How I got here.

In an attempt to figure out my life I’ve decided to blandly go where millions of others have gone before: Moan to the rest of the world about it.  Maybe someone will have a direction for me because right now this compass doesn’t seem to be working.

So what have I done to get so lost?  I went to school like any normal student (who lived in a small farming community in southwestern Oklahoma) and excelled in most things academic.  Spelling bees, achievement tests, picture in the paper. . . check, check, check.  Then I applied and was accepted to boarding school – the temporary home of the masochistic Oklahoman high school student – and met the first love in my life.  We bonded over grueling schedules and bus rides to and from dorms and hallowed halls of higher learning.  My angst-ridden friends and I believed we were so grown up in the heyday of grunge.

While at boarding school I decided that attending Dartmouth College would be perfect for me since I needed to expand the forest-green selection of my wardrobe.  And Dartmouth actively recruited Native Americans, unlike most other colleges, who believed Native Americans went the way of the buffalo.

While in New Hampshire I saw how the other half lived.   There’s a whole lot of J. Crew and L.L. Bean there.  And North Face.  And the Peterman catalog which for some odd reason I received in my college mailbox from the time I arrived in 1994 until the time I graduated in 1998.  Almost as if a requirement. . .

While at Dartmouth I quickly learned that saying things like “ya’ll” and “fixin’ to” didn’t fly.  And that I really needed to lose my country twang accent and mall scene attire.  And I learned how to party.  Since I’ve been a night owl from the moment I was born (at 11:59 p.m.) staying up late to drink and frat hop seemed natural.  That didn’t fly with schoolwork.

Still, I maintained decent-enough grades to attend school overseas where I learned how to siesta (okay, that wasn’t hard), go to clubs after midnight (not hard either), and stay up until the subways ran again.  I also tried a little bit of school on the west coast.  Tupac died while I was there, I was an extra in “Flubber” (the one with Robin Williams, not Fred MacMurray, though I never saw the movie to see if I made the cut.  If you want to check for me, look for the short brown girl wearing a red turtleneck sporting boy-cut jet-black hair and a nose ring.).  I also learned about medieval Japanese history, Le Morte d’Artur, and had a film/lit class with Fred Savage.

I went back to Dartmouth and started hanging out with a classmate who lived in my fraternity house (yes, I said fraternity house).  We would play pool or watch “The Price Is Right” together.  Eventually we started dating.  Some thought our relationship was scandalous.  But of all the scandalous things I may or may not have played a hand in during my life, that relationship was downright innocent.  And that’s the truth by Ruth!

We got engaged, graduated from the land of black-watch plaid in 1998 – he with a degree in biology, me with a degree in English Literature – and moved to Virginia.  Then he went back to school in order to go to veterinary school.  So I said, “I need more school too!”  So back to school I went.  Then we got married and I got. . .a B.S. in Forensic chemistry.  You thought I was going to say pregnant, didn’t you.

Next came. . .more school.  He attended Virginia Tech to get his vet-med on.  After a year of working at VT as a laboratory technician I decided, “Hey, I like science.  I want to do some science for years and years and years.”  So I did just that, went back to school again,  and recently graduated with a Ph.D. in Biochemistry.

(When you use a word over and over again it really does look stupid to the point of losing all sense of meaning, right?  School.  What does that mean?!)

So what next?  What was that again?  Before you say anything, let me say this:

No. More. School.

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Comments
2 Responses to “How I got here.”
  1. Sounds quite interesting

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