17 and I had to give up chess. At that time it felt like Romeo putting down his sword. I was good at the game, sort of a prodigy. It was the only thing I was felt good about. I was a shy boy, a geek. Whenever I went to the party I always wanted to leave. It was only in the chess clubs, during the tournaments and even at the mass chess events they had in my former country I felt swell. I didn't care for smoke and stale air in those halls- I could stay till midnight watching other people playing, analyzing the games, seeking for new solutions and hearing that marvelous sound of the pieces knocking on wood. That was something only I could do- I had my secrets and my thought threads, my heroes and my villains. Even the first girl I liked played chess. That was my skill , my thrill, it earned me the respect of other boys and when I once appeared on TV- even an admiration. And all of that I had to give up. If by 17 you do not reach a master's grade ( I was only a candidate) it is an indication that you are late; the laws of sports are cruel.
"He is a good guy,"- my coaches said to my parents, ".. but he does not care for winning, has no killing instinct". That was true. To me the game itself was more important than a result. I liked to win but as a charming bonus. It was the after party I craved; the mutual analysis, new moves, variations, funny contradictions. Such people have no success in sports. In the best cases they become coaches.
I cried for one night. In the morning I closed my chess set and applied for an engineering school. I was not that bad in math, also engineering schools were not the privileged ones in my former country. Tough studies, not much of a salary after the graduation. The only good thing about that one was that it was not far from the place I lived.
I was pretty miserable for quite a while, Not that I had bad grades. But all of that was not mine; I felt alone among the people many of which were older than me (in Russia many of the engineering students were people sent to study from the industry), had families and expressed profound self-confidence. They were real men- they could drink a lot and work a lot, could do many things with their hands, were direct and easy with women and behaved as if they owned the place. For them it was life; for me the High School continued.
But then came the day of the worm gear design. We had a machine design course and everyone got a project to design a gear. Worm gear was considered one of the toughest and as people had a choice I was the only one left with it. Other students of my group, even those adults were happy they didn't get that assignment. I was terrified at heart.
I remember going to the library and coming out with a pile of books on the subject. That terrified me even more. The only option I felt was to ask for something more simple. The hallway was long and I walked feeling desperate and alone like I never felt before. There was a bench at the end and I sat there, pulled out that pile of books, glanced at it blindly for a while and then decided to have a look; maybe there could bee a shortcut.
I do not remember how much time I spent on that bench, but when I raised my head for the next time it was dark in the windows and the hallway was brightly lit. It was over; I finished the design. All numbers fell into place, all parameters were fit, my gear was rotating in my head (there were no computers, no graphic design software) and I KNEW it was all right. Carefully, not to lose a moment I rewrote the whole process neatly and nicely, recorded everything, and in some state of stupor proceeded to the crappy buffet for a sausage sandwich and a glass of horrible coffee. I could go home and eat something decent but I FELT I deserved that crappy food. That was the food the adults ate. I was an adult now. I could do it. I had a skill to organize my thoughts and my limited knowledge to design something meaningful; moreover, something other people were afraid to approach. Engineering turned to be a rather sexy endeavor. From that moment on every girl I asked out was like a worm gear for me- something mysterious but accessible, something to respect but also the one which has to respect me. No matter what she was dating an engineer, a person who could make things. That's how a skill came to me. It is especially important for the young people who do not know what their skill is while it is already there. It reveals itself in addressing the challenge.
I felt an overwhelming desire to share the knowledge I acquired. It was like in chess -the analysis of the game could lead to the new opportunities. I thus went to the professor and asked if I could explain the process at the classroom exercise. He didn't like me very much but reluctantly agreed noting that he would be there to monitor. It was a memorable day. I lined out everything neatly, got an A right there and one of the burly adult students hailed me out after class:
-Hey, man, it is like a flow of hot molten metal, right?
-What do you mean?
-The thrill, man. When you see that flow, its glowing and playing- it like a music, better then sex, better than a drink, better than anything. You feel the wild force and you are in control of it. It is the same as when you train the dog or sail the boat the skill, man. You feel alive then. Great moment, man, we need to drink to it.
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