Have you had your laugh today?

For your delectation and delight, I present to you:

Mystery!

For all of you Americans, yes.  That was House.  Singing rather well.

For the rest of the world, isn't Hugh Laurie amazing?!  I'm kind of sad he doesn't do much comedy anymore because he was great at it.

Now that we have laughed and giggled the world is a better place.  You're welcome.  :)


ps, extra points if you know who the man at the beginning of the clip is!

I'm riding an Antelope

I'm Riding An Antelope
(or, Ode to Shel Silverstein)

I'm riding an Antelope into the sky
I wonder I wonder if we'll truly fly.
Or maybe we'll bound from hill to hill
Forgetting our homes and lives until
My Antelope says, 'I'm done for the day.'
And both of us sleep on top of some hay.

Rocking Bog, Man!

I would like to say a few words.

Forage.

Goggles.

Puzzlement.

Hostage.

Foghorn.

Rocking.

Bog.




Hmm.  I think Rocking Bog would make a great new snynonym for 'cool.'  It just sounds awesome.  Although I think you'd have to say 'rocking bog, man!' for it to gain full effect.

What does it really mean?  People will ask you.  And because I am feeling kind and generous  (and very very tired) I will allow you to make up whatever reason/meaning you like.  Just be creative, that is all I ask.  :)

My Hovercraft Is Full Of Eels

If you are confused by that statement above, be not ashamed.  A very short time ago I was also as ignorant of it, but I can promise you enlightenment if you read further.  

I happened across this phrase I know not where.  It might have been in a movie or a tv show I watched.  It could have been on a blog or in an article I read.  But wherever it was that I heard/read it, the phrase was unexplained and completely inexplicable.  Being curious I looked it up and found far more than I bargained for.

This video will explain.  (and for those of you who need to know what something is before you watch it, it is a Monty Python sketch.  As such it is somewhat naughty.  Just so you know.)

As you can see, the trouble arises from a phrasebook that does not give accurate translations.  Ha.

But as I was learning all about the mysteries of the Dirty Hungarian Phrasebook, I also was made aware of a real life equivalent: 'English As She Is Spoke,' a Portuguese phrasebook which was published in 1883.  Not only does this book actually exist, but its phrases almost surpass the carefully planned idiocy that is the Monty Python sketch.

Here are a few of my favorites.

Help-to a little most the better your terms

Have you forgeted me?

Dress my horse.

Why you no helps me to?

Take the bloom’s perfume.

You hear the bird’s gurgling?

        ‘For A Conversation With A Hair Dresser’

            -Your razors are them well?

            Yes Sir.

            -Comb-me quickly, don’t put me so much pomatum.  What news tell me?  All hair dressers are news-mongers.

            Sir, I have no heard any thing

Who I would be if I was know it!

It is difficult to enjoy well so much several languages

He sin in trouble water

He has a good beak

With a tongue one go to Roma

Take out the live coals with the hand of the cat

Burn the politeness

This wood is full of thief’s

He has spit in my coat

I have mind to vomit

Have you understanded?

Go Here if you would like to read the entire book in all its glory.  

 

And if you didn't laugh a single time while reading that then you must have had your sense of humor surgically removed by angry clowns.  I'm so sorry.

So as I leave you now I must ask, 'Have you understanded?'  For 'It is difficult to enjoy well so much several languages.'

:)

This wood is full of thief's.

Heehee.


(and congrats to me!  This is my 100th blog post!  Whee!!!!)

Wednesday Word: Hornswoggle

Many fine words have fallen by the wayside--rejected and cast off as unsuitable or horribly old fashioned.  Poor unloved words.  Someone still loves you.

So as a community service project I want you to adopt one of these misused and unfortunate orphans of language and bring them into your house and home and allow them their full purpose again.

Orphan number one is Hornswoggle.

Hornswoggle: to get the better of someone by cheating or deception.

Common use: That advertisement is trying to hornswoggle us.  That used car salesman just hornswoggled you.  I've just been hornswoggled by my younger sister who switched out my toothpaste for foot creme.

See?  A very versatile and pleasant word that deserves a little of our care and attention.

So please consider donating a little of your time and energy to the Project for Word Rehabilitation.  Future generations will thank you for keeping this vital section of our culture alive.

Forever Grateful

There are few things better than an evening with friends. 

I had the great fortune to go to a college where I met so many good people and made so many good friends that I don't know if life can get any better than that.  But college ended (as it always does) and the lot of us have scattered across several states and it's rather rare for us to see each other anymore--we who had been so close and practically inseparable. 

