Saturday, March 04, 2006

Seth

Some physicists happily divorce their field. They leave before their heart is broken convinced that they could never really care for the sub-sub atomic, that they could never find such abstraction fulfilling. Biology treats them better anyway.

But Seth won’t love the one he’s with. This professor of mine loathes my department, our field, and anyone who dares show interest.

My senior year, Seth was sent to meet and recruit applicants from his alma mater; I was one such applicant. He was supposed to be selling the program, but all he could talk about was how nice it was to be back and how much he wished he could stay.



He scheduled his elective course for first-years during a required first year course. He protested the time change by not showing up.

Half an hour later, someone found him. He had been in his office but we hadn’t been persistent with our knocking; the lights were off in his windowless room.

He entered with creases on his cheek from the papasan chair cushion on his office floor and a chunk of hair sticking horizontally from the side of his head with There’s Something About Mary - esque determination.

But at the APS meeting, Seth looked great for his ex. He was in pinstripe pants and really nice shoes, and even in their best plaid flannel, no pure physicist could compete.


In front of the rest of the faculty, he asked me which program it was I visited at UC San Diego.

“Physics.”

“Really – and you met with – but you still didn’t. I mean, why wouldn’t you want to. . .”

I just had to let it go.