My seven favorite words of the week: exoskeleton phalanx elegiac lachrymose traipse lumber (verb) pad (verb)
Think of the words "message" and "text". I'm sure these words have been around for a while, but today I'd say they're most frequently used as verbs, i.e "She texted me" or "He messaged you", instead of "She sent a text message to me" or "He sent you a message". I imagine that a different part of the brain lights up whenever a word is used in this way. In high school a friend of my told me how she unintentionally verbed a noun, saying "He Oedipized himself" when trying to get across that, like Sophocles' tragic hero, someone stabbed his eyes out. I was bemused because it was like her to say something like that, and I thought it rather novel and clever.
Yes, they're finally gettin' married! And the entire kingdom world awaits the wedding with great anticipation as this fairy tale-like romance starts a new chapter. Who'd a thunk-- a royal heir actually falling in love with a commoner?! And an orphan at that. No, of course I'm not talking about Prince William marrying Kate Middleton.I'm talking Aladdin and Jasmine in Aladdin and the King of Thieves, in the last film of what I think is Disney's only animated trilogy (the first and middle films being Aladdin and The Return of Jafar). This is probably the first wedding I ever saw; although I've watched and attended a bunch of weddings since then I think that Agrabah has the most jivin', festive feel of all.
I listened to this song once last night and again this morning. It's a great foil to the weather and dreary atmosphere. Go on, sing along with the bridge! Ba-bada-bada-bada-bada, ba-bada-bada-bada-bada...
I love the 50s/60s style of the beat and costumes. Remember when flying on a plane was that fun and glamourous? Yeah, neither do I.
This is the first image that came up when I Googled "snake cookie":
The snake cookie from my dream last night didn't look so cute or edible. In my dream I went by boat and by car to get to a bakery to get some special cookies. I had heard about this bakery and all the delicious cookie options but plan ahead of time what I would buy. When I got there the counter was full of all sorts of weird pancake-sized cookies, and the most bizarre of all were (yep) the snake cookies. These had actual snakes in them, coiled up within the cookie so that its sinuous body protuded from the dough, with the head coming out of the middle of the cookie. The snakes had bright orange skin and beady black eyes, looking very much alive apart from the fact that they were unmoving and baked into a fluffy pastry. They looked terrifying...and delicious. I bought and ate two.
I've never had snake before, and don't forsee ever wanting to or getting the opportunity so long as I remain vegetarian and living in this country. I haven't seen that show "Bizarre Foods" in a while, so I'm not sure why my subconscious brought up such an unusual food combination. Hm.
I signed up for an appointment to donate blood at a local blood drive. It'll be my fourth time. My blood type is O-positive, so I'm almost a universal donor; my blood can be used for any (Rh) positive blood type. I'm a giver-- it's in my blood! Aha-ha-ha... but really, O-positive blood isn't terribly uncommon. I think that about 90% percent of people of Asian descent are O-positive, or at least have Rh-positive blood. I didn't do any internet research on that stat, it's purely from the annals of my memory from Anatomy and Physiology II.
I know that one day of carefully monitoring my food intake won't make a big difference in my bloodwork, but still I made a point to eat iron-rich foods. Same with vitamin C, because it helps with iron absorption. I had one really delicious orange today, a California navel; I prefer the tarter Florida oranges but didn't any around. As much as I enjoyed it, I'm looking forward to the summer and getting to eat local produce.
It helps that the weather has gotten significantly warmer in the last week. With tomorrow's forecast indicating that the mercury'll go up to 70 degrees Fahrenheit, it seems that this spring will quickly give way to summer. I've been thinking a lot about this and realized that I hate spring because it's the opposite of fall. Autumn is my favorite season, when the atmosphere is golden-tinged and sparkling and crisp like apple cider. It's always signaled a new (school) year, new beginnings, a cool reprieve from summer. Spring is humid, rainy and more conflicted, like the preteen who awkwardly tries to metamorphize into a self-assured person. Spring evokes a pastel palette and seasonal allergies, tormenting students as if to say "your summer vacation will NEVER arrive if you can't outlast ME, cackle cackle".
