...I say thumbing my nose and stifling a yawn (trying to hide my intellectual shame).
Two nights ago I first heard about the new superconductor circling underneath France and Switzerland. I was finally in my pajamas after a l-o-o-o-n-g day, ready to veg with a glass of wine and the last half of a CSI rerun, totally minding my own decompressing business when Wes walks in and casually announces:
"So they've built a new superconductor and plan on testing it this week. Some people think it's going to create a million tiny black holes through which the planet will be sucked up and destroyed."
Normally, I'd banter with, "Really? So, who exactly is 'they'? Our swinging neighbors? I wondered what all that racket was this weekend, but I assumed it was just one of their legendary parties." And then segue into some asinine conversation about swingers and black holes, which Wes would've thoroughly enjoyed.
That's what I'd normally do. This night, as shot as all my nerve endings and synapses were, I responded with, "Huh."
Announcement forgotten.
Until last night, when Wes felt the need to educate me on the Hadron supercollider. He calls me into the office -- again, finally in pajamas, kids finally tucked in for the night, just as I was heading to the kitch for (yep, you guessed it) a glass of wine -- with a tantalizing note of excitement in his voice. You know the note, a bit flirty, a bit intriguing, the excitement edging its tones with something that says, "I know something that's gonna interest you, and you HAVE to come here!"
So I went to the office, all a-quiver with anticipation of this fascinating tidbit that I'm sure he had for me, only to find a cued-up YouTube video (view it here if you dare: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3iryBLZCOQ ) -- it's this ridiculous rap-styled tutorial, way too long and repetitive to remain interesting, about the Large Hadron Collider (LHC). It's one of those pop-culture knock-off attempts to convince science dummies and kids exactly how hip science really is. It's like Bill Nye, only worse. (I shouldn't say that; I actually like Bill Nye. I had a crush on him when I was a kid -- or was that when my kids were little? Hmmm, can't remember...)
So finally when the bad rap is over, I had to ask with a sigh, "Where on earth did you find that?" He answers. Then I had to ask (while stifling a yawn), "Why on earth did you want me to see that?"
He answers by explaining the concept to me. About 2/3 of the way through his lecture, he finally catches on that I'm not very interested -- I think it was when my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I slumped over onto the ground where I immediately began snoring.
I finally commented, "I don't think it'll destroy the world, and I don't really have an intellectual or spiritual problem with it -- I don't think this is heresy or blasphemy or the Tower of Babel, necessarily. What I do think it is, is an astronomical waste of money, time, and effort."
Maybe I'm wrong. But I just don't see what good it will do for humanity to know exactly what happened to all the antimatter (which, by the way, if "they" don't know where it went, nor has it ever been seen, how do "they" know it ever existed in the first place?) or to find the ever-evasive Higgs proton that's supposed to be the central component of nuclear physics (or something) that nobody has ever actually seen.
Unbelievable. It's unfathomable to think that so many people get excited enough about this to spend their life pursuing it, and billions and billions of dollars that could be used to -- I don't know, provide clean drinking water and peace for millions in underprivileged countries that we in the "progressive western world" have pillaged for their resources for centuries??
But maybe -- just maybe -- as one who is studying chemistry for a minor, who will be taking physics in the next several months, maybe I should be interested. Maybe I should be intrigued and entertained by geeks in hard hats and labcoats lipsynching rap lyrics and saying, "yo, yo, that's how we do it in the LHC, b*tch!"
*yawn*
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Just when you think...
Just when I think my kid is growing up too fast...
I mentioned a few posts back that Nathan, who is now Nate, has embraced puberty and the pseudomaturity of the middle-schooler. I sighed over his sudden interest in his personal grooming and his newly-honed fashion sense, and I chided myself for the need to check on him.
The next day, I did drive by his bus stop. Not because I was checking on him, but because my truck was pointed in that direction when I parked it the night before, and that's the way I had to drive to leave our neighborhood. Honest!! But since I was passing by, I thought I'd wave, suppressing the kid-embarrassing maternal urge to blow him a kiss.
When I looked for him, he wasn't there. Other kids were there, even his best friend Matthew. Oh, no! Panic set in.
So I did what any mother would do -- I rolled down the window and asked Matthew if he had seen Nate.
"Uh, yeah," Matthew said, "he's in the tree."
With my eyes I followed his pointing finger into the top branches of the corner tree, and saw my super-cool, hairgel using, newly matured son. "Hi, Mom!" he proudly called over the sound of rustling leaves.
Good, the little boy isn't gone after all!
I mentioned a few posts back that Nathan, who is now Nate, has embraced puberty and the pseudomaturity of the middle-schooler. I sighed over his sudden interest in his personal grooming and his newly-honed fashion sense, and I chided myself for the need to check on him.
The next day, I did drive by his bus stop. Not because I was checking on him, but because my truck was pointed in that direction when I parked it the night before, and that's the way I had to drive to leave our neighborhood. Honest!! But since I was passing by, I thought I'd wave, suppressing the kid-embarrassing maternal urge to blow him a kiss.
