#something diffrent

I have a teacher, his name is Dr. Timmothy King (Ph.D). He is a linguistic Anthropologest and Archaeologest focousing on Mayan cultures. He teaches at UC Berkley and at Foothill College. The man is well known in his field, and several times during class he would have to answer calls from movie producers that wanted his input on their films. 

The man is also a hot mess. He once had his TA write the final exam because he forgot about it untill the last second and didn't have time to do it himself. 

This is not the main story I want to tell you.

This story takes place in 2010, Castroville Ca. I simpily call it “The Mammoth Tale”.

The skeletal remains of a Columbian Mammoth (Mammuthus columbi) had been found on a familes artichoke farm. Naturally, excivation was preformed. Why an Anthropologest that works in Mesoamerica and another one of my Professors ( Mark Hylkema, who directed the project and studdies Native American Cultures) were called in, I do not know. But they were there when something incredible was found: hair. Red hair.

At first, everyone was wondering who brought their dog and contaminated the site. Once that was ruled out they realised what they had was not dog hair, but Mammoth hair. The hair upon exposure to the air was begining to turn silver and they needed something to stop this process.

On of the guys (an expert from LA who I have been told arrived in a hummer) gave the following instructions: we need a beker and a noble gas to stop this reaction.

Keep in mind, they are in the middle of a mudy artichoke field, fairly close to the middle of nowhere. Tim and Mark were standing there looking around, not a beker or tank of gas in sight. Tim King draws the short straw to head into town and find something that might work.

He picks up a set of mason jars at a local store which will work in place of a beker. But he is driving around, trying to come up with some sort of solution for the gas problem, when he sees it: a kids birthday party with baloons out front.

(You can probably guess where this is going)

So Tim jumps out of his car and makes a mad dash for the baloons, gets a handfull of them and books it back to the safety of his vehicle, angry parents chasing and yelling at him the whole time. So what does Tim King esteemed Ph.D, big name in his field do? He just looks over his shoulder and shouts:

“It’s okay! I’m a scientist!

 I started my college experience in Theater Tech, I had a plan, I knew how to get a job, everything was good. Then I changed my major to something I had only dreamed of doing as a child, and I admit, I have no clue what I am doing. I never thought I would ever transfer out of a community college, that I would go for a Ph.D. I was not a great student in High School, teachers told me flat out that I couldn’t take a Honners or AP class because I “wouldn’t be able to keep up”. I know they were not trying to be hurtful, I have a learning dissablility and it does pose chalenges with learning, but the words stuck with me. There have been times when the weight of this endevor leaves me feeling lost, helpless, not smart enough.

 When that happens, I like to think of this story. Because if this man - this briliant, crazy, forgetfull man - could succeed? So can I.