AAAagh - Part 2

Part 1 is here

We all thought there wouldn't be a part-2. But ..there is. No sooner did we reach Frankfurt that we saw our connecting flight to Muscat was canceled. Our first reaction was - wait, that can't be right.  The airport was functioning, since we just landed in to this place and this place was definitely Frankfurt.  Planes landing equals airport working, right? Well, the runways are closed, they said. So that meant that the flight was canceled because they couldn't clear some runways, they said. We will put you on the waiting list to the next flight to Dubai, they said.  Waiting list? To Dubai? How are we supposed to go from there to Muscat? Oh, they said, there should be flights there that you can get at ticketing where there will be no 5 hour waiting queue. Like the one here in Frankfurt.

OK We'll take it. Waiting list. pssh, with the kind of luck we're having I was mentally preparing for a night's stay at the airport.


Just then, our luck decided to show up.  They were tons of people who didn't show up to the Dubai flight cuz they were stuck somewhere else.  So we got in, and I collapsed in relief on HGs shoulder.  HG, poor HG, who was near tears. Anyway, we got in on the flight, along with other kindred spirits such as a Calgary girl who spend 20 hours at the airport and an Indian dude who was with us. We got to Dubai and after some smooth talking from Mr. Bird, we get on the next flight and finally reached Muscat after 4 days of travel.

You know what the kicker part is? Our luggage showed up as well, loyally following our random flights to random airports. We totally did not expect that.

And now we are here, among family with all their love and the familiar smells and the immensely warm food and beds.  And we celebrated the dad's birthday today.

And tomorrow is our anniversary.

Most people I talked to (and whom HG talked to) gave us wise-wisdom words on how the first or the first two or the first three years will be the toughest.  After that, they said, it'll be all OK. I braced myself for these 'tough' years.  But it has nothing like these premonitions. Maybe because we treat each other extremely well. We take care of each other, supporting the wishes and weaving around differences with a something that is distinctly becoming natural. We treat each other so well that the knowledge that this person loves me stays within us. And when we do fight, we somehow always restrain from delivering that extra punch that could hurt.  Of course we fight. Heck, am the usual mouth off. And my tendency to dismiss some things is becoming quiet obvious. But there's so much clarity around us that my hitherto quelled intuitions immediately gives me warning signs.  And she, she's just as natural and true and sensible as they come - a person so connected with intuitions and movements that it's little surprise that she writes well.  As someone who's been pretending for so long and who just recently discovered what being true meant, this quality of hers astonishes me. I will always look up to her.

An anticlimax of sorts

I got this letter from a fan about a month ago

" I think you should reject this manuscript.....this article would not be useful to either experts or novices...

The article might be salvaged by a major rewrite, but very little from the current version is worth keeping. "

Of course, there was more.  Attached was a 3-page detailed point-by-point breakdown about what was wrong.   I discovered who this chap was, let's just say that I had my methods. To be fair, he did have some valid points.  So I spend the next few weeks writing, rewriting, addressing all his concerns and such until it becomes this gleaming thing of pure beauty, of which am very proud.  I send it off again, and nervously wait.  I daydream about how this chap is going to read it again, and acknowledge that yes indeed, this manuscript is seminal, wonderfully written and that Mr. Bird has addressed all of his concerns to the dot above i.

Today I discover that the manuscript got in.

Why the anti-climax? The editor of the journal was also one of my co-authors.  He didn't send it out to the reviewers again.  He just deemed my corrections were suffice.  Mr. Fan never got to see the great comeback.

Logicomix

It's been an off week, but the one thing that happened was  Logicomix!

ha!

This was an epic read.  In some ways, I should thank the fat bastard for forcing me to read Logic much beyond the  cursory knowledge. Anyway, Logicomix is on its surface a history of logic told from a biography of Bertand Russell's life, narrated by Russell himself in a speech.  I say 'biography' since even though Russell made it part of the speech, the speech itself is modified by the authors of this book. Also, the authors themselves are characters in the book! Throughout the book, the authors talk amongst themselves about the theme of the book. They tweak Russell's speech and as a consequence, his life and as a consequence, the history of logic, to fit their theme.

