Family Missions

My father's branch of the family has a missionary streak. My great-great grandfather (or something along those lines) founded a missionary station in Hong Kong, my greatgrandfather continued that mission, my grandfather thoguht of becoming a missionary and picking up the slack, but was so baffled by the human ignorance of medicin that he had to become a scientist. Not to say that he doesn't have a mission, it's just not the one his parents would've chosen for him, had they a christian say in the matter. He went on to become a missionary of medicine, more spefically a preacher of the peptide mission. Peptides are everywhere, and they can apparently do quite a lot of nasty stuff to both your brain and physique.

Even my grandmother has a mission - missioning being an integral part of her personality prior to getting into contact with her spouse and his family, I suspect -: to enlighten the people to the importance of grammar, punctuation, intonation and general pronounciation. She is a philological menace, I tell you. One I will shortly end up mirroring quite exquisitely, if I do not take expert care of the matter.

Father has a mission, too, though it's not yet as pronounced as that of grandfather. His is to rid the medical branch of the military, partly the psychologically inclined divisions, of its ignorance and, most importantly, stupid and/or incompetent people. On the way to accomplishing that, he is currently working on instating a few of his more capable friends in his department, and creating a not inconsiderable hornet's nest in his relation to the general and a lot of his employees.

My uncle has a very pronounced mission, despite his relative youth: make the world acknowledge the greatness of Abel, and the wonders he did for mathematicians worldwide. And as a side-quest he hands out a price in the great guy's name, and struggles desperately for chlidren to enjoy maths (no one has yet had the heart to tell him it's an entirely futile thing to spend time on, so we humour him and listen to his preaching).

My brother's mission is judo, and mine is rapidly ascertaining itself as Nabokov, semicolons and the anihilation of stupidity through condescension.



----

Oh, and I completed the essay for psychology. No roses, well-wishes or excessive applause, please. I am too busy for that kind of silliness.

Family Missions

My father's branch of the family has a missionary streak. My great-great grandfather (or something along those lines) founded a missionary station in Hong Kong, my greatgrandfather continued that mission, my grandfather thoguht of becoming a missionary and picking up the slack, but was so baffled by the human ignorance of medicin that he had to become a scientist. Not to say that he doesn't have a mission, it's just not the one his parents would've chosen for him, had they a christian say in the matter. He went on to become a missionary of medicine, more spefically a preacher of the peptide mission. Peptides are everywhere, and they can apparently do quite a lot of nasty stuff to both your brain and physique.

Even my grandmother has a mission - missioning being an integral part of her personality prior to getting into contact with her spouse and his family, I suspect -: to enlighten the people to the importance of grammar, punctuation, intonation and general pronounciation. She is a philological menace, I tell you. One I will shortly end up mirroring quite exquisitely, if I do not take expert care of the matter.

Father has a mission, too, though it's not yet as pronounced as that of grandfather. His is to rid the medical branch of the military, partly the psychologically inclined divisions, of its ignorance and, most importantly, stupid and/or incompetent people. On the way to accomplishing that, he is currently working on instating a few of his more capable friends in his department, and creating a not inconsiderable hornet's nest in his relation to the general and a lot of his employees.

My uncle has a very pronounced mission, despite his relative youth: make the world acknowledge the greatness of Abel, and the wonders he did for mathematicians worldwide. And as a side-quest he hands out a price in the great guy's name, and struggles desperately for chlidren to enjoy maths (no one has yet had the heart to tell him it's an entirely futile thing to spend time on, so we humour him and listen to his preaching).

My brother's mission is judo, and mine is rapidly ascertaining itself as Nabokov, semicolons and the anihilation of stupidity through condescension.



----

Oh, and I completed the essay for psychology. No roses, well-wishes or excessive applause, please. I am too busy for that kind of silliness.