But what is taken away is occasionally given back--even if it's just for a short while.  So I was able to spend this evening with three very good friends from my college days; talking and laughing and playing games and generally behaving as if no time at all had passed since we saw each other last.  It didn't matter that our lives had moved on in different directions and with varying successes.  We were still friends, and that's all that mattered.

And I almost won our game of Risk.  Boo-yah!

Poor Despised Cheese

Have you ever wondered about Cottage Cheese?  Before a day or two ago I never had.  And now I feel terrible about it. 

It's all in the name: 'Cottage' cheese.  You can practically hear the emphasis placed on it. 

It's not real cheese, it's only cottage cheese, fit only for cottagers to eat. 

Poor Cottage Cheese.  It's been looked down on all it's life and it never understood why. 

Well I understand you Cottage Cheese.  I get you.  You're all about being delicious and simple.  I'm fine with that. 

Poor scorned cheese.  I will eat you even if no one else will.

Crafts and Cleaning

Every so often I get one of those days where I feel inspired to do everything.

Or else I've just been putting it all off so long that it catches up with me.

Such was today.  :) 

I made a good start on my thread board--although I do believe I'd rather clean a whole gym's worth of toilets before I do a frame again.  They're evil.  Especially because I somehow miscalculated the amount of framing that I needed, so I had to cut my board down to fit the frames that I had.  Grrr.  But a little bit of sandpaper, a lot of glue, and some pretty copper and bronze and burgundy paint--not to mention a whole lotta nails--and I'll have the prettiest thread board ever.  :)  In about a week or so when I finish.

I also made good headway on a shirt re-design that I'm doing.  I was given a plain yellow blouse and I decided to do something interesting with it.  I cut it apart and redid the neckline to look something more like this:

 But without the skirt.  I think it'll be pretty nice when I'm done, so I'll try to post some pictures.

So much for the Crafty part of today.  But since the cleaning part is far less interesting, I will sum up with a few words: my room looks less like a disaster zone than it did.  Yay.  :)



Happy Birthday James MacAvoy!  Keep making fun films!  And even if you don't, yay for the ones you've made!

Are You Ready For An Apocalypse?!

Come on everyone, give it up for the End of the World!!!

Yaaayyyyy!!!!!!

Whether you prefer Ragnarok, Armageddon, Zombie Apocalypse, Nuclear Winter, Robot Apocalypse, or Yawm al-Qiyamah, who cares?  We're all going to die anyway!

Whoo!!

But the question remains---how long will you stay alive?

Will you be one of the unfortunate few who die in the first wave of zombies/bombs/robots/troll wives?  Or will you have the fortitude and preparedness to fight your way to freedom through the hordes of evil creatures that want to kill you?

If you want to take option number two, you should probably look into getting an Apocalypse bag.

An Apocalypse bag you say?  Was ist das?

This is a sturdy bag filled with all the essentials to keep you alive and moderately healthy no matter what the deranged universe tries to send against you.

(normal mundane people might just call it a 'disaster bag.'  Feh.  Mine's an Apocalypse Bag!)

Step number one: acquire a sturdy bag.  It could be a backpack or a shoulder sling--but absolutely no luggage.  There's no way you're outrunning the troll-wives carrying that around.

Step number two: fill said bag with useful stuff.  Like:
--Change of clothes (pants, shirt, underwear)
--Duct tape
--Rope (mine can hold my body weight.  I like this)
--Bungee cords
--Toilet paper (obviously we're going to need this)
--Water Bottles (some full and some waiting to be filled)
--Food (something nice and non-perishable that can live at least a year.  Then you should eat it and start over)
--Pocket knife
--Fire starter
--Compass
--Survival guide
--Medical Kit
--Safety pins
--and other wonderful customizable options!

Step number three: make your bag look like it's already survived an Apocalypse.  Because there's nothing more intimidating than a bag sitting on someone's shoulder that says 'Yeah, I've been there already.  Watch out for the unexpected flame spurts.' No one's going to want to mess with that bag.

Step number four: keep it with you at all times.  (or just in your car.  You know.  You don't want people thinking you're a complete whacko, now do you?)





Happy Birthday to George Takei and Andy Serkis!  All geekdom thanks you for being born!

Hunger

Just watched Hunger on Netflix.  I feel like it was the best bit of actual filmmaking I've seen in a long long time.  Clever and understated, there was actual craft involved in how the camera moved or didn't--how the actors moved or didn't.  There were some long long shots that somehow managed to keep my attention long past when I should have gotten bored--but I didn't.  There were so many undertones involved that I don't think I'll ever catch them all even if I watched and rewatched this movie a hundred times.