In all fairness, I did actually enjoy the weather today. The morning was humid and the outlook wasn't hopeful, but in the afternoon the sun broke out and all was well. On my walk back home I stopped to rest under a tree and have a lie down on my coat (the grass was still a little damp). I enjoyed a zephyr, a pleasant spring breeze that didn't compete too much with the warmth from the sun. To think, that light traveled for eight minutes just so we could enjoy it, and I could bask in it, just for a moment.
I'll bring that memory back to mind tomorrow for when that enormous needle goes into one of the veins in my left arm. Like I said before, I've done this three times before and know what to expect in terms of discomfort. But that needle doesn't get any smaller.
Today is World Penguin Day! Not something I was aware of until, oh, ten minutes ago. I don't actively seek out penguin-related news but happily stumble upon it and decided to share it. Penguins are one of my favorite animals, and the Little Blue Penguin is definitely one of my favorite species. They're tiny, weighing only about 2 lbs, and blue (hence the name) and really loud. Really.
The other day I was watching Gwen Stefani's music video for "What You Waiting For?" The song's about Gwen having writer's block and waiting for inspiration to fall out of the sky. In this extended music video she goes to some kind of clinic to help her with her writer's block and has to fill out a questionairre before the process. I stopped the video to record the questions and fill in my own answers: . . .
Are you a member of a royal family? Yes ____ No _X__
Do you set your watch a little fast?Yes_X__ No _____
Define the word “sesquipedalian”It's an adjective and antiquated word; I can't define it better without looking it up
Hedgehogs live in hedges.True ____ False_X__
PART III
What are you five favorite colors? _hunter green_ _sunset orange__ _plum__ _black__ _azure____
Do you like the smell of gasoline?Yes_____ No _X__
Please write as best you can the sound a flamingo makes. Rrhnnck
My seven favorite words, as of this writing:
acquiesce
aplomb
commence
calavera (Spanish for skull)
diaphanous
luxuriate
tangential
I'm more fond of the way these words sound--the way they roll around in my mouth--than I am of their meaning. I don't necessarily use these words very often or seek opportunities to say them; rather I squirrelled them away in my memory to use sparingly and for just the right situation. A week from now my seven favorite words would be slightly different, with maybe two or three remaining. Hmm, maybe I'll do that for next Saturday's post...
On this day, a few years ago, I celebrated Earth Day by hosting a sort of "vegetarian awareness" event at school. I don't subscribe to the whole "meat is murder" attitude or make an effort to "convert" others to vegetarianism, but after I gave up meat I came across a lot of information on its impact on the environment. It's ironic that this year Earth Day also falls on a Friday-- and on Good Friday, at that-- when many people (Catholics) don't eat meat for religious reasons. Today isn't very out of the ordinary for me in that I don't eat meat anyway, and I try to "earth-friendly" on a daily basis by doing little things like taking cold showers and turning the water off while I lather up, unplugging electronic devices when not in use, etc. Still, I don't want or mean to discount the importance of the events that happen today. I didn't give anything up for Lent this year but
Happy Earth Day, everyone! And a good Good Friday, too!
What's in a name? That which we call a garlic clove By any other name would still stink.
* * * * *
Consider the movie titled "Dead Snow" , translated literally from its original Norwegian title "Død snø". What could it be about? Mayhap a meditative depiction of doomed romance, set in an unforgiving Oslo winter (featuring Rachmoniff's Piano Concert No. 2, mov. 1). Or a Viking tirade gone awry. Or a documentary feature on the alarmingly high levels of mercury and other toxic chemicals that endanger the existence of life in the Artic Circle.
Or it could be exactly what the Spanish translation of the title indicates: "Zombis Nazis" (or, you know, "Nazi Zombies", to follow the proper English grammar structure wherein the adjective precedes the noun). With that title there's no doubt about what you're going to see, no question about it. It's not as if the words "dead" and "snow" don't exist in the Spanish language, but that title sounds a lot more impressive and fun that "Nieve Muerta". Although I love me some good wordplay, I also find pleasure in a straightforward title that doesn't balk from its subject matter-- movies like "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". I guess I'm also fatigued from movies (mostly romantic comedies) that try to have punny, clever titles that don't really do anything for the movie except serve as expanding benign tumors in an actor's body of work-- "How Do You Know" and "Just Go With It" are the first egregious examples that come to mind.
