My Dormant Profession

Okay, you’ve made up your mind to be a marine biologist. Never mind the horror in the eyes of your parents, the disbelief on the faces of your “friends”, and that faintly disoriented look your cat always has when she lies on your lap and kneads your abdomen.

You know that you are not going to be a marine biologist in order to talk to dolphins or make obscene amounts of money. Rather, you realize that you are driven by a higher and purer calling. You are like some 6th Century European shepherd who sees an image of the Emperor Justinian on the rear end of a ewe and decides to carry the animal on his back to Constantinople to show the Emperor. The fact that on his way he is waylaid by Lombards, sold into slavery, and winds up as a tax preparer in northern Italy should not in any way dissuade you from your own personal crusade.