How was everybody's Valentine's?  I know, this greeting's (?) more than a week too late.

 

Well, Valentine's was a big day for me.  It was the day of my "entrance interview" for PhD, that's why.  Kyoto University has this policy that if (1) you've earned your master's in this same university, and (2) you've graduated with satisfactory marks, then you're exempted from taking the entrance exam.  I didn't get straight A's during my master's; my grades weren't all "good."  But let's just say that on the average, they were "satisfactory."  So, I was exempted.  The only thing they asked me to do was to give a brief presentation about my past, present, and future research.  Hence, the "entrance interview."

 

People say it's all a formality.  Something done out of etiquette and decorum.  A convention.  Well, all I can say is, when you're in one end of a round table, facing more than fifteen grumpy men, half of them old enough to be your great grandfather, it's hard to get that idea into your head.  To say that I was butchered, roasted, and grilled would be an understatement.  I thought I would never recover from the trauma it caused me.  A couple of days later, however, when I got a post in my mail saying, "You passed.  So we are informing you," I said to myself, "What the heck!  All's well that ends well."  Right?  I hope so.

 

In other news, the tickets for Yukio Ninagawa's adaptation of Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost (Koi no honeorizon) are gonna be out from 10 A.M. tomorrow.  However, reservations by premium members of various ticket companies have been going on since a couple of weeks ago.  Damn, I hope there are still front row tickets left. 

 

 

 

Obviously, the play has an all-male cast, which makes it very intriguing, in my opinion.  I'm setting my alarm for 9:45 and this laptop's gonna be put on standby mode for easier access to the internet tomorrow!  A good night to one and all!

 

I had always wanted to go north.  All by myself.  On a three-day trip.  When winter is at its "peak."

 

Whenever I was alone with my noble thoughts, I would fantasize about leaving my room on a clear winter morning, just at the break of dawn, with a light backpack filled with warm fleece sweaters, boxes of Calorie Mate of every flavor, and lots of clean, fresh underwear.  I would take the bus to Kyoto station, get on the first train heading north and see how far north it would take me.  Of course, the train would have to stop somewhere.  At the terminal station, if I don't find myself in a place significantly different from Kyoto, I'd take another northbound train and repeat the whole process until (1) I reach a dead-end (then I would have to go back home and try my luck by taking a different route some other time) or (2) I get to a place where rivers and lakes are frozen and everything - mountains, fields, houses, trees, and even cows! - is covered with snow.

 

Skinny-dipping in a rotenburo is, of course, part of the plan.  (In December, 2005, when Fuyuki invited me over to his hometown in Toyama Prefecture, three hours by rapid train north of Kyoto, he took me to this rotenburo on top of a snow-capped mountain.  It was an awesome experience!)  There's just something magical about being waist-deep in steaming hot water while lumps of snow pelt against your shoulders and back.  Your legs are getting blanched, your eggs (if you have them) poached, and yet you're cold and shivering!  The contrasting sensations make you dizzy; the whole thing's just surreal.  (Now I see why seven out of ten people like being choked while having an orgasm.  Or slapped while having sex.)

 

Hence, on Christmas day, after a lousy Christmas eve, I made a firm resolution to have my fantasy realised.  When they heard about my plan, a young Filipino couple expressed their intention of going with me and since they agreed to let me do all the planning, I readily approved.

 

The trip to Kanazawa in Ishikawa Prefecture, four hours by semi-rapid train north of Kyoto, was set to be from December 29 to 31, 2006.  In my succeeding entries, I will post short accounts of the trip, perhaps together with some nice pictures.  So watch out!

 

On Christmas eve, I was invited by a Japanese friend to have dinner with his family at their house in Fushimi-ku.  He and his ten-year-old son had been doing some Christmas shopping downtown so at around six, we met up at Takashimaya and walked all the way to Shijo-Karasuma, where my friend's older sister was waiting at the parking lot where he had parked the family van.

