The slow beginning of the end

So tonight was the Turner Society Dinner: where alumni, faculty, and senior biological science majors get together to schmooze, drink, and eat delicious food. The reception started at 6PM, and at 5:50 my hair wasn’t dry and I still had no idea what I was going to wear, because apparently all my “formal wear” is somewhere else. . . but that’s beside the point.

I’m so tired of socializing. I can’t express this enough. I’m tired, stressed, deprived of good times and home-work-free evenings: I don’t want to get make nice with people I don’t know at all. But of course by now—after 3 visitation weekends of just that—I’m pretty good at it. So I arrive with a smile on my face and a nice outfit on; I decided to go with a dark red sleeveless shirt, my favorite black skirt with the slits up the side, and my strappy magic-heels that I broke in at my Senior prom and have served me well ever since. I pulled my hair up to feel more “sophisticated” . . . Hell, I can’t explain it. There’s something about having your neck bare and you hair vaguely weighing down the back of your head to pull your chin up and make you feel refined. Forget about that fact that my hair was probably spiking every which-a-way out of the hairband I wrapped around it; I had no bobbypins to secure this do’.

So anyway, I click my way up to the KC Ballroom to find most folks in suits, ties, nice outfits. . . and thankfully I fit in just fine. I stick my nametag on. ASAP, I find students to hang out with, because that’s always more fun. Get the latest word on classes, advice on APEX’s, shop talk. . . generally get to be paranoid or stressed and learn that everyone else feels that way too.

The doors to the ballroom swing open, and we all flood in to find our assigned tables and place cards—there’s something about your name in fancy script in front of a plate that just makes things three levels of class higher than they were before. Turns out I’m at a table with Prof. Goodner, Spencer, Jenny, and two alumni, one of whom was a pediatrician and bigwig something or other at OSU.

Ok, so we all talked about our futures, did the whole “ask people things about themselves to be polite or maybe out of mild interest” thing. Our guest speaker talked about the state of health of the children of the world—hello depression! I missed you! But it was over soon, and then we were getting handed our membership certificates, and being congratulated on our hard work and wished good luck in our future careers . . . and the sinking feeling started to creep in. That feeling of inevitable leaving. You know, like when you realize you’re riding the school bus for the last time. Oh dear lord.

The best part of the evening, for me, was when I shook Brad Goodner’s hand. Admittedly, I’ve had some issues with him, which I won’t go into here. Except maybe to say I’ve always been jealous of the friendship Chris, Spencer, and Brad have. I always felt like maybe I wasn’t a good enough scientist to be in on the fun or something like that. But when he wished me good luck, I told him the truth, that I was so thankful for all the recommendations he’s written, and letting me work in his lab, and how these things have made all the difference. And he smiled and said

“Well, you’ve earned it, Amber”

So let the chips fall where they may. I have closure on something. It looks like there are a lot of loose ends I need to tie up before I go. . .