what's there to decide? and what's there to say?

Posted on Posted in ficlets, it's all about the whimsy, journal, writing life

Yesterday at the dayjob, sitting through a seminar on government programs to support innovation, and the presenter comes out with this:

"In this job, I've learnt that everyone in Australia has either written a novel, or invented something."

— and every head in the room swivelled my way, my dayjob colleagues laughing, the presenter following the direction of their gazes a beat later with mystification on his face. I guess his joke had never gone down quite so pointedly before.

I of course handled the attention with my normal tactic in such a situation: I blushed.

It's a little trick my ancestors obviously thought clever. Someone looking at you? Someone call your name? Someone directed even passing attention your way? BLUSH. You'll look ever so much more fetching if you're blood-red, donchaknow.1 Presumably they learnt this trick concurrently with another one that actually presented some real evolutionary advantage — or else being pathologically incapable of surviving the focus of attention untouched presents some advantage I have yet to determine.2 Either way, they bred successfully enough to pass it along to me.

And I simply can't tell you how grateful I am for that. No, really.

  1. I am so good at this trick, thanks either to my inheritance or to my own ability to improve upon what I inherited, that even THINKING about being the focus of attention makes me blush. []
  2. Maybe it helps you stand out in the snow? If that's the case, not helpful here in desert country and my genetics should please to be adapting to my situation faster, kthxbai. []

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