I never aspired to be a computer scientist. When I was growing up and finding my way in the world, I wanted to be involved in the arts. I wanted to write music, to publish books, and to star in films & television. I was a daydreamer, and a lazy one at that - precision and logic were not in my wheelhouse. This surely meant that I could forgo pursuing formal education, establishing financial security via sustained employment, and other generally sensible things.
You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered the hard way that working in the arts…would still be work.
I frivolously frittered away my late teens and mid twenties. I worked part time at the mall, delivered pizzas, washed dishes, etc. There is nothing wrong with this category of work; there are those for whom it is appropriate or enjoyable. It just so happens that in those days, opportunity was plentiful. They were jobs that I felt I could quit on a dime if I got a gig…and I did quit those jobs, sometimes for a single gig, usually with no backup plan.
Not a prudent strategy for anyone with aspirations of living well.
Wake up Call
As with anything, there is nuance to the story. This season contained plenty of joys and successes. These will be expounded upon in future entries.
With regard to my professional journey however, it was a time fraught with tremendous frustration and discouragement. Though I now celebrate their success, watching my peers establish careers and leave me in the dust was an odd feeling. Some went on to acquire teaching credentials, real estate licenses, even positions in broadcasting.
Meanwhile, I had barely skidded out of high school, had washed out of university, and at the time had no prospects but my vague daydreams. Deep down, someone in that situation knows how it looks, and yet misplaced pride can make a person continue to resist reality. It takes time (and sometimes sustained pain) for a misguided dreamer to realize that having no clear plan and little discernable progress will indeed cause a person to be perceived in certain…uncomfortable ways. It often takes even longer to understand that the resulting discomfort is probably not society’s fault most of the time.
Vanderbilt
When I moved to Nashville to try taking my artistic pursuits more seriously, the pattern more or less continued. Though as I slowly matured, I began to take my day jobs more seriously as well. I developed a sense of basic pride, which drove me to find more satisfaction in my capacity to engage with society. Along the way, I became hopelessly addicted to coffee by way of a friend who worked at the “mermaid company”.
Through the providence of God, my interests became intertwined with my necessities. I came into the employ of some sweet folks who owned a handful of coffee shops around the campus of Vanderbilt University. The Lord protected them from the vestiges of my foolhardy nature, and likewise blessed me with work ethic & an increased capacity for respect. For the first time, I was able to project into the future and consider what I might want out of life.
Sometime in late 2019, I became connected with a representative from Vanderbilt’s technology department. I was invited to register for Vanderbilt’s web development bootcamp*. I hesitated at first. I didn’t have Vanderbilt money sitting around, and I didn’t think I had it in me to do something that sounded so intellectually challenging. An aspiring songwriter and musician (especially one who seemingly has missed the boat on traditional lifestyles) may hear some encouraging words from family and peers. More often heard are the off base, disheartening remarks from detractors. Eventually, your heart starts to believe the latter.
The Event Horizon
That winter, during Vandy’s seasonal break, I took a job at a restaurant in the evenings. By now, the out of pocket remarks had reached critical mass on my countenance. I’m grateful of course for every opportunity…but the put-downs from the out-of-touch upper crust whom I was serving finally showed me my breaking point. After a particularly desolate evening, I took a wild hair to dust off the edX app I had downloaded years prior. Harvard University’s Intro to Computer Science course, CS50, was open sourced (free) on the platform.
I went through the first week of material in a day or two. Computer science fundamentals such as algorithmic thinking, memory, and transistors switched on a light bulb in my imagination. I had always been my family’s “IT guy” (i.e. I would unplug the computer tower and plug it back in when Internet Explorer froze); of course this path made sense. Besides: I had something to prove to the folks who would use insinuations about my apparent stupidity as a tool for social posturing. Not to mention, I needed more income to pay for studio time. I decided it was time to try something drastic.
After a few more weeks of progressing through CS50, I had built up the confidence to reconnect with the gentleman from Vanderbilt’s tech department. He walked me through what to expect from the course, and my options for handling the financial burden. I knew that if there was a cost involved, I would be more compelled to see the experience through, from the rigors of the course to the job hunt and beyond. I also enjoyed the notion of coming full-circle with Vanderbilt after working there for two years. With the help of a tech savvy friend who sold computers, I bought a new laptop just in time for the course to begin.
Bootcamp
In January 2020, the trial commenced with items that I would now consider silly: what is a browser? How do I get some text onto a web page? How do I build a button, and then make it clickable? How do I make the button green?
At the time, these early challenges prokoved despondence. Indeed, I struggled with the code. However, the real battle was with my imagination:
- “why does typing on this keyboard cause things to happen on the screen?”
- “what will even this look like in vocational practice? why are we doing this, and how will I even know what to do in a job?”
- and perhaps worst of all: “if I’m this confused with such trivial elements, what might that mean for my career outlook? Am I wasting time and throwing money away? Were those snobby Belmont & Vandy moms right about me?”
Somehow, this felt different than CS50. Having significant skin in the game (the debt I incurred to join the program), paired with the mental jump between the phone book algorithm and the vague premise of doing whatever this is for a living, made all of my doubts ever louder. Not to mention the physical rigor of arriving at Vanderbilt at 6:45 AM for my day job supervising the Divinity Library coffee shop each day before my three hour evening course.
Still, I pressed on.
I pressed on through my own aforementioned doubts.
I pressed on through the physical exhaustion and mental stress.
I pressed on through the scorn of the haughty - “how dare this vulgar mutt aspire to be something other than my servant or the butt of my riducule?”
I pressed on because I had something to prove to myself, supporters, and naysayers alike.
I pressed on because studio time is expensive, and a programming career had been sold to me as the key to my dreams.
I had too much to lose now to relent.
These motivations helped keep me focused on the undertaking. While I still managed to tend to my musical outlet, essentially all of my spare was dedicated to programming. 30-45 hours a week on top of my day job was spent reading blogs and stack overflow questions and course materials, grinding codewars kata and freeCodeCamp, and building projects for the course.
I don’t know how a season can feel likewise fleeting and eternal; nevertheless, in the everlasting blink of an eye, I had a piece of paper bearing both my name and that of Vanderbilt University.
I held my confirmation that I was capable of rising to the challenge, above my fears, above the upturned noses.
I was 90% of the way toward making my change. Only **90% remained: securing the first programming job.
to be continued…
*at the time of this writing (02/08/2026), I have complicated opinions about code bootcamps. I will explain in a future entry.
**there is a programming trope wherein the last estimated 10% of a project often entails 90% of the most difficult work.