Scientists
We were this before...
Midway through the late-night newsroom third-quarter crazies, grad school pal Diane and I took to calling each other (and everyone else) “scientists” as a faux-insult. As in:
“Stop being such a scientist, Diane.”
I’m not sure exactly what made it funny, but what made it funnier was the realization– well into the name-calling– that at the end of those long haul nights of fighting with Dreamweaver and cobbling together ledes … we would all be scientists. Or Masters of Science, anyway.
Though we had diplomas in hand in December, a good few of us trekked out to Evanston last weekend to walk in the ceremony… including my two former roommates in a wild house called “Dignity.”
We were that.
The most amazing part? Despite the almost perpetual panic over jobs when we lived together, we’re all OK. In fact, we’re better than OK. We’re on the second ROUND of OK.
Kat left Glamour for CNN. Katie left Red Eye for Washington Post and I’m… mid-leap from NewsHour myself, though I’ll miss it dearly.
Until yesterday, I was preparing to write a blog post about how June was the month of disappointment. And it sort of still was: the doomed interview, the perpetual headcold, the insincere boy, the general malaise of an overly-hot summer…
On this side of Monday, I feel differently. Could everything be right?
“I am a scientist – I seek to understand me
I am an incurable and nothing else behaves like me
Everything is right
Everything works out right.”-”I am a Scientist” by Guided by Voices
The kids are alright.
I like science. It’s like, totally my favorite method for acquiring objective information about the way the world works. That said, none of us are scientists. At least not until we’re published, peer-reviewed, and tenured.
Which is OK. Because you know scientists… They’re a drag at parties when they let the hydroxyl groups in their ethanol get all bonded with carbon atoms…
LOVE YOU