Most of the time when I write a post I come up with the title last. I don't relish having to think up ways to summarize or capture the essence of the post that follows the title, and when I'm done writing I've usually veered into another subject. I think the title for this post is pretty...okay.
Today I came across this article on a human cheese event. Not metaphoric cheese like a cheesy person who tells cheesy jokes a-ha-ha but actual cheese made from human (breast) milk. I'm intrigued by the slant that the event has taken, portraying it as a kind an intellectual edible art exhibit. It takes some of the unsettlingness out of, well, eating something that came from a human. A consenting human, that is, and one who is still alive. This is something that evangelistic vegans would promote, as it does not mistreat animals.
To be completely logical about all this, there shouldn't be anything cringe-inducing about this at all. Babies drink breast milk and are able to take in their mother's antibodies that way; doctors encourage breastfeeding over formula. And women may still lactate past the point when they stop breastfeeding, and it's to our advantage to get that woman's consent to use her breast milk. If you stop to think about it, it's a little weird that we drink the milk of other species of animals. But it's one thing to pump milk out of a cow and another thing to get it out of a human, a much more complex mammal (no offense to any cows who might be reading this). There are regulations as to what a dairy cow eats, but with humans... I mean, women who have just given birth are probably on carefully controlled diets as well, but there's still so much variability between one mother and the next... but according to that article it seems as though a lot of work has been put into producing the milk that was used to make the cheese. I guess I'll just have to wait to make a more informed decision and see if other humans build up a taste-- literally and figuratively-- for human cheese.
When I was a little girl I loved to dress up in colorful skirts and dresses. I think I basically lived in leggings and distinctly remember one instance in which I was forced to wear pants. They were a pair of old-school sweatpants, with the elastic at the hem that forms a tight cuff around the ankles, and loathed the experience enough to still remember how much I hated them. Yet now I have a similar pair of pants and love them, and prefer to wear pants over a skirt or dress.
I mentioned in an early post that I hate strongly dislike spring. One of the reasons why? The fashion industry's renewed efforts to push skirts as a way to welcome spring and finally get out of those thick pants and show some leg! Even though finding a good pair of pants can be a drag (literally-- I usually have to trim the hem of my pants to an appropriate length) I will almost always choose to wear them instead of putting on a skirt. I have to admit, there's something nice to feeling the skirt hem flutter against my legs, but at the same time I often feel foolish. Whenever I wear one I feel as though I lose brain power because a chunk of my attention gets devoted to thinking about it. The following monologue repeats itself in my head:
you look great in it! it's a cute skirt--really! wow, you've got great legs? wait, really? hold on, did you accidentally tuck part of it in your underwear? gah, the fabric's sticking to your leg! remember to keep your legs closed! but no one's staring at your skirt, so you're fine! just--be careful when you sit down! and when you get up from your seat-- don't get up too fast! okay, you're fine, just play it cool, you look great! and etc.
I'm a daydreamer and a klutz, two characteristics which are pretty hazardous even when I'm functioning at top capacity, never mind if I'm wearing something I don't usually wear.
I don't think less of women who prefer wearing skirts but when I'm wearing one I don't feel like myself, I don't feel at ease and my whole demeanor changes so that I feel like I can't take myself seriously or be taken seriously. Wearing a dress is slightly worse because it's harder to go to the bathroom, and usually I put on dresses for Special Occasions, which come with a whole other set of anxiety-inducing scenarios. Luckily I don't forsee many situations in the future in which I will not be able to wear pants instead of a skirt/dress. If I ever get married I think I'll wear pants, probably shorts, under my wedding dress.
I don't watch TV shows on television. Sometimes I'll catch clips of "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon" but otherwise I don't watch it, and only on a few occasions have I actually watched the show while it airs during its late night time slot. When the show first came out I wanted to watch the show because I fell in love with the typeface for the show.
