I was charged with the task of writing two essays and a lab report that week, and I had a bio exam in a few days. I had just declared my major/minor combination early a few weeks prior (biology and philosophy, if you were wondering). And here was this fucking fortune cookie.
As a memento of how absurd circumstances in my life tend to be, I pinned it to my desk.
I've since gotten my lab report back. After a vague speech by my professor about the general weaknesses of the class's reports, I was expecting the worst. But we did well. Very well. I was happy. Later in the day, he pulled me aside in the lab to tell me something.
I panicked at first, anticipating phrases like, "You are about to blow something up," and, "What would be the product of chemical X and Y?" Instead, it was something about how my lab partners had told him that I'd written the report and that he was impressed. He discussed the possibility of becoming a technical writer. Though I knew I'd grow bored writing procedures, I thanked him for bringing it up.
The truth is that after the multitude of issues I've faced in that course, I really needed to hear that I'd succeeded in at least one aspect of it. And it made me begin to think about how much I enjoy writing and how, apparently, it seems to be my one natural talent. So, who knows? While I don't think I could stand to be a technical writer, I might end up moving more towards the writing side of the sciences. They need people to explain, and I can do it. Because, sorry scientists...but you're not always the best at explaining things. The smarts that you have (and that maybe I lack in some ways), I can convey.
Touche, fortune cookie.
Silly writer, I am.Also, those glasses are part of my Velma costume this Halloween. Have I really not been Velma before?
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