 

We left Shijo at half past seven and had to make a couple of stops along the way so we were all starving and pretty much exhausted when we got to their place.  We were greeted by my friend's wife who had apparently finished setting the table ages before we arrived.  The food had obviously gotten cold.  Nevertheless, dinner was great since it was my first time to have makizushi (rolled sushi) that I had to wrap by myself while eating.  It was quite easy.  The only thing that you have to remember is to avoid spreading too much rice over your nori so you won't end up with an unrollable sushi.  To make one, place a sheet of nori over your palm and cover it with a thin layer of rice.  Put a slice of raw fish in the middle, roll everything up then dip it in soy sauce mixed with wasabi before stuffing it in your mouth!  After having about ten rolls, two helpings of miso soup, a big piece of fried chicken and some vegetable salad with beans and torn leafy greens, I decided I couldn't eat another bite anymore so I stopped eating altogether and concentrated on finishing my tea instead.  Right after dinner, the kid was sent to the ofuro while the mother cleared the table and took out the Christmas cake - a log cake filled and frosted with mocha cream and garnished with big chunks of chocolate and little birthday candles.  We turned off the lights and lit the candles just before the boy came back in, all fresh and powdered in his short-sleeved shirt and pajama pants.  Needless to say, the kid was ecstatic, especially after he was given the biggest slice of cake with the biggest chunk of chocolate.  Me, I was filled with deep sadness.  I used to enjoy Christmas, too.  Little things - roasted turkey on the table, a crisp five-peso bill from Santa Claus, a big can of biscuits, a box of chocolates and candies - would get me squealing and jumping around the Christmas tree.  Over the years, though, it would feel like there was always something missing.  Christmas had somehow lost its meaning.

 

By eleven-thirty, I was back in Sanjo.  Without anything to do and starting to feel lonely, I walked around aimlessly, trying to get comfort from seeing so many Japanese walking about, seemingly oblivious of the fact that Christmas was only a few minutes away.  Perhaps they were thinking the same about me but had they looked closely, they would have seen how lonesome I was that night.  Minutes later, I found myself by the train station so I decided to take the next train home.  When I got to my room, I e-mailed Fuyuki, telling him how uneventful my Christmas eve was.  He replied, "Don't give a shit.  It's just another cold winter night."  I smiled.  Comforted, I went straight to bed and fell asleep the moment I closed my eyes.

 

It feels like Christmas.

 

Only that, instead of rejoicing over the birth of Jesus, I'll be celebrating my own.

 

Hooray!

 

I got tagged!

 

THREE NAMES THAT YOU GO BY:

  

   1.  Rocky
   2.  Rocsarotti
   3.  Master Rocs (It's gonna be Doctor Rocs soon, you'll see!)

 

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD, INCLUDING THE ONE YOU NOW HAVE:

 

   1.  Woolgatherer
   2.  Karaoke Jesus
   3.  Mister Rocs (like "Mister Jem" in To Kill a Mockingbird)

 

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:

 

   1.  I'm good at: fabricating stories; (Ask Vivien if you don't believe me!)
   2.  organizing parties; and
   3.  partying.

 

FOUR THINGS YOU HATE/DISLIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:

 

   1.  My eyes betray me whenever I find myself in the hot seat. (long story; Drey knows this well)
   2.  I suck at: budgeting;
   3.  being on time; and
   4.  sucking and getting sucked. (Oh, this is so gonna get bleeped!)

 

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:

 

   1.  a samurai sword from my late grandfather (taken from a Japanese soldier during WWII)
   2.  endless debts (monetary; and the equally, if not more, horrible debts of honor)
   3.  some Spanish (Ask my mother if you don't believe me!), Chinese and German (http://www.genealogy.com) blood

 

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:

 

   1.  questions (Don't ask me why!)
   2.  bliss (There's gotta be a catch somewhere.)
   3.  thunderstorms!

 

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:

 

   1.  Mild Seven Lights™  

   2.  Gatsby Powdered Oil Clear Paper (best product ever invented)
   3.  a trusty lighter

 

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:

 

   1.  socks
   2.  Armani Mania
   3.  (nothing else)

 

THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:

 

   1.  be really mean
   2.  travel somewhere far; alone
   3.  save! (Believe me, this would be something new for me.)

 

TWO LIES AND A TRUTH:

 

   1.  I'm a good Catholic.
   2.  I'm Catholic.
   3.  I'm good.

 

THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:

 

   1.  cry on cue
   2.  roll my tongue
   3.  pee when someone else is looking

 

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:

 

   1.  scrabble (daily)
   2.  bowling (at least once a week)
   3.  drinking! (whenever I feel like it!)

 

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:

 

   1.  pee
   2.  kill my housemate
   3.  drown my housemate in pee

 

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:

 

   1.  conning
   2.  cab-driving
   3.  translating/interpreting

 

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:

 

   1.  Tibet (spiritual)
   2.  Amsterdam (carnal)
   3.  India (gastric/palatal)

 

THREE TRUE LOVES:

 

   1.  nonlinear optimization (Sensei, do you hear me?)
   2.  everything Japanese!
   3.  Did I already mention I love Japan?

