“How’d you pick up origami? Too much free time?”
I don’t think he liked my joke.
There’s a theory by Hakkareinen and friends on a “third space.” It’s a convolution of a teacher’s work and a student’s own experience; it’s something that transcends beyond the classroom yet still integrates pieces of one’s own classroom experience. It’s like an utopian view of how classroom learning should be. Love is kind of like that. Sometimes it’s about losing yourself. Sometimes it’s really selfish. You want that “third space” for a mountain of reasons.
“What I’m looking for… Like if I was an apple on a tree,” I playfully mused. “A guy comes along. You wouldn’t want him snatching the apple cause he was hungry. I’d want him to be like, ‘Oh hey! It’s that so-and-so type of apple.’ And after picking it, he’d savor the flavor.” She laughed.
“And after he’s done, he’d bury the seeds underground or something and grow a tree. Even if he leaves, he’ll always try to recall the taste of apple in his mouth.”
My co-worker has been surprisingly and suspiciously nice to me. We’ve bought each other sodas. I wonder if our boss said something to him. Anyway, he had the idea of leaving a gift for our tech-obsessed boss:
I have a cold and I’ve been whining about it like a pig about to get slaughtered. That was dark, but ribs are delicious.