See how complicated that just read.

There's no way written text would capture all of these..layers.  But graphic novels - ah - these offer so much more freedom!

And this was my first graphic novel.  Watchmen is next on my list. I do need more recommendations, though.

Hidden Agendas

I flipped burgers for a bit while in graduate school.  It paid for rent and food, and I kinda liked the mind-lessness of it.

While there, I became friends with a co-worker, call her Casey, a bisexual single mom who was known for sleeping around.  She didn't try anything with me, knowing I was in a relationship. But she and I hit it off well, being cigarette buddies and all that.  She would tell me stuff about her life in general - her kid, her current girlfriend and the occasional guy in her life. I would tell her about grad school and the Indian prof with a pretend American accent who pretended to have trouble pronouncing Indian names. We never hung out, outside of work, for some reason, and I don't quite know why.

Once at the grill, she suddenly cursed and hid behind a wall.  I asked her what's wrong.  She said she was hiding from that Indian guy.  I looked and the only Indian guy around was Umh, a post doc.

"Who are you hiding from again? Umh?"

"Yeah thats him" she said, peering around the corner. "He's such a pervert."

Who?Umh?

Umh was one of the few stand-up guys I knew.  You know the kind - the quiet, the all-ways smiling, really good at cricket, the guy who doesn't utter a bad word, eager to help out and really smart.  The school topper cum cricket team captain cum quiz champion.  Plus he was married. His wife was in India with a one year old.

So again.

Who? Umh?

"Yup.  He keeps asking me out in this creepy way.  Once I said yes just to get rid of him, and he said meet me at the parking lot.  Who fucking meets anyone at the parking lot?"

Who? Umh?

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Yes him.  He even said his name just the way you say it."

That kind of brought me back.  Er..hmm..so did you meet up with him?

"No! I stood him up. Which is why am standing behind this wall.  Shit, he's coming this way. I gotta go."

Sure enough he came and said hi and wanted a grilled cheese sandwich.  I was pretty flabbergasted. The dude was vegetarian and didn't even drink.  Not that those are mutually exclusive to morals but still!

I pressed her again, but she seemed pretty certain.  Not pretty. Absolutely certain.

One of the gujju guys laughed at me when I mentioned this to him. No way, not Umh, he said.  I realized then that I shouldn't have told him.

Some part of me believed her.  She had no reason to lie. And she's not the kind to mistake things like this.  You don't mistake a creepy guy asking you out 10 times with someone else, no matter what skin color.

October

"O hushed October morning mild, 
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all."

- Robert Frost

You might think life has become mundane, but it's not that bad.  It has become very technical, though.  Time is now divided between re-writing and re-re -writing a review paper to the likes on particular reviewer and laying down the math for the big thesis. 

The said reviewer was rather unkind, but there is some fault of mine.  I didn't know who the big guns are in the field, and one thing that is important in science is this concept called literature searching, or in simple words - 'make sure you mention the big guns and that you're not treading on anyone's toes'.  I have spent my professional life, albeit small, in research, and it seems to me that very rarely is scientific research about discovering the truth.  It is sometimes a very political game that is merged with business. The business part, I get, the politics maybe not.  But one has to learn the ropes.  

And yes, the big idea is being started upon.  There is equal parts excitement and equal parts nervousness (oh god, please let this work, I cannot afford to start all over again).  And since it's the beginning, it all looks beautiful and well-placed and almost meant to be.  The ugly side has not been shown yet.

Fall is looking very pretty this year.

