First Post

I look out the window and it's snowing. Again. Such is Upstate NY. It's finals week of my seventh semester, and in a sudden act of frivolity I decided to create a blog.

"What on earth will you do with a blog?" My boyfriend had asked me.

"Err... use it to.. chronicle.. research?" I replied meekly.

"As long as you don't become one of those depressing goth teenager types who write nothing but dark poetry and talk about their pain all the freakin' time." He said, returning back to his book.

"Those people suck." I said, somewhat uncertaintly, bitingly reminded that I, too, was once a black-wearing teenager who wrote poetry. I never was a goth though. The Computer Science side must have cancelled that out. I hung out with the academic types, my best friend the "czar" of the Computer Programming Unit (CPU) , the high school's Computer Science club that he and I and our friend Tian had founded. Granted, it was mostly him and Tian. I had my own club to tend to. I was the editor-in-chief of the school literary magazine, Eidolon. Day after day I sifted through piles of poetry that could be classified into three main groups. a.) "Dark and Depressing with Suicidal Overtones" b.) "I love him/her but s/he doesn't love me back" or c.) "I rhyme so hard that I lose sight of what I was trying to write". We had good writers. But when we saw one that fell solidly in one of the above stereotypes, it usually was quickly moved to the reject pile.

Heading Eidolon was my greatest achievement, as far as clubs went. But I was painfully aware that if it wasn't for the C.P.U., my choosing of a major in college would have been a bigger bolt out of the blue to many than it already was. It was the same reaction, time after time again: "Computer Science? I thought you would be an English Major." or, "Why Computer Science? Aren't you better at English?" Yes. I was good at English. I had the touching story of a first generation American learning English in public school and excelling in all her English classes, going on to becoming the Editor-in-chief of the literary magazine for two years, and earning the English award in her high school, winning creative writing contests, etc. etc. The stuff that people would say, South Park style, "Oh that's so courageous", at absolutely nothing at all. So why wasn't I an English major?

Because it's English. Because I have better uses of my time and my intelligence. Because the world according to English majors is bounded by definitions and books, by words and naunces. Because with Science, I have no limits. English is a static field. But Science... Science vibrates with the unknown, it glows, it glimmers. I would be one of many souls, thousand-fold, shooting through the varied expanse of science and pushing at its frontiers. When given the choice, of living in swamps and consuming the most brackish of knowledge, and living by the instant and being sunstained by ones discoveries, what would you choose?

That and because when I thought of English majors, I pictured Raven from Penny Arcade.

Fast forward four years. It's the end of semester 7 of my undergraduate career in Computer Science, and I lean back on the bed, very happy with myself. I feel like a rebel - relaxing, instead of studying for my last final of the semester.

"Research. And the daily thoughts of being a researcher. That's what I'll use it for." I say, curling up to Dan, who discards his book. He holds me close.

"Well, if it makes you happy. And as long as it doesn't distract you in your work." He says fondly.

"It won't my love."