Some says I can’t tolerate the dirty feeling if I don’t do it. But a more cogent reason is this, which I just thought of in the department today. If I go to bed with a wet head, I wake up feeling puffy, that is my hair stands out like some sort of porcupine, if you will. And indeed Barry Mazur, or Albert Einstein is like that. But even the fact that I don’t need to consciously put gell on my hair and still can make it look stylish is the perfect state of affair in my academically driven hectic life. My hair on the other hand really is cooperative. She will be kept up straight for the entire day, almost in an effort to display my vigorous thought process.
So another unpleasant exchange of phone conversation has passed between me and my dad, who as usual comments on everything I say with an air of sneer and defeatism. Besides not putting any stock in my take on life (I am a big fan of owalla juice, but he says it’s a waste of money and I shouldn’t be too picky), he also reacts with utmost irrationality upon me telling him some small ailment that has befallen me. I am rarely getting a sense of comfort any more from his rather austere and sighing voice. Sometimes parents need to think hard about how to convey their message in a way that could truly fulfill the desired outcome. Indeed that’s one thing I learned from my Jewish friend Yonah. But of course I am not so extreme as to back the practice with an entire foot in the door business theory. On the other hand I need some counterstrategy for myself, namely never mentioning any personal mishap to him any more, since the only reward I am getting out of doing so is endless derision that does not take my psychological rebelliousness into account. Tomorrow is Chinese New Year. So happy!