I generally don't like when words are written in ALL CAPS; besides the fact that it feels like the words are shouted to me, the writing can also come off as self-important. But in this case it works for me. I like the way the "T", "I" and "J" line up vertically. I adore the stacking of the words, how they're like the steps of a staircase. The bright aqua shows up fantastically against the black, and the yellow "with" adds a nice touch of separation between the phrases "late night" and "Jimmy Fallon". The words are bold and sans serif , so the letters are mostly the same thickness throughout, without added strokes/feet at the ends of some letters. It's so simple, yet it makes a big impact and does a great job at subtly conveying what the show aspires to be: a bright, lively spot in the scope of nighttime entertainment.
Briefly I wanted to have a mug with "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon" written on in, exactly as it appears in the image above. Sadly it seems that the NBC store only sells white mugs-- which still look nice, but the words don't pop as much off a light background. I think that if I bought it I'd inadvertently let my tea get cold from staring at the writing. I wish I could better articulate how much this design strikes me and draws me in. Kudos to whoever put it together
After watching "Inception" last summer I went into an Edith Piaf kick. I don't know any French but it was still fun to listen to her songs and her passionate warbling. It reminded me of a "foreign language music" playlist I created for myself a while back, composed entirely of songs spoken in languages other than English. I was going to list the songs below but I couldn't find or remember all the song titles or artists; there was some BoA and Rammstein in there, and probably most of the soundtrack from "Everything is Illuminated". I found that I could do work while listening to it because I barely knew what any of the lyrics said or meant so I wasn't distracted by the words. I don't work well with playing the radio, as I get impatient about the ads or song selection or end up typing the lyrics instead of my own thoughts.
One of my favorite Edith Piaf songs:
Like I said, I have no idea what she's saying, except that it's about an accordion player. I could easily Google the lyrics but I kind of like the mystery and maintaining my own idea of why she's singing what she's singing.
If I ever got a one-off from behaving properly I would probably take that chance to stand outside a tanning salon and punch people as they come out, fresh from their tanning session. It's mostly the tanning beds that I rail against, and I completely support any and all efforts to ban them. Too many people-- especially young women-- have been diagnosed with skin cancer and malignant tumors and it makes me sick to think that this type of disease is one of the most easily preventable. Lying in a tanning bed is so much more UV exposure than just spending a summer day at the beach without wearing sunscreen. Gah! And for what? For skin that is temporarily darker, for the fleeting opportunity to look slightly slimmer or whatever. And I doubt that it's cheap. And in the long run these same people will be shelling out loads more money to counteract the wrinkles and age spots they wrought because their excessive exposure to skin-toasting treatments have sped up the aging process of their skin! I feel myself launching onto the broader issue of The Beauty Myth, a topic for another day and time... I have only slightly less acerbic feelings toward spray tanning. But mostly I take umbradge in the use--nay, the existence of tanning beds and the salons that own them.
Thanks to being sick, my voice is lower and less nasal, throaty and froggy. It's probably been like this for the past few days but I only noticed it this morning. I sound like a different person, maybe someone who is nocturnal and used to have a pack-a-day cigarette habit which has been reduced to avid secondhand smoking by deeply inhaling the tobacco-scented exhale of others. If I were someone else I'd be surprised by the voice that's been coming out of me. Which got me thinking about...
The 12th of April marked the 150th anniversary of the start of the American Civil War. Strange to think of the ways the country has and hasn't changed since then. Back then it was the North that was full of Radical Republicans who were against slavery, and to be a Southerner was to be a Democrat and supporter of slavery. Slavery is now illegal, but still continues in a different guise. Racism is generally frowned upon but still exists. One thing that sort of irks me is the fact that we reenact our own civil war, the war that claimed more American lives than any other war combined, the war in which brothers fought against each other and ran into each other on the battlefield, dressed in their different uniforms. I find the history of the Civil War and the Reconstruction absolutely fascinating, but it doesn't stop me from feeling uncomfortable about what it hath wrought and its repercussions.