When I looked for him, he wasn't there. Other kids were there, even his best friend Matthew. Oh, no! Panic set in.
So I did what any mother would do -- I rolled down the window and asked Matthew if he had seen Nate.
"Uh, yeah," Matthew said, "he's in the tree."
With my eyes I followed his pointing finger into the top branches of the corner tree, and saw my super-cool, hairgel using, newly matured son. "Hi, Mom!" he proudly called over the sound of rustling leaves.
Good, the little boy isn't gone after all!
... and I'm okay with that
In the minds of many observers, the typical science student is very serious, very singular in focus, and very boring. I know this because I've been that observer. I've seen the girls that are too busy studying to fix their hair and makeup. I've overheard the passionate discussions about the lab experiments being conducted that week while I stifled a yawn. I've giggled inside when I see a science geek's eyes light up when discussing the mathematics of DNA sequencing. Yep, science students, whether it's because they think in different stratospheres than the rest of us, have impressed me and many others I've talked with, as being pretty dull. And I've maintained this stereotype, even after becoming a science student myself.
Weird, I know.
And I have, for most of my life, harbored one single fear, one concern that can send me shrieking into the back closet locking the door behind me -- that I would become boring. *gasp!* I think this hangup against monotony is the culprit behind my ever-changing hair color, my many and diverse interests and pursuits, and probably my _________ I dunno, you fill in the blank. Whatever strangeness that can be seen in me, blame it on my boycott on boredom!
I have, subconsciously or otherwise, carried this dread of becoming uninspiring into my degree path. Since I've re-entered university, and since I've declared my intent to continue on to medical school, I have taken three dance classes (modern, ballet, and contact improvisation), a science-fiction literature class, and have entertained the thought of voice lessons as well as ashtanga yoga. The only thing that has kept me out of art classes is the time commitment; I could never find a way to squeeze a 4-hour life drawing class into my schedule (darn it!)
This semester, along with 12 hours of math and science classes, I registered for Arabic Cultures. My thinking? My ultimate goal in this life of doctoring is to do medical missions, and specifically, missions to Arab countries such as Egypt and Sudan. So when I saw the class offering I jumped on it, figuring I'd need to know a little something about how to conduct myself within these cultures when the time comes.
On the first day, members of the class were asked to introduce ourselves with our name, major, and why we were taking the class. I carefully constructed my introduction in my mind as my turn approached (as I'm sure everyone does, right?!) The professor was taken aback, expressing surprise that a biology student would be remotely interested in anything other than microscopes and biospheres.
Stereotype confirmed. *sigh*
As the semester started rolling, however, I found myself giving too much time to this class, which stole time from organic chemistry and calculus. The stress started adding up more and more as the weekends ticked by with busy family schedules -- birthday party for the boys, homework for the boys, shopping for the boys, church activities, and a girls' night which I had on the calendar for months (not to mention an ever-pressing urge to blog!) And for some reason, my husband still wants dinner and clean laundry, and an occasional snuggle. I know, can you believe it?! I didn't have near enough time to commit to the books, and the lectures were whizzing past, leaving me dizzy. I wound up Sunday night with my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face, wondering what on earth was I doing?!
From some other place, somewhere far removed from me, from deep recesses of some ancient well, I heard my voice shouting, "God, you gave me this dream and goal, but why?! If you want me to do this, you need to show me how!!" Okay, so it wasn't that dramatic, but it was a desperate prayer -- and one answered right away with an overwhelming sense of peace as the solution made itself apparent.
I dropped Arabic Cultures Monday morning. I explained to my professor that I knew now why so many science students seem uninterested in anything but science -- because there's no time for anything but science when science is your major.
The same day, I officially declared Biology as my major, with a minor in Chemistry. By filling out one single, simple form, I embraced the uni-dimensionality (is that even a word?!), the singular focus of the science student. I officially became boring.
And I'm okay with that.
Here's the thing. Despite my natural interests in the arts and literature, and my lifelong avoidance of math and science, I am finding I have a good aptitude for the coursework in my major. Still, at times it can be a slog. I don't have a burning fascination for the subject matter of the medical prerequisites; sure, I'm interested, but I can rarely go as far as to say it intrigues me. I don't lie awake puzzling over cell meiosis and why vertebrates evolved the mechanisms of sexual reproduction. I don't dream about ways to bend protein sequences just so, in order to achieve a desired outcome. I don't wake up and bounce out of bed, eager to titrate acid solutions and calculate the derivative of tangent.
I do lie awake some nights, though, wide-eyed and dreamy as Wes and I discuss the future's possibilities. I visualize myself scrubbing in for surgery. I thrill at the thought of setting bones in Africa and playing with the children of patients in far-flung impoverished countries. I cherish the thought of hugging a grateful patient and praying for those in need in real time. I dream of working with my husband to bring proper healthcare to the people in whatever corner of the earth God leads us.