Normally this sort of artsy drama would be on the bottom of my 'enjoyed' list, but as it stands right now, I'm giving it high marks.  I feel subtlety and theater tradition dripping all over it and I love it.

All that, and I don't think there was even a whiff of pretension about it.   Just good solid cinema with a point.

What point?  Not sure.  But it was a good one.

Wednesday Words: Fearful or Frightful?

On the most basic level these two words should mean the same thing.

Fearful: full of fear.

Frightful: full of fright (fright is to be afraid, which means you are full of fear)

BUT NO!!

Frightful: full of an attribute that makes others afraid

Wha?

How on earth did frightful get to mean 'scary' instead of 'scared?'

I mean, you'd be willing to say 'I'm a fearful person.'  (maybe)

But I can guarantee there are very few people who'd say 'I'm a frightful person.'  It'd be like you were admitting you ate babies for breakfast and worked for a Drug Overlord.  (Doesn't that sound much cooler than just your plain old Drug Lord?  Drug Overlord is far better).

Now that you are better informed in your language--Go Forth!  Prosper in great numbers!   And teach proper word usage while you prosper!

I Saw Mommy Kissing Robin Hood

Our brains often try to make connections between disparate ideas and events.  I think it's our way of making order out of chaos: of establishing some sort of understanding of the strange and infinite world we live in.

We'll be walking down a street and swear that the person we just saw was an exact twin of someone we knew from High School.  Of course, they're the same exact age as when we last saw them:--but that only means they've miraculously discovered the font of youth, right?

(or its like the time I swear I saw Matt Damon's younger self/cousin at a concert in Boston.  Remember?)

Or it's the feeling of deja vu we get--this happened already, didn't it?

Or it's the feeling of deja vu we get--this happened already, didn't it?

:D

Or maybe sometimes it's two different pieces of music that we swear sound more alike than they should: like Love Goes On from Disney's Robin Hood (listen below) and the Christmas favorite 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.' (also below)

You don't believe me do you?  I'm hurt.  Really hurt.  :)

Humor me for just a moment. 

Did you listen?  Is that not uncanny?

Or perhaps my brain is just struggling to make the world make sense.

Although it's a bit strange it would try to make the world make sense in this way.

Eh.  That's my brain.  :)

Why yes, I *do* look like a pirate adventurer heroine, thank you for noticing

I think clothes are boring.  (pause while everyone tries to understand this statement)

The only point to clothing is to cover nakedness (oh social constructions, where would we be without you) and keep us warm (at least, for those of us in colder climates).

But our world is obsessed with clothing.  So many colors and fashions and cuts and designers and sooo expensive and confusing that I'd far rather wear t-shirts and jeans for the rest of my life.  At least they're comfy.

This isn't exactly a recent problem.  I've always had trouble dressing up for events, even as a child.  I just never see the point.  I'm the same person no matter what clothes I'm wearing.  What's the difference between jeans and a dress?  Well, social constructions, and that's about it.  People get offended when they think you're trying to be insulting by not dressing appropriately for their event.  It's a politeness thing, mostly.  I think. 

I have a hard time reconciling this need to conform to what other people expect from you, with one of those important pieces of advice that adults give children and then are astonished when they actually follow up on it:

It doesn't matter what other people think about you.

What they really meant was that people can be cruel and mean for no good reason and that you can't let them get you down.

What I took it to mean is that for the rest of my life people are going to find something to dislike about me, so I might as well just be myself and find happiness being me.  (not to say that I should try to be offensive to other people.  I do believe in politeness)

So why should I care about what I wear?  I'm far more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than anything else.  Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life in misery whenever a formal event appears?

Nope.  I have a solution! 

It is a good solution.

What is the one place where fashion looks interesting, the place where you go 'I wish I could dress like that.' 

The movies!

And guess what?  You can dress like that!

This is how I make myself enjoy dressing up.  I just imagine that I'm dressing up for a movie and suddenly my life becomes a whole lot more interesting. 

Have to wear business attire to work?  Don't be the middle-aged woman in an ill-fitting suit who you know owns five cats.  Be the fun quirky middle-aged woman who looks half her age because she wears strange bits of bright colors along with her formal attire.  Or you can be the good looking secretary.  No one ever said business attire had to make you look like you're wearing a really well made sack.

Have to go to a formal/semi-formal party?  You are now in a Bond film and your job is to look as good as possible in high heels and a backless dress and cool eyeshadow.

