Requiem [COMPLETED]

Trying to be Someone Else, Because Who We Really Are is Worthless

I wanted to reinvent myself: to be reborn, refashioned as a whole, knowledgeable person who had no visible wounds. I wanted nothing more than to be a changeling, those fairytale creatures that looked and acted just like regular people, but who hid their dubious roots underneath. I was attracted to the science disciplines because I have an intense curiosity to understand things, to fix things, to solve problems. I thought it would give me power over the world by showing me how it worked.

The university appeared to be a place where only intellectual achievement mattered; where mastering one idea, or subject, or being able to rationally and logically argue one key philosophical argument was better than being pretty or extroverted or wearing nice clothes. I might be able to forget myself in such an environment, or at least see it in proportion to the entirety of history, it's position in life as formed by molecular chemistry and chemical reactions caused by psychological distress, it's unimportance when compared to the geologic timeframe. My tininess in the scheme of the history of the Earth gave me particular comfort, for something could not be so very sad or bad when it didn't significantly effect the longevity of a species in the lithic record. No one knew that we were 'suspect' because of our mother's suicide or our paternity. No one from our church—that we knew of—had anything to do with the school, so there was no one to tell them how far we fell short of what God had intended for us, of how disappointing we were. We had the chance, I did, of pretending I was someone else until I really was, until I'd made up all the deficits and could hold my head up.

Into this setting marched the woman who would become my advisor: a bulldog of tenacity and incredible work ethic. Some people called her unwomanly, told her she had no niceness. She said, "They don't know what they're talking about, it's nonsense. I'm not a nanny, I'm a scientist."

She was not the kind to tolerate waffling or incompetency—anything less than what she determined to be your best and By God you were out!—find another advisor and quit wasting her time. I heard her as I waited outside her office rejecting another undergraduate who had more fervor than sense in pursuing her as an advisor. She was unimpressed. "Young man, you have far too high a regard for zeal. It is persistence and devotion to one's questions which results in success, not zeal for a cause, which is an ephemeral, if potent, emotion. Ambrose Bierce quite correctly said 'zeal is a nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced.' Some people might like taking advantage of the eagerness of a young mind but I prefer those that have hardened to the reality of the world a bit more. Go join greenpeace for a year and get this out of your system so you can focus."

I feared her because I didn't think I was good enough. I dreaded the possibility of her finding out what a fraud I was, though with her reserve, much more than a frown and raised eyebrows were not to be expected with those deadpan words of disappointment and rejection. I admired her because she was a strong woman made steadfast in her rightness, in truth and academic pursuit of the truth. Many other professors disliked her because they feared her, her ruthless honesty and inability to allow for sentimentality to win an argument. Even those who admired her disliked her sometimes.

For a time all I could see was who I wanted her to be, and I wanted to be like her. Truth seemed to fall upon her like a gentle, unfelt rain that only clarified her life. I thought she could teach me to see the light in the darkness, to be strong. Really deep down I think I was looking for a Messiah rather than an advisor, someone to redeem me, to save me. It wasn't her job or anyone else's to fix my brokenness but I had no problem trying to find someone else to do the work for me, still believing I couldn't possibly do it myself. After all, being myself was the reason I was so disappointing to other people to begin with.

* * *

[Sven's P.O.V.]

Sigrid walked in to see me vacuuming and stared like I was a total stranger. I was just having a snack and cleaning. Which meant vacuuming the apartment while chewing sunflower seeds and spittinh the hulls right out in front of the vacuum to clean them up as i go. I know, I'm a genius. Call me #lifehacker.