This old lady walks into a bar...

"It's not that I'm a control freak, it's just that you don't do what I want." She yelled that last bit at me in order to get my attention. My dearly beloved talks a lot about controlling behavior, and quotes that woman Beyonce or Oprah or something like that.


Today I’m going to talk about Battlestar Galactica.

Those words relegate me to the dank and shadowy internment of geekdom or nerdom. Does it save me from being either, that I haven’t really worked out which is which? Surely knowledge of which is which would mean it would make me one of those. But given I don’t know…

I’ve made the mistake of telling someone I figured them for a nerd and they became indignant and insisted they were a geek. They went on to explain that geeks were kind of cool whereas nerds were social misfits. You know – during the formative stages of their life they could only make friends with computers and books and subsequently found actual human beings laughably disappointing. You’ll know the type of person I’m talking about because they’re always laughing cynically at the most inappropriate time. Alternatively they say the sorts of breathtakingly insensitive things that leave people shuffling inches in the opposite direction. Failing that they have breath that could stun a chimp.

See, the extent of my relationship with computers is word processing and itunes (I feel technically proficient because I can upload podcasts - hell, I'm dancing in a tight circle because I use terms like 'upload'). I wouldn’t claim too loudly that I’d got the human side of things worked out though. The only thing I’ve established is that people, by and large, want to be lied to. If they ask you how they look, you’ve got to subtlely assess what it is they want to see in the mirror. Then you give feedback on those grounds. You don’t go in blind. Phrases like “You’re joking, right?” or “That’s a little tight, don’t you think?” or “I’m going to walk near to you, not next to you because I don’t want to be beaten to death along with you.” I realize that sounds cynical, but think about it, how often do people like to be 'told it straight'? There's a half dozen anecdotes I could tell right now. I should mention the time a Dr. tried to break something to me gently, seeing that he was struggling I told him to just given straight. That cost me three months of worthless anxiety 'cause it turned out he was wrong. Hack.


Worse still is the teenager. They crave affirmation while at the same time encouraging you to take to them with something blunt. They don’t want to hear anything that even hints at some inadequacy or misunderstanding. They must be approached in much the same way as a large bear must be approached. Any bear for that matter. I sometimes explain to a class “It’s funny you say that because teenager is actually Latin for ‘thinks with mouth open’, except ‘thinks’ is one of those tricky words that doesn’t quite mean what we think it does – the closest translation I can muster up is clay pot…”

On another note but still the same tune, sort of…
I have a class of older students that I attempt to teach Philosophy to. I say attempt because by and large their intellect leaves me for dead. Some of these people are humiliatingly smart and some days class feels like a gladiatorial arena.

Anyway.

This one time I’m chiming on about old people (just for laughs - whose going to know? Gormless, I know) and one of the girls looks, I don’t know, pale. So I ask if she’s ok and she says no, her grandmother just died. And then I’m in a really awkward spot. If she’s lying and I say “Far out, I’m really sorry” she may laugh and go “You’re so stupid… she’s not dead, YOU’RE A FOOL!” and then the room will spin slowly shifting in and out of focus as people laugh and point . So I decide to play it safe. “Well, let’s face it though,” I say building up to a punch line as the rest of the class breaks into a look that could only be described as horror, “there’s nothing worse than having to share a table with an old person, the noise they make when they're eating, those slapping gums...” and with that she’s out of her chair and three steps in she’s not crying, she’s choking on her grief.
There’s a stunned silence. For about a second. And then, predictably, the room turns. “You’re a BASTARD Mr.Limb” and there’s projectiles made up of pens, tissues and other fairly unimportant but potentially sharps bits showering across at me.


It’s funny, I really sit down to write this blog to try and compile some sort of dialogue about what I’m thinking about and reading in the hope of dialogue with people out there in the icy reaches of cyber space. If you want to be challenged have a read of FULLMETALSEAN. His last blog is friggin mint. I recommended the thing he comments on but lets face it, he actually watched it, and then deconstructed it opening dialogue on the 'net. My blog is like little pieces of a puzzle that when you finally get most of them down and step back it just spells the word DYSFUNCTION, and worse it’s all on a background of blue with clouds so it takes forever to work out where the pieces go. Don’t get me started on jigsaw puzzles. I think I can justify spending the odd hour on the PS3 when it comes to jigsaw puzzles.

So, next blog Peter Gabriel’s SACD releases and Battlestar Galactica. And my Empire Strikes Back card collection. BTW... just for the record, not a fan of Star Trek.