 

THREE FAVORITE ANIMALS:

 

   1.  Snoopy^®
   2.  fireflies
   3.  Echinoderms (sea stars, brittle stars, sea urchins; used to determine their population density and distribution pattern for a science research project)

 

THREE REASONS WHY YOU'RE DOING THIS:

 

   1.  I'm doing this for all of you. Admit it, you wanna know me better, don't you?
   2.  It makes for a good filler; nothing interesting to write about these days.
   3.  Mean Adrian ordered me to do this.

 

THREE PEOPLE WHO MUST TAKE THIS QUIZ: (You’ve gotta tag two or three or four others.)

 

   1.  Melai
   2.  Drey
   3.  Sarski

 

Yesterday morning, at half past four, I lay down to sleep in my room at Kyoto University International House.  Eighteen hours later, I was awakened by a strong autumn breeze that somehow got through the glass window I had absently left open and found its way to the door leading towards the kitchen.  Without getting up, I looked outside, expecting to see tops of pine trees bathed in yellow light.  Instead, I saw nothing but stars, hundreds of them dancing in the clear, cloudless sky.  Right then, I realized I wasn't in the dormitory anymore. 

 

I had moved.

 

Unopened luggage and paperbags bursting at the seams littered the tatami-lined floor, along with pieces of shirts, pants, towels, jackets, and socks all piled together in a heap.  I was on the sixth floor of a six-floor building surrounded by tons of ramen shops.  Izumiya and Qanat, two enormous shopping malls, were a stone's throw away; Kyoto University, ten minutes by bike.

 

The apartment is a bit shabby for my taste, but with some fresh curtains, a new set of futon, and a few pieces of wooden furniture, i'm sure everything's gonna be perfect.  Why, with the grassy smell of the newly-installed tatami mats and the rustic feel of the paper-lined sliding doors, what's there not to love?

 

At last, I got my laptop back.  When I called home a couple of days ago, in an effort to come up with an alibi for not having called since two weeks ago, I told my mom that I was busy fixing my laptop.  "Who fixed it?" she asked.  "I did."  "All by yourself?"  Without seeing her face, I knew just what sort of expression she was wearing.  Skepticism, surprise, and that mixture of amusement and sarcasm that only mothers could bare and suppress at the same time.  From the end of the line, I could tell she was stifling a nasty laugh.  "Hey, it's not like I had to pry the laptop open with screwdrivers and stuff.  The problem was with the soft—  the problem was more on the INside."  Sigh.  Mothers.

 

So, as everything else, my suffering, too, came to an end.  Of course I lost all the data in my laptop.  But come to think of it, what have I lost really?  Folders of pictures I barely opened after I had them downloaded from my camera?  Music and videos I hadn't had the chance to organize?  No, I didn't lose any research-related program or journal paper; I hardly did research at home.  So far, I have yet to feel the need of looking at a particular picture or listening to a specific music, realize that it's gone and feel sorry for its loss.

 

I guess I'm actually relieved that it happened.  Maybe I've been wanting it to happen all along.  It's true, I've lost everything.  But in the process, wasn't I saved from going through all the trouble of organizing, backing up and filing?  Would it have been worth it had I done those things before my laptop cracked up?  Would it have made any difference with the way I feel right now?

 

Music, they're available at the video and music rental shop nearby.  Journal papers, I can always access them through my computer in the lab.  Pictures, I have them all, along with the memories, vividly preserved and neatly organized in my mind.

 

Why, with a fresher, faster computer, I guess I should be celebrating right now!

 

It's official.  My Toshiba Satellite 2410 died, two months short of its third birthday.  The principle of equivalent trade in alchemy states that in order to gain one thing, something of equal value must be lost.  I believe that the converse of this principle is true and that this law applies to other things in life besides alchemy.  I have lost one thing.  It is but rightful that I gain something in return.

 

Now, I'm not going to go look for that stupid recovery disk until something good happens.  I wonder, though.  What if indeed I gained something from all this.  Would I have to give that something up so I could have my laptop back?

 

Hisashiburi!  It has been ages since I last made an entry.  Oh well.

 

Lately, I've been doing practically nothing.  Summer break has started; no zemi, no presentations, hence no reason to go to school.  Well, I've gone out with friends a couple of times and for several weekends now, I've been doing some sightseeing around Kyoto.  And of course, there was this baito thing, temporarily held off for the month of August, which had kept me busy, or at least feeling busy, for the past few Tuesdays.  Still, I feel like I've turned into a useless being.  And without so much as a baito to keep me occupied next month, I wonder just what will become of me.  Sigh.

