For those of you who don't know, I am graduating from college today with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry. I am so very thankful to everyone who helped me get this far. Thanks to the Sunday Dinner group for keeping me sane and my kitchen busy. To my parents who supported me every step of the way, even when the steps led me half way across the country. To all of my professors for expanding my mind. And to those at the 11 am mass for expanding my soul. But most of all I would like to thank my research advisor Professor Timothy Warren. You opened my mind to new possibilities, you helped me find a place in a world I never thought I would fit into, and you taught me more in a year and a half than I could have ever imagined. Thank you.
And now that I have that off my chest, I have a couple of confessions, now that my diploma no longer hangs in the balance. It was me. Sophomore year, Henle Village, no fewer than three fire alarms. It was me, sorry. My kitchen skills have gotten better since then, not that the smoke detector goes off any less often.
It was me. All those missing samples in the glove box that turned up later in a broken vial grave yard. It was me, sorry. I am a klutz in the normal world, put me in space aged super thick gloves with a limited range of motion and we were all asking for trouble.
And finally, it was me. Remember that time in Orgo lab? The last experiment of the year and the fire alarm went off right at the critical moment in a timed experiment. The entire Basic Science Building had to evacuate. You all complained as we stood on the esplanade waiting for the all clear. Of course you do. My experiment was smoking, I had slammed down the fume hood window. It was me, sorry. I haven't caused an evacuation since, not that my lab mantra has changed. "At least I didn't blow anything up. At least I didn't blow anything up. At least I didn't blow anything up."
So for these, and any other sins I may have forgotten, I beg your forgiveness. But, at least I didn't blow anything up.
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