I'm back in town, obviously. I'm highly pleased with the splendid job that H'n'B did with my blog whilst I was gone, and if you want details of the trip aside from the conversations with the dolphins, please ask. There were many exciting stories, some involving sharks and guns, and guns and sharks, and drama, and bones, and beer, and boats, and weather, and a general happiness not to be wherever else we would be had we not been where we were. (a la Cap'n Jack).
Speaking of which, (and this segment does horrible injustice to my thoughts on things at length, but to give you a beginning to my mental wanderings) as I was reclining at the helm of our new boat on a dive in which I could not participate for various reasons, I began to ponder. Facing southeast, away from land, one sees nothing but ocean. What sort of life does one live when he only comes ashore once every month or so (i.e. 19th century pirates)? What sort of life does one live when he lives on the ocean in modern times? There is a distinct something about people that have lived any (moderately) large portion of their life on the water, and this is what I want to analyze throughout the course of the next few days, with focus on a few specific people I know who are to serve as case studies. This is all in the light, though, of a certain other thought, which I feel convinced I had a discussion with someone about this very thing before I left, but it being this: one's ability to project oneself into a situation or circumstance and see the consequences (be they good or bad) is a quality/ability that is (or should be) highly valued. So, in this light, how would a maritime upbringing change you as a person? The ocean is a breeding ground for so many qualities, and to name a few, they are: an incredible use of common sense, a sense of duty, a sense of responsibility and maturity, respect in various forms, and a very strong quality of self-sufficiency and assertiveness. I'll discuss all these later with all the time I WON'T have this week while I'm catching up on things. I know it's very disjointed and sounds like anything but the narrative-type thoughts running through my head, but that's what happens when you sleep in a car for fourteen hours... mmhmmm.
8.13.2006
8.11.2006
Foreign Literature Greats
The Polyglot loves to discuss the "greats" of English literature - people like James Joyce, Hemingway and Poe. He's even posted lists of the greatest works of English literature so that we can go out and enlighten ourselves.
Well, I too, like great literature. I've been struggling as to how to communicate to you all who I think are the "greats" of foreign literature. I searched the web for inspiration. I found a site that so thoroughly explains these powerhouses of foreign writing, that it just doesn't make sense for me to rewrite it all. Instead, I provide you with this link. Go forth and enlighten yourselves.
Just Click Here, Mehsha
Well, I too, like great literature. I've been struggling as to how to communicate to you all who I think are the "greats" of foreign literature. I searched the web for inspiration. I found a site that so thoroughly explains these powerhouses of foreign writing, that it just doesn't make sense for me to rewrite it all. Instead, I provide you with this link. Go forth and enlighten yourselves.
Just Click Here, Mehsha
8.09.2006
Musings
Not too long ago (just down the page, in fact), The Polyglot related his personal journey through old writings. Poly was able to look at these scribblings in their context. I believe there's much to learn from evaluating what you wrote about as a young person. You get a sense of who you were then compared with who you are now. You clarify the path your life has traveled. You can say, "I am at point N now because I turned left at point C, completely missing points D, E & F. Ah, but point J! That was a nice little spot, glad I saw that."
So, I dug through some of my early writings. I too, remember each piece as a literary masterpiece. Alas, I was overestimating my talents just a smidge. I found a piece from the 8th grade that I would now like to transcribe for you here. Please keep in mind that even though I was in 8th grade, I was actually the age of a 7th grader.
Dear Sally*,
Yo chick! Sup? I saw you under loggia this morning as you was getting off yer bus. But I did not say aything to you cuz the bell had already rang and I had to get to homeroom. Ugh. Homeroom was B O R I N G! First period stunk to. I fergot to do my homework. I going to do it but 21 Jump Street came on and you know I can't RESIST that fineness! Did you see them? They were all fine last night. And, like, fine, fine, fine. Oh fine - yeah, I saw Mr. Gorgeous in hall on the way to lunch. Wow. I wonder if he going to New Edition concert. Did your mom say you will go? No way my mom is gonna let me go. Im dying to go!!!!! Guess I'll will just go skating that night. It is a Friday, right? And maybe Mr. Gorgeous won't be at the concert and he will be skating and I will get to see him while you get to see New Edition. That would be cool. Wow. This is a long note. Gotta go before I get caught writing it. See you after school. Write back. BFF. Wanna spend the night on Friday?
Me.
* Names changed for privacy.
So that's point A. I guess I've only made it to point B or C.
So, I dug through some of my early writings. I too, remember each piece as a literary masterpiece. Alas, I was overestimating my talents just a smidge. I found a piece from the 8th grade that I would now like to transcribe for you here. Please keep in mind that even though I was in 8th grade, I was actually the age of a 7th grader.
Dear Sally*,
Yo chick! Sup? I saw you under loggia this morning as you was getting off yer bus. But I did not say aything to you cuz the bell had already rang and I had to get to homeroom. Ugh. Homeroom was B O R I N G! First period stunk to. I fergot to do my homework. I going to do it but 21 Jump Street came on and you know I can't RESIST that fineness! Did you see them? They were all fine last night. And, like, fine, fine, fine. Oh fine - yeah, I saw Mr. Gorgeous in hall on the way to lunch. Wow. I wonder if he going to New Edition concert. Did your mom say you will go? No way my mom is gonna let me go. Im dying to go!!!!! Guess I'll will just go skating that night. It is a Friday, right? And maybe Mr. Gorgeous won't be at the concert and he will be skating and I will get to see him while you get to see New Edition. That would be cool. Wow. This is a long note. Gotta go before I get caught writing it. See you after school. Write back. BFF. Wanna spend the night on Friday?
Me.
* Names changed for privacy.
So that's point A. I guess I've only made it to point B or C.
8.08.2006
My Feelings on Ships
The Polyglot has tried to explain how he feels when he sits down at a piano. He says that he tried to explain that to me with the feeling of playing pool. That's not at all what he said. What he ended up discussing were the actual physical characteristics of ornate pianos to ornate pool tables. Since we never owned an ornate pool table, I still couldn't relate to what he was talking about. I was just picturing Liberace.
Anyway, he finally made some headway by comparing pianos to ships. Ah. That I can understand. There is something about a ship. It's really undefinable, but I'm going to do my best to discuss how sailing makes me feel.
You see, it's not far down to paradise, at least it's not for me. If the wind is right you can sail away and find ... tranquility. The canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see. Believe me. It's not far to never-never land - no reason to pretend. If the wind is right you can find the joy of innocence again. Fantasy gets the best of me when I'm sailing - all caught up in the reverie. Every word is a symphony. Won't you believe me? It's not far back to sanity, at least it's not for me. When the wind is right you can sail away and find serenity. Sailing takes me away to where I've always heard it could be - just a dream and the wind to carry me. Soon I will be free.
Well, there's a little window into my soul for you. Don't get me started on what happens when I get caught between the moon and New York City!
Anyway, he finally made some headway by comparing pianos to ships. Ah. That I can understand. There is something about a ship. It's really undefinable, but I'm going to do my best to discuss how sailing makes me feel.
You see, it's not far down to paradise, at least it's not for me. If the wind is right you can sail away and find ... tranquility. The canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see. Believe me. It's not far to never-never land - no reason to pretend. If the wind is right you can find the joy of innocence again. Fantasy gets the best of me when I'm sailing - all caught up in the reverie. Every word is a symphony. Won't you believe me? It's not far back to sanity, at least it's not for me. When the wind is right you can sail away and find serenity. Sailing takes me away to where I've always heard it could be - just a dream and the wind to carry me. Soon I will be free.
Well, there's a little window into my soul for you. Don't get me started on what happens when I get caught between the moon and New York City!
First Day in the Keys
Well, I was going to write something really witty for my first post here on Foreign Words. But being the control freak that he is, The Polyglot sent me a txt message that he wanted me to post instead. So here, in his own words, is an account of how vacation in Florida is proceeding:
My flight was quite interesting. However, that is not what I want to discuss. I will expatiate upon that at another time. I would now like to relate what happened to me on my first day of lobstering. (Yes, lobster can be used as a verb in the same vein as fish/fishing or crab/crabbing.)
Sunday, August 6, 2006
We'd been out on the ocean for a couple of hours. We had already hit a few spots with marginal success. My father's father (who I can't bring myself to call DeeDah now that I'm an adult) had speared several hogfish in each place we'd stopped. The rest of us had not been quite as fruitful in our search for lobster. Upon reaching this third or fourth location, my father and I Dunno immediately bagged several choice specimen. I was still looking under rocks and coming up with nothing but sand.
I spotted a nice head of coral about 100 feet away from the rest of the group and hoped that I could beat the others to it. Alas, I was disappointed to again find nothing but sand lurking beneath the coral. But just as I was about to resurface, I heard the clicks and whistles of a pod of Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin. I looked up to see a pod of about 7 dolphin frollicking another 50 or so feet away. I tucked behind the coral head to listen unobserved, simply soaking in the moment. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was structure to this noise. Dare I say it, it even sounded vaguely familiar.
While I wouldn't classify myself as an expert, I have done a little reading on Wikipedia about the Khosian language family, particularly Ju|'hoan. Ju|'hoan contains the 5 traditional vowels that English speakers are familiar with, but based on how they are nasalized, glottalized and murmured, those 5 vowels expand into 30 unique sounds (some experts argue the number is actually higher). As with all the Khosian languages, Ju|'hoan is spoken by a very small number of people located mostly in lower Western Africa - Botswana in the case of this specific language.
Naturally, I dusted off my Ju|'hoan and volunteered a nervous "Hello, dolphin." Well, that is the rough translation. I believe the literal translation was more like, "Greetings mammals with human-like intelligence and fish-like bodies." My second statement was the incredibly trite, "I come in peace." More accurately translated to, "I would like to communicate with you, not eat you." At that point, the alpha-male appeared to signal to the pod that it was time to leave. Thankfully, the alpha-female indicated that she wanted to investigate the "bi-ped with dolphin-like intelligence." After a short disagreement, the alpha-male agreed to accompany her to within 10 feet of my location.
