Saving Humanity

The drive and ambition to want to do big, important, life-changing things. . . I used to have that. And I still do in some areas, such as school--I'm like a Spanish Conquistador fighting with the Incas when it comes to schoolwork and academics. Okay, maybe that's a bad simile. But I work hard and take hard classes and keep my grades up and  do extra-curriculars and I'm participating in internships. Seriously, I don't play around, and I'm getting into an awesome graduate school. I am. I am. I am, I'm a-telling yaaaa!

Okay. Rant over. Maybe I have drive when it comes to academics, but I also have a little anxiety and something else--stubborn determination?--too. But anyways, I digress. 

When I was little I wanted to be a doctor. Or a scientist. My kindergarten teacher once called my parents saying that I had said in class that I wanted to prove that gravity wasn't what held us down to the earth. In fourth grade I came home and informed my parents I wanted to be a college professor and have my PhD in history. Then there was the time when I wanted to be a pediatric oncologist (this was the direct precursor to "PhD Dixie") and just be an amazing doctor and help kids feel better. 

But somewhere along the way--and I'm not sure where--I lost the drive and desire to do most of this. I discovered that hospitals are scary and that the law of gravity is already pretty much set in stone. I found out that how much I hated science and math, and to be honest, I wasn't really that good at either subject. And so, the drive to want to become that person slowly dissipated and those dreams slowly started to slip away. .

But lately, I've been feeling them again. We all have people in our lives that we seen in pain and that are sick and that we want to help, and lately, I've not been able to get those people off of my mind. I just want to help them! And that desire has me all nostalgic about my childhood dreams of being a doctor or a scientist (although, I don't think disproving gravity would really help anybody, now that I think about it). 

I don't have the answers and this blog post is more of a rambling mess of inner thoughts than anything. I don't know what I'll do, but I do know that I love anthropology and history. I love museums. And I love and am thankful to the people out there who didn't lose their childhood ambitions of becoming a doctor or a scientist die somewhere along the way on the road to adulthood. So, I suppose I'll get the PhD in studying humanities, and leave the saving humanity up to others, eh?

Side note: I wish I could somehow gain some of that drive that people who want to cure cancer and such posses and apply it to laundry and cleaning dishes. Because that is an area where I lost drive and desire and ambition in my life, and never gained it back. . . 

No Bones About It . . .

I am in love.

Don't worry, you don't need to run the other direction. I'm not about to gush about my boyfriend or talk in great detail about how much I love my dog (and how much he loves me back, I know he does, okay?).

Nope, instead I'm going to gush all about my love for anthropology/archaeology and history. Basically what I'm deciding to do with my life. Beware: nerd moment(s) ahead.

A few days ago I was sitting in my archaeology class and it hit me that I would honestly like to grow up and be just like her. She clearly loves her job and her enthusiasm about anthropology and archaeology is contagious.

Recently we were talking about bioarchaeology. Think of the stereotypical scientist digging in the dirt for little pieces of bones and you basically have a bioarchaeologist. So we're discussing antemortem injuries and talking about this recently found skeleton that had a lead bullet lodged in its spine but didn't die until a number of years later during the Bubonic Plague. Then someone brings up lead poisoning and all of a sudden Dr. Birch launches into this story about the Franklin expedition and what the bioarchaeological record taught us.

For those of you who don't know (I didn't) the Franklin expedition was an exploratory expedition through the Canadian Arctic (Dr. Birch is Canadian). After a short time these four explorers were shipwrecked. Luckily, they had enough food supplies to last months because the food supplies were canned. This is possibly the earliest example we have of humans using canning as a way of preserving food. BUT guess what the tin cans were sealed with?

Lead soldering.

So, eventually by trying to simply stay alive, these unlucky explorers sealed (or should we say unsealed, rather) their fate and eventually lost their minds from lead poisoning  Years later an archaeological team found them buried in the snow, miles from their ship, in a tiny little row boat with the finest china that they'd brought and a baby grand piano.

Lead isn't the only dangerous metal found in ancient times. Iron and copper were among two of the top culprits. Dr. Birch told of us about a conference she went to one time in Ireland where they speaker did an experiment to show how detrimental weapons made of iron and copper could be. To illustrate this the speaker took a grass beach mat, you know like the $1 ones that you use to lay on the sand? Well, he took this and then rolled it up and soaked it in water. Once this is done the grass mat actually has the same density as human flesh (isn't that neat?!). Next, he took two weapons--one a copper weapon and one an iron weapon and cut through the grass mat to demonstrate the abilities and effects of pre-state society weapons.

Okay, so the density of human flesh part might be kind of morbid, but we all have our things that we think are cool, yeah?

Similarly, I think the absolute world of my history professor. He gets so excited and worked up--in his own weird and reserved way--about history. He loves relating history to film and inspiring good, scintillating discussion--such as an in-depth conversation that started off about post-World War I women's fashion and ended up being an intense discussion about androgyny, Emma Watson, homosexuality in the trenches, and the "bromance" of today. I think this is the reason I enjoy his class so much.

For example, we recently watched the movie M by Fritz Lang. A quick (and probably terrible) synopsis for those of you who haven't seen it: post World War I Germany, a vicious murderer on the streets snatching up little kids, he's caught and convicted by the underground criminals. That's it more or less. Peter Lore plays the murderer.

Now, how we related this to our history class is that there's a line where Peter Lore claims he "can't help" killing. Could it be leftover PTSD manifesting? "I don't know, but possibly..." in the words of Dr. Soper.

Basically, I love the class because it gives me an excuse to watch all these cool, old films without feeling guilty and like I'm wasting time.

Although this semester is proving to be a difficult one, it's one that I'm enjoying immensly. And, I've realized, it was one that I sorely needed. This time last year I couldn't get far enough away from history. I had completely lost my passion for it as a discipline because of one bad class. Note: the professor was amazing, it was the actual class that sucked. But now, here I am and I've changed my major back to history again! Or added it back, rather, along with anthropology.

So things are good and golden and peachy at the moment. I'm re-inspired and happy. I'm in love and now you all know. Oh, and he's also in love, but that's a different story...