"Can you hear me? Am I getting through to you? Hello? ..."
I thought for sure that my last two entries were comment worthy. That's what I thought. I guess it was more of an assumption. And you know what assuming does... Except, in this case, there's no you in the formula. There's me and a void. Assvoidme. There you go. It doesn't really work.
I mean, I took, edited, and posted pictures of live underwater creatures! I posted my first video, that actually allowed viewers to "find Nemo"! Now, what other blog can boast a real-live clown fish in motion. I tell ya, it's a hard crowd. (I was really 'fishing' for a few good comments on that one. No biters this time around)
Now that I've successfully expelled that little blurb of bitterness, let me continue with the real post.
I was born to be a scientist. I've decided this. I've got tons of other interests, it's true. But none outweigh one very important trait that has dwelt inside for a very long time, making itself known at intervals where it could. I'm incredibly curious. You know that saying, "Curiosity killed the cat"? Well, I want to know how it killed the cat. That's the truth of it.
I think we're all born with curiosity. We come into a world full of amazing and wonderful things. As a brand new mortal being, we spend our first few years marveling at every new wonder that comes our way. This process continues, in large measure, and comes to a peak typically around the age of cub scouts. Unfortunately, it's accompanied by an equal measure of mischief that sometimes accompanies the curious kid.
As the child progreses through school, he encounters a new form of exploration: curriculum. This is the equivalent of a guillotine to the youtful neck of curiosity. The only hope for curiosity's survival is the right sort of teacher, who administers the demands of curriculum while maintaining the vitality of the curios youngster. Such is the makings of true heroism. And the French do NOT like it.
When the youth matures enough to be set free in the "higher education" realm, they are faced again with the obligation of completing science courses. And the majority rises up in revolt. It's a rather scary thing -you see, their curious heads have all been lobbed off! They're revolting because experience has taught them that science is no more than a teacher throwing facts at them so quickly that they become inundated with information to the point that if the guillotine didn't do the trick, they end up drowning. Then they're expected to regurgitate that information onto a piece of paper, which they then submit for a grade. No wonder then, that curiosity is mostly dead by that point. I'm thinking of a Princess Bride quote right about here -Westley's torture seems about what some high schoolers endure in the way of science classes.
And now, I turn to those miracle workers who bring the curiosity back. They draw back the curtains of technicality, all the equations, laws, and theories, long enough to give the mature student a view into the realm of true exploration. The inner-cub scout starts to stir. With that vision, the teacher then proceeds to lead the student along that path, and the technicalities and all are picked up along the way as tools in the toolbelt of the explorers.
If I seem a bit enthusiastic about Geology, it's because I'm in the middle of an amazing journey. I'm learning about how mountains are formed, what made our world, the planets, our universe. I am up to my ears in amazing exploration. And the greatest thing about it is, God is in it all. And I get to be an explorer for the rest of my life.
I invite all of you to reclaim your curiosity, if you've lost it, and try to remember how you would've felt about science(rocks, birds, and bugs, etc.) when you were seven or eight years old.
It's past 2:00 am. Much past bed-time.
So goodnight, dear void.