So there I was face to face with two Ju|'hoan speaking dolphin. What should I talk about? First, I hand signalled to them that I needed to surface for air. They seemed to understand my make-shift game of charades. After replenishing the air in my lungs, I came back down with a clear head and a topic of discussion. I decided to witness to them about the good news of God's kingdom. After just a few sentences, the alpha-male stopped me. I couldn't believe that I was being rejected by a dolphin of all creatures. However, instead of rejecting me, he said (again, loosely translated), "Yeah, yeah. We know all about the good news. We're actually on our way home from a convention. There's a little spot in the Bahamas where we can hear the programs quite well echoing through the water. In years past, lots of dolphin converged on the spot, but we have to be careful that we don't draw too much attention these days. This year, my family was chosen to attend. Now we will go back to our home waters and relate the program to the rest of the dolphin population."
You can imagine my surprise. That led into a nice little discussion about the convention program. I asked which was their favorite talk. They both seemed to appreciate the symposium about illustrations, especially the advice on imitating Jesus' illustrations. I asked if they had a favorite illustration. The alpha-female, Ursula, said that she loved the fishing illustrations. They both found it quite comical to be "fishers of men." Although they did admit that these days they don't retell the stories of the apostles letting down their nets quite as often since they have lost so many friends to the tuna fishing industry. Completely understandable.
We had a thoroughly enjoyable conversation covering a plethora of topics: favorite scriptures, water pollution, cell phones, and dolphins in captivity. During our chat, the rest of the pod gathered around us. I was particularly drawn to a sweet older female named Georgette - what a lovely woman, er, individual. Eventually I realized that I'd been away from the boat for over an hour and I had absolutely nothing to show for it - an unforgivable sin in my family. I explained that I was going to be in "hot water" which seemed to horrify them. They very sweetly offered to assist me even though they admitted to never comprehending humans' appetite for lobster. (Evidently, the lobster has a reputation similar to the cockroach amongst other sea creatures.) The whole pod joined in and within 10 minutes I had 45 beautiful lobster in my bag. The alpha-male, Josiah, even gave me a lift half way back to the boat. He wanted to take me further but didn't dare risk it.
In parting, I asked if I would see the pod tomorrow. Josiah answered that they needed to continue on their journey. He turned and rejoined the rest of the pod. As I climbed back in the boat, I looked back towards where I'd left them. I saw them leaping and breaching as a final goodbye.
So, that's his message. Pretty interesting. I can see why he wanted me to post it. Oh, and for the less linguistically gifted, Ju|'hoan is the language the African bushman spoke in "The Gods Must Be Crazy." (I had to look it up.)
My flight was quite interesting. However, that is not what I want to discuss. I will expatiate upon that at another time. I would now like to relate what happened to me on my first day of lobstering. (Yes, lobster can be used as a verb in the same vein as fish/fishing or crab/crabbing.)
Sunday, August 6, 2006
We'd been out on the ocean for a couple of hours. We had already hit a few spots with marginal success. My father's father (who I can't bring myself to call DeeDah now that I'm an adult) had speared several hogfish in each place we'd stopped. The rest of us had not been quite as fruitful in our search for lobster. Upon reaching this third or fourth location, my father and I Dunno immediately bagged several choice specimen. I was still looking under rocks and coming up with nothing but sand.
I spotted a nice head of coral about 100 feet away from the rest of the group and hoped that I could beat the others to it. Alas, I was disappointed to again find nothing but sand lurking beneath the coral. But just as I was about to resurface, I heard the clicks and whistles of a pod of Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin. I looked up to see a pod of about 7 dolphin frollicking another 50 or so feet away. I tucked behind the coral head to listen unobserved, simply soaking in the moment. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was structure to this noise. Dare I say it, it even sounded vaguely familiar.
While I wouldn't classify myself as an expert, I have done a little reading on Wikipedia about the Khosian language family, particularly Ju|'hoan. Ju|'hoan contains the 5 traditional vowels that English speakers are familiar with, but based on how they are nasalized, glottalized and murmured, those 5 vowels expand into 30 unique sounds (some experts argue the number is actually higher). As with all the Khosian languages, Ju|'hoan is spoken by a very small number of people located mostly in lower Western Africa - Botswana in the case of this specific language.
Naturally, I dusted off my Ju|'hoan and volunteered a nervous "Hello, dolphin." Well, that is the rough translation. I believe the literal translation was more like, "Greetings mammals with human-like intelligence and fish-like bodies." My second statement was the incredibly trite, "I come in peace." More accurately translated to, "I would like to communicate with you, not eat you." At that point, the alpha-male appeared to signal to the pod that it was time to leave. Thankfully, the alpha-female indicated that she wanted to investigate the "bi-ped with dolphin-like intelligence." After a short disagreement, the alpha-male agreed to accompany her to within 10 feet of my location.
So there I was face to face with two Ju|'hoan speaking dolphin. What should I talk about? First, I hand signalled to them that I needed to surface for air. They seemed to understand my make-shift game of charades. After replenishing the air in my lungs, I came back down with a clear head and a topic of discussion. I decided to witness to them about the good news of God's kingdom. After just a few sentences, the alpha-male stopped me. I couldn't believe that I was being rejected by a dolphin of all creatures. However, instead of rejecting me, he said (again, loosely translated), "Yeah, yeah. We know all about the good news. We're actually on our way home from a convention. There's a little spot in the Bahamas where we can hear the programs quite well echoing through the water. In years past, lots of dolphin converged on the spot, but we have to be careful that we don't draw too much attention these days. This year, my family was chosen to attend. Now we will go back to our home waters and relate the program to the rest of the dolphin population."
You can imagine my surprise. That led into a nice little discussion about the convention program. I asked which was their favorite talk. They both seemed to appreciate the symposium about illustrations, especially the advice on imitating Jesus' illustrations. I asked if they had a favorite illustration. The alpha-female, Ursula, said that she loved the fishing illustrations. They both found it quite comical to be "fishers of men." Although they did admit that these days they don't retell the stories of the apostles letting down their nets quite as often since they have lost so many friends to the tuna fishing industry. Completely understandable.
We had a thoroughly enjoyable conversation covering a plethora of topics: favorite scriptures, water pollution, cell phones, and dolphins in captivity. During our chat, the rest of the pod gathered around us. I was particularly drawn to a sweet older female named Georgette - what a lovely woman, er, individual. Eventually I realized that I'd been away from the boat for over an hour and I had absolutely nothing to show for it - an unforgivable sin in my family. I explained that I was going to be in "hot water" which seemed to horrify them. They very sweetly offered to assist me even though they admitted to never comprehending humans' appetite for lobster. (Evidently, the lobster has a reputation similar to the cockroach amongst other sea creatures.) The whole pod joined in and within 10 minutes I had 45 beautiful lobster in my bag. The alpha-male, Josiah, even gave me a lift half way back to the boat. He wanted to take me further but didn't dare risk it.
In parting, I asked if I would see the pod tomorrow. Josiah answered that they needed to continue on their journey. He turned and rejoined the rest of the pod. As I climbed back in the boat, I looked back towards where I'd left them. I saw them leaping and breaching as a final goodbye.
So, that's his message. Pretty interesting. I can see why he wanted me to post it. Oh, and for the less linguistically gifted, Ju|'hoan is the language the African bushman spoke in "The Gods Must Be Crazy." (I had to look it up.)
8.05.2006
What a Ship IS...
Well, I told H’n’B I would post once more before turning over the reins for a week. So I don’t have a whole bunch to say. I had this whole thing written up about how I think sometimes I can be overbearing about my enthusiasm with certain things, but it ended up sounding far more self-deprecating than I wanted it to, so that’s out. I’ve saved it, and I’ll post it later. Thoughts?
Tonight will be my first GSAM in about a month and the AM part is actually out because I can only stay for dinner. I have to come home, mow the lawn, and finish packing. This time, I have a list. I’m only packing a backpack of essential travel things, so I’ll have my music, my reading material, some Russian reading, some Urdu reading, a few dictionaries, a change of clothes (for a two-hour flight, I know, but you can never be too careful) chargers, some foreign literature incase I come across some cool foreigners at the airport (because everybody knows that’s where they hang out), and my shaving kit (which I kept with me because [first of all, I need most of the stuff in it, but also] it saved room in my suitcase. I need to round up some things in my car (like the new [old] sunglasses) and some hats and ocean type stuff. I’ll definitely be bringing my running shoes, incase I feel ridiculous enough to run (even half) a mile in the scorching heat of summer down there (but again, one can never be too careful). All of that (and more) can fit in my backpack, and that’ll make for a nice non-lugging-luggage flight.
I was asked today (because apparently I’ve become the authority on these things) what happened to Story & Clark, a piano manufacturer that has apparently changed hands a number of times. Anyway, this sister that has one thought the people went out of business, but as you can see, they did not.
What is it about the piano? I know everyone’s sick and tired of me talking about this, but I’ve got a week away from Foreign Words, and I’m going to try to figure this one out. There’s something regal or charismatic or significant about sitting down at a piano and playing something (even a little something) and having somebody go “oh, I recognize that!” Or not even people being around… just the fact that you’re at a piano, especially if it’s a larger piano, like a grand. I tried to relate to H’n’B my fascination with these things, and since she always grew up with a pool table, and we now have one, I tried to explain it in those terms. A pool table serves a purpose: it is entertainment, yadda yadda yadda, but it’s also far more than that. (like was put so well by Capt. Jack Sparrow “That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and hull and a deck and sails. That's what a ship needs. But what a ship is... what the Black Pearl really is... is freedom.”) It’s THE thing in the room, the main focus, and it’s also a piece of furniture. It’s stained and is carved and colored and demands a certain sense of respect, a pool table does, even if just a tiny bit, if for no other reason than that it is such a large, heavy piece of furniture. A piano, on a far greater scale, (aside from uprights or console or whatever you wanna call them) carries that same attitude… yes, attitude, because if you ask CERTAIN pianists (real pianists) they’ll agree that the piano is a living, breathing thing. A piano is carved and sculpted and designed and created and has a certain ~-~ about it, without even being played. It’s true. Harpsichord, (cool sound but) nah… Organ (super cool sound but strange looking and complicated so)… nah. It’s the piano. Check out some of the other links about three posts ago and look at their big, mean pianos, the concert grands or artists’ series… oh yeah.
Anyway, I’m to finish off a few things before I head to GS and then pack and then mow the lawn, etc., but I’ve got someone at the helm for the time being, and I’ll check out all the hilarity and chaos while I’m gone or after I return. I bid you all a happy adieu!
