Work

I have returned to the world which begins daily with that annoying sound of beeping in triplicate, gradually increasing speed every 20 seconds to remind me that I need to pull the covers off and stumble into wakefulness.  I began my job this week.  I'm immensely grateful for it, yet no amount of gratitude truly prepares one for the stark reality that is 7:00 AM.  

I spent my first two days looking for wallet-friendly routes to make it from point A to B.  Point A being my suburban refuge.  Point B being my lab at an illustrious academic island in the middle of the ghetto.  On both days I spent 40 minutes stuck at lights before taking recourse to the the tollway just to make it to work on time.  Now I've conceded to the inescapable fact that the powers that be will charge me three dollars to leave the suburbs and make it to the ghetto in less than two hours.  

I'm working with some pretty cool people, doing some pretty cool things.  We're hoping by the end of the summer to cure several forms of epilepsy, MS, arthritis, and a few other diseases that I can't spell the names of.  At least that's the goal.

Today I got paid to sit around, reading papers about said diseases and try and wrap my mind around the most up-to-date understandings of how they work.  

I really enjoy it.  I'm convinced this somehow evidence of insanity, since when I simply glance at the papers I'm reading, I cannot fathom anything more boring or esoteric.  Nonetheless I got excited today upon understand how the immune system captures and delivers antigens to cells that then kill everything that presents the same protein.  I started drawing pictures on my lab-book and then found myself drifting through delusions of finding miracle cures based on knowledge that took me one hour to obtain from multiple doctors who spent years researching.  It's kind of ridiculous. 

My lab is amazing.  I'm on the 7th floor.  I sit next to a window with a phenomenal view of the Dallas skyline.  I watch herons and hawks catching the updraft off the building, hovering effortlessly 30 feet past my window.  The rolling clouds today caused the light to catch the angles of the skyscrapers and I thought briefly of how beautiful a place Dallas can be.  

Tonight I'm going to a jazz club, just on the opposite side of my view.  We're dressing up, which is a horrible idea that I am in favor of all sober-minded adults abandoning.  But as I doubt that anyone will pay mind to such objections, I've resigned myself to partaking in the charade.  Small price to pay I guess, to be with friends who I'm truly coming to love.  

A friend of mine got on to me the other night for complaining.  This is nothing unusual; most of my close friends do so with frequency.  I've never been able to pin it down.  I think it might be that optimism just seems awkward to me.  I've got natural talent as a cynic . . . were it a sport I might be eligible for professional play.  The other day, though, I found myself thinking that I was exactly where I wanted to be.  This exact time in my life.  There are all kinds of things that I could desire right now, but I don't really care.  I'm headed where I want to go, and I'm surrounded by everything that is indispensable.   I'd be lying to say I was living in a state of contentment, but I feel it quite an accomplishment to say that I at least have realized that I have every reason to be content.