The day we fret about our future is the day we leave childhood behind.

I decided to let myself ferment a few days before writing about the internship at all. I’m going to pour my words out and you can get as drunk on them as you please.

Day 1: I hated it. I considered crying during my lunch break and quitting.
Day 2: I strongly disliked the people but I liked playing with slides.
Day 3: I like it.

Granted, the extreme opinions of the first few days were partially the result of a hormonal imbalance and also caused by the uprooting of my summer home, living with 4 strangers, and being a full-fledged, grocery-buying adult in less than 24 hours.

But today, I have come mostly to my senses. I also made a friend at work today who plays country music softly in the lab and who has a son my age. Furthermore, I know where things are now and I can translate my mentor’s accent into somewhat understandable instructions in English.

That being said, there was a moment or two (or several hours) when I contemplated whether or not I had made the correct choice in my college major if I hated research so much. I was also trying to decide whether or not the money was worth the suffering and playing with stool samples — and you wonder why I thought the internship was crap if I’m literally playing with crap!

Overall, I’m still not totally comfortable with the idea of the internship and the living with four strangers and the grocery-shopping, making dinner-for-one deal. Therefore, I still don’t think I can accurately speak on my feelings.

Are you tipsy, reader? Or just a bit buzzed?

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