Tonight will be my first GSAM in about a month and the AM part is actually out because I can only stay for dinner. I have to come home, mow the lawn, and finish packing. This time, I have a list. I’m only packing a backpack of essential travel things, so I’ll have my music, my reading material, some Russian reading, some Urdu reading, a few dictionaries, a change of clothes (for a two-hour flight, I know, but you can never be too careful) chargers, some foreign literature incase I come across some cool foreigners at the airport (because everybody knows that’s where they hang out), and my shaving kit (which I kept with me because [first of all, I need most of the stuff in it, but also] it saved room in my suitcase. I need to round up some things in my car (like the new [old] sunglasses) and some hats and ocean type stuff. I’ll definitely be bringing my running shoes, incase I feel ridiculous enough to run (even half) a mile in the scorching heat of summer down there (but again, one can never be too careful). All of that (and more) can fit in my backpack, and that’ll make for a nice non-lugging-luggage flight.
I was asked today (because apparently I’ve become the authority on these things) what happened to Story & Clark, a piano manufacturer that has apparently changed hands a number of times. Anyway, this sister that has one thought the people went out of business, but as you can see, they did not.
What is it about the piano? I know everyone’s sick and tired of me talking about this, but I’ve got a week away from Foreign Words, and I’m going to try to figure this one out. There’s something regal or charismatic or significant about sitting down at a piano and playing something (even a little something) and having somebody go “oh, I recognize that!” Or not even people being around… just the fact that you’re at a piano, especially if it’s a larger piano, like a grand. I tried to relate to H’n’B my fascination with these things, and since she always grew up with a pool table, and we now have one, I tried to explain it in those terms. A pool table serves a purpose: it is entertainment, yadda yadda yadda, but it’s also far more than that. (like was put so well by Capt. Jack Sparrow “That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and hull and a deck and sails. That's what a ship needs. But what a ship is... what the Black Pearl really is... is freedom.”) It’s THE thing in the room, the main focus, and it’s also a piece of furniture. It’s stained and is carved and colored and demands a certain sense of respect, a pool table does, even if just a tiny bit, if for no other reason than that it is such a large, heavy piece of furniture. A piano, on a far greater scale, (aside from uprights or console or whatever you wanna call them) carries that same attitude… yes, attitude, because if you ask CERTAIN pianists (real pianists) they’ll agree that the piano is a living, breathing thing. A piano is carved and sculpted and designed and created and has a certain ~-~ about it, without even being played. It’s true. Harpsichord, (cool sound but) nah… Organ (super cool sound but strange looking and complicated so)… nah. It’s the piano. Check out some of the other links about three posts ago and look at their big, mean pianos, the concert grands or artists’ series… oh yeah.
Anyway, I’m to finish off a few things before I head to GS and then pack and then mow the lawn, etc., but I’ve got someone at the helm for the time being, and I’ll check out all the hilarity and chaos while I’m gone or after I return. I bid you all a happy adieu!
8.03.2006
My Language
It was some time after I had written the papers that I pulled them out; memories of old favorite stories and poems from high school, and most of them sat on that shelf across the room from me, in a few textbooks together with my Latin binders.
I always loved writing and by all (my) accounts, was a good writer, and always enjoyed it. Like anything else, however, one progresses, and although the memories are fond, the subjects warm, the writing leaves plenty to be desired. That wouldn’t be the case in the eyes of a ninth-grader, though. He doesn’t know that you use “shall,” in the future only with the first person, and “will,” with second and third. He doesn’t know that a first person conditional statement is “I should like,” not I would like,” or that you never use the first or second person in a thesis or research paper. He will.
The first one was an alternative ending for an Ursula K. LeGuin story that we were to write. Fond? Not necessarily. Others, like “The Right to Rule,” or “The Cause and Effect of World War I,” were history papers and were pretty much unchangeable in the sense that the information itself wouldn’t change.
Literature (especially your own) has a way about it like old embarrassing family photos: in that day, you thought your Wayfarers and big hair (or senseless use of commas and words like ‘rather,’) were HOT. But now looking back, you see in 20/20: your mother was right. You find you have changed so much since having written that thesis or that story; your life is so different, but you remember the feelings, the emotions, the smells: everything that made that what it is, and when you wrote it, you put something in it you didn’t even know existed.
So much emotion, or feeling, or attitude, or persona, is captured in your own writing style, your voice, that you may not realize what it is, exactly, until you let it culture and age in your closet or computer or cabinet and pull it out years later, and then your own language, the subtleties throughout the work, speak to you in your very own language, and you suddenly remember things you didn’t even know you knew or had forgotten.
It is this time machine one encounters when he rereads his old favorites, only to find they had changed completely, just like when you go to your kindergarten class years later and realize the tables have shrunk. They don’t fit like they used to, and you would fix them, but you won’t be using them anyway. Besides, they look good just the way they are.
I always loved writing and by all (my) accounts, was a good writer, and always enjoyed it. Like anything else, however, one progresses, and although the memories are fond, the subjects warm, the writing leaves plenty to be desired. That wouldn’t be the case in the eyes of a ninth-grader, though. He doesn’t know that you use “shall,” in the future only with the first person, and “will,” with second and third. He doesn’t know that a first person conditional statement is “I should like,” not I would like,” or that you never use the first or second person in a thesis or research paper. He will.
The first one was an alternative ending for an Ursula K. LeGuin story that we were to write. Fond? Not necessarily. Others, like “The Right to Rule,” or “The Cause and Effect of World War I,” were history papers and were pretty much unchangeable in the sense that the information itself wouldn’t change.
Literature (especially your own) has a way about it like old embarrassing family photos: in that day, you thought your Wayfarers and big hair (or senseless use of commas and words like ‘rather,’) were HOT. But now looking back, you see in 20/20: your mother was right. You find you have changed so much since having written that thesis or that story; your life is so different, but you remember the feelings, the emotions, the smells: everything that made that what it is, and when you wrote it, you put something in it you didn’t even know existed.
So much emotion, or feeling, or attitude, or persona, is captured in your own writing style, your voice, that you may not realize what it is, exactly, until you let it culture and age in your closet or computer or cabinet and pull it out years later, and then your own language, the subtleties throughout the work, speak to you in your very own language, and you suddenly remember things you didn’t even know you knew or had forgotten.
It is this time machine one encounters when he rereads his old favorites, only to find they had changed completely, just like when you go to your kindergarten class years later and realize the tables have shrunk. They don’t fit like they used to, and you would fix them, but you won’t be using them anyway. Besides, they look good just the way they are.
Packing
I packed yesterday/evening/this morning. I pack much more betterer if I have a list. I make a list of the thing I'll need to bring, especially when the things I need to pack are things I cannot pack until right when we leave, like my chargers and toothbrush and pillow and that sort of thing. Shoes, etc.
I didn't have enough time last night to make the list early enough to pack with it, but basically packed everything I wouldn't be able to buy when I was there, i.e. chargers, audio/electronic stuff. Also anything that cannot go on a plane in a bag that isn't checked luggage. Since I'm driving back from vacation, it's no big deal, but I sent my big luggage with the first caravan this morning. I realized I had packed a few things I should have kept to bring with me when I came, but they were things I wouldn't want to have to explain to security at the airport. I know that sounds really shady, but, for example, I have a radio transmitter for my car so I can listen to my MP3 player while I'm driving. Most people have one they plug into the device and play through the tape deck, but since I don't have a tape deck, that's out. The transmitter plugs into the cigarette lighter and has a cord that plugs into the MP3 player with twelve frequencies that match to certain high/low frequency radio stations that you can tune the radio to. Basic, I know, because Belkin sells a battery powered one with only two settings, and it's CRAP with a capital K. As simple technology as that is, it does look rather intimidating, because it has a LCD display and a fuse, etc. Since I've also got a one-way ticket, there are no further reasons to get myself searched: I'm not checking any luggage, I've got a one-way ticket, and I've got a bunch of electronics... IT'S BECAUSE I'M GOING ON VACATION!!! Whatever. We have to be there so early anyway, I don't want to delay our arrival to our gate.
So here's how I pack. I wash EVERYTHING I have, fold the clothes and categorize them: shirts, undershirts, collared shirts, shorts, gym shorts, sleep clothes, etc. Then I start throwing them into the suitcase (there's a procedure involving ziplock bags and forcing air out, that has a strange resemblance to the vacuum-packed bags in the infomercials, but since I'm not going to buy one of those, we save money and space in the suitcase by doing it with freezer bags), and the clothes that I don't wear as much don't get into the bag until everything else of importance does. Then it's a sudden death elimination of what other semi-nonimportant things I can fit in around the necessary things. I always pack to the brim...
That is all. Packing and I have a love hate relationship, but they both go the same way: if I have the time enough, I systematically pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff); if I DON'T have enough time, I frantically pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff). So basically I always pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff).
I didn't have enough time last night to make the list early enough to pack with it, but basically packed everything I wouldn't be able to buy when I was there, i.e. chargers, audio/electronic stuff. Also anything that cannot go on a plane in a bag that isn't checked luggage. Since I'm driving back from vacation, it's no big deal, but I sent my big luggage with the first caravan this morning. I realized I had packed a few things I should have kept to bring with me when I came, but they were things I wouldn't want to have to explain to security at the airport. I know that sounds really shady, but, for example, I have a radio transmitter for my car so I can listen to my MP3 player while I'm driving. Most people have one they plug into the device and play through the tape deck, but since I don't have a tape deck, that's out. The transmitter plugs into the cigarette lighter and has a cord that plugs into the MP3 player with twelve frequencies that match to certain high/low frequency radio stations that you can tune the radio to. Basic, I know, because Belkin sells a battery powered one with only two settings, and it's CRAP with a capital K. As simple technology as that is, it does look rather intimidating, because it has a LCD display and a fuse, etc. Since I've also got a one-way ticket, there are no further reasons to get myself searched: I'm not checking any luggage, I've got a one-way ticket, and I've got a bunch of electronics... IT'S BECAUSE I'M GOING ON VACATION!!! Whatever. We have to be there so early anyway, I don't want to delay our arrival to our gate.
So here's how I pack. I wash EVERYTHING I have, fold the clothes and categorize them: shirts, undershirts, collared shirts, shorts, gym shorts, sleep clothes, etc. Then I start throwing them into the suitcase (there's a procedure involving ziplock bags and forcing air out, that has a strange resemblance to the vacuum-packed bags in the infomercials, but since I'm not going to buy one of those, we save money and space in the suitcase by doing it with freezer bags), and the clothes that I don't wear as much don't get into the bag until everything else of importance does. Then it's a sudden death elimination of what other semi-nonimportant things I can fit in around the necessary things. I always pack to the brim...
That is all. Packing and I have a love hate relationship, but they both go the same way: if I have the time enough, I systematically pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff); if I DON'T have enough time, I frantically pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff). So basically I always pack everything I own (and some of other people's stuff).
8.02.2006
Pianos, languages, and Vacation
I don’t have anything pressing to say today, but for all intents and purposes, when do I ever? ALWAYS, if you pay attention.
Things of interest I have recently learned:
1) Persian, by no small technicality, is not a Semitic language. Now, it’s obvious that it’s spoken in the Middle East and uses a variation of the Arabic script (a Semitic language) for its alphabet, but is part of the Indo-European branch of languages, which is a HUGE branch of languages that comprises most of the languages spoken in Europe and the Western world. More specifically, it is Indo-Iranian, or Indo-Aryan, and therefore shares a relationship with more of the languages of India.
2) I really really really really really enjoy running. Really.
3) The “Apple,” headphones I got from Ebay weren’t. They’re crappy as anything, were shipped from HONG KONG, and there’s only two pair in the package. There are some very definite characteristics that the “wannabe” Apple headphones don’t have, and if you’re interested in donating your pair because you don’t like them, let me ask you some questions before you do.
4) There’s a tropical storm heading towards what will be my home for the next week-ish. If you watched The Kids’ Show last night (no, that’s not the name) you’d understand why it’d be nice to have a very smart but socially developing high schooler around right now. Some predictions say it turns north before it hits the aforementioned beloved abode, some say it’s heading for it like bees to honey. Yippee…
5) Bösendorfer pianos are the coolest in the world. I looked up other piano manufacturers (or whatever) like Fazioli, Bechstein, Steinway (obviously) and Kimball (who owned Bösendorfer for a while), as well as Baldwin (who I didn’t know makes as nice a piano as they do), and Bösendorfer is by far the king. They’ve got a great story and have been doing it for a long time. Their limited edition and artist series pianos are out of this world. So I like to pretend I have a half a million dollars (and the room enough) to buy a few concert grands like they’re used books. Whatever. Also worth mentioning that I laugh at myself for having opinions of pianos that cost six figures (with my Wurlitzer in the living room[hooty hooty!]) and admitting that I couldn't play well enough (yet) to justify even sitting down at any of the above.
Happy now?
Things of interest I have recently learned:
1) Persian, by no small technicality, is not a Semitic language. Now, it’s obvious that it’s spoken in the Middle East and uses a variation of the Arabic script (a Semitic language) for its alphabet, but is part of the Indo-European branch of languages, which is a HUGE branch of languages that comprises most of the languages spoken in Europe and the Western world. More specifically, it is Indo-Iranian, or Indo-Aryan, and therefore shares a relationship with more of the languages of India.
2) I really really really really really enjoy running. Really.
3) The “Apple,” headphones I got from Ebay weren’t. They’re crappy as anything, were shipped from HONG KONG, and there’s only two pair in the package. There are some very definite characteristics that the “wannabe” Apple headphones don’t have, and if you’re interested in donating your pair because you don’t like them, let me ask you some questions before you do.
4) There’s a tropical storm heading towards what will be my home for the next week-ish. If you watched The Kids’ Show last night (no, that’s not the name) you’d understand why it’d be nice to have a very smart but socially developing high schooler around right now. Some predictions say it turns north before it hits the aforementioned beloved abode, some say it’s heading for it like bees to honey. Yippee…
5) Bösendorfer pianos are the coolest in the world. I looked up other piano manufacturers (or whatever) like Fazioli, Bechstein, Steinway (obviously) and Kimball (who owned Bösendorfer for a while), as well as Baldwin (who I didn’t know makes as nice a piano as they do), and Bösendorfer is by far the king. They’ve got a great story and have been doing it for a long time. Their limited edition and artist series pianos are out of this world. So I like to pretend I have a half a million dollars (and the room enough) to buy a few concert grands like they’re used books. Whatever. Also worth mentioning that I laugh at myself for having opinions of pianos that cost six figures (with my Wurlitzer in the living room[hooty hooty!]) and admitting that I couldn't play well enough (yet) to justify even sitting down at any of the above.
Happy now?
7.27.2006
Language stories and Tammish
In analyzing the recent topics of my blog, I feel I have gotten away from the real heart and soul of Foreign Words. That is not to say FW isn’t a mulit-topic blog, but let’s admit it: I’ve somehow gained the reputation of speaking seventeen languages. A few anecdotes: (this is mostly to welcome a newbie to my blog, whose name will [maybe temporarily but probably permanently] be Book Reader for two reasons, one, because she is, and two, because it is synonymous with her name. We like her.)
This is one I’ve told everybody, but I actually had to re-tell it to defend myself the other day.
I Dunno and I were at this really good sushi bar for lunch a few weeks back because Mom was having a luncheon thingy. We had to get out of the house. We sat at the bar and watched the Japanese chefs cut, slice, dice, and prepare fish and all sorts of delightful meals for the other patrons. They mostly kept to themselves, but every once in a while would toss a few words at a co-worker in Japanese. Many of the menu items, however, were in English, so I Dunno said, “can you understand what they’re saying?” With a reasoning tone, I said “I Dunno, I don’t speak Japanese…” He said, “Oh, I thought they were speaking Chinese…” Because evidently I speak Chinese, too…
Secondly, another installment from someone I’m not going to mention (think think think). We’re in the car yesterday on a call. There are three of us: me and this person and someone else. The someone else commented mid-story-I-was-telling and said “it’s always cool to hear about the things you’ve read about or have seen, etc.” which isn’t much, but apparently this person’s interests in international stuff pales in comparison to mine. Duh. She continued to explain how last week we were discussing the state of affairs in North Korea, and an online travel guide I stumbled upon for those “lucky” enough to get in. We discussed communism in that country and how militant things were, etc. and the other person said, “Are they the ones that wear the stones between their eyes?” “No. Those are Indians.” “Well, what’s the difference between Koreans and Indians?” Imagine my surprise.
I proceeded to discuss the subtle differences in the two ethnic groups: the pale complexion as opposed to the darker skin, the minute differences in religion and worship, and the minor geographic discrepancies between the two areas. Not to mention the linguistic similarities between a language isolate and a country that contains more official languages than (I think) any other country in the world, with fifteen. After about an hour, I think we had it all cleared away. It’s just so funny to think that there would be someone on the planet that would pair THESE two specific groups together. All not look so same. And that, my friends, would be a useless website. Entirely. (But maybe not as much as previously thought).
I wish I could find it now, but I had saved in my favorites, at one time, on some computer, a dissertation by a linguist who (I think) was challenged to make connections between Tamil and Finnish. Tamil is the 18th(ish) most spoken language in the world. It’s most closely related to Malayalam, and is spoken in Sri Lanka and the southern portion of India. If you follow India up the east coast toward the Kerala region you’ll begin to find Malayalam speakers, but that’s irrelevant.
Finnish is a Finno-Ugric language, and one of the three major languages belonging to this group. All the others are extinct or spoken by so few people that they are hardly worth mentioning, and some even consider them to be dialects of the Finnish language. Anyway, Finnish is most closely related (albeit very distantly) to Estonian, and even more distantly to Hungarian, the highest estimates of mutual vocabulary or grammar to either being about 5%, as I recall. It’s also considered (by most) to be the hardest language in the world to learn. With fifteen noun declensions in the singular and sixteen in the plural, it’s quite possibly the most complex language on earth. Coupled with the pronunciation and length of words, it’s near impossible. Most Finns will learn a few other languages, so there are very few people that tackle that language.
Anyway, this linguist derived a number of similarities, through only one or two degrees of separation, and sometimes directly, between Finnish and Tamil. With loanwords, specific articulated sounds, or constructions and such, he was arguably able to draw conclusions that could not historically be backed. That is, the Finns never did actually settle and conquer in India, thus creating any kind of blending of the cultures.
This could go on forever. Do your own research.
This is one I’ve told everybody, but I actually had to re-tell it to defend myself the other day.
I Dunno and I were at this really good sushi bar for lunch a few weeks back because Mom was having a luncheon thingy. We had to get out of the house. We sat at the bar and watched the Japanese chefs cut, slice, dice, and prepare fish and all sorts of delightful meals for the other patrons. They mostly kept to themselves, but every once in a while would toss a few words at a co-worker in Japanese. Many of the menu items, however, were in English, so I Dunno said, “can you understand what they’re saying?” With a reasoning tone, I said “I Dunno, I don’t speak Japanese…” He said, “Oh, I thought they were speaking Chinese…” Because evidently I speak Chinese, too…
Secondly, another installment from someone I’m not going to mention (think think think). We’re in the car yesterday on a call. There are three of us: me and this person and someone else. The someone else commented mid-story-I-was-telling and said “it’s always cool to hear about the things you’ve read about or have seen, etc.” which isn’t much, but apparently this person’s interests in international stuff pales in comparison to mine. Duh. She continued to explain how last week we were discussing the state of affairs in North Korea, and an online travel guide I stumbled upon for those “lucky” enough to get in. We discussed communism in that country and how militant things were, etc. and the other person said, “Are they the ones that wear the stones between their eyes?” “No. Those are Indians.” “Well, what’s the difference between Koreans and Indians?” Imagine my surprise.
I proceeded to discuss the subtle differences in the two ethnic groups: the pale complexion as opposed to the darker skin, the minute differences in religion and worship, and the minor geographic discrepancies between the two areas. Not to mention the linguistic similarities between a language isolate and a country that contains more official languages than (I think) any other country in the world, with fifteen. After about an hour, I think we had it all cleared away. It’s just so funny to think that there would be someone on the planet that would pair THESE two specific groups together. All not look so same. And that, my friends, would be a useless website. Entirely. (But maybe not as much as previously thought).
