I was good at art and languages, so naturally one day I decided to go back to school and study to be a Materials Engineer. It was a character builder seeing as I had to teach myself Trig before I could start taking the Calculus courses. Those weren't bad if all I did was study, which I did while sipping bourbon in order to break and rebuild my brain. Calc I was OK because it was taught in the Religious Cult/Drill Sergeant way that I respond well too, but by Calc 3 I was in a ditch.
Physics was easy when it was throwing baseballs on the moon, but when we moved on to electrical fields I started drooling. I still had a crow-like ability to make things work in Physics lab, but no clue as to why.
Chemistry was fine at first because I clued in that I didn't have to outrun the bear, I just needed to outrun the other campers, and a 30 scaled up to a B. But then I had a lab where we were playing with acid, and my station was next to the sink. The sink where every little bastard in the lab would blast the water full-strength into their test tubes to clean them, spraying me, about 20 times per lab, with diluted acid.
Then one day in Calc 3 I was trying to keep up, all the while this one dude was blurting the answers before the professor could finish the questions. I realized then that I had been the same as him, in language classes. That's when I started fading out of the photo of the Engineering family.