Confusion About My Profession
Anybody on the planet: “What do you do?”
Carolyn: “I’m a writer.”
POP QUIZ — What is my profession?
If you said membrane technology/water filtration expert, you’d be close—so close!—but wrong.
This confusion is understandable, as I once got an A in a high school freshman science class. This was not an AP or honors class, mind you. The class wasn’t even called biology, chemistry, physics, earth science, … No, it was just called “Science,” which is how classes are titled for people too stupid to be enrolled in a class with an actual purpose, direction, or focus.
To be fair, I barely recall taking Science freshman year. I do, however, remember taking a freshman class called “Memorizing Sciency Things Just Long Enough to Pass the Exam.”
Not to brag, but I’m an awesome short-term memorizer. Test me. You could tell me all about Rhoda Mae Bedlamite (pronounced Bed-la-muh-tee), your third cousin once removed, who OD’ed on Vicks after taking a job as a professional medicine taster in a cough medicine bottling plant in order to fund the purchase of an aviary and slingshots for Wyatt Earp Bedlamite, her 33-year-old shut-in son, after her husband left her for the psychologist they’d hired to cure Wyatt of his lifelong fear of swine and his associated anti-porcine-based Angry Birds addiction. Tell me anything you like. I’ll remember most of the details. For a short while, that is.
That’s why I’m so good at science. Information that makes no sense is awesome information so long as that information can be memorized. Science!
Which brings me back to my original point. Well, not really, but let’s pretend it does for the sake of wrapping up today’s blog. I’m going to argue that it’s 103% impossible for someone to talk to me about my work and come away thinking I’m employed in the field of science. You may be thinking “103% impossible—why that’s impossible!” Good catch. It’s actual 114% impossible.
And yet …
[to be continued on Monday ...]