Oh, Silly Botanists...

I've been (very slowly) reading Charles Darwin's Origin of Species. There are a multitude of reasons as to why his work is spectacular, namely the obvious holy-crap-you-are-a-genius-and-changed-our-scientific-world facet. As a budding social scientist, I'm reading it because it is possibly the most major work in the field, but as a reader, it is ridiculously engaging for 700 pages on bird's beaks, bees and pollen and cabbage seeds.

There's a passion that exudes from those pages. Other than daring to tell 19th century scholars that God didn't quite do it all, there exists a passion for life in every page. He was (literally) able to be inexorably fascinated with every natural microcosm that he encountered. Seriously, this guy talks about pollen for pages and you're still excited.

This poses a few questions as I read:

1) Does passion drive knowledge and, more importantly, curiosity?

2) Would it have been really fun or boring to sit for a pint with Darwin? (Me likies a half pint.)

3) Will I ever be this great? Will I ever be able to articulate with such simplicity such grand concepts, contribute to learning, fulfill my curiosities?

As I've been applying non-stop this summer for a worthwhile internship (as well as some that would serve simply as jobs) without any responses from any potential employers, these questions burn in the back of my head. I've always thought that passion could get you anywhere, and I'm sure that this is what I'm passionate about. It's led to hard work and good grades and a drive unlike any other, but what's preventing these people from understanding my potential?

What, if not being a scholar, will fulfill both love and life? Alas, appropriately in the words of Darwin, "...I have not space here to enter on this subject."