She seemed puzzled -- possibly because she was asking me in the context of her upcoming biology final -- but a teachable moment is a teachable moment, and she may not get an "A" on her test but I think I still offered up a valuable lesson. I anticipate that when she's taking Economics in a year or two she might ask me to explain "float." And I will explain that it is the way people let slip vague concepts so they can gauge the intensity of your rage before expanding on the thought. Which -- and I just love any opportunity for interdisciplinary instruction -- might lead to more seepage, or, in particularly violent cases, a screeching halt of all attempts at communication.
"Float" can often have the illusion of something pleasant; the word alone conjures up images of a rainbow colored soap bubble. As a result, even super smart potato heads can be fooled, sucked into thinking the the idea being floated is completely benign. I've got to start going easy on the carbs, and eat more fish, which my grandmother always told me was "brain food."
Anyway, when the floated idea in all the glory of its refracted light doesn't burst, that's when seepage starts in earnest, and seepage, unlike floating bubbles, is categorically ugly. I'm sure it's pretty hideous in the biology lab as well.
Well, I've been snookered by seepage too many times recently, and frankly I'm getting a headache from constantly trying to read between the lines of ooze. Seepage often includes a fact followed by a lame and rather incomplete explanation. "I needed some alone time (fact) and it has nothing to do with you (lame)." "I am going to do something that will hurt you (fact) but it's not something I really want to do (lame)." "You're a great person (fact, obvi) but I think I might be gay (lame but creative)." Ooze is ugly, insidious, and, once it starts, just keeps coming.
I'm no biologist, but I think sometimes these tendencies can be attached to the Y chromosome. It's just an idea I thought I'd float.
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