Dear Paul

I like Paul.

He's going to be a journalist and I believe it. He belongs to that rare breed of people who choose a profession which fits their personalities and skill sets so well you cannot imagine what they would do if their line of work just didn't exist. I don't think I belong in that breed, because quiet honestly, I'm still groping in the dark, looking for reaffirmation that I made the right choice.

Scientist? Me? I surprised people when I decided to become one. Nothing in my school life suggested I had a special interest in science, and in truth, I didn't. I found school science to be boring, as boring as a dried up prune baking in the summer sun. My interest in science stems from something deeper, something less easier to define, and almost embarrassing to do so, to people whom I don't believe understand me or what it means to dream.

What makes a good journalist? I don't know, but I have some idea now that I met Paul. He offers well-constructed opinions (almost judgements) about the state of human society, and it is obvious he has given a lot of careful consideration about the topics that interest him, which are varied and numerous. He loves writing, and does so professionally. He really listens to people, almost like a rabbit quivering in anticipation of a juicy carrot. All round, he's really a stand-up guy, someone I am proud to call a friend.

Here's to Paul.

Paul challenges Colin to a thumb wrestling duel. And he offers to do it blind. Colin doesn't know what he's getting into. But I do, so I egged Colin to take him on.

Paul never gives up (I know!)

Dancing with Determination