That was the working title of my microbiology lab report. Every time I saw it at the top of my screen, I had to giggle. I pictured myself -- well, a skinny, hot, 60s cartoonish version of myself -- with big orange hair, long colorful rubber gloves and cat-eyed lab goggles, standing tall with shoulders back and arms akimbo, waging a secret battle against pathogens that wished to harm my loved ones.
I spent a grand portion of last weekend preparing that report. Three weeks of running my own experiment was pretty cool. My hypothesis got busted all to hell within the first run, but deliberately growing microbes was nifty. Writing about it...technical, factual, emotionless text...not so much.
Watching myself make a far greater challenge out of the project was dismaying to say the least. I should have been able to turn it out in three or four hours, but instead, I hemmed and hawed, fussed and fought, wrote and re-wrote, read and re-read, and finally formatted.
Ummm....nobody warned me that Microsoft Word had changed a bit since 1991...
So this brings to light my semester in general. I have let it kick my arse. I handed over control of my time and emotions to 16 measly credit hours. Why, you ask, would a stubborn control freak allow school to infect her life? I don't so much have the answer to that.
The schedule is a little funky, I'll grant that. The classes are more challenging that previous ones, but there is nothing outrageously difficult about any of them. In these twelve weeks, I have lost track of marathon training, I have gained seven pounds, and I might very well not get an A in Organic & Biochemistry. (Do you see my New Year's Resolutions crumbling before your very eyes?)
As of right now, I'm taking back Spring '10. I'm adding a run to the week. I'm curbing the stress-eating. I'm getting ahead of the schoolwork. I won't be swayed from my mission...
...for I am Ginger: Antimicrobial Agent.