I defended my undergraduate senior honours thesis in December 2014 in front of a packed room full of family, friends, colleagues and professors. At that point in time, I was worried about whether I would pass my defense and not what the “next move” would be… that isn’t to say I hadn’t prepared for what was to come. I had made plans to move back home until graduation in May 2015 (my undergraduate school is very small so we didn’t have two graduations like most big universities), had a job in retail that paid a decent amount, and had educational shark trips planned (Mexico, Bahamas, etc). The end of my undergraduate career meant I had already spent countless nights perfecting my graduate school applications and sending them off so I would hear sooner rather than later where I would land next. As I exited the room and let my professors deliberate on my grade (I passed), I was certain I would be in the United States of America for at least another two years as I finished my Master’s degree.
It’s a Wednesday afternoon and it’s raining outside -- typical for Wellington. The gray skies and howling wind seem like light years away while I’m inside in my warm house. Thank goodness for heat pumps. My favourite candle is flickering nearby, a glass of wine filled and in my hand as I scroll through the website I’m reading. Face mask on, hair up in a towel that is supposed to reduce my frizz (we’ll see… it’s still early in our relationship), and in my fluffy robe you’d think I’m at a spa retreat.
These are all the things I love. These are the things that apparently make me less of a scientist. For I apparently cannot enjoy fashion and other “frivolities” without somehow compromising how seriously someone takes me as an early career researcher.
Hi, I'm Melissa! I'm a girl obsessed with macaroni & cheese, puppies, and eco-friendly products. Welcome.
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