Thinking outside the tank

Social scientists are stereotyped as boring. That’s because we are. A Beautiful Mind and Numb3rs have been successful in making equally-boring economists and mathematicians hot, I have yet to see the media legitimise the possibility of an attractive social scientist. In fact, there are real-life social scientists who can match even the on-screen identity of John Nash (Russell Crowe) Amita Ramanujan (Navi Rawat). Think Philippe Legrain and Noreena Hertz. I remember one of my co-interns in AEI proposing to have a TV series set in a think tank. Obviously, this is far from happening because Americans do not even know what a think tank is (A Georgetowner asked me in the Metro – How can you think in a tank?).

But from the books I’ve read recently, it appears to me that social scientists, or at least their publishers, try to convert the authors’ intellectual capital to cultural capital. This is manifested by the labels given to social scientists. If you look at the back cover of more recent books, comments such as “A crucial contribution. A new proposal for change that is valid for the whole world” do not suffice anymore. What I’ve noticed are remarks that seemingly want make rock stars out of academics:

“An intellectual superstar.” - Salon.com on Jean Baudrillard’s Intelligence of Evil or the Lucidity Pact

“Thank heavens for Alain de Botton …” – The Seattle Post-Intelligencer on Alain de Botton’s The Consolations of Philosophy

“The Elvis of cultural theory” – The Chronicle of Higher Education on Slavoj Zizek

"A metrosexual superpower" - Parag Khanna's moniker for the European Union in Foreign Affairs July/August issue

“I want to be a sexy public intellectual.” – Mark Lim

This makes me wonder, do I want such remarks on the beautifully matte printed back cover of my book? The closest quip I had thus far is “She explains complicated concepts clearly and wears nice skirts” and I wasn’t too happy about it.

Rebutting Desperately Wanting

Argument: If you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lot you don’t. (Palahniuk, 1996)
Rebuttal: You know what you want when you end up wanting. (Evangelista, 2006)

Argument: You can’t always get what you want. (Jagger, 1961)
Rebuttal: But if you try sometimes, you get what you need. (Jagger, 1961)

Argument: I don’t want to fall for an unapologetic ladies’ man and a committed Tory! (Harper, 2000)
Rebuttal: Every boy is a compromise. (Atienza, 2006)

-----
Jowee Atienza, “Misrepresenting Nicolo’s avatar” in Conversation over Ababu (Quezon City, 2006)
Patricia Evangelisa, YM Status Message (Quezon City, 2006)
Sally Harper, “Size Matters” in Coupling Season 1 (BBC, 2000)
Mick Jagger, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” in Let it Bleed (Decca Records, 1961)
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club (New York: Henry Hold and Company, 1996)

Clockwatching

I finally got my visa last Friday. Ma’am Clemen and Mano made me open it right in front of them, which made me more nervous. Because I’m paranoid, I had some strange fear that my visa application might be denied especially now that “Heathrow is in heat.” (Guinto, 2006)

Getting my visa has immense implications. It’s the ultimate empirical proof that it’s happening. Note though that “it” represents a lot of things. “It” means I’m finally pursuing what I have always wanted to do, and for that, “it” means there’s no turning back. During my drama queen moments, I always remember what Mark asked me – “aalis ka ba dahil may pupuntahan ka, o aalis ka dahil may tinatakbuhan ka?” (Laban, 2005). I can definitely solidly answer that question – I am really leaving because I am going somewhere. But the choices are not really mutually exclusive which makes me concede up to a certain extent that I am also leaving because I’m running away from something.

“It” also means face it, you have three weeks left. I thought it was sweet (and sadistic) of Nico and Pat to scowl and take it out on their plates when I told them that my visa is arriving that day. Although at this point, I still don’t feel separation anxiety. I feel tired. I originally planned June to August to be my bum months, but I ended up accepting teaching load and a number of research projects. Apparently, I haven’t been rehabilitated from my aversion towards non-productivity, even when I am entitled to take a break. It was only when Dr Reid flew back to England that my schedule freed up, but Walden suddenly flew to Lebanon and I was left alone to write the lecture on comparative historical analysis of Philippines and Chile’s democratic transitions. Good thing his pasalubong, as form of reparation, was stunning – a Lebanese-Palestinian scarf, which, according to him, looks great with a Kalashnikov rifle (Bello, 2006). Which is perfect, because there's nothing in my wardrobe that goes well with my rifle.

So here I am, dealing with my nastiest enemy again – time. They say time is a great teacher, but unfortunately, it kills all its pupils (Berlioz, 1870).

-----
Walden Bello, Email to Neeks Curato (Damascus, 2006)
Hector Berlioz, Memoirs (Paris, 1870)
Celeni Guinto, YM Status Message (Quezon City, 2006)
Joseph Laban, “Conversation with Mark Lim” in Mark Lim’s conversation with
Neeks Curato (Quezon City, 2005) [damn Palanca awardees!]

Timing is my worst enemy.

Good News: I got a scholarship from the University of Birmingham.
Bad News: I’m not going there.

Times like these make me want to be post-modernist. I hope I see life as nothing more than a tapestry of errors, where incidences are not connected to a completed whole. I wish I were as demented as Baudrillard who can just say that such an event did not actually happen or like Vattimo who encourages people to celebrate the unfairness of life.

When I launched my post-graduate applications, Manchester is my clear number 1. It has a renowned sociology department with interesting course offerings unavailable elsewhere in the planet. A lot of my respected colleagues went there, like Randy David, Dodong Nemenzo, and yes, Gareth Richards. The School of Social Sciences has an excellent research arm and I’ve never read a crappy publication from Manchester. The city has its own charm, even if it is the rainiest city in England. I may know nothing about football (actually do I know things now, thanks to Nicolo and Mike), but I am definitely up to speed with the Mancunians’ alcohol tolerance.

While my parents keep on reassuring me that money is not an issue, for me it still is a major consideration. I never had a debut or any of those huge parties and they never gave me fancy gifts (limited to office supplies and printers), but they’re willing to splurge on education. Or maybe they just want me out of the house. The bottom line is, I chose the more expensive path and I’m very embarrassed by that.

This makes me re-evaluate my decision. I already dropped Birmingham, good thing they offered to keep my slot for PhD. That at least responds to my medium-term goals. I also dropped ANU for this, considering they were giving grants too (But hell, it’s an exchange program in Singapore. I did not go to ANU to go to Singapore). Manchester better be worth it.