I am sick. I try not to write about personal, day-to-day stuff, but I haven't been feeling up to snuff for the last days. What bothers me the most isn't the soreness in my neck, shoulders, armpits and ankles; not the boggy feeling in my head that feels like my mind has been infiltrated by Jell-O; not the sponaneous flash-floods that run from my nose. No, the most bothersome thing about being is sick is having no appetite at all. Regular meal times come and go and I have no desire to eat anything. I know it's crass to complain about not wanting to eat; many people don't have the diversity of options available to me, nor the money to have enough to eat at any meal. I know all this. If you're reading this I apologize for complaining when there are larger issues plaguing the world, and ask that you humor this little post of mine.
I am goin somewhere with all this, if you were wondering. This morning I was in a rush and unmotivated to fix myself breakfast, and at out in the morning. I ordered myself a simple egg and cheese sandwich on English muffin-- something not terribly exciting but filling and nutritious. Ah, but what was magical and post-worthy about this sandwich was that the bread was buttered and toasted on a griddle, and the egg was cooked using butter. I usually cook using oil because it's healthier and more convenient (I don't have to pull it out of the fridge). But oh my goodness butter is better. It added such a rich and creamy flavor that I actually enjoyed eating and tried to savor the experience. My appetite hasn't entirely come back but I found it noteworthy that my breakfast made such an impression on me that I'm salivating slightly as I type this. I'm going to have to make an effort to use butter more often. Real butter, that is. "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" tastes okay, I guess, but if I'm going to indulge I want to do it all the way and use the real stuff.
I like writing because I feel that it's the best way for me to express myself clearly. I'm not great with conversation-- especially with talking on the phone-- but I do like public speaking. It's kind of counterintuitive because I'm an introvert and dislike being around a lot of people and getting a lot of attention. But public speaking/performing isn't so daunting to me. Auditions are a completely different matter, for reasons I either have already explained or will in another post, but whenever it came to, say, giving a presentation for class, I just... I just did it. And I liked it. I liked having that specific kind of attention and could handle that sort of pressure, both actual and perceived.
Speaking in front of people isn't just about the words you say but how you say them and the body language that you use, whether it's intentional or not. I found that I gesticulate a lot. I guess it helps me?
One of my peers started an American Sign Language club in high school. Using sign language is as much about the hand gestures as the facial expressions. I don't think there's any symbol for a question mark or exclamation point; rather the inflection is shown using your face. You can show that you're sarcastic if you sign one thing but your face contradicts whatever it is you've signed.
Sometimes I distract/amuse myself by looking at ASL interpretations of pop music. Someone who is deaf or hearing impaired could easily find the lyrics to a song and watch a music video and lip-read or feel the vibrations from the speakers, but there's a certain joy to watching the words "translated" into ASL. This video, for example. The Black Eyed Peas song "My Humps" is pretty silly and nonsensical already, but seeing it interpreted so enthusiastically sort of elevates the song to a new level of ridiculousness and hilarity:
In lieu of self-congradulatory words I offer up this GIF:
I intended to make this post my most meditative, reflective-- and probably the lengthiest I've ever written. However today I am unusually pressed for time, and still have 256 more posts to go. I'm sure to get around to writing a Deep And Ponderous Reflection later. For now--wow! I've written one post for every day of this year! Something I had only hoped to do. I (still) wouldn't say that writing has become a habit, as in something I do daily without having to think about. It's more like getting dressed every day: it has to be done, somtimes I look forward to it, other times I dread it, and the weather and my mood has a big impact on the outcome.
Sherlock Holmes' approach to collecting information is to only seek and store that which will be useful to him in the future. In the second chapter of the first book in which this illustrious detective is introduced (A Study in Scarlet), his biographer and friend Dr. John Watson makes an inventory of Holmes' knowledge. The list, reproduced below: (taken from Page By Page Books)
1. Knowledge of Literature. -- Nil.
2. Philosophy. -- Nil.
3. Astronomy. -- Nil.
4. Politics. -- Feeble.
5. Botany. -- Variable. Well up in belladonna,
opium, and poisons generally.
Knows nothing of practical gardening.
6. Geology. -- Practical, but limited.
Tells at a glance different soils
from each other. After walks has
shown me splashes upon his trousers,
and told me by their colour and
consistence in what part of London
he had received them.
7. Chemistry. -- Profound.
8. Anatomy. -- Accurate, but unsystematic.
9. Sensational Literature. -- Immense. He appears
to know every detail of every horror
perpetrated in the century.
