You: Middle aged, balding, jacket-with-elbow-patchs wearing, pipe smoking ivory tower type Anthropology professor.
Me: Barely employed IT mercenary in Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts
Where: Academia
I don't know what you look like, other than in my dreams, we haven't
studied reconstructive anatomy. I've been trying to catch your eye ever
since the class started. Your short email messages, are always "check
the website", are they teasing? My questions are never answered. Are
you being coy? Why the unobtrusive measures of study, isn't my research
bias obvious? Let's quit the nonreactive research protocols, and start
the participant observation.
Without you at the top of my dominance hierarchy, I cannot function.
The typos and repetition in your syllabus imply damage to your
Wernicke's area, let me help you!
See this post orbital ridge, this smooth forehead? I'm all man, I can prove the durability of my culture.
My future hangs on your whims, I am throwing my four chambered
heart into this class. We can make it work! I know we can! I want to
challenge my Broca's area's ability to express how I feel.
I do more and more poorly on the exams, hoping you'll write "See
me!" in the margins of the page, and mean it in the margins of your
heart.
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests