Philosophy of boredom*
Spending a Saturday morning in a conference on the anthropology and philosophy of suicide was a fucking awesome idea.
First of all, today’s conference combines the sheer incomprehensibility of Thursday’s sessions on the neurobiology of suicide with the mind-crushing boredom of Friday’s statistical representations of populational subgroups of suicide attempters and completers. (Yes, that’s what we call them. We’re totally human like that.)
Second, the current presenter’s main focus seems to be to question the validity of the hyper-specialization of science– in a room full of hyper-specialized scientific researchers– and this creates a delightful atmosphere on thinly veiled hostility in the audience around me.
Third, there are ample references to Michel Foucault, a deep thinker who baffled and demoralized me throughout an entire master’s degree.
And finally, although I consider myself fluently bilingual and work and teach primarily in French, the presenter’s monotonous Parisian accent is making me suicidal myself.
Where does this leave Humanity? Down a point for experts who decry the hyper-specialization of science in language too complicated for non-specialists like me.
The Apocalypse: 30
* Nobody wants to read pathetic excuses about months of blog neglect, right?