I love to write. I love the English language so much. It is such a bastard, a mixture of all the other languages in the world, and so it is probably rightful that we speak it in the United States, this worn-out little patchwork quilt of a country.
Unfortunately, I am not a writer. I used to think I was, but after reading my friend’s recent blog posts I have realized that there is absolutely no way I could attain that level of perfection, and I really don’t want to try.
So what am I, exactly? And why on earth did I choose BCB as my major, knowing full well it’s one of the most difficult majors at Rice?
This is why.
Ebola is a filovirus, one of the only viruses on earth that can knot itself into intricate twists and turns. (Most viruses are round little fat things.) It was first recognized in Yambuku, Zaire, in 1976, when a male teacher presented to a mission with what was initially assumed to be malaria.
Ebola is one of the most famous viruses in history, and rightfully so. I won’t go into the details of what it does to people and other primates here in the interest of taste, but I will tell you that it is dangerous and gory and it is the absolute essence of wildness.
It’s beautiful.
Viruses can’t be tamed. They are completely untouchable. They have been here for hundreds and thousands and millions of years, and when you look at them under a microscope you get the feeling that you are looking into a perfect and crystalline world.
And that is why I chose BCB as my major. That is why I subject myself to physics and Calc II and orgo, and moreover, why I subject myself to people thinking I am morbid because I love disease. Because the stories of Ebola and hantavirus, among other viruses and bacteria, are tangled up in history and sociology and medicine. Because they, more than any civilization or invention, shape our past and future.
I want to understand this world. I want so badly to understand the chemicals and tiny creatures beneath my own skin. After eighteen years, I’ve found a place where I belong.
Knowing where you belong, or even at least where you want to someday belong, is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? I think I’m there sometimes, not so much with a job, but a major, yes, and who I am as a person, yes. And I have to say, viruses may be beautiful, but you are as well, and so is your place in the world. That little niché made just for you, that you’ve found. That’s what life’s about, the journey to find what makes us happy, and then getting there.