One ho-hum late evening in front of the television, I happened to be flicking through channels to find something to satisfy my visual appetite when I landed on FoxCrime on which an episode the far-famed CSI franchise was being aired.
Before long, I was engrossed with the procedural and captivated by the enigma. A few episodes later, I decided that a CSI was what I wanted to be.
My mother’s purse was on steroids as she willingly handed me the shekels I needed to purchase a little mountain of books that treated of Forensic Science and Criminal Psychology and I delved into them as soon as they came home to me.
At school, I was often asked about my aspiration, and every time I answered, I enhanced the asker’s word kit as mostly everyone was totally clueless about my sphere of interest, what it meant and what the job entailed.
But, as luck would have it, my last couple of years of discipline-oriented academics found me casting aspersions on Chemistry and dragging it through the mud while Biology failed to capture my long-term interest.
Physics, however, was a cakewalk. It was the only subject because of which I still enjoyed some prestige.
My ambition stayed constant but my grades in Biology and Chemistry threatened me as they were two things: inconsistent and miserable.
Give or take a little time, and I evolved into a Physics geek, who was never satisfied with a superficial explanation. (I don’t know the first thing about aquatics, but if I could draw a parallel, I would never be contented with swimming on the surface; I would nosedive into the depths, no matter how terrifying they may be.)
And this is another story, but my Physics teacher was (and still is) my role model, and so I evolved into a mini version of her, doing in-depth research, corroborating and questioning every little aspect that most folks would take for granted.
My pals had decided that Physics had become an integral part of who I was and they foretold that regardless of my choice of career, Physics would always have its niche in my heart.
And that was when the dilemma ensued.
Teacher or Forensic Scientist?
Help the living or help the dead?
Juggling both options in my mind and weighing the pros and cons of each in the scales of college finance, prestige, security, location, prospective wages and colleagues, I didn’t know what to settle for.
And then, like two options weren’t enough to vacillate between, I got told, “You should become a writer!”
It boosted my sense of self-worth when my writing was positively received, but I always considered writing to be a passion, never a profession.
Maybe in my wildest dreams I’ll write a book on Forensic Science and teach from it. Sounds far-fetched, but it doesn’t hurt a girl to dream, does it?