Happy 23rd kids! This one kind of snuck up on me to tell the truth, but in spite of the fact that my mind has been awash with Greek and Japanese words for a solid 4 weeks straight, I shall fulfill my vow! (I think that may be the first time I've used two consecutive exclamation marks since 3rd grade)
Jingo. No, it's not a Star Wars character, a tribe from New Guinea, or some newfangled file-sharing program. Jingo is an actual word, used to refer to hardcore war activists in politics (you can probably tell I've been reading a lot of military history books lately). I think one of the reasons I find myself drawn to jingo is that the word does absolutely nothing to give you a hint at its meaning. Thanks to Latin and Greek I can usually make a pretty good go of interpreting unfamiliar words on the fly, but jingo resulted in one of those frustrating trips to the bookshelf to rummage through the dictionary. Now I try to use it as often as possible simply for the strange looks I get when people think I just made a reference to a voodoo spell.
Σαυρωτήρ. Keeping to things military, sauroter (writing Greek words in English is surprisingly difficult——I blame the letter rho) is a fun little term used to describe the counterweight/butt-spike at the end of a Greek hoplite's spear. But why in the world would I choose something as mundane as butt-spike? Why don't we break it down. Sauros may look familiar to some of you because it's the Greek word for lizard (from dinosaur fame), but when you put it together with -oter, you get 'lizard killer.' Yes, that's right, lizard killer. Never in the history of pointy objects have I found a name quite so awesome. Consider yourself officially supplied with a piece of completely useless information.
Viridian. I don't know if we've quite broached my love of the color green and its associates, but I'm putting it out there now. Green is the greatest color ever, and if you try to argue with me I will fight you, win, and then rub your face in the greenest patch of grass I can find. But I digress. Viridian may seem to be just another one of those obnoxious words used to define variable shades of a basic color (e.g. cerulean, cinnabar, saffron, fuchsia, celadon) and to name towns in Pokémon. While viridian's main function is to denote the color green, it comes from the Latin verb vireo, which means to be green. No adjective required here folks, the entire concept of existing in a state of greenness is all denoted by one word. Awesome would be a good description.
Sobriquet. Let's face it——nickname is not that great of a term. Sobriquet (pronounced soo-brih-kay, I've heard some pretty creative pronunciations in my time) on the other hand, even if it comes from a random French term that means 'a tap under the chin,' is so much more stylish. Alias, pseudonym, incognito——none of them quite reach the level of smoothness contained in sobriquet. Have you been pegged with a mildly embarrassing nickname? Now you can garnish it with a dash of style by coupling it with sobriquet! "Yeah, my name is Charles, but I tend to go by the sobriquet Chuck. Old Carlos Norris got the idea from me..."
Monday, May 23, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Because He IS my co-pilot...
My original game plan was for the last post to act as a short introduction to this one. It appears, however, that my penchant for verbosity has won through yet again and as such, I offer you the unprecedented treat of two posts in one night! (Though I promise this one will be much more fun and won't sound like the introduction to a Dashboard Confessional song).
I've been attempting to sell my car lately, which has been quite an experience (thank you universe for the oh-so-timely earthquake that ruined millions of lives and the Japanese car market). It's times like these when I'm focused on a given activity that I notice a sort of hyper-attention for the subject matter. As a result, I have officially become one of those people who gets distracted on the road by someone's vehicle and knocks on the windows of parked cars to ask drivers how they like their choice of automobile. That sentence made me really aware of the strange element of English style that discourages word repetition.
So I notice cars a lot more. A lot more. In all of my perusing one thing has puzzled me to no end——why do so many people deface their cars with strange stickers and, worst of all, vanity license plates?
I know you may feel special, but trust me, vanity license plates are never a good idea. All vanity plates will do one (or sometimes both) of two things: either they reveal that you are a tasteless sod, or they contain some sort of inside joke that you and about 5 other people understand and which will undoubtedly elicit a fair amount of confused questioning. For good measure, check this out and consider yourself discouraged.
You may feel like a real team player with your Prius sporting its Apple logo and "Coexist" bumper sticker. That's fine. I really don't think that it helps out your credibility when you drive like a douchebag and flip people off in traffic though. Maybe get a bumper banner that says something to the effect of "Let's save the earth and be religiously tolerant, but all bets are of when that light turns green!"
I understand that you must be passionate about your second amendment rights, but is it really necessary to have two NRA stickers in your window? I would think the deer carcass in the pickup bed and gun rack in the rear window would've gotten the message across, but you are the expert I suppose.
Am I to suppose the two big turtles/bear paws/stick figures followed by five little turtles/bear paws/stick figures in your rear window are used to indicate the number of people in your family? Oh, and you've even taken the liberty of printing their names underneath in some fun, cutesy font. That's nice. Why don't you just print your address, phone number, and a list of your greatest fears in the opposite corner to give the road-ragers and serial killers a complete package? And while you've got that middle finger up, might I recommend a "Coexist" bumper sticker? They really make a statement I hear...
I've been attempting to sell my car lately, which has been quite an experience (thank you universe for the oh-so-timely earthquake that ruined millions of lives and the Japanese car market). It's times like these when I'm focused on a given activity that I notice a sort of hyper-attention for the subject matter. As a result, I have officially become one of those people who gets distracted on the road by someone's vehicle and knocks on the windows of parked cars to ask drivers how they like their choice of automobile. That sentence made me really aware of the strange element of English style that discourages word repetition.
So I notice cars a lot more. A lot more. In all of my perusing one thing has puzzled me to no end——why do so many people deface their cars with strange stickers and, worst of all, vanity license plates?
I know you may feel special, but trust me, vanity license plates are never a good idea. All vanity plates will do one (or sometimes both) of two things: either they reveal that you are a tasteless sod, or they contain some sort of inside joke that you and about 5 other people understand and which will undoubtedly elicit a fair amount of confused questioning. For good measure, check this out and consider yourself discouraged.
You may feel like a real team player with your Prius sporting its Apple logo and "Coexist" bumper sticker. That's fine. I really don't think that it helps out your credibility when you drive like a douchebag and flip people off in traffic though. Maybe get a bumper banner that says something to the effect of "Let's save the earth and be religiously tolerant, but all bets are of when that light turns green!"
I understand that you must be passionate about your second amendment rights, but is it really necessary to have two NRA stickers in your window? I would think the deer carcass in the pickup bed and gun rack in the rear window would've gotten the message across, but you are the expert I suppose.
Am I to suppose the two big turtles/bear paws/stick figures followed by five little turtles/bear paws/stick figures in your rear window are used to indicate the number of people in your family? Oh, and you've even taken the liberty of printing their names underneath in some fun, cutesy font. That's nice. Why don't you