The mind of a child.

Sometimes, I am not the most mature of people.

I promise I'm not a model, I just take really good pictures.

I can hear you now. "Sarah, what?! You are the epitome of maturity and proper behavior and this is always reflected in your actions!" Nay, dear friend. Don't try and tell me otherwise. I know when to admit to my faults. 

 

This unfortunate trait of mine was blatantly demonstrated as of late. Here in Switzerland, we are required to write 3 papers, all of which require interviews with experts on the topics. In fact, our final research paper requires 30 hours of professional, face-to-face interviews. Another fun little fact about myself is I really hate social situations. My friends can attest to my fear of new people and ability to take normal situations and make them supremely awkward (I've decided to go ahead and label this trait of mine "charming".) So, obviously, I wasn't too happy about this certain requirement. 

In fact, the other lovely people on this trip had to listen to me complain for a bit.

"I mean, is it REALLY necessary? They clearly don't understand that we do our research on databases." 

"None of these experts are going to want to talk to some random college student about her little research project. They're too busy saving the world!" 

"But I don't waaaaannnnaaaaa."

There's that wonderful can-do attitude! Well, the deadline for our first paper is approaching quickly, and I needed an interview. So today I took a deep breath, suppressed my instincts telling me to run to the safety of familiar faces, and sat down with a journalist who has spent time in Libya and Syria.

You guys, something amazing happened.

It was perfectly fine. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say it was wonderful. The guy had an incredible grasp of the situation abroad and was able to help me compare them (aka my paper) and provided plenty of insight. As much as I hate to admit it, I learned more from that single half hour than I have from any of the research I had previously done.

The humble pie tastes the same here in Switzerland, in case you were wondering.