I’m eccentric. No, really. It’s a heatedly discussed topic. Among my friends, that is. Others believe I’m a zombie with lesser expression than Kristen Stewart a brick. A smart zombie, but a zombie nonetheless.
I digress. This post is not about zombies.
So the reason for my supposed eccentricity is varied. One of the main being that I tried explaining how to remember that resistance increases in a conductor when the temperature increases and vice versa. You know, science stuff. I mean, of course resistance will decrease if a human body is turned into a Popsicle by Yeti. How’s that funny?
And there are some things that I’m only either beginning to figure out or have found out just couple of years ago.
Take for an example, the number of seats available in an institution. When I was young . . . er, I first heard the question ‘How many seats are available?’ to which came the reply . . . some number. So the someone who wanted a seat in some educational institution was vying for one of these very seats. My dilemma was that I couldn’t understand why there should be any shortage of seats. As I saw it, one could easily pick up a chair from somewhere and place it in the classroom where you’re going to study.
Yes, you weren’t expecting that were you? My people weren’t too.
Another reason I’ve always remembered was the working of ceiling fans.
Did you ever wonder how a ceiling fan works (ooo science-y stuff again)?
It’s a simple mechanism in itself. Electric current is supplied and when the fan blades turn, they displace the air which then comes and hit us. Forget about the engineering behind it. When you do, it’s child’s play.
I, on the other hand was fixated on the “round thingy” in the middle. According to my theory, when the fan starts moving, a kind of a door opens on the side of the “round thingy” which we don’t normally see. Previously trapped air then escapes to cool down the surroundings. This air is replenished through the long “rod thingy” by which it hangs down from the ceiling.
Okay, I didn’t know air is everywhere. I was five. Sue me.
When these stories are usually told to a trusted friend, it is met with an enormous amount of laughter. Now, though, I want to crawl into a hole to escape these embarrassing theories I had, although laced with relatively lesser vocabulary (proof of how awesome a person I’ve grown into).
Ah, well. What can you do about it?
Oh, I know. Write a blog post about how stupid eccentric others are too.
But that’s for another time.
P.S. Plus, I finally realised why there is a tiny pocket inside that big pocket stitched into my jeans. Two of my coins are having a spat. Just put them apart! Genius revelation, eh?