As we haven’t properly started class yet, this is more of a brief reflection on research and me. I’m not one of those people who was afraid of this class; I’m Research Girl, that’s my superpower, my sigil is a cat with glasses named Research Cat and my words are “do your research.” I’m that kind of girl.
But it’s interesting to me to observe how “normals” perceive research. I’m visiting family right now; my parents are preparing to move my grandparents up nearer to where we live than where they currently live, and there are a lot of preparations that need doing. Apartment measurements, deciding what goes where and what they’ll put together. I’m not particularly adept at finding the most space-economical way to pack like my mother is or at all good at decisively saying what goes where like my dad is, but I am good at research, and I think I might actually get this from my grandmother, to an extent. She’s called the officials of the town they’re moving to to get all sorts of material, what goes on and where things are; she’s asked my parents to measure the exact dimensions of every room in the house so she can decide what furniture will go where and what furniture is worth bringing.
My dad told me this information and chuckled, like it was funny; I said that I don’t think it’s funny, I think it’s maybe a bit adorable but also completely worthwhile. And that’s the thing. I think there are probably those two types of people: those who do their research, and those who chuckle about it.