I wish I could find it now, but I had saved in my favorites, at one time, on some computer, a dissertation by a linguist who (I think) was challenged to make connections between Tamil and Finnish. Tamil is the 18th(ish) most spoken language in the world. It’s most closely related to Malayalam, and is spoken in Sri Lanka and the southern portion of India. If you follow India up the east coast toward the Kerala region you’ll begin to find Malayalam speakers, but that’s irrelevant.
Finnish is a Finno-Ugric language, and one of the three major languages belonging to this group. All the others are extinct or spoken by so few people that they are hardly worth mentioning, and some even consider them to be dialects of the Finnish language. Anyway, Finnish is most closely related (albeit very distantly) to Estonian, and even more distantly to Hungarian, the highest estimates of mutual vocabulary or grammar to either being about 5%, as I recall. It’s also considered (by most) to be the hardest language in the world to learn. With fifteen noun declensions in the singular and sixteen in the plural, it’s quite possibly the most complex language on earth. Coupled with the pronunciation and length of words, it’s near impossible. Most Finns will learn a few other languages, so there are very few people that tackle that language.
Anyway, this linguist derived a number of similarities, through only one or two degrees of separation, and sometimes directly, between Finnish and Tamil. With loanwords, specific articulated sounds, or constructions and such, he was arguably able to draw conclusions that could not historically be backed. That is, the Finns never did actually settle and conquer in India, thus creating any kind of blending of the cultures.
This could go on forever. Do your own research.
7.26.2006
'Dead Man's Chest' a la 'Snakes on a Plane'
... gives you “More Half-Dead Sea Creatures on a Ship.”
Yup. I saw it this weekend. Ask H’n’B: I LOVE Curse of the Black Pearl. It’s good on so many levels: excellent plot; complicated at times, but accessible; swashbuckling, a fine balance of comedy, action, drama, etc. All in all, a very smart movie. It’s just well rounded and brilliantly done, which is why SO many people are looking SO forward to seeing the sequel: Dead Man’s Chest. (By the way, there’s no Plot Spoiler here. If you want that, ask me.)
The Good: Cap’n Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner, “Bootstrap” Bill Turner (father of said Will), and many more of the characters from the first make their appearances, so there’s a great amount of continuity. Some of them are also rather surprising in their new roles. We also get some new scenery (but this appears in the “bad,” section as well). The score for the movie isn’t so heavily themed on swashbuckling, and there are a number of different styles worked in by Mr. Zimmer, and one in particular MAKES the scene. You’ll know which one it is. Bill Nighy (super cool actor, not to be confused with Bill Nye [the science guy][both last names pronounced the same]) plays Davy Jones himself, and is a rather cool villain. Also worthy to mention that his “beard,” or whatever is entirely computer generated. This is cool because it actually retains (believe it or not) Mr. Nighy’s facial features in among all that ~googly~. There’s a lot of action and you get some backstory as well. There are times when the movie progresses extremely well, and you feel that quite a lot is being accomplished. It’s nice. Visually stunning in more ways than one. Oh, also, more Jack Sparrow-ish over-complication of explaining very simple things. Quite humorous.
The Bad: It’s incredibly dark; NO, not nighttime dark (well, yes, at times), but very ominous and almost morbid. CBP (Curse of the Black Pearl, unlike a Cambodian Cong) was unique (I think) in that the colors and cinematography were all very rich, and not very bright. This one is just very very dark. There are times when we move onto land and enjoy a brighter scape, but it’s pretty well-roundedly a dark film. Quite slow at times, and some parts are quite unnecessary. Some of these scenes are things you’d think you would see on the “deleted scenes” DVD, but apparently they decided not to, and most of them seem to be directed toward a younger audience. They’re playful and goofy, and more Disney-ish, but not without a happy helping of pirateness to make you feel not so stupid for watching it. The plot (and I’ve heard some say “what plot?”) becomes redundant at times. The dialogue begins to falter at some points, but it’s not terrible. You got the general idea that the story (i.e. the information and characters and any progression of plot) were necessary for the third movie, but did not sustain themselves quite as well as a movie unto itself.
The Ugly: First, the literal: some of the characters were quite grotesque, and it was a step up from the undead pirates in the first one. I grew to love them, but these are beastly and quite disgusting. Takes some getting used to. There are some mystical overtones (or undertones, whichever is more subtle), but no more than in the first film. My biggest complaint with the movie is the ending. Again, I say nothing to spoil, but anyone that went to see this film knew BEFORE WALKING INTO THE THEATRE that the third film was already in production. By saying that I mean to argue that it is unnecessary to set the third movie up by means of the second. That’s shameless plugging of a film. Therefore, my complaint is that they divided DMC and what is currently called “At World’s End,” (or some variation thereof) in one of the worst possible places. I’m still getting over the shock and disappointment, and they DO let you know that IT will be fixed, repaired, and all brought back to normal (hopefully), but the feeling you get when leaving the movie is not one of accomplishment, resolve, or completion. It’s of a horrible lack of closure; now, I’m no Dr. Phil patient, but CBP finished with some resolve. You left satisfied and content. I would have left DMC both satisfied and content if I had been assured to see the follow-up as soon as I got home, but I am reminded that it was three years since the first one came out, and to wait until 2009 to see how (holds hand over mouth) ____ gets rescued by the ______ from the ______ in the ______ is just far too long to wait in my opinion. I should have just waited another three years and seen them both together. I don’t need to carry around all that baggage.
All that having been said, I REALLY wanted to like the movie, and if I saw it again, I probably would. It’s more of an acquired taste.
Yup. I saw it this weekend. Ask H’n’B: I LOVE Curse of the Black Pearl. It’s good on so many levels: excellent plot; complicated at times, but accessible; swashbuckling, a fine balance of comedy, action, drama, etc. All in all, a very smart movie. It’s just well rounded and brilliantly done, which is why SO many people are looking SO forward to seeing the sequel: Dead Man’s Chest. (By the way, there’s no Plot Spoiler here. If you want that, ask me.)
The Good: Cap’n Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner, “Bootstrap” Bill Turner (father of said Will), and many more of the characters from the first make their appearances, so there’s a great amount of continuity. Some of them are also rather surprising in their new roles. We also get some new scenery (but this appears in the “bad,” section as well). The score for the movie isn’t so heavily themed on swashbuckling, and there are a number of different styles worked in by Mr. Zimmer, and one in particular MAKES the scene. You’ll know which one it is. Bill Nighy (super cool actor, not to be confused with Bill Nye [the science guy][both last names pronounced the same]) plays Davy Jones himself, and is a rather cool villain. Also worthy to mention that his “beard,” or whatever is entirely computer generated. This is cool because it actually retains (believe it or not) Mr. Nighy’s facial features in among all that ~googly~. There’s a lot of action and you get some backstory as well. There are times when the movie progresses extremely well, and you feel that quite a lot is being accomplished. It’s nice. Visually stunning in more ways than one. Oh, also, more Jack Sparrow-ish over-complication of explaining very simple things. Quite humorous.
The Bad: It’s incredibly dark; NO, not nighttime dark (well, yes, at times), but very ominous and almost morbid. CBP (Curse of the Black Pearl, unlike a Cambodian Cong) was unique (I think) in that the colors and cinematography were all very rich, and not very bright. This one is just very very dark. There are times when we move onto land and enjoy a brighter scape, but it’s pretty well-roundedly a dark film. Quite slow at times, and some parts are quite unnecessary. Some of these scenes are things you’d think you would see on the “deleted scenes” DVD, but apparently they decided not to, and most of them seem to be directed toward a younger audience. They’re playful and goofy, and more Disney-ish, but not without a happy helping of pirateness to make you feel not so stupid for watching it. The plot (and I’ve heard some say “what plot?”) becomes redundant at times. The dialogue begins to falter at some points, but it’s not terrible. You got the general idea that the story (i.e. the information and characters and any progression of plot) were necessary for the third movie, but did not sustain themselves quite as well as a movie unto itself.
The Ugly: First, the literal: some of the characters were quite grotesque, and it was a step up from the undead pirates in the first one. I grew to love them, but these are beastly and quite disgusting. Takes some getting used to. There are some mystical overtones (or undertones, whichever is more subtle), but no more than in the first film. My biggest complaint with the movie is the ending. Again, I say nothing to spoil, but anyone that went to see this film knew BEFORE WALKING INTO THE THEATRE that the third film was already in production. By saying that I mean to argue that it is unnecessary to set the third movie up by means of the second. That’s shameless plugging of a film. Therefore, my complaint is that they divided DMC and what is currently called “At World’s End,” (or some variation thereof) in one of the worst possible places. I’m still getting over the shock and disappointment, and they DO let you know that IT will be fixed, repaired, and all brought back to normal (hopefully), but the feeling you get when leaving the movie is not one of accomplishment, resolve, or completion. It’s of a horrible lack of closure; now, I’m no Dr. Phil patient, but CBP finished with some resolve. You left satisfied and content. I would have left DMC both satisfied and content if I had been assured to see the follow-up as soon as I got home, but I am reminded that it was three years since the first one came out, and to wait until 2009 to see how (holds hand over mouth) ____ gets rescued by the ______ from the ______ in the ______ is just far too long to wait in my opinion. I should have just waited another three years and seen them both together. I don’t need to carry around all that baggage.
All that having been said, I REALLY wanted to like the movie, and if I saw it again, I probably would. It’s more of an acquired taste.
7.21.2006
A six pack o' Buds
I just thought it’d be worth letting you all know about my purchase. I bought new headphones. My old ones blew. (How do you BLOW an earbud headphone?)
For those of you that don’t know, I’ve been all into running lately; well, not entirely lately, because I only ran once this week. I usually run thrice, at around three and a half or four miles each time. I missed Monday and Wednesday because my knees really hurt, but got down there today (the treadmill) and did it. I have a playlist I run to, and will explain that later, as in not in this post. I had my shoes on, had stretched, turned on my MP3 player only to realize my right earbud was blown. So thus for the next forty-five minutes I enjoyed some seriously driving and loud music with ticks in lieu of thumps on my right side. It was okay. I was disappointed though, because I really like Apple’s headphones: I acquired a pair a while ago and they’ve got good sound quality (as far as I’m concerned) for their size, they’re small enough that I can listen to them while lying on them, and not have them feel like they’re boring into my head, and they’re cool looking. The sleeping on them and not boring into my head part is especially nice.
