Dear world,
When I was in my third year of university, I had a course on stellar atmospheres. I took it with one of my best friends at the time and since it was just the two of us, we had the lectures in the professor's office instead of a ventilated lecture theatre. The three of us would sit in that office, Sarah and I on a couch that was somehow both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time, usually in the morning, as I remember it, with the sun streaming in.
I had wanted to be an astrophysicist for years until that point, but I could never keep my eyes open. I would sit there for the first few minutes, willing my eyes to stay open, but inevitably I would feel my jaw become slack, my eyelids droop and my breathing become heavy. It was just the three of us, Sarah, Prof. Warner and I and there is zero (Zero!) chance he didn't notice. It's not like I was sitting in the back row of a full hall with hundreds of eager eyes to distract him, I was sitting two metres away from him and he was talking directly to me.
The funny thing is, I desperately wanted to be a scientist. When the professor rejected my request to continue my studies with him, I was somewhat devastated because I felt like the only door I had to my future was closed. However, all I had had to do to keep that door open was pay attention and stay awake in his class. Despite the grandiose name, that course wasn't hard, and I wasn't stupid, I could have easily aced it and picked my next adventure. Instead, I barely pulled through that year, leaving a bad impression on the professor. I often ruminate on what the hell happened there.
I do not regret what happened though, because not being an astrophysicist has turned out pretty good for me. I went on to complete a Ph.D. in physics with some pretty great people and saw a lot of the world in the meantime. However, many of these things happened to me, not because of me. I feel like I had very little hand in the direction of my future and was somehow just following paths that were already laid out. My only agency was to decide which of them to follow, rather than being the one to pick them out of the shifting sands myself.
Now, it feels like adventure time is over and I have arrived. It is a bittersweet time of life, full of reflection. I think back to that period when I could have been captain of my ship, but instead let fate dictate. I think of the human wreckage I have seen along the way, and wondered why I travelled mostly unscathed whilst others fell. I suspect that I was somehow privileged, somehow others helped me in ways I could not see and I feel grateful and guilty at the same time.
I think to my children full of questions. They are still small and have most of their life's choices ahead of them still. They ask me questions I find hard to answer, and sometimes I wish I had paid more attention to stellar atmospheres.
When I was in my third year of university, I had a course on stellar atmospheres. I took it with one of my best friends at the time and since it was just the two of us, we had the lectures in the professor's office instead of a ventilated lecture theatre. The three of us would sit in that office, Sarah and I on a couch that was somehow both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time, usually in the morning, as I remember it, with the sun streaming in.
I had wanted to be an astrophysicist for years until that point, but I could never keep my eyes open. I would sit there for the first few minutes, willing my eyes to stay open, but inevitably I would feel my jaw become slack, my eyelids droop and my breathing become heavy. It was just the three of us, Sarah, Prof. Warner and I and there is zero (Zero!) chance he didn't notice. It's not like I was sitting in the back row of a full hall with hundreds of eager eyes to distract him, I was sitting two metres away from him and he was talking directly to me.
The funny thing is, I desperately wanted to be a scientist. When the professor rejected my request to continue my studies with him, I was somewhat devastated because I felt like the only door I had to my future was closed. However, all I had had to do to keep that door open was pay attention and stay awake in his class. Despite the grandiose name, that course wasn't hard, and I wasn't stupid, I could have easily aced it and picked my next adventure. Instead, I barely pulled through that year, leaving a bad impression on the professor. I often ruminate on what the hell happened there.
I do not regret what happened though, because not being an astrophysicist has turned out pretty good for me. I went on to complete a Ph.D. in physics with some pretty great people and saw a lot of the world in the meantime. However, many of these things happened to me, not because of me. I feel like I had very little hand in the direction of my future and was somehow just following paths that were already laid out. My only agency was to decide which of them to follow, rather than being the one to pick them out of the shifting sands myself.
Now, it feels like adventure time is over and I have arrived. It is a bittersweet time of life, full of reflection. I think back to that period when I could have been captain of my ship, but instead let fate dictate. I think of the human wreckage I have seen along the way, and wondered why I travelled mostly unscathed whilst others fell. I suspect that I was somehow privileged, somehow others helped me in ways I could not see and I feel grateful and guilty at the same time.
I think to my children full of questions. They are still small and have most of their life's choices ahead of them still. They ask me questions I find hard to answer, and sometimes I wish I had paid more attention to stellar atmospheres.