 

For two weeks now, every Tuesday, I would wake up at 8 A.M. and take a quick breakfast, which usually consists of the previous night's leftovers or a piece of sweet bread and cold lemon tea.  Afterwards, I would enjoy my thirty-five-minute warm shower and by the time I finish, I would then have barely enough time to catch the 9:49 train for Demachiyanagi, where I would get off and hurriedly switch, after buying a pack of cigarettes from one of the vending machines, to the 10 o'clock express train heading for Tambabashi.

 

Seven minutes on foot from Tambabashi station is the Fushimi Youth Action Center, where in one of the conference rooms on the second floor, my four lovely obaasans would patiently wait in their respective seats, chatting in hushed, excited murmurs.  Upon my arrival, we would exchange pleasantries and sometimes talk idly about the weather.  Then at exactly 10:30, we would get down to business - our one-and-a-half-hour English class would officially begin.

 

When Hideo, a half-Japanese, half-Swiss friend, was talking about this arubaito that he was passing on to me, he particularly warned me about the obaasans.  They're not beginners anymore.  Instead of the usual grammar and sentence construction lessons, Hideo advised me to bring to class newspaper articles for group discussion and analysis.

 

Indeed, my obaasans are way beyond your usual "Noh, noh... noh Ingrish" obaasans.  Meg, who studies English to relearn long-forgotten expressions, speaks with almost impeccable grammar.  She has lived in Belgium for four years and having been unable to speak French, she would converse in English to neighbors and non-Japanese friends throughout her stay, which explains her considerable fluency and distinct pronunciation.  Plump and jolly Iku, on the other hand, attends the class "to keep my brain active and stimulated."  For quiet yet genial Anne, who likes to be called after the main character of her favorite novel, Anne of Green Gables, little English expressions she picks from class usually come in handy whenever she's playing host to her husband's business partners from abroad.  The fourth obaasan, whose name escapes me, is currently enjoying her holiday in Switzerland.  She skipped this week's class but promised to be back for the next one.

 

One thing I like about my obaasans, they don't easily give up.  Meg, for example, though fluent, is given to taking her time in choosing the right words and always trying to come up with grammatically correct sentences.  Whenever Iku comes across a difficult expression, she would never let it go until a sufficient explanation has been given.  When asked, Anne's voice would sometimes trail off in the middle of her reply and just when I would begin to finish her sentence for her, she would start all over again and make her own revisions. 

 

Sometimes I wonder where these obaasans get all their energy and motivation.  What factors drive them to excel in something that many would shrug off as merely a pastime?  Are there reasons beyond supposed sentimental recollection and so-called brain stimulation?  Or is it just that as we get older, we tend to take things in earnest, trivial as they may seem?

 

Phew, what a "sportful" weekend!  Friday night was the Rafael Nadal-Marcos Baghdatis semifinal match, which I got to watch at a coffee shop twenty minutes in high gear from my dorm.  In the middle of the game, I e-mailed Shinya, a Japanese friend who lived nearby.  Fifteen minutes later, he came by car and having no interest in tennis, he started talking as soon as he settled down across the table while I half-listened, one eye on him and the other fixed on the television behind him.  At about four A.M., long after Nadal once again did his trademark fist pump in victory, Shin-chan suggested that we go for a drive.  So, on Saturday morning, at daybreak, I was at Lake Biwa, watching the beautiful summer sun rise, listening to Shin-chan's Mr. Children MD, having the time of my life.

 

On Saturday night, once again, I biked all the way to the coffee shop, only to find that they had tuned in to a different channel, "preparing" the tv five hours in advance for the battle for third World Cup match between Germany and Portugal.  So, braving the rain, I biked back and listened to the uninterrupted live coverage of the women's finals between Mauresmo and [H]enin-[H]ardenne on Radio Wimbledon, in the comfort of my own room.  I was cheering for [H]enin-[H]ardenne but the top seed Mauresmo just played better this time, preventing [H]ardenne from becoming the 10^th woman in history to win all four grand slam titles.

 

The match on Sunday night had all the makings of a perfect ending, both for the Wimbledon and my long weekend, with Nadal and Federer in the men's finals.

 

© Getty Images

 

Oh, I was so rooting for the twenty-year-old Nadal to win over the three-time defending Wimbledon champion.  However, the grass-court master was just too good for the king of clay this time.  Sigh.  Oh well, Nadal has shown that he has improved so much on grass.  I'm sure his time will come soon.

