The best way to wear a conference lanyard. Change my mind. (You can’t.)
(This was the first lanyard star. I didn’t want to wear the lanyard- I don’t really like heavier things around my neck. But I had to keep the lanyard on me because the colors on the lanyards indicated whether you were okay with being photographed. So this lanyard star was born!)
Things to say: Lily has them.
Me, mostly thinking out loud while working on my biomaterials homework and eating lunch with my math thesis advisor: “What’s it called when a plastic stretches over time?”
My favorite 49 year old number theorist and cryptographer who definitely doesn’t know shit about biology or material science: “Stretchiness? Fatigue? Giving up?”
Me, remembering the word: “Creep!”
“I don’t think I deserved that!”
“Oh yeah? What’s your creep modulus?”
“13. I’m definitely a creep modulo 13.”
Dr. D has been a professor at my university since before I was born, and since before the school even admitted women. And before he was a professor here, he was a student. He’s my physics grandpa- he doesn’t take shit but he’ll still swoop in with a good grandpa hug whenever I need it. He’s pretty sweet and gentle, but still, not to be fucked with.
We were chatting while we were supervising a physics II lab. He was talking about how he would be retiring in a year or two, and I asked how he felt about it. He said, “well, I’ll certainly miss teaching, but I don’t want to be one of those professors sticking around here way past their prime because that’s not useful to anyone.”
And I said, “heh, M” (The name of another physics professor who is very strange and always confused and really needs a nap and is about the same age as the professor I’m talking to.)
And he said, without even a beat, “ah, no, M never had a prime.” And I’m not sure I’ve ever recovered from the level of sass and it wasn’t even directed at me. Half the people I’ve told this story to didn’t even believe Dr. D had that in him.