Are you confronted by an unseasonably hot day and you know you'll have to spend some time outdoors but you're worried for your pale complexion because you hate sunburns?  (or maybe this one's just for me)  Congratulations!  Your closet can supply this need!  Wear a ridiculously light long green skirt and a 3/4 sleeve white peasant neck shirt.  Then top it off with a wide black belt around the waist and your evenstar necklace.  (wait, you do all have one of these, right?)  Voila!  You are now a pirate adventurer heroine and can save the world and steal lots of gold all without having to get a sunburn. 

Just pretend you're in a movie and suddenly everything you do takes on an air of glamor.  And even if your outfit isn't perfect for the situation you're in, as long as you're happy and feeling good about yourself who cares what everyone else thinks?  ;)

Remove

Awakened sunlight streaming roses into cheeks pale with sleep.
A heavy head holds down a pillow.
Inhaled by darkness, golden breath frees dust motes to dance--
Dance.

Curl your arm around your head and dream no more of opened eyes and clothing spread upon a chair where mingled shadows urge duality--sleep/wake.  Sleep Wake.

Colors!

So I said yesterday that I got a lot of thread.  I believe the number 101 was used in jest.

155.  No jest.  I counted.

But what to do with it all?  I can't just leave it spread all over my floor like it is now.  (so pretty!)

After countless hours wading through the Internet (one page of searching) I have found my answer.

Tada!

This lovely lady posted a very helpful tutorial Here. 

Is it not perfect?  All you need is a bit of peg board and some dowels and lots of wood glue.  The pretty trim on the sides is optional, but it may be hard to resist adding such squee-ness. 

And since I love having things in order, I'm making plans to make sure my threads will be organized by color.  Even the ugly ones.  I mean, I know a lot of this thread is old (50 years, some of it) but it pains me to see the 'avocado puke' color on a spool. 

(leetle blurry, but my camera was not made for extreme close ups)


Seriously?  Someone thought this was a good idea for a color?  And what on earth am I going to do with prom dress pink? 

Or Easter Rabbit purple? 

Search me.  But there is such a lovely collection of greens (emerald!)

and blues (all the colors of a monochromatic rainbow!)

and I'm sure I'll eventually have to used that greige color for something.  Maybe the next time I make a peasants outfit out of burlap.

Day of 101 Threads

Today was a long day.  Atypically for me, I actually went to work.  (yay getting paid!)  I was helping a friend of the family clean out certain parts of their house that hadn't been cleaned out for years.  In the specific case of their laundry room, it was 12 years.

It was a very long day.

The morning dawned bright and clear as our hero (heroine just makes me sound like a druggie) sallied forth to do righteous battle in the dark and gloomy cave of The Laundry Room.  Verily she stepped over heaps and mounds that had been left by the locals who had ceased trying to plumb its depths and now only threw more on top in order to appease The Laundry Room.  The piles resisted our hero's footsteps but she was armed with the shovel of Hard Work and armored with the breastplate of Persistence.

Hours passed whereupon the hero could be seen ferrying armfuls out of The Laundry Room--and she was mocked for it.  For if she were to carry all the piles out of The Laundry Room, would not the place where she carried them become a new Laundry Room?  But our hero was not dismayed.  She insisted on following the principles of 'throw it away if you haven't used it in ages,' and 'everything must be organized.'

Our hero grew weary but the task was still not done.  She began to bring the contents of The Laundry Room back inside it, and lo, the locals were afraid she would never reappear.  But even as the light heralds the dawn, so the sound of the vacuum cleaner heralded the end of the domination of The Laundry Room.  At long last the hero emerged triumphant and allowed the locals to do homage to her and shower her with many gifts.

And that is exactly how it happened.

Some of the gifts that I was showered with (ow ow ow ow) were part of the collection of the mother of the owner of the house.  She had been a dressmaker and the family still had a lot of her sewing supplies.  Most of them were given to me--and I couldn't say enough thank yous.  And although my post title says there were 101 threads, I actually have no idea how many are in the bag I brought home.  Probably less than 101.

But as my Bubby always says: Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

:)



UPDATE:  I've done some counting, and in total I have 155 new spools of thread.  Where on earth am I going to put you all...

Wednesday Word: Matzicle

Get your Matzicles!  Get your Matzicles!  Fresh Matzicles!  Cold Matzah balls!  Onna stick!  It's a Matzicle, get your Matzicle!

Yep.  I just made a new word.  And it's awesome.  Nearly as awesome as what it's describing, but only nearly.

For those of you who have been deprived all your life of Matzah balls--I'm so very sorry--a Matzah ball is most comparable to a soup dumpling.  Only better.  And made with Matzah meal instead of flour.  (here is an explanation of Matzah)

Normally people eat it in soup. 

