Crowd-pleaser
Bab gave his tenure talk today. Despite my ambivalence about it all, I find myself rooting for him. I care not of the consequences to myself, but I fear I begin to care for him. I’ve never seen him prepare so long for a talk. Two weeks. I know he is worried. He begins by talking about band insulators. He assumes that physicists know something about band insulators. Most don’t. They complain to me, I didn’t understand a single sentence from Bab’s talk. I nod in sympathy, reflexively.
He describes a topological insulator, and I see he is preparing the crowd. His pointer goes crazy. He reveals Yismuth. ‘This is the reason why theorists are useful,’ he says, ‘My student Aris did an amazing job explaining why some edges are dark.’ Yismuth is a crowd-pleaser. I know it. I accept my role. Later, Real Russian tells me he was observing me closely, and the fireworks that burst forth within, and evanesced on my rigid countenance.
Later that night was the annual cheese and wine. I am rebuffed. I lay slumped against a wall, sipping my wine, the reverberations of the crowd envelops me. Why do interesting girls surround themselves by an insipid retinue? They confound my rule. These days, my social interactions are only motivated by romance, which means by lack of openings they are never properly motivated.
QFT approached me and gave me his opinion about a series of talks I have been organizing. Since the summer school, I have discovered a potent source of joy, in bringing together fellow students to talk about physics. I am starting to like QFT, in spite of the protraction of our conversations. When not discussing physics, he uses a breath of four sentences to convey a one-sentence idea, and I always find myself bored by the second round. He is sharp, but English is not his native language. I agreed with him, then excused myself to procure more wine.
I mingle as a non-interacting particles mingles, a random walk in a 2D colloid. Colliding and brushing, I retain my identity. They break up into groups and animate themselves into social enthusiasm. I watch for a sign of flagging enthusiasm, of a dove retracting from the flock. I am found wanting.
He describes a topological insulator, and I see he is preparing the crowd. His pointer goes crazy. He reveals Yismuth. ‘This is the reason why theorists are useful,’ he says, ‘My student Aris did an amazing job explaining why some edges are dark.’ Yismuth is a crowd-pleaser. I know it. I accept my role. Later, Real Russian tells me he was observing me closely, and the fireworks that burst forth within, and evanesced on my rigid countenance.
Later that night was the annual cheese and wine. I am rebuffed. I lay slumped against a wall, sipping my wine, the reverberations of the crowd envelops me. Why do interesting girls surround themselves by an insipid retinue? They confound my rule. These days, my social interactions are only motivated by romance, which means by lack of openings they are never properly motivated.
QFT approached me and gave me his opinion about a series of talks I have been organizing. Since the summer school, I have discovered a potent source of joy, in bringing together fellow students to talk about physics. I am starting to like QFT, in spite of the protraction of our conversations. When not discussing physics, he uses a breath of four sentences to convey a one-sentence idea, and I always find myself bored by the second round. He is sharp, but English is not his native language. I agreed with him, then excused myself to procure more wine.
I mingle as a non-interacting particles mingles, a random walk in a 2D colloid. Colliding and brushing, I retain my identity. They break up into groups and animate themselves into social enthusiasm. I watch for a sign of flagging enthusiasm, of a dove retracting from the flock. I am found wanting.
posted by Dr. Broke at 7:07 PM
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