Organismal biology and genetics and organic chemistry and physics (and a list too extensive and tedious to lay out here) are the steps that will take me to those smiling faces, equipped with things that can help them live longer, fuller lives. So that they, in turn, can impact their world in a way they couldn't without the medical help and the loving touch that I will one day give them.
Maybe I am boring -- but maybe not; I still have word-creating powers!! (Recall, if you will, uni-dimensionality? What'd I tell ya, I'm a supergenius!)
But for a season, I am a Biology Major and Chemistry Minor. This is what I do, and not much more.
... and I'm okay with that.
Weird, I know.
And I have, for most of my life, harbored one single fear, one concern that can send me shrieking into the back closet locking the door behind me -- that I would become boring. *gasp!* I think this hangup against monotony is the culprit behind my ever-changing hair color, my many and diverse interests and pursuits, and probably my _________ I dunno, you fill in the blank. Whatever strangeness that can be seen in me, blame it on my boycott on boredom!
I have, subconsciously or otherwise, carried this dread of becoming uninspiring into my degree path. Since I've re-entered university, and since I've declared my intent to continue on to medical school, I have taken three dance classes (modern, ballet, and contact improvisation), a science-fiction literature class, and have entertained the thought of voice lessons as well as ashtanga yoga. The only thing that has kept me out of art classes is the time commitment; I could never find a way to squeeze a 4-hour life drawing class into my schedule (darn it!)
This semester, along with 12 hours of math and science classes, I registered for Arabic Cultures. My thinking? My ultimate goal in this life of doctoring is to do medical missions, and specifically, missions to Arab countries such as Egypt and Sudan. So when I saw the class offering I jumped on it, figuring I'd need to know a little something about how to conduct myself within these cultures when the time comes.
On the first day, members of the class were asked to introduce ourselves with our name, major, and why we were taking the class. I carefully constructed my introduction in my mind as my turn approached (as I'm sure everyone does, right?!) The professor was taken aback, expressing surprise that a biology student would be remotely interested in anything other than microscopes and biospheres.
Stereotype confirmed. *sigh*
As the semester started rolling, however, I found myself giving too much time to this class, which stole time from organic chemistry and calculus. The stress started adding up more and more as the weekends ticked by with busy family schedules -- birthday party for the boys, homework for the boys, shopping for the boys, church activities, and a girls' night which I had on the calendar for months (not to mention an ever-pressing urge to blog!) And for some reason, my husband still wants dinner and clean laundry, and an occasional snuggle. I know, can you believe it?! I didn't have near enough time to commit to the books, and the lectures were whizzing past, leaving me dizzy. I wound up Sunday night with my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face, wondering what on earth was I doing?!
From some other place, somewhere far removed from me, from deep recesses of some ancient well, I heard my voice shouting, "God, you gave me this dream and goal, but why?! If you want me to do this, you need to show me how!!" Okay, so it wasn't that dramatic, but it was a desperate prayer -- and one answered right away with an overwhelming sense of peace as the solution made itself apparent.
I dropped Arabic Cultures Monday morning. I explained to my professor that I knew now why so many science students seem uninterested in anything but science -- because there's no time for anything but science when science is your major.
The same day, I officially declared Biology as my major, with a minor in Chemistry. By filling out one single, simple form, I embraced the uni-dimensionality (is that even a word?!), the singular focus of the science student. I officially became boring.
And I'm okay with that.
Here's the thing. Despite my natural interests in the arts and literature, and my lifelong avoidance of math and science, I am finding I have a good aptitude for the coursework in my major. Still, at times it can be a slog. I don't have a burning fascination for the subject matter of the medical prerequisites; sure, I'm interested, but I can rarely go as far as to say it intrigues me. I don't lie awake puzzling over cell meiosis and why vertebrates evolved the mechanisms of sexual reproduction. I don't dream about ways to bend protein sequences just so, in order to achieve a desired outcome. I don't wake up and bounce out of bed, eager to titrate acid solutions and calculate the derivative of tangent.
I do lie awake some nights, though, wide-eyed and dreamy as Wes and I discuss the future's possibilities. I visualize myself scrubbing in for surgery. I thrill at the thought of setting bones in Africa and playing with the children of patients in far-flung impoverished countries. I cherish the thought of hugging a grateful patient and praying for those in need in real time. I dream of working with my husband to bring proper healthcare to the people in whatever corner of the earth God leads us.
Organismal biology and genetics and organic chemistry and physics (and a list too extensive and tedious to lay out here) are the steps that will take me to those smiling faces, equipped with things that can help them live longer, fuller lives. So that they, in turn, can impact their world in a way they couldn't without the medical help and the loving touch that I will one day give them.
Maybe I am boring -- but maybe not; I still have word-creating powers!! (Recall, if you will, uni-dimensionality? What'd I tell ya, I'm a supergenius!)
But for a season, I am a Biology Major and Chemistry Minor. This is what I do, and not much more.
... and I'm okay with that.
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