Personally I think it tastes good even without the soup. 

How to Make a Matzah Ball

2 1/2 tbsp Butter
2 Eggs
3/4 cup of Matzah Meal
1/2 cup of Water
1 tsp Salt
dash of pepper

How to Make an Adventurous Matzah Ball

Add a Dash of Onion Powder
Add a Dash of Garlic
Add Chicken Flavoring
Add Minced Caramelized Onions

Form into small balls and boil in a pot for half an hour


How to Make a Matzicle

Stab a Matzah ball with a fork and eat it with more than normal delight.

:)

I now suggest you all go forth and learn how to make Matzah balls.  They're very very easy even for the cooking challenged, so you have no excuse.  No excuse for you!


It's a Matzicle, get your Matzicle!

Children of Dune

(as I was writing that, I kept wanting to write 'Children of Doom' instead.  Has a bit of something, doesn't it?  It would either be a heartbreaking drama about bad life decisions, or a very strange sequel to the Doom movie.  hee)

Back on topic.

More of my time has been sucked away into the black hole that is a television mini-series!  Yay!  (I find it hard to seriously object to the time-sucking when the aforementioned mini-series has a very young James McAvoy)

How is this not excellent?

This is the first time I ever saw McAvoy act (or knew he existed) and it was only two years later that Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe came out.  I remember hearing the casting choice for him as Tumnus and my first instinct was--'but he's young!' while my second reaction was 'But he's good.' 

Honestly, my favorite parts of that movie include him and little Georgie Henley.  They made that movie special and magical and non-creepy.  I have friends who say that in the old BBC version they always got a child molester vibe off of Tumnus.  I say grrr to them in reply, but they do have a slight point.  (go here if you want to hear me talk about the BBC Narnia)

Back to Children of Dune.  (Doom!)  It's the continuation of the Dune miniseries that was produced in 2000, and while it has a higher budget it doesn't have all the same actors and actresses who played the same roles, so that's a bit of a bummer.  But the important people are still the same, and we get a couple of new faces who do credit to their characters. 

For the readers of the Frank Herbert books (the few, the proud) the Children of Dune mini-series is actually the combination of Dune Messiah and Children of Dune.  As such it glosses over a lot of material but still manages to get the essence of the story.

It's been 8 years since I first saw CoD.  I had just watched an all day marathon of Dune that Sci-Fi had run, and at the end of it there was the first part of the CoD series.  I was entranced.  The story, the characters--it was all amazingly intertwined and complex.  I had to wait for the rest of the series to come out over the next two weeks (only a three part series) and let me tell you, that was some difficult waiting.  Possibly because I tend to get wrapped up in a story.

For this reason I love this modern age of ours.  We have Netflix and instant viewing etc etc etc so we have the opportunity to watch tv shows all the way through instead of having to wait week by week with the agony of possibly missing an episode and never being able to see it again.  Yay!

What can I say about CoD?  Well, it only really works if you've seen Dune--at least, in my opinion.  The music is beautiful (I own the soundtrack) and perfect and most of the acting hovers above the acceptable line, with only a couple occasional hilarious dips below.  ('So I tell you to summon wooorrms!')  And McAvoy is talented so therefore all is well.

But if any of you are at all inspired by my recommendations to watch it, keep in mind the fact that my Suspenders of Disbelief are very large and sturdy and that I like to approach everything I watch with a mind towards enjoying it in the way it was intended to be enjoyed.  (the following examples are not intended to be a commentary on the Dune or CoD series) Flimsy scenery?  Just use a bit more imagination (like in the Theater).  Bad SFX?  Use more imagination.  Bad script?  The story is still good.  Bad acting?  Well--that's less forgivable.  But if everyone is having a good time who cares?  I watch movies and tv shows to enjoy them, not to get all angry about how they aren't perfect.


A very happy Birthing Day to Haley Joel Osment (you're all grown up!) and Max Von Sydow (you grew up a long time ago!).  Many happy returns.

I've discovered my new favorite sport

And you'll never guess what it is!

But you should try anyway.  Three guesses.

Nope.

Nope.

And certainly not that either.  :)

What is it? 

Cheese Rolling! 

The rules are basic.  Find a tall dangerously steep hill.  Roll a wheel of cheese down it and chase it.  First man to either catch the cheese or cross the finish line wins. 

I am sensing that some of you don't think this is a real sport.

Proof!

I suggest we form a league here in the states.  It will be far more interesting than golf, for a certainty. 