Anyway, I CANNOT continue listening to the sound of a ticking pen while I’m trying to enjoy Jack Johnson, Tori Amos, or Led Zeppelin (or even Air Supply), so I had the bright idea (after getting those proverbial “creative juices” flowing) that I would Ebay them.
Long story short: THREE pairs (one white, two black [thus matching my MP3 player]) of APPLE headphones, all for almost exactly sixteen bucks. The headphones (all of them) cost only $2.26 ($2.25 for the two black pair, and $0.01 for the white pair). Shipping was the killer, but I figure any good pair of headphones would cost that, and Apple sells those things alone for twice that or something.
Also, they’re new; all of them; still wrapped; comes with the foamy jackets; that way I won’t be getting foreign ear juices in mine while enjoying Rod Stewart, The Format, or Howard Shore.
Done. Done.
For those of you that don’t know, I’ve been all into running lately; well, not entirely lately, because I only ran once this week. I usually run thrice, at around three and a half or four miles each time. I missed Monday and Wednesday because my knees really hurt, but got down there today (the treadmill) and did it. I have a playlist I run to, and will explain that later, as in not in this post. I had my shoes on, had stretched, turned on my MP3 player only to realize my right earbud was blown. So thus for the next forty-five minutes I enjoyed some seriously driving and loud music with ticks in lieu of thumps on my right side. It was okay. I was disappointed though, because I really like Apple’s headphones: I acquired a pair a while ago and they’ve got good sound quality (as far as I’m concerned) for their size, they’re small enough that I can listen to them while lying on them, and not have them feel like they’re boring into my head, and they’re cool looking. The sleeping on them and not boring into my head part is especially nice.
Anyway, I CANNOT continue listening to the sound of a ticking pen while I’m trying to enjoy Jack Johnson, Tori Amos, or Led Zeppelin (or even Air Supply), so I had the bright idea (after getting those proverbial “creative juices” flowing) that I would Ebay them.
Long story short: THREE pairs (one white, two black [thus matching my MP3 player]) of APPLE headphones, all for almost exactly sixteen bucks. The headphones (all of them) cost only $2.26 ($2.25 for the two black pair, and $0.01 for the white pair). Shipping was the killer, but I figure any good pair of headphones would cost that, and Apple sells those things alone for twice that or something.
Also, they’re new; all of them; still wrapped; comes with the foamy jackets; that way I won’t be getting foreign ear juices in mine while enjoying Rod Stewart, The Format, or Howard Shore.
Done. Done.
7.20.2006
Bill Murray, TESOL
For those of you that don't know, like I didn't five minutes ago, TESOL belongs to the same family as the ESL or EFL (English as a Second/Foreign Language). TESOL is Teaching(/er[s]) of English to Speakers of Other Languages.
The Wiki Kingdom has everything, and I've now decided it has more than that. On the Wikitravel page, there's a "Travel Topics," link and one of them deals with finding work, especially if you're taking a Gap Year trip (also discussed). One of the most popular jobs for people traveling from U.S., U.K. or Australia is teaching English. Turns out there's a whole page on how to go about this and who does it and how to get accredited and what countries offer the best opportunity to get a job teaching English to the natives, etc.
I want everyone to think for a moment about how awesome it would be to move to a foreign country, and besides doing what I'm doing now here, with the foreign literature and stuff, (but focusing obviously on Russian, or Chinese, or Estonian [icky]) but also teaching the natives English. This would be outstanding.
Also turns out there's an entire page for people to put out lesson plans and such for TESOL. It's called Wikigogy. Very cool page, obviously written by TESOL (that can be singular or plural because otherwise you'd have to write TsESOL and that's stupid) where people share methods and things. Check it out.
What impressed me was a section on using English movies to teach your foreign students English. Not using only movies, of course, but it shows your student dignity, and can make them feel more a part of the culture. They explained all sorts of things about the criteria that a movie should have (obviously appropriate content) such as physical humor as opposed to plays on words or more BBC type stuff, so the student can understand it more readily. They also mentioned that newer movies use far more slang and improper English, and the teachers have found it advantageous to steer away from these and use older movies. There's a list of ones that they've found especially helpful, but one of them was particularly interesting because it makes SO MUCH SENSE, because I really like the movie, and because it's not super new and hip (thus it has somewhat normal, casual English): Groundhog Day!!!
The inherent nature of this movie is perfect for a setting like this (and I think it should be a GSAM feature): it's repetitive (Duh), so gives the student plenty of time to realize what's going on, gives a glimpse into the more average (albeit still Hollywoodized) live of Americans, with their jobs and recreations and weather and stuff, and the humor is also much easier to grasp even if you can't understand any of it. There's room for more difficult words and curriculum, such as the names of the places and towns in Pennsylvania (my point exactly).Anyway, I thought that was interesting, and perfectly reasonable.
(as a small side note, do some research on who was first offered Andie MacDowell's role in that movie... the answer may surprise you. Hint: it wasn't Bill Murray).
The Wiki Kingdom has everything, and I've now decided it has more than that. On the Wikitravel page, there's a "Travel Topics," link and one of them deals with finding work, especially if you're taking a Gap Year trip (also discussed). One of the most popular jobs for people traveling from U.S., U.K. or Australia is teaching English. Turns out there's a whole page on how to go about this and who does it and how to get accredited and what countries offer the best opportunity to get a job teaching English to the natives, etc.
I want everyone to think for a moment about how awesome it would be to move to a foreign country, and besides doing what I'm doing now here, with the foreign literature and stuff, (but focusing obviously on Russian, or Chinese, or Estonian [icky]) but also teaching the natives English. This would be outstanding.
Also turns out there's an entire page for people to put out lesson plans and such for TESOL. It's called Wikigogy. Very cool page, obviously written by TESOL (that can be singular or plural because otherwise you'd have to write TsESOL and that's stupid) where people share methods and things. Check it out.
What impressed me was a section on using English movies to teach your foreign students English. Not using only movies, of course, but it shows your student dignity, and can make them feel more a part of the culture. They explained all sorts of things about the criteria that a movie should have (obviously appropriate content) such as physical humor as opposed to plays on words or more BBC type stuff, so the student can understand it more readily. They also mentioned that newer movies use far more slang and improper English, and the teachers have found it advantageous to steer away from these and use older movies. There's a list of ones that they've found especially helpful, but one of them was particularly interesting because it makes SO MUCH SENSE, because I really like the movie, and because it's not super new and hip (thus it has somewhat normal, casual English): Groundhog Day!!!
The inherent nature of this movie is perfect for a setting like this (and I think it should be a GSAM feature): it's repetitive (Duh), so gives the student plenty of time to realize what's going on, gives a glimpse into the more average (albeit still Hollywoodized) live of Americans, with their jobs and recreations and weather and stuff, and the humor is also much easier to grasp even if you can't understand any of it. There's room for more difficult words and curriculum, such as the names of the places and towns in Pennsylvania (my point exactly).
(as a small side note, do some research on who was first offered Andie MacDowell's role in that movie... the answer may surprise you. Hint: it wasn't Bill Murray).
7.18.2006
She's Here!!!
Well, I say she, but I'm not quite sure yet.
The Piano is here.
It's actually not that far out of tune, but when it cools off in the AC of our living room it may be a little bit sharp. We'll have to wait and see. If it is, I'll have to wait until about mid-August to get it tuned.
It's not exactly (at all) the same model as Affie's, (hers is more [although (I think) not] like a cabinet grand) and is quite a bit darker (like actually brown instead of a light color), but goes with the furniture in the room, so Mom's not up in arms about it. This has changed my afternoon now. I was still working, and horribly interrupted by four hoodlum-types at my door. After it was moved, my house had a funk-smell and a few more flies than we had before (which means they let at least one in). I was planning on working late, but my definition of late has changed drastically in the past half hour, and I'm gonna be digging my piano books out and plugging away. Yippee.
I was also offered an organ today; NOT a kidney, liver, or heart (although that woulda been nice), but an electric organ. Long story short is a brother in our Hall whose sister is selling the house they grew up in has rather inherited a huge organ. His father used to play, and he said it's got the pedals, three levels (or whatever) of keys, but comes with a not-so-extra feature: some static in the sound. The organ is FREE, and also HUGE. This man is definitely one for numbers, a sciency, crazy professor type, and he couldn't give me a good round figure on the size of this thing. I casually mentioned to Mom that the office downstairs now has some free space and is fairly screaming for more furniture, nay, a gynormously large electric organ. But alas, despite my best, most casual and confident efforts, all hopes of acquiring a piano and an organ in the same month were washed down with mother's words (among her other reasonable arguments): "I hate organs." So that's out. But I haven't lost hope that any of my dear readers (counting them on one hand, and crossing them off of this list just as fast because none of you want it) would be interested in having an enormously large (and yet quite professional [save the static (which is probably easily fixable)]) organ, thus also arguing that I could reasonably visit someday for some food, if not (for the sole purpose) to play said organ. I leave you with that thought. All of my readers can readily contact me if they are interested. Thank you, and goodbye.
The Piano is here.
It's actually not that far out of tune, but when it cools off in the AC of our living room it may be a little bit sharp. We'll have to wait and see. If it is, I'll have to wait until about mid-August to get it tuned.
It's not exactly (at all) the same model as Affie's, (hers is more [although (I think) not] like a cabinet grand) and is quite a bit darker (like actually brown instead of a light color), but goes with the furniture in the room, so Mom's not up in arms about it. This has changed my afternoon now. I was still working, and horribly interrupted by four hoodlum-types at my door. After it was moved, my house had a funk-smell and a few more flies than we had before (which means they let at least one in). I was planning on working late, but my definition of late has changed drastically in the past half hour, and I'm gonna be digging my piano books out and plugging away. Yippee.
I was also offered an organ today; NOT a kidney, liver, or heart (although that woulda been nice), but an electric organ. Long story short is a brother in our Hall whose sister is selling the house they grew up in has rather inherited a huge organ. His father used to play, and he said it's got the pedals, three levels (or whatever) of keys, but comes with a not-so-extra feature: some static in the sound. The organ is FREE, and also HUGE. This man is definitely one for numbers, a sciency, crazy professor type, and he couldn't give me a good round figure on the size of this thing. I casually mentioned to Mom that the office downstairs now has some free space and is fairly screaming for more furniture, nay, a gynormously large electric organ. But alas, despite my best, most casual and confident efforts, all hopes of acquiring a piano and an organ in the same month were washed down with mother's words (among her other reasonable arguments): "I hate organs." So that's out. But I haven't lost hope that any of my dear readers (counting them on one hand, and crossing them off of this list just as fast because none of you want it) would be interested in having an enormously large (and yet quite professional [save the static (which is probably easily fixable)]) organ, thus also arguing that I could reasonably visit someday for some food, if not (for the sole purpose) to play said organ. I leave you with that thought. All of my readers can readily contact me if they are interested. Thank you, and goodbye.