 

In the Kingdom of Pee

HG notoriously has a weak bladder. On a good night, she gets up only twice to pee.  If she drinks a whole glass of water before bedtime, she's screwed.  Travel is a whole another matter.  HG has developed an immunity to whatever condition the toilet is.  She will pee anywhere - in a clean toilet, in a dirty toilet, in a very dirty toilet, in a a very very dirty toilet, in a life-forsaken toilet - and even has improvised when no toilet was around.   Her pee stories are legendary and the poor thing is often a brunt of jokes for family members.

The only other compulsion that is as forceful as the need-to-pee is the need-to-not-wake-up.  Sometimes, the two clash (esp. as I mentioned before, if a whole glass of water is involved).  They wrestle with each other for dominance of HG.  And the resulting scenarios are pretty funny to watch.  I came home yesterday to find her lying on  the bed with very sleepy and sad eyes.  Yes, she needed to pee and yes she didn't want to get up.  This was the usual but what happened next was completely unexpected.

I wish I had the ability to hand off the need-to-pee to someone else.

Eh?

As a punishment you know? It'll be my reward for doing good.

And then came the fascinating story of the Kingdom of Pee.   

In the Kingdom of Pee, every man or woman is given a certain quota of a number of pees as a burden to carry around upon birth.  This quota is handed out by a set of gods called the Pee Birth gods.  Every person's conduct does is carefully observed by the Pee Conduct gods (shudder!).  If a person has done something good, not a regular everyday-do-your-job good, but a good of good significance, then the Pee Conduct gods will grant you a wish - you can hand out 10 need-to-pees to someone you don't like.  You can't force the good deed, it has to be completely accidental.  (What she meant by this was not too clear, but I am guessing it's something like you delivering life-saving CPR on your way to work when you're not even licensed to give First Aid. It's got to be that accidental, I suppose.) And you can get an option that no one should hand you their need-to-pee too.  So HG's survival 101 was this  - you should ask for Option 2 as your first reward (No one shall hand their need-to-pee to Thee!) and from then on Option 1 (Thou can hand over 10 need-to-pees to one that Thou detests! Oh for Pee's sake, stop handing them off to your husband!)

The rules of the Kingdom of Pee broke down of course under my persistent What-if-scenarios, but in the end of this, seeing my flabbergasted expression, she goes - Hey you know what I realized? 

Gulp, what?

 I can make up shit as I go along.

You can't tell from the way I walk that...

Well..I got through the quals.  In the end, the big guy's ego had to be stroked - not too much, not too little - just enough for him to feel important and make him feel ...validated.

In the beginning I did study - hard.  Hours and hours of logic everyday.  It even gave a new mode of thinking.  There was one question set handed out and I completed it.  There were no more question sets from then on.  I just solved questions from the text book and slipped them under his door.

Look, am working hard. You've made an effect.

After a time it became apparent that there was going to be no re-examination.  No re-quals and no re-testing.  I doubt he even looked through my answer sheets.  In the end, he simply signed the document and we went off to vacation to Boston.  I suppose I shouldnt complain about how this turned out.  It's just that the pointlessness is more overwhelming than the importance.

I'll take the logic, thanks.  I'll even take the lesson on whom to watch out for.  I feel nothing.

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After living with HG here for almost two months, I have deduced that there is a certain pattern to when she asks me to do something about the house. Here are the three modes
1) If you are standing in the vicinity of something that needs to be done - honey, do this.
2) If you are standing in the general vicinity and you are a presence that is sometimes a tad unnecessary - honey while you're there, can you do this?
3) If you are nowhere in the vicinity and  there is something that needs to be done - honey on your way here can you please do this?

The best part is that all this is asked irrespective of what you are doing.  You could be doing  nothing (close the windows), peeling potatoes (can you increase the AC?)  or vaccuming (she actually made me stop vaccuming to ask me throw something in the garbage).  I was once working, and got up to pee when I was asked to switch off the fan.  The fan was nowhere close to me or my path from the couch to the loo, but there it was - I was asked to to make a detour to where she was and to switch off the fan.

Unbelievable.
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