10. Plays the violin well.
11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman.
12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law.
I like to watch people when I'm on the train. A subway car is like a scaled-down version of an airport, where people from all walks of life are forced to bump into each other on their way to their final destination. So many people that I don't typically meet. Like the young man who stood across from me the other day.
He was dressed like a fried egg. He wore a soft-white zip-up hoodie with matching sweatpants and a yolky-yellow flat hat. He was striking, too, because of his long and lean stature. I was impressed by how he had a nonchalant way about him and managed to keep his clothes so immaculate, so fresh and clean. I put some care into how I look, but he clearly cared about the condition of his clothes and was very purposeful about dressing himself. My mind wanders and invariably conjures up refe rences to food or pop culture I wonder what adjectives he'd use to describe himself, if he set out to be "sunny side up" in a literal and/or figurative way.
I always carry medical adhesive tape with me in my purse. Whenever I wear heels or any other potentially problematic shoes I make sure to tape up my foot in places of frequent friction. I learned this trick from having danced en pointe.
I painted my toenails today-- and I liked it. I don't wear makeup regularly, dislike wearing skirts and not usually drawn to this kind of stereotypically girly stuff. But I picked up a bright orange-red nail polish as an impulse buy yesterday when I went shopping, and I had some extra time this morning, and it was just so bright and sunny, and... well, I was in a good mood and felt like painting my toenails. I even put on a Destiny's Child album and turned the music up pretty high, singing along with all of Beyonce's crazy ad-lib arpeggios.
Spring is definitely on its way, but the time for wearing sandals and open-toed shoes hasn't arrived yet. Not yet for me, at least. I've already seen a few brave (or dumb) people walking around in flip flops. So giving myself a pedicure is really, purely self-indulgent-- it's as if I'll be wearing shoes that expose my toes and feel compelled to mask my crusty toenails with bright colored lacquer. But I walk around my house barefoot, and every so often I look down at my feet and admire the shiny, vivid hue I painted. It's frivolous, and the joy it gives me is fleeting, but I'm still glad I decided to paint my toenails today.
(That's right, I just wrote a whole post on my toenails.)
1 u shall uv ur mobil fone with all ur hart 2 u & ur fone shall neva b apart 3 u shall nt lust aftr ur neibrs fone nor thiev 4 u shall b prcpard @ all times 2 tXt & 2 rccv 5 u shall use LOL & othr acronyms in conversatns 6 u shall be zappy with ur as*r*sks & exc!matns!! 7 u shall abbrevi8 & rite words like theyr sed 8 u shall nt speak 2 sum1 face2face if u cn msg em insted 9 u shall nt shout with capitls XEPT IN DIRE EMERGENCY 10 u shall nt consult a ninglish dictnry
It was a typical New England autumn day, with the sun shining fiercely through flame-coloured trees. I was in the middle of my sixth driving lesson, this time supervised by Anita. She was about my height, slim, with a great cloud of sable black hair. She spoke with a slight rasp in her throat, a consequence of the requisite cigarette hastily smoked before the start of each lesson. She dished out countless anecdotes of other drivers and past jobs, abruptly interrupting herself every now and then to issue commands to turn or stop or perform a maneuver. This time she wanted me to parallel park next to the curb in a residential area, and I was easing into the space when she barked "Stop!" and simultaneously stomped on the brake.
Fruit has sugars in it, so why add sugar? It's already sweet, a fat-free dessert designed by nature (and modified by scientists) to taste good on its own! And if the fruit isn't sweet then maybe it hasn't ripened properly, in which case one should wait and not smother the flavour with added sugar.
Now I understand the appeal of chocolate-dipped fruit-- anything that has chocolate in it is fine in my book-- but otherwise I find it an abominable practise to dip fruit into sugar. I know this attitude seems hypocritical but it makes sense in my (oft-illogical) mind. If anything, the cover of a box of Truvia should be coffee or tea or something that is not sweet on its own.
I haven't sat down and worked out the stats but I'd say that 60-70% of the time that I've been in an orchestra I've played the second violin part. So I've spent a fair amount of time literally playing second fiddle. Which isn't always such a bad thing.
