Monday, February 18, 2013

"Not to be confused with Supper."

I was recently invited to dinner at a friend's house.

No, no, that sounds too simple, too naive, too unassuming. Too friendly. How about something more like this:
Yesterday, I looked death squarely in the eye, accepted his challenge and its potentially weighty cost, and narrowly escaped with my soul still intact. Was I a better man for it? No. But I survived, and sometimes that's all you can hope for.

Yeah. That sounds about right. Sometimes, "dinner at a friend's house" is not just "dinner at a friend's house." Especially not when you are studying "bioinformatics with specific interest in metric space indexing as applied to next-generation DNA sequencing." Especially not when you have to do the customary first-encounter introductions.  And especially not when the friend's family come from a long line of successful artists and artistic types. No, in those circumstances, you're not looking for understanding. A glazed-over "oh...okay" is entirely satisfactory. In fact, sometimes it's more than you can hope for.


Typically, it all happens so fast. You're having an enjoyable conversation about Italy or Lance Armstrong or a family's latest feline incident, when all of the sudden the conversation goes silent (it happens every 7 minutes). There's no more family business to discuss, no shredded Brussels sprout to pass, and no more quirky "remember when ___ said ___" over which to reminisce. Suddenly, someone (typically the most motherly figure in the room) looks you squarely in the eyes, clears her throat, and you know it's coming. You struggle for any other topic to bring up, but you also need to make it sound like you're not avoiding The Topic--and you also have to think of your reply should you not be able to think of something else witty. But by then it's too late.

"So. What are you doing in school? Computers, right?"

Silence. Nobody can help you out. You're friends have never really understood what you're studying so they can't jump in. ("I know he's mentioned computers before, but last time he mentioned something about biology. Maybe it's making robots have human skin?") You don't even really understand what it is you're studying (that's why they call it research), and somehow, you've got to convey this information to a crowd of eager onlookers.

(I really wanted another picture, but it was a GIF and I felt it was too distracting.)

I wish I could remember what I said last night. I wish I could remember what I said any of the thousand times I've been in this situation. In fact, I should probably memorize a script and just give it verbatim each time so I could get better and better with each repeated queries. Instead, I just fumble through examples, metaphors, trying to relate it to arboriculture or ADHD or anything else that might ring a bell. I look into their eyes, searching for any signs of acknowledgement...and then, when the obligatory 15 minutes are done (or when I've heard the blessed "oh...okay" phrase), I wrap things up with a casual, "And that's how I'm going to solve cancer--speaking of cancer, did you hear that the UK found beef lasagna with 100% horse meat?"



And that's how the west was won, my friend.

5 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. For the record, it's difficult to talk about any research, even when it doesn't involve STEM fields. The problem, I think, is twofold:

    1. You said it yourself: "You don't even really understand what it is you're studying." It's hard to summarize research when you're still figuring out what your topic is, how to tackle it, and what the point of it is.

    2. Not everyone is curious, and not everyone cares. So often, I find that people ask questions without really wanting to know the answer or they don't even know how to ask good questions. Talking about your research might actually turn into an incredible discussion, though, if people were willing to think beyond their own interests.

    So here's how I see it: You can solve this frustration in two ways. The first is by not caring, which is nigh impossible for anyone, and the second is to figure out a way to project your interest onto others. Make your research summary user-friendly, and be enthusiastic about it. Pretend you're giving a TED Talk! :)

    I constantly analyze how to talk about my studies. It's something I'm still working on, too. :/

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    1. You bring up an interesting point, and I completely agree that not everybody cares--but maybe it's because I really try and understand other fields that makes me not understand why someone might not extend me the same courtesy. On the other hand, some people just aren't good at playing the piano or learning a language. Others just aren't good at programming. Is it something everyone can learn? Perhaps, but that's not what the research shows.

      I agree with the TED talk point... It's probably the few socially inept computer scientists out there who give those like me who really give entertaining presentations such a hard time.

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    2. Hm. You also bring up an interesting point. Maybe some people just aren't good at learning how to be curious about others and interested in what they're interested in. However, it seems to me that there are too many people who don't extend that courtesy to indicate that that is so. It's more likely that the art of conversation (which is what I really think this is about) is a lost quality.

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