What does God Cheese taste like?

Oftentimes I wonder how certain things were ever discovered.  The really really basic things, like whipped cream, butter, and cheese.  Before we knew they existed, who wanted to randomly take oodles of time and spend it sloshing milk around until something happened?  Sounds like a daft idea to me.  But somewhere along the way cream and cheese and butter were discovered.  How?

I asked my Dad this question and he answered that maybe God told the first people how to make cheese.  Good notion, but it makes me inconceivably sad.  Because somewhere along the way we've lost the recipe for God cheese, which was surely the most awesomely tasty cheese that ever existed. 

Friday Apology

Drat it, I've really got to stop this from becoming a habit. 

But you see, yesterday was the first night of Passover, and that's a pretty big deal in my family.  We all get together and eat lots of food and talk about how grateful we are that we aren't slaves in Egypt anymore. 

Sounds simple, right?

Not right.

Number one, we don't live very close, so we have to make a trip to get together.  Number two, when I say lots of food, I mean Jewish quantities of food--as in, it's not a feast unless there's food enough for three times the amount of people who are there.  Number three, the Haggadah.  This directs the Passover Seder and you read through it to commemorate what happened those thousands of years ago.  Only we seem to talk less about the actual story, and more about arguing over obscure passages and what basic words mean.  (very Jewish)

Don't misunderstand me: I am all for Passover.  I appreciate the idea of having a holiday that remembers what happened to my people thousands of years ago.  I'm grateful that I'm not a slave in Egypt.  I'm grateful to be alive. 

I'm less grateful to be participating in what I call 'Jewish Algebra' every year. 

The part of the Haggadah I most object to is where Talmudic scholars argue about how many plagues God sent against Egypt.  For those of you with a smattering of bible knowledge, you know that the answer is 10.  Apparently the Talmudic scholars couldn't leave it there--they were Jewish and had to argue about everything--because there's a three page section talking about 'the finger of God' sending ten plagues, so therefore when the 'Hand of God' shows up, it must mean at least fifty plagues--and so on and so on, until we could possibly end up with the Egyptians suffering from 250 plagues. 

Now, if you are interested in what various scholars throughout time thought of the Passover, this is a mildly interesting section. 

However, do we have to read this same passage every year?  It doesn't really add to the miracle of Passover (whether God sent 10 plagues or 250, we still got out of there) and it seems like the Talmudic scholars are just trying to play 'God Loves Us Best Because He Sent Even More Plagues Against The Egyptians.'  Yes Talmudic scholars, the Jews are the Chosen People.  What exactly made God choose us, however, is up for grabs.  (personally I think it was because we're the most stubborn and argumentative people on the planet.  God knew that if he could just get the basic rules through our thick skulls we'd never ever forget them)  So please stop wallowing in your self-importance. 

Was that a bit harsh?  Maybe.  But perhaps I just have trouble fake-arguing the same points every year just for the sake of tradition.  Not that I'm against tradition.  I just like my tradition to mean something more than a forced recitation of centuries old arguments. 

Dre-e-e-e-eam, dream dream dream dream dre-e-e-e-eam....

So I had a dream last night. 

I know, right?  Amazing.

But unlike most nights where I dream, this one made me feel really uneasy waking up.  I felt like the dream had sunk dream-claws into my shoulders and was using me to tow itself around and freak me out.

What was this dream, you ask?  I tell you.

I'm in a throne room.  Maybe.  It's got a throne in it, and a King, so that qualifies, I guess.  But the decor is more stone-and-statues than oh-my-goodness-the-french-say-gold-chrome-is-in-this-year.  (Gilt all the things!)  So I'm talking to this guy/King and he's a little odd, and somewhere in the back of my mind I'm thinking he's Crazy King George of England so that makes sense (duh) and then I get even further proof when he starts talking to statues and skipping around etc.  Only the problem is, is that I can see the statues talk back and move and argue with him.  But I know he's Crazy King George so these are just his hallucinations---

BUT WHY AM I SEEING CRAZY KING GEORGE'S HALLUCINATIONS!!???!!!
(cap-locks are a necessity)

And then it gets even weirder as Crazy King George and one of his hallucinations start dancing around in an  acid trip version of Mary Poppins 'I love to laugh.'

And then I wake up, feeling really disturbed that I'd dreamed about someone else's hallucinations.  But then it got worse when I realized that if Crazy King George was a product of my mind, then technically all his hallucinations were mine too.

I am now slightly terrified of my brain. 

And I am never ever ever taking drugs.  'shudder.'

