I've been "spoused"...

Yet again. It works like this. I'm at some event -- let's say, the inauguration of the Israeli film festival. And, let's say, I run into my colleague, J. And, after the film, as we're waiting in the horrendously snaking line for hummus, which isn't getting any shorter because everyone's cutting into it, we're chatting. And some guy attached to the Israeli consulate hears our American accents, and he strides up to J, and, interrupting us, asks if he's American. J introduces himself, and they shake hands. Making eye contact only with J, the guy starts talking to him. I also stick out my hand and announce I work at the same place as J, and give my title. The guy shakes my hand, never breaking eye contact with J, and keeps talking. To J. J gives him his business card, as they schmooze away. I thrust my card into the guy's hand, too, hoping he'll notice my last name is not the same as J's and I have a shinier-sounding title. But he doesn't so much as glance at it; just sticks it behind J's.

Let's say.

And, let's say furthermore, that J doesn't seem to notice how incredibly rude this guy's being. I think about walking off in a huff, but (1) the reception is so crowded there's no room to throw a really good huff, and (2) I'm betting J will notice THAT and call it rude, and, well, then I'll have to kill him.

Multiply that instance by 100,000, and you get a sense of why I'd like to return to grad school. K and I call it our Quit India campaign, and it's growing in length and scope of options. (Though, realistically: would I make a good rabbi? I mean, all things considered?)

I'll keep you updated.