 

With [H]ardenne and Rafa lost, I went to bed feeling a little bit sad over my almost-perfect weekend.  For consolation, I hoped for France to win the World Cup over Italy.  Monday morning, I eagerly checked the internet, right after I woke up, only to get disappointed.

 

Phew, what a weekend.  Now I feel like a total loser.

 

Look what 7-11 is having - a Snoopy Fair!

 

Each 7-11 original food product (bread, sushi, bento, onigiri, etc.) comes with a Snoopy sticker that looks like either of these:

What you do, you simply collect these stickers and paste them on a leaflet that you can get from any 7-11 convenience store or even online!  At the end of July, take your sticker-filled leaflet to the store and - voila! - for every 30 points, you'll get a one-of-a-kind Snoopy plate, made of the finest porcelain, imprinted with an image of the world's most loved beagle himself!

 

I've been sick since Thursday.  Inexplicable body heat, intermittent headaches, runny nose, a cough that's neither dry nor wet.

 

I've tried everything.  A pain reliever from Bahrain, orange juice, cassis and grape juice, cranberry juice, red wine, draft beer.  Nothing worked.  I've even switched to Mild Seven Extra Lights!  Still, nothing happened.  And so, Friday evening, I wobbled my way to the university co-op and demanded something for my headache.  The lady behind the counter offered an aspirin, a drug that just doesn't work for me.  With fingers crossed, I asked for a paracetamol, hoping that paracetamol is still paracetamol in Japanese, unlike say, sodium, which the Japanese fondly refer to as natrium.  Fortunately, she nodded, strode off, and came back with a box of Tylenol™, which could be taken three times a day at the most, even on an empty stomach.

 

Since then, I've pinned my hopes on the box of Tylenol™, faithfully taking a tablet once every six hours.  I've even skipped a meal on purpose, just to see if it indeed works even on an empty stomach.  I've already taken half of the tablets in the box.  But why, oh why, do I still have this stupid headache?  I'm still "in heat" and my nose still runs.  My cough has gone drier, no thanks to the Extra Lights.

 

Sigh.  I don't wanna die yet.  No, not now, when I still haven't published a single journal paper.

 

 

I still can't decide whether my ending up in one team with super sensei after the practice game did me good or bad.  One thing I'm sure of, I was conscious of his presence all the time.  And I mean, ALL the time.  I could feel his eyes looking intently the moment I stepped on the lane, perhaps judging my every move.  He would shake his head everytime I missed but be the first one to nod and smile whenever I threw a good one.

 

 

When Takaki, the labmate in charge of scheduling our lab's recreational nonscholastic activities, announced that for this spring semester, we would revive the bowling tournaments, a lab tradition mysteriously ignored and forgotten since the series of semi-annual tournaments ended six years ago, I was pretty sure I heard "Hallelujah" playing in the background.  Not only was I excited to participate in my first "real" bowling tournament, the prospect of playing against my labmates and senseis also aroused my dormant combative tendencies.  Two weeks before the competition, I eagerly made plans of doing a lot of biking and stretching, practising my footwork and follow-through, and making clandestine trips to the nearby bowling alleys.  Naturally, as with my other undertakings, these were put off for a day, then a week, and were eventually abandoned.  Not one was realised, unless of course you'd count the few trips to the Irish pub downtown as exercise.

 

First, let it be known that we have two senseis - "super sensei," and his associate, "associate sensei."  Although the left-handed associate sensei is quite good himself and has actually finished at the top in previous tournaments, it was super sensei who was most feared and was the favorite to win before the games began.

 

The eighteen participants in The 7^th Bowling Optimization Problem [Optimize the bowling!] were randomly divided into four groups - two groups of four and two groups of five - for the first game.  The first game, initially meant to be a practice game, doubled as the basis for determining the final grouping.  The foreigners - me, Mend, Rhoda, Dashan and Hedar - started in one group.  The senseis also started in the same group, together with the Japanese post docs.

 

Practice games have always been crucial to my actual performance.  It would be the time for me to decide on which ball to use, experiment with the four-step and the three-step approaches, try spins and possibly, hooks, and determine where and when to release the ball.  Having been forewarned that there would only be one practice game, however, I decided to go less on the experimenting and focus more on the getting used to.

