Sitting in the garden for my friend's birthday. I felt a buzz（振动） in my pocket. My heart raced when I saw the email sender's name. The email started off: "Dear Mr Green, thank you for your interest" and "the review process took longer than expected. "It ended with" We are sorry to inform you…"and my vision blurred（模糊）. The position-measuring soil quality in the Sahara Desert as part of an undergraduate research programme-had felt like the answer I had spent years looking for.
I had put so much time and emotional energy into applying, and I thought the rejection meant the end of the road for my science career.
So I was shocked when, not long after the email, Professor Mary Devon, who was running the programme, invited me to observe the work being done in her lab. I jumped at the chance, and a few weeks later I was equally shocked-and overjoyed-when she invited me to talk with her about potential projects I could pursue in her lab. What she proposed didn't seem as exciting as the original project I had applied to, but I was going to give it my all.
I found myself working with a robotics professor on techniques for collecting data from the desert remotely. That project, which I could complete from my sofa instead of in the burning heat of the desert, not only survived the lockdown but worked where traditional methods didn't. In the end. I had a new scientific interest to pursue.
When I applied to graduate school, I found three programmes promising to allow me to follow my desired research direction. And I applied with the same anxious excitement as before. When I was rejected from one that had seemed like a perfect fit, it was undoubtedly difficult. But this time I had the perspective（视角）to keep it from sending me into panic. It helped that in the end I was accepted into one of the other programmes I was also excited about.
Rather than setting plans in stone, I've learned that sometimes I need to take the opportunities that are offered, even if they don't sound perfect at the time, and make the most of them.