7.15.2006
I hate...
Two things right now:
1) Dust covers. This is widely known and explanation of WHY is entirely unneeded.
2) PEOPLE LEAVING MUSIC on their Answering machine as the "Please Leave a Message" message instead of A REAL MESSAGE.
If I had wanted to hear your crappy music (which is made exponentially crappier by the fact that you held your phone so close to the speaker that I actually heard it cry for help, thus making any prayer of actual sound quality entirely hopeless) I would have spent [wasted] money to buy the music, not call you. Have some dignity; be proud of who you are and at least pretend to show the tiniest bit of professionality. I'm also afraid that you are worried why you don't get any voicemails, and if you do, why they have the smallest [most obvious] overtone of disdain or displeasure; please realize that I called to speak to you. There are a series of disappointments here, and by the time we get to the proverbial beep (the place where I'm supposed to begin speaking) I am so let down that I don't care to discuss it at length right now.
1) I called and it rang more than a few times, which leads to
2) You actually not answering at all, which is disappointing because I have something to say, and realize now that this will not be resolved. That leads to
3) The overwhelming sensation that a voicemail is in my midst, only compounded by
4) Your horrible [stupid and childish] music begins playing in my ear instead of your message, or even the nice woman that Cingular has hired to give the song'n'dance about leaving a voicemail or paging the recipient.
I then hope and pray that you will return my call lest we rinse and repeat tomorrow...
Adieu
1) Dust covers. This is widely known and explanation of WHY is entirely unneeded.
2) PEOPLE LEAVING MUSIC on their Answering machine as the "Please Leave a Message" message instead of A REAL MESSAGE.
If I had wanted to hear your crappy music (which is made exponentially crappier by the fact that you held your phone so close to the speaker that I actually heard it cry for help, thus making any prayer of actual sound quality entirely hopeless) I would have spent [wasted] money to buy the music, not call you. Have some dignity; be proud of who you are and at least pretend to show the tiniest bit of professionality. I'm also afraid that you are worried why you don't get any voicemails, and if you do, why they have the smallest [most obvious] overtone of disdain or displeasure; please realize that I called to speak to you. There are a series of disappointments here, and by the time we get to the proverbial beep (the place where I'm supposed to begin speaking) I am so let down that I don't care to discuss it at length right now.
1) I called and it rang more than a few times, which leads to
2) You actually not answering at all, which is disappointing because I have something to say, and realize now that this will not be resolved. That leads to
3) The overwhelming sensation that a voicemail is in my midst, only compounded by
4) Your horrible [stupid and childish] music begins playing in my ear instead of your message, or even the nice woman that Cingular has hired to give the song'n'dance about leaving a voicemail or paging the recipient.
I then hope and pray that you will return my call lest we rinse and repeat tomorrow...
Adieu
7.14.2006
A new language in my book
Somali speakers have an accent very closely related to that of Arabic; now I know why. Check this out. There's not a whole lot mentioned about it in the article, but it is an "Afro-Asiatic" language, with more "Afro-" than "Asiatic" qualities from what I can see. The alphabet is a modified Latin one that is modelled after the sounds and even order of the Arabic, and it at one time was written with the Arabic alphabet. From a quick gander at some text, though, it doesn't scream "Semitic," or even "Eastern-ish," like Kurdish, Turkish, or even Swahili (to a degree). Anyway, I met somebody that had an accent, and at the end of our (professional) conversation, asked him what language he spoke, hoping it was something in which I could be involved. That was not the case. It goes without saying that not 2 seconds after I was off the phone, I hit the link above. Anyway...
7.13.2006
Aches and Pains
My knee is KILLING ME. The right one, not the left one (the one that was all screwed up from the skiing oops I had in Utah). They started hurting after the first mile, but I kinda ran it off, so by the time I was done, it wasn’t that bad.
Turns out I had to mow the lawn as soon as I was done. No biggie, right? Usually. The grass was longer (thicker) than it seemed and the blades were set so low I could hardly push it DOWNHILL, forget uphill. I wasn’t going to raise it and have to mow everything TWICE, so I dealt with it. I looked like an absolute dork trying to wrestle with this thing that couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds (and nearly twice that when the bag was full [which I had to empty probably twelve times]), but I got ‘er done.
The lady at the hall yesterday: long series of circumstances as to why she’s been wanting to come for a while but can only now come to an afternoon bookstudy; been studying for a while, yadda yadda yadda, very professional type lady, clearly a devoted student, etc. We got to talking (about everything, and discussed her situation, and it was good, because good people were there; I’ll give you details on it if you want them later) about her travels. Because of her husband’s employment, they got assignments throughout the world: Singapore, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, Benin, and a few places in Europe. There were more, but those are the ones I remember. Obviously, I jumped on the opportunity to speak something with her, but all she spoke (aside from English) was Spanish, and the tiniest bit of Arabic. She told this story about how she had asked a professor or somebody about learning Arabic (I think she said this was in Bahrain) and the woman, very respectable, etc., said it would be a waste of time because nobody speaks classical Arabic, and she shouldn’t worry about it. Turns out they moved to Riyadh next, and she realized the whole “don’t learn Arabic, you won’t use it” shpiel was crap. She was disappointed. She explained her experiences living in Muslim countries and what life was like in the Nigerian bush, as they were not in big cities like Lagos. It was all fascinating. She said Singapore was amazing and it’s not at all difficult to live there, but that could be because her husband worked for a billion-dollar corporation that could shuffle them to and fro at the drop of a hat. Ain’t no thang. So we talked about travel, and the people, and a good time was had by all.
Still having issues with my computer, and H’n’B, maybe you can help me here. I’ve got this new notebook (actually Dad’s old Toshiba, but not an old Toshiba), and the hard drive was JUST replaced because the old one crashed. Yippee. Dad got a new machine and loves it, so I have this one. To work from it, we have to set it up on the server downstairs so I can sign in to the network and work off of that. That doesn’t conflict with being able to access my local hard drive, blah blah blah. They may have worked before, and I wish I could remember, but now my USB drives, (not 2.0) do not recognize (or are somehow blocking) any external storage device from functioning. When first connected, my MP3 player is recognized by saying “this device can perform faster, blah blah blah,” but is not seen by Windows Explorer, WMP, or the software that came with it. I cannot sync my digital camera or my palm to the notebook, BUT a keyboard and mouse I use thru USB, as well as the printer, work fine. It’s driving me crazy now. At first it was like, “eh, I’ll figure it out tomorrow; no big deal.” But now it is. I need more podcasts, and I can’t get them on my device. Yargh. More on something else later.
Turns out I had to mow the lawn as soon as I was done. No biggie, right? Usually. The grass was longer (thicker) than it seemed and the blades were set so low I could hardly push it DOWNHILL, forget uphill. I wasn’t going to raise it and have to mow everything TWICE, so I dealt with it. I looked like an absolute dork trying to wrestle with this thing that couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds (and nearly twice that when the bag was full [which I had to empty probably twelve times]), but I got ‘er done.
The lady at the hall yesterday: long series of circumstances as to why she’s been wanting to come for a while but can only now come to an afternoon bookstudy; been studying for a while, yadda yadda yadda, very professional type lady, clearly a devoted student, etc. We got to talking (about everything, and discussed her situation, and it was good, because good people were there; I’ll give you details on it if you want them later) about her travels. Because of her husband’s employment, they got assignments throughout the world: Singapore, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, Benin, and a few places in Europe. There were more, but those are the ones I remember. Obviously, I jumped on the opportunity to speak something with her, but all she spoke (aside from English) was Spanish, and the tiniest bit of Arabic. She told this story about how she had asked a professor or somebody about learning Arabic (I think she said this was in Bahrain) and the woman, very respectable, etc., said it would be a waste of time because nobody speaks classical Arabic, and she shouldn’t worry about it. Turns out they moved to Riyadh next, and she realized the whole “don’t learn Arabic, you won’t use it” shpiel was crap. She was disappointed. She explained her experiences living in Muslim countries and what life was like in the Nigerian bush, as they were not in big cities like Lagos. It was all fascinating. She said Singapore was amazing and it’s not at all difficult to live there, but that could be because her husband worked for a billion-dollar corporation that could shuffle them to and fro at the drop of a hat. Ain’t no thang. So we talked about travel, and the people, and a good time was had by all.
Still having issues with my computer, and H’n’B, maybe you can help me here. I’ve got this new notebook (actually Dad’s old Toshiba, but not an old Toshiba), and the hard drive was JUST replaced because the old one crashed. Yippee. Dad got a new machine and loves it, so I have this one. To work from it, we have to set it up on the server downstairs so I can sign in to the network and work off of that. That doesn’t conflict with being able to access my local hard drive, blah blah blah. They may have worked before, and I wish I could remember, but now my USB drives, (not 2.0) do not recognize (or are somehow blocking) any external storage device from functioning. When first connected, my MP3 player is recognized by saying “this device can perform faster, blah blah blah,” but is not seen by Windows Explorer, WMP, or the software that came with it. I cannot sync my digital camera or my palm to the notebook, BUT a keyboard and mouse I use thru USB, as well as the printer, work fine. It’s driving me crazy now. At first it was like, “eh, I’ll figure it out tomorrow; no big deal.” But now it is. I need more podcasts, and I can’t get them on my device. Yargh. More on something else later.
This is short, and a formality. More later.
So I have really nothing to blog about except that I’m doing really well with my running on a continual basis. It works best for my schedule if I run on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings at least, and then intermittently whenever else I can. I’ve been doing about four miles each time in just about forty minutes, give or take. So I’m pretty happy with that, and I have a playlist that I run to each time to keep me going. It’s rather nice. Along with trying not to eat everything in sight and snack every minute I’m breathing, I’m feeling better. I’ve stopped drinking cokes and stuff, and am trying to stick only to water (and Gatorade, which I’m almost convinced is superior, except for things like washing your hair or clothes).