 

To say that I did bad on the practice game would be an understatement.  Despite my effort and concentration, the ball kept going way off to the left.  After four frames, I realized that the problem was with the ball so I switched from ten pounds to eleven.  Yet the problem persisted.  As I stepped on the lane to begin my seventh frame, however, I experienced an epiphany.  All the while, I've been throwing straight balls from the second dot from the right, right before the foul line.  Willing the ball to go left, I must have been giving it too much direction.  I assumed my stance and decided to release the ball between the second and the third dots from the right, giving it just enough direction to hit the right pocket.  The moment the ball left my hand, I knew I was getting a strike.  I did, and the spares that followed salvaged my pathetic score and helped me finish on the sixth spot, surprisingly two notches ahead of associate sensei, who might have had similar adjustment troubles, but way behind super sensei, who placed among the top.

 

Wednesday night, we went to see the fireflies.  I was about to catch the last bus home when, three minutes before it arrived, Fabien, a French friend from my dormitory, e-mailed me, saying it could be the last night the fireflies were out.  So I walked back to the university, got my bike, met him in front of the clock tower and off we went to watch the insects' struggle for their last chance at sex and procreation.

 

We found the fireflies by the creek a few meters away and parallel to Kamogawa, between Nijo and Marutamachi.  Although not overwhelmingly many, they were flying everywhere - in and out of the bushes, on the small concrete bridge over the creek, even over the silently creeping water.

 

Looking at the insects flutter about, I was overcome with a deep feeling of sadness.  I thought aloud, "I pity these fireflies.  Each is mustering up the last of his energy to light his bum, trying to get some female to notice him and he's not even sure if he can get his goodbye shag.  Some may die trying, and much worse, virgin."

 

Fabien was sympathetic.  He looked up from where he was petting a fly and smiled.  "Don't worry.  Who knows, they derive some sexual satisfaction from having a fire on their butts."

 

Oh, well.  Who knows?

 

Four hours later, at dinner, when Mend, a Mongolian labmate, asked me, "So, what were you thinking during your presentation?  And how would you assess it?" I tried to come up with an accurate and honest reply but I found out that I couldn't.

 

God knows I've done everything I could to kill nine-tenths of the time on the introduction and bullshit my way through the rest of the paper.  The introduction, I was pretty familiar with.  There was no doubt in my mind that I could sail through it with firm self-assurance and commanding authority.  True enough, after overcoming the initial diffidence and the jitters, I was overwhelmed by this sudden surge of confidence, I felt like Fletcher himself presenting his very own publication.  Now and then, I would speak in a louder, more solid voice, emphasizing each essential point with a quick bang of my clenched fist on the board.  You see, it's like this.  Nothing fancy, just a plain and simple manipulation of the inequalities.  Why the hell don't you get it?  

 

The moment of certainty, however, ended soon after it began.  By the time I was wrapping up the introduction, I threw a glance at the wall clock, only to find out that I hadn't consumed even half of the alloted time.  Gazing at the expectant faces of my sensei and labmates while mumbling some incoherent declarations, I realized that I had to move on.  And so I had no choice but to deliver a droning, mechanical demonstration of the algorithm, all the while thinking about how to go about the succeeding analyses and proofs.  This would go on for the rest of the presentation - I would absently discuss the present subject while plotting my strategy on attacking the next.  Fortunately, this was also the time when everybody, including the sensei and the presenter himself, would start losing interest on the topic being presented.  Usually at this point, the presentation would feel like an interesting speech unnecessarily prolonged.  An "overplayed" number one song.  A promising relationship that suddenly felt wrong. 

 

Long story short, due to my audience's lack of interest in the second half of my presentation, I was able to elicit quite a few complimentary remarks and nods of agreement by the end of my performance.  Just when I thought I had gotten off the hook, however, sensei had to remind me that getting away couldn't be that easy.  "So, were you able to completely understand the proof?"  His question was supposed to catch me unawares, but somehow, at the back of my mind I had second-guessed it so it didn't come as a surprise at all.  Instead, I took it as my cue.  The one I had been waiting for.  I stood up straight, put one foot forward, took a deep breath. But when I opened my mouth, not a single note came out.  I completely forgot the lyrics, couldn't decide on the pitch.  My throat had gone dry.  Had she been watching, my opera teacher would have cringed in shame.  I must have made some stupid confession instead, for the next thing I knew, someone at the back was snickering and sensei was shaking his head in disapproval and utter disbelief.

 

So, how would I assess it, you ask.  I honestly don't know.  I guess I'm supposed to feel contented, even proud.  After all, since the seminar, one labmate has approached me to ask for advice as regards his own presentation.  But I'm not contented.  Neither am I proud.  I had my chance, but I lost it.  All I ever wanted was to sing my song.