I often find myself wishing I had a twin. Not because I yearn for companionship or a doubles badminton partner, but because a twin would be the perfect person to compare myself to.

In childhood, my twin and I would compete in piano, chess and Nintendo. We are nerds. During adolescence we would contend for the attention of girls, spots on the starting line of the football team and invitations to cool-kid parties. Adolescence is not our strong suit. Throughout our 20s, we would tally up Interesting Life Experiences-diving off mountains in bat suits, captaining submarines or living among a colony of bears, Grizzly Man-style. These are the things you do in your 20s. Our 30s would be occupied with climbing the corporate ladder, 40s to who could rear superior children with superior wives, and after that I imagine we would simply try to outlive each other, death serving as a convenient and indisputable tiebreaker to our lifelong competition.

The twinless, deprived of a rival where “nature” and “nurture” are as evenly matched as you could ask for, usually resort to comparing themselves to whoever else is around. This human tendency explains how rich, famous, beautiful people can still find themselves dreadfully unhappy, as they inevitably find themselves living next door to some wealthier, more celebrated, better-looking counterpart.

Become valedictorian at your high school, only to find yourself an average undergrad at Harvard-a problem Harvard has neatly solved by making every student an “A” student. Become President just like your first grade teacher said you could, only to become the next Millard Fillmore, a guy so dim he ran for re-election as the candidate of the “Know Nothing Party” (he lost).

For better or worse, American principles of democracy and capitalism foster a culture of winning above all else. Fillmore is maligned, but at least he has a spot in history. We forget the names of the losing candidates halfway through their concession speeches. We watch the Olympics, not for the staged world camaraderie, but to see who will win gold medals.

Here at Northwestern, ambition is seen as a virTuesday, but ambition has no moral value in and of itself. I have a friend who aspires to be a doctor, but only because of the pressure of his parents. While the outcome of his ambition-to be a doctor-is positive, it is only incidental to his true motive, fulfilling the wishes of his parents. I had a freshman year acquaintance who, upon introducing himself, would usually casually mention that his plans included becoming a U.S. senator. I meant your weekend plans, buddy.

At NU, a campus of concert violinists, Fulbright Scholars, and aspiring fatcat bankers, it’s often a struggle just to feel adequate. Of all the sins outlined in the Bible, ambition is the only one my mother never warned me against. Perhaps it’s for the best that she didn’t end up with twins-there’s enough rivalry and competition in the world as it is without an Ashley to my Mary-Kate.

Weinberg senior Thomas Ouellette can be reached at [email protected]