How many almost-but-not-quite-American Idol shows can there be?
America’s Got Talent
Master of Champions
So You Think You Can Dance
That’s only three, I know, but they all JUST debuted. How many performance competitions can somebody really care about? I think America DOESN’T Got Talent, and that’s why they’re fascinated with those that “have talent,” if you’d like to call it that. NBC is on right now, and I can’t find the remote and won’t be walking to the television, so it’s muted right now. Icky; I really like Regis Philbin, but it’s just too bad he’s stooped to new levels. I have not much more to say at this moment, and will continue later.
I had a nice Russian conversation today; I have also gained two new linguistic adventurers: a Russian and a Chinese.
I also discovered Flash Card Exchange from a link on a Wikibooks site and started building some Turkish flashcards because that’s what I had on hand. Check it out. It asks you if you will be adding images to the flashcard, so you can use Chinese characters and stuff as well. You can print, study, file, etc. and it’s really cool.
But alas, Mythbusters is on, and I don’t know if it’s a new episode, or at least one I haven’t seen yet. I bid you adieu.
Before I do that, I’d like to remind you to remind me to tell you about the coolest Coolest COOLEST woman I met today at the hall. Remind me.
Adeus.
How many almost-but-not-quite-American Idol shows can there be?
America’s Got Talent
Master of Champions
So You Think You Can Dance
That’s only three, I know, but they all JUST debuted. How many performance competitions can somebody really care about? I think America DOESN’T Got Talent, and that’s why they’re fascinated with those that “have talent,” if you’d like to call it that. NBC is on right now, and I can’t find the remote and won’t be walking to the television, so it’s muted right now. Icky; I really like Regis Philbin, but it’s just too bad he’s stooped to new levels. I have not much more to say at this moment, and will continue later.
I had a nice Russian conversation today; I have also gained two new linguistic adventurers: a Russian and a Chinese.
I also discovered Flash Card Exchange from a link on a Wikibooks site and started building some Turkish flashcards because that’s what I had on hand. Check it out. It asks you if you will be adding images to the flashcard, so you can use Chinese characters and stuff as well. You can print, study, file, etc. and it’s really cool.
But alas, Mythbusters is on, and I don’t know if it’s a new episode, or at least one I haven’t seen yet. I bid you adieu.
Before I do that, I’d like to remind you to remind me to tell you about the coolest Coolest COOLEST woman I met today at the hall. Remind me.
Adeus.
7.06.2006
Don't bother reading unless you're looking for updates on a childish TV show
I’m watching
I have committed to Affie to do something. I mentioned to her that I Dunno and I have started watching this particular show, and I watched the series premiere last Monday. The second episode came on this past Monday, and I convinced my bro to watch it with me. Afterward he committed to “definitely” watching the series with me. I’m not shy about what I watch on television, and am even proud of watching things such as Parental Control despite its absolute lack of (any kind of) value. Everyone needs some trash television (not of content, but intellectual or material worth) to sit in front of on occasion. HOWEVER, I’m a little disappointed to say that I have begun to enjoy a television show that comes on, not MTV, not Animal Planet, not VH1, and not even Lifetime, but ABC Family.
The show , like I said, started last Monday. The thing I told Affie I would do is to fill her in so she’s up on the show and can watch it next Monday. So here’s what happened. I missed the first few minutes of it, but was readily apparent that:
This kid is about 16 years old and fell from the sky, like, literally. He found himself all slimy (and naked) in the woods, but keep in mind he doesn’t know what slimy, naked, or the woods are. Long story short is he was confronted by a snake that hissed at him, found himself still all naked and slimy, but in the city, and was promptly arrested and sent to juvie.
He is now in the slammer. He cannot speak, has no name (but now has clothes), and doesn’t know how to do anything. Oh, he also has no belly button. So in his attempt to understand life, he stares at others to do what they do. He understands no speech, but learns by imitation. In one scene, this cocky ringleader type kid is the object of his attention because they’re at lunch and he’s never actually paid attention to anyone eating before, and this kid is eating a muffin. He imitates what the kid is doing and realizes that this soothes the pain in his stomach. He learns “eating.” While learning, the kid becomes aware that he’s getting stared at and is offended (naturally). Everyone else seems okay with the new kid except for Mr. Head Honcho. He confronts the new kid, and is promptly reprimanded by one of the guards. Later, however, he takes his chance to teach a lesson to the kid who cannot understand or speak. When this happens, the new kid gets scared. He is punched in the face, falls to the ground and urinates on himself out of fear. The comment is made by the narrator, the boy himself, that that function makes him feel better also. Two things learned: eating, and relieving. Verdict: both good.
Long story short (whatever!) the doctor at the facility takes a look at him and realizes he’s strange: calls his friend, a psychologist, to come take a look. The psychologist is a happy wife and mother of two. She comes to investigate, gives him a name (Kyle), and she decides (with hubby’s consent) to let him live with the family for a few days, until the missing persons report reveals who he is.
A few things when he gets home. He learns how to play a kindergartener’s game on the computer, wanders off to watch the neighbor’s girl play the piano, startles her, and is later accused of breaking in to “attack” her. The girl takes a liking to him, though.
Geez, it’s a big deal summarizing TWO episodes of a child’s drama series.
(The world cup finals are officially over and I know who won).
Episode one also includes the young child being caught with a nudy magazine, and Kyle finds it for him after his mother hides it. Kyle also follows the psychiatrist’s daughter when she sneaks out to a party and he gets stone drunk. He fights off a policeman that crashes the party, rescues the girl and carries her home. He performs some amazing programming/reading really fast scrolling text thing and fixes a computer that the husband is trying to fix. The family decide he can stay. So boring for those of you that don’t care.
Ya know what? Forget it. Check out the page above and browse around. It's better anyway. Because people pay them to write that stuff...
7.04.2006
Sundry Obscurities
Well, it seems that I’m the only one of our Blogger triumvirate that has decided to break the non-blog streak.
The reason I haven’t been blogging is because I like to shy away from minor but severely irritating problems that do not demand immediate attention. Like the fact that we set up my new notebook computer as a network machine so I could work off of it, and then all my personal settings were thoroughly lost, after having spent days transferring everything to the notebook from my old desktop. I couldn’t get online or check my email, and I’m still trying to find the correct .pst file to run my Outlook account from so that I can have all my settings the way they should be. My music library is still in a bit of a tizzy even after talking to Suzanne (names have been changed) from Wal-Mart’s music download department. She was incredibly helpful and restored all of my licenses since my compy was being too dorky to do it itself.
I’ve also had issues with the newbie compy recognizing ANY device from a USB port. My mouse and keyboard, etc work fine, but the digital camera and MP3 player are immediately recognized as being connected, but instantly “hibernate,” or something on the computer side so that no device can be found. Strange. So that’s what else I’m working on, which means my podcasting is on the fritz until I get that all worked out.
I was at Horse’n’Buggy’s to watch both of the games on Sunday, and was disappointed to see England lose, although the game was a good one. Happy with the results of France’s upset over Brazil.
Too bad Rooney had to come out, though, because that could have been the losing moment for them. I’m not so sure, but even if it wasn’t they STILL could have won if it weren’t for Callagher’s overexcited PK before the whistle. That ruined their chances. It was the last nail in the coffin for the ol’ Brits.
Thrilled with the way Zinedine Zidane and Thierry Henry played to pull it off against the always-favored Brazilians. Enough about soccer, but only after I say that I Dunno and I played last night for quite some time and a good time was had by all. Also that he and I will be making it to H’n’B’s for the Germany/Italy game on Tuesday since I have off work, and that the title Bend It Like Beckham maybe didn’t have anything to do with how ANYONE plays soccer.
Family has been in town, but only until tomorrow. More family (other side) came in last night, and they will be coming and going for probably the next eight weeks or so. Affie and her sister came for GSAM (special Saturday edition) and stayed with H’n’B now that Xoomie is exactly that. ‘Twas a small group, but a good time was had by all.
Nothing else of consequence, except that tomorrow before the Semifinals match I’ll be going to see some of My Favorite People in the World for lunch. Yay me. And again: Yay me.
The reason I haven’t been blogging is because I like to shy away from minor but severely irritating problems that do not demand immediate attention. Like the fact that we set up my new notebook computer as a network machine so I could work off of it, and then all my personal settings were thoroughly lost, after having spent days transferring everything to the notebook from my old desktop. I couldn’t get online or check my email, and I’m still trying to find the correct .pst file to run my Outlook account from so that I can have all my settings the way they should be. My music library is still in a bit of a tizzy even after talking to Suzanne (names have been changed) from Wal-Mart’s music download department. She was incredibly helpful and restored all of my licenses since my compy was being too dorky to do it itself.
I’ve also had issues with the newbie compy recognizing ANY device from a USB port. My mouse and keyboard, etc work fine, but the digital camera and MP3 player are immediately recognized as being connected, but instantly “hibernate,” or something on the computer side so that no device can be found. Strange. So that’s what else I’m working on, which means my podcasting is on the fritz until I get that all worked out.
I was at Horse’n’Buggy’s to watch both of the games on Sunday, and was disappointed to see England lose, although the game was a good one. Happy with the results of France’s upset over Brazil.
Too bad Rooney had to come out, though, because that could have been the losing moment for them. I’m not so sure, but even if it wasn’t they STILL could have won if it weren’t for Callagher’s overexcited PK before the whistle. That ruined their chances. It was the last nail in the coffin for the ol’ Brits.
Thrilled with the way Zinedine Zidane and Thierry Henry played to pull it off against the always-favored Brazilians. Enough about soccer, but only after I say that I Dunno and I played last night for quite some time and a good time was had by all. Also that he and I will be making it to H’n’B’s for the Germany/Italy game on Tuesday since I have off work, and that the title Bend It Like Beckham maybe didn’t have anything to do with how ANYONE plays soccer.
Family has been in town, but only until tomorrow. More family (other side) came in last night, and they will be coming and going for probably the next eight weeks or so. Affie and her sister came for GSAM (special Saturday edition) and stayed with H’n’B now that Xoomie is exactly that. ‘Twas a small group, but a good time was had by all.
Nothing else of consequence, except that tomorrow before the Semifinals match I’ll be going to see some of My Favorite People in the World for lunch. Yay me. And again: Yay me.
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