Ok, I'm out of the closet.
Before you pull your hair out, my dear friends and family, no I am not referring to the lesbian closet. (But if I were, would you seriously love me any less? Would you? Seriously. Please let the answer to that question be a resounding 'no', because we're better than that. Alrightie, moving on...)
My closet is full of a much less feminine type of species. This species is often seen wearing plaid (which is a major plus for me) and possibly suspenders. These specimens almost inevitably have out-of-control eyebrows and, most importantly, some sort of Eastern European accent.
Yes, I am referring to my physics professors. I think that my baby crushes have escalated since PHY193, through PHY294, reaching boiling point in PHY321, and exploding in my current PHY471 class. Honestly, can these people get ANY more adorable? Now, I realize that this is probably super weird. What reasonably attractive and intelligent lady has her sights sent on old, crusting Eastern European physicists? THIS ONE. ME. I DO. I don't owe any explanation. I just love them. And here is why:
This one mostly refers to my Classical Physics professor. Now, I hated that class with a burning passion and am happy to have simply passed, but I could usually look forward to my days in PHY321 because my professor almost always wore plaid. Plaid is a momentous joy in my life. I enjoy plaid in every way, shape, and form. I have plaid purses, plaid dresses, plaid bows, plaid pajama pants, you name it. I enjoy plaid so much that I even love it on the button-down starched dress shirt that belongs to a sixty year old Polish man. My physics guy friends think that I'm crazy. I probably am, but hey, if plaid was all it took, I feel like more men of the world would be falling at my feet clad in red and black checker squares.
This is a HUGE portion of my love for Eastern European men. Linguistically, I am half-past in love. Nobody else, save Antonio Banderas, can speak in a more soothing manner than an Eastern European physicist. It's true. It's basically completely intoxicating. It's a good thing that I haven't decided to backpack through various Eastern European countries in search of my soul mate, because that would probably end in, well, death probably. The more I think that Chechnya would be fun, the more delirious I know I've become. Ah, well.
3. General Mannerisms
I'd like to start out this section with an example from today's Quantum Physics lecture. Below is an actual quote from my quantum physics professor, whom I am basically in love with. Disclaimer: Please imagine the following statement being spoken in a Hungarian accent:
"The MSU Football team has not done this well in 44 years, since 1966. This was a very good year, because it is the year that I was born. Oops! Did I just give away my age? Oh well. I didn't know about America then, and I didn't know about football, because I was just pooping in my pants...or my diaper!"
...just digest that for a while.
To this, I nearly responded "Will you marry me?" However, I think that I was too blown away by the sheer brilliance of somebody who legitimately does not give a toss what people think about him, so I just reminded myself in today's notes that I am basically in love, and that is all. Who talks about being an infant and being able to fill up a diaper? Only a person who is genuinely hilarious. I've noticed a trend among these men; they are usually very large-and-in-charge and extremely confident, which I LOVE. And, hey, this professor is only 24 years older than I am. I was talking with my dear friend Caitlin, who shares my sentiments (to an extent, at least), and she brought up the point that far in the distant past, any age plus or minus 24 was basically the same thing. So, things that were acceptable back in the day are of course still acceptable in 2010, right? Right?
Now, it's time to get serious. Nobody is allowed to be alarmed by this post. Because in all honesty, I will never be "that girl" in awkward relationships with professors. At least, not with these guys. I just enjoy the atmosphere of these lectures, for the most part, and would rather have it that way than hating every minute of it while sitting on that cold ceramic seat, suffering through slide after slide and single-mindedly wanting to gouge my eyes out with my spiral notebook. This is not so, at least, not in PHY471. So, there you have it. A thoughtful reflection of my love for the physics department, or at least, the faculty of the physics department. It isn't why I'm a physics major, but it contributes to my enjoyment. It's not why I go to class or stay in the program, but it does put a smile on my face.