It’s kind of late…
I was thinking about getting into that issue that I broached in the entry before last in which I was talking about feeling like I should be doing something “better” with my time, than making art.
“Better” in quotations, because aside from curing Alzheimer’s or something, I don’t have an exact pinpoint on what it means. There are a number of other things that I could be doing with my time; top of the list is going back to school in Biology and becoming a biochemist or geneticist.
Granted that I’ve never taken more than one Biology course (after high school, though: yes?) and that I’d probably be too squicked to be able to work with things like tissue samples. Or virus and bacteria samples, for that matter…though it has been a long-running question of mine as to whether viruses can be utilized in a positive manner to splice beneficial genes into host DNA or RNA. (I really don’t know what that would be called.)
You’re welcome, world. Though you still have to find a way to keep a majority of infected cells from lysing.
The point is that I have a mind which thinks in an unusual manner, and that this could be useful in the Sciences. However, I don’t have a great amount of science training. If I went back into Math, I’d probably have to do remedial coursework because of not having utilized those neural pathways in so long. And then there’s O-Chem. Who wants to do Organic Chemistry?
Of course, then, though: Botany. I am pretty sure that I would love working with plants. It’s kind of a dream of mine to be able to look for threatened plants and find some with health-boosting properties, thus making a case for biodiversity preservation and being able to help people’s health, at the same time. Of course, though, in reality, people would probably try and save that one plant and kill all the others it might depend on.
People in general…it kind of makes one not want to be human, because then you’re categorized in the same lump with the people making a circus out of the elections. (Not to defame the circus…)
But if you look at it this way: I’ve been told for the majority of my life that I might become a healer, so being an artist…it’s not the same thing. My major issue is that I know I’m intelligent…I’ve been more intelligent than most of my peers for most of my life (ha ha hell in school)…and I don’t know how much that intelligence is utilized in the Arts. I feel like I need to help in some area I can’t, right now. If everyone in the world set their mind to find ways to stop global warming, and was supplied with the education to be able to capably do so, how long do you think it would take to safely end the current crisis? 10 years? 20?
This is what I’m talking about.
I wasn’t thinking this far down the line when I went into the Humanities in college.
Of course, though, I didn’t think I’d live this long, either.
The Arts — the ones I’m in, anyway — are very tactile. Intuitive. It’s hard to explain. It isn’t the intellectual/analytical side of my mind that’s working, there…nor do I know if there is any way to tell its intelligence. I know I’m relatively poor at person-to-person communication, if we look at an overall chart of functionality; social skills are one of my weakest areas. Comprehension and analysis would probably be one of my strongest.
But — as it’s been explained to me — being a scientist is basically working on contract and being self-employed. Same thing as if I were a writer or an artist. Ironically.
However, there’s something about being an artist that seems to at least attract a certain type of person. I had hypothesized that there might be some kind of chronic damage from ongoing chemical exposure (cancer is a well-known foe in this business)…but maybe in actuality, there is a type of brain which is drawn to this work — a type of brain that I might have, which in my case might be looking back upon itself in error. After all, it is difficult to realize that what one thinks and believes is not necessarily true, just because one thinks or believes it.
And this is a historical thing with me, the idea that I should grow up to be a scientist. It’s what I trained for, up until the time that I went to college and could do whatever I wanted, for the first time.
As time goes on, I am coming to a greater appreciation of the ways being pushed to excel in my youth, in essence, harmed me at the time and led to regrets in my adulthood. If I had been left alone and moved more slowly, I might have done better, and been happier. (Well, I was technically left alone: left alone with my schoolwork.) Of course then, though: I would probably not be aiming for a Library job…because I’d probably have some grounding in something other than English and Art.
Or, maybe not…
Maybe not. Maybe I’m actually where I’m supposed to be, and where I would have ended up, regardless. If I was not pushed, I might have ended up here. Math and Science…though the beauty of the Universe speaks in Math, and Science is our clearest lens to reality, reality has never been a driving factor of my life. Beauty, well-crafted prose, art, has.
Hmm. Maybe I am supposed to be an artist…