Capisce?
She peeked over her shoulder and then leaned forward to me, smiling conspiratorially the whole time.
I leaned forward as well, waiting eagerly for an interesting, possibly clandestine comment.
“Psychology?” She whispered, confirming my line of study.
I nodded in anticipation.
"Wow." She leaned closer, giggling a little. “Can you read my mind right now?”
What. The. Fuck.
This is the third time in two weeks that someone has asked me this question. Out of the three people, one is a graduate who actually studied one module of psychology and two are life science students. Life-bloody-science.
I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how people who are supposed to be at the pinnacle of their education and at the peak of broadening their outlook and awareness can repeatedly believe that a field which courts such great levels of uncertainty and empirical experimentation boasts the ability to probe one’s most private thoughts.
Excuse me, but they have something else for that. It’s called ESP.
Maybe it’s psychology’s fault, for building up a façade made of Freud and dirty sex, for allowing the term “shrink” to become pop culture vocabulary.
Even then, I wish people were more discerning. I wish they would use their own brain instead of asking me to read it for them. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I know when to be a little incredulous.
The question is by no means a novel one. Every year at the university Open House, young, eager-beaver students-to-be stand in queue to ask me if they will be able to perform dazzling feats of magic after four years. Oh, and whether their patients will have to lie on a couch.
I’m willing to answer this many times. I’m even willing to help the misguided ones correct their decision because I know how miserable they will be if they get accidentally stuck in a field that turns out to use (shock, horror!) statistics to understand human (un)consciousness.
But damned if I’ll answer it every week for four years, to everyone I talk to, with a smile on my face and a kindly correction to boot! If people haven’t figured it out and spread the word by now (graduate who took one psychology module, this means you!) then they’re never going to get it.
So, with this positive new paradigm in mind, here is my Chinese New Year’s resolution. The next time someone asks me, “Can you read my mind?”
I will look over my shoulder.
I will beckon them closer with one finger.
I will lessen the space between us.
I will murmur softly, “Yes, I can.”
And then, I will clock them in the side of the head with all my fucking might after which I will whisper mystically, “Right now, you think your head hurts.”
And then before they have time to react, I will straighten up, give them a secretive, mysterious wink and put my finger to my lips in companionable camaraderie before sauntering off with a smile.
Just try me.
I leaned forward as well, waiting eagerly for an interesting, possibly clandestine comment.
“Psychology?” She whispered, confirming my line of study.
I nodded in anticipation.
"Wow." She leaned closer, giggling a little. “Can you read my mind right now?”
What. The. Fuck.
This is the third time in two weeks that someone has asked me this question. Out of the three people, one is a graduate who actually studied one module of psychology and two are life science students. Life-bloody-science.
I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how people who are supposed to be at the pinnacle of their education and at the peak of broadening their outlook and awareness can repeatedly believe that a field which courts such great levels of uncertainty and empirical experimentation boasts the ability to probe one’s most private thoughts.
Excuse me, but they have something else for that. It’s called ESP.
Maybe it’s psychology’s fault, for building up a façade made of Freud and dirty sex, for allowing the term “shrink” to become pop culture vocabulary.
Even then, I wish people were more discerning. I wish they would use their own brain instead of asking me to read it for them. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I know when to be a little incredulous.
The question is by no means a novel one. Every year at the university Open House, young, eager-beaver students-to-be stand in queue to ask me if they will be able to perform dazzling feats of magic after four years. Oh, and whether their patients will have to lie on a couch.
I’m willing to answer this many times. I’m even willing to help the misguided ones correct their decision because I know how miserable they will be if they get accidentally stuck in a field that turns out to use (shock, horror!) statistics to understand human (un)consciousness.
But damned if I’ll answer it every week for four years, to everyone I talk to, with a smile on my face and a kindly correction to boot! If people haven’t figured it out and spread the word by now (graduate who took one psychology module, this means you!) then they’re never going to get it.
So, with this positive new paradigm in mind, here is my Chinese New Year’s resolution. The next time someone asks me, “Can you read my mind?”
I will look over my shoulder.
I will beckon them closer with one finger.
I will lessen the space between us.
I will murmur softly, “Yes, I can.”
And then, I will clock them in the side of the head with all my fucking might after which I will whisper mystically, “Right now, you think your head hurts.”
And then before they have time to react, I will straighten up, give them a secretive, mysterious wink and put my finger to my lips in companionable camaraderie before sauntering off with a smile.
Just try me.
She said, she said at 12:59 am
5 Comments:
LOL!!!
Babe, you're funny..
No no, nod and whisper, "I'm afraid to tell you," handing them your card, "but you *might* want to consider coming in." And as you saunter away, "We have methods to..erm...*help* you."
Then you'll be building up your clientele.
Girl -- Phizz
Haha!! But sometimes, I'm really not joking... I DO feel like that! :P Do you ever get asked such silly things? And if so, do you feeling like punching people too?
Girl -- Bex/ the Sword
That's a good idea! Do you know where I can get cheap namecards? I don't mind pulling off your plan so long as you consent to me referring half of them to you (that it will be the more hopeless half goes without saying)!
haa i feel the same when people ask me if i am gg to join the PAP when i graduate.
Stereotypes.
I will tell them that im a PAP youth club member the next time anyone ask me that. :P
take care babe
*hands you a pen and a small piece of fullscap cut in the shape and size of a namecard* When they asked if it's a piece of fullscap, shake your head, furrow your brow and tell them it may seem bad now but if they delay...
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