Wednesday Word: Murgatroyd

For all of you fascinated readers who are looking at your screens in confusion: no, Murgatroyd is not a word.  Spellcheck keeps trying to insist that I mean purgatory.  And as a point of interest, spellcheck does not recognize itself as a word.  Ha.

I do wish to raise the question however: Is a name a word?  Names qualify as nouns, and nouns are words, so are names words?  Not in the conventional sense, I know, but do they qualify? 

For the purpose of me having something to write a blog about, I will arbitrarily say yes.  :)

Murgatroyd!

It's a name!  Not a very common one, though, although I think it should get a comeback soon.  Mostly because it sounds like a 50 foot tall destroyer robot.

'Look out!  It's the Murgatroyd!!!!!'
'Aieee!!'
'Aaaaahhhh!!'
cue lots more screaming and running away.
someone gets stepped on.
laser eyes blow up a house.

You know, all the standard destroyer robot stuff. 

And even if the kid hates being called an awesome destroyer robot name, there's even a good nickname: Troy.  Troy's pretty solid as names go, and it's not overused either. 

That's it.  It's settled.  One of you must now go out and name one of your future children Murgatroyd.  Preferably a boy.  It would just be too cruel to saddle a girl with that name.

And Happy Birth Day to Hugo Weaving and Robert Downey Jr!  You make fun movies!  Thanks!

But on a slightly sadder note, if we could all take a moment to remember our favorite Heath Ledger movie, because today was also his birthday.  We miss you, Heath.  

I've reached my Media-Life Crisis

They say it happens to us all eventually.  Some people can feel it coming and get all sorts of agitated about it and do everything they can to stave it off.  Other people know it's coming and just resign themselves to their fate.  And others have it come upon them so suddenly that honestly it's a bit of a shock. 

But what to do about it?  Buying a red Ferrari won't help.  Dressing up in age-inappropriate outfits won't make a bit of a difference.  Even getting into a fool-hardy relationship won't make me feel any better. 

Because it's happened, you see.  I've reached my Media-Life Crisis.  It's that moment when you realize that the actors and actresses on the screen of the movie theater or the tv are starting to be younger than you. 

How did this happen?  I'm not that old--I don't even qualify as anywhere near old.  But it's--it's like age is gaining on me in the form of younger people.  All my life I've looked up to actors and actresses/their characters, because they could do things I couldn't.  Whether it was fight off terrorists, blow up the Death Star, or leap tall buildings with the help of lots of special effects, they were something to admire.  If only because they got to make ridiculously large amounts of money for doing as a job what I did with my stuffed animals: make up stories.

But it was all right, you know?  They were all older than me, all adults, so it was okay.  Adults were always doing things that I couldn't.  And there's that certain sort of maturity that Adults get to carry around with them that I've always found very likable. 

But how do I cope with actors who are younger than me?  I mean, they're still doing awesome things on screen and I do admire them for their abilities and chosen profession--but--but--they're younger. 

Maybe it's just the way my mind works, but I like to put myself into the story.  (as a reader it's nearly automatic).  I like to imagine I'm one of the participants--or at least an invisible sidekick who's involved.  It allows me to live vicariously through the characters (which is kind of the point of the movies) and feel what they feel for the same understandable reasons.  But it feels kind of creepy to me when the people I'm vicariously living through are 5-7 years younger.  It feels like I'm approaching 'dirty old man' syndrome.  Even though I'm not a man.  And I bathe regularly, I swear.

I suppose the only thing I can do is go back and watch my favorite Disney movies until I feel better.  And try not the think about the fact that Prince Phillip is only 21 years old.

Monday Musing: Patience

‘Never pray for patience.’  

Did you ever receive this advice?  I remember hearing it as a child—and when I asked ‘Why not?’  I was told something like, ‘because all that will happen are situations guaranteed to make you impatient.’

Being a sensible child, can you guess the one thing I never prayed for?  Absolutely right: Patience.  If that was all it took to keep life sailing smoothly, why invite disaster?  Life was already full of things to feel impatient about.  Long car drives.  Waiting at all the places that we drove to.  Waiting for the adults to stop talking.  Waiting to go home.  Waiting for dinner.  Waiting for dessert.  Waiting for summer vacation.  Waiting for Christmas.  Waiting for birthdays.  Waiting to grow old enough so that I could stop waiting.

I hate to break the news to any young readers, but I still haven’t been able to stop waiting.  I just wait for different things now and since I am an adult, I’m not allowed to jump up and down and whine about them.  Bummer.  I could use a good bit of whining. 

Couldn’t we all?  Life just seems to get harder and harder and our only recourse is our least favorite advice: be patient.  Patient?  Patient?!  How much more patient do I need to be?  Will that really solve my problems, being patient?  No.  But I suspect it’ll make everyone’s lives around me a lot easier.  But is that the only reason we should be patient: because it is a social construct?

When you were a kid, what was the best part of Christmas?  The presents?  The food/candy?  (seeing relatives is more of an adult joy, but we’ll give it an honorable mention).  I’ll admit that for me it was always the presents.  I was one greedy little child and I loved being given things.  At some point however, I realized that presents weren’t living up to my expectations anymore.  Not that they still weren’t wonderful—they just weren’t as wonderful as I always wanted them to be.  There was no perfect present that could keep me interested and happy to match the amount of time that I spent anticipating the presents I received.  It dawned on me that I was enjoying the idea of Christmas far more than the reality of it. 

Perhaps this should have ruined Christmas for me.  But for some strange reason I think I started enjoying Christmas even more.  Christmas and my Birthday, to the sometimes amusement and sometimes over-patient bemusement of my parents.  Because now that I knew the real fun was in anticipation, I made sure to milk as much anticipation as possible.  I would start counting down months in advance of my birthday, getting a thrill of glee each time I said the words:

‘Dad, Dad, guess what?’

‘What?’  (imagine a world weary exasperated sigh)

‘It’s 89 days till my birthday!’

‘Oh, wow, is it?’

Seriously, best Dad ever.  He plays along with me every year. :)

Hold on a minute, though.  We were talking about patience: is anticipation really the same thing?  Could you have one without the other?  You can anticipate something with impatience, as well as with patience, so maybe not.  But I think that anticipation is far more fun if you’re at least a little patient.  Impatience ruins the fun of it, because you can’t enjoy the moment when you’re impatient.  You’re always looking ahead, looking for the big thing coming up; and you miss what’s right there in front of you.  Whereas if you are (at least mostly) patiently anticipating something, you never lose sight of the excitement that will be, while still maintaining enjoyment of the now. 

I believe it is a grand thing to enjoy ‘what will be’ before it happens, because no matter what happens after, you just spent so much time being happy about it that even if the moment doesn’t live up to expectations you had all that time enjoying it already. 

One day of a good Birthday still equals only one day.

Three months of anticipating that Birthday equals three months of happiness.

Mmm, good math.

But this idea of waiting for the good things in life seems to have faded out of style along with poodle skirts and mullets.  We are the instantaneous generation.  We have our computers and our iphones (or droids/blackberries/etc) at our fingertips constantly: we are never out of touch with the rest of the world.  Have a question?  Just consult the internet, you’ll find the answer in less than five minutes.  There’s no more waiting, isn’t that great?  I don’t know.

I don’t mean to sound down on modern technology.  I love my computer.  I love the internet.  Cell phones are great.  Having all the knowledge you could ever want at your fingertips can be thrilling.  All the things we can think!

But—

But.

What is it doing to us?  What are the consequences?  Do we care?

I do.  Call me old fashioned, but if I’m taking the time to be with a friend, I don’t want them to be ignoring me in favor of their cell phone, no matter how many texts they’re getting or posts on their facebook wall.  We’re never truly ‘with’ people anymore, because we’re carrying around the entire world with us wherever we go. 

Everything is getting faster.  (people keep saying that, I know, I know).  We don’t even take the time to speak full words anymore: why do that when you can say everything with a couple letters?  Lol.  Rofl.  Asap.  Brb.  G2g.  We don’t even have the patience to think anymore.  Thinking takes too much time; the world is moving too fast for us to think about it.  Have to keep up!

We have lost the art of waiting.  We have lost the ability to be patient when nothing is happening.  In some ways it’s not our fault—not anyone’s fault.  Our world moves so fast we never have the time to be impatient with the dead space because there’s so little of it.  But when there is that five second gap—hoowee.  The long and short is that we panic.  We don’t know what to do with silence, because the only thing that’s there other than silence…is us.  And if we’ve never had the time to get to know ourselves and be comfortable with who we are…man, that is one awkward silence.  Even worse than an office party.

The reason I object to our fastfastfast culture is that it takes away our ability to be.  Be what?  Be ourselves mostly.  People complain and complain about how shallow our culture is—newsflash, a culture is defined by its people, and we are shallow people.  We’ve never been taught how to be anything else.  We’ve never had the time to be anything else. 

But we could.  We really could be so much better than we are.  But it all starts with waiting, with patience, with anticipation.  With time.  And above all, a little bit of silence.