Concentration

My powers of concentration seem to be in decline like the rest of me. On my recent travels I took along some good books plus the first few chapter's of Mark Srednicki's new Quantum Field Theory, but much of the time was too distracted by the irrepressible and loud chatterboxes around me.

One guy sitting behind me was so intent on telling a no doubt lavishly embroidered account of his life to his hapless female seat companion, at engine noise drowning volume, that I finally gave up and just listened. His story had some entertainment value. Any subject his fellow passenger mentioned, he was an expert and a pro. He was retired, self-employed, a nurse, a computer expert, a horse trainer, a cross country motorcyclist, a musician and conductor, a former pro footballer, a professor and master wildlife tracker. I was tempted to ask his opinions on string theory, but didn't feel like turning around and trying to interrupt.

Those noise cancelling headphones are starting to look like a good deal even at $300. I could put on some Mozart, or maybe ABBA's greatest hits sung by, say, Lubos.

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