Learning from the classroom

Much of the recent silence you’ve been noticing is because I’ve been busy tying up loose ends, and attempting to return to some semblance of normalcy. It’s proving harder than I expected to get out of “technical writing” mode and into “daily whiner” mode, but I hope to get there soon. For starters, I’ve indefinitely shelved a bunch of nascent entries that soon turned very geeky.

Working feverishly against my quest to just chill and focus on other things, the higher-ups have all decided to jump on the “You’ve got to try this faculty position, it’s right up your alley. Ooh, and this one, and oh, that one too!” bandwagon. Honestly, I don’t believe I’m nearly ready for a step such as this—besides, I have so much else to sort out in my sorry little life—and that’s why I’ve opted for the Cambridge gig. I’m looking for some breathing room, and I’m hoping it will afford me some interesting opportunities, like getting to tour parts of Europe.

There was one thing that came up during a related discussion recently that I wish I’d known and followed in other aspects of my life. At least, in one. Someone sagely mentioned that I ought to try for interesting positions—whether or not they are exactly what I am looking for. The experience that I’d gather while interviewing, giving talks and generally going through the process a few times would allow me to hone my act; allowing me to really impress future higher-ups when I’m trying for a position at a place I really want to be.

It turns out, the same thing is true of talking to women.

Spending ages closed up because no one around fancies you enough to evoke any emotion, or even the need to spark a conversation, is the perfect way to rot your (already meagre, in cases such as mine) communication skills. And when the cutest, sweetest woman comes along, you will botch the encounter up because you don’t know what to do. She’s clearly trying hard to nudge you along and make things comfortable for you, but you end up blowing it anyway; constantly shooting her down with your honorary ogre-worthy charmlessness.

Perhaps if someone had been as gung-ho about my social life as people are about my academic life, I’d have been constantly reminded to try my hand at things—even when they don’t seem to matter—so I’d be ready for when they really did.

I wish I were bright enough to manufacture a reason to see her again.

Women’s entertainment? – I/III

On occasion, I’m overly drawn into a program on “Lifetime,” a woman’s entertainment channel. And by “overly drawn into,” I obviously mean that the remote is missing, I’m too lazy to move, and watch whatever is on; even if it’s the Lifetime channel.

Yesterday evening was one such occasion. I happened to chance upon a most ‘B’ of B-movies, whose name I’ve already forgotten; or probably never knew in the first place. It was such an experience that I must share its wonderful story with you. Enjoy! (Suckers).

This story is about a young couple who’re madly in love—and sexually hyperactive—a detail that’ll play an important role in the story’s progression. Besides, it’s some unwritten rule somewhere that no-name actors and actresses must show a lot of skin, or they don’t stand a chance. Anyway, all is well initially as the guy who’s a PhD in astrophysics (and this has no bearing on the story whatsoever) and the woman who’s a children’s book author—and relatively cute, by B-movie standards—go about their wonderful life.

But one day—cue ominous tune—it all starts going horribly wrong.

It turns out that this young woman has some seriously terminal illness, like lung cancer or something, and about a quarter way through the movie, is very ill, and is soon doing gross things like coughing up fake blood. Since I doubt that few people would want to sleep with someone who’s throwing up blood (other than the odd lazy vampire, I guess), their sex life begins to suffer.

But our poor man has needs. Of course he does. So he soon begins cheating on this wife with this other B-movie-league-attractive woman who happens to be a real-estate agent. The side perk of this being, that they then get to copulate in all different sorts of bedrooms in fancy homes she’s supposed to be selling! Meanwhile, the poor, sick wife (who’s still hot in a sort of, “you can get to be totally protective of her, and she’ll be all yours,” way) joins a support group.

A support group for people who also cough-up blood while waiting for other people to die, so that they can hopefully get the lung transplant they need to live. Yes, your typical fun-times crowd.

Riveting stuff, if any of these people could act. You’d think they’d have just ended this train-wreck right there with a message like, I don’t know, “smoking kills” or something. At least the kiddies would have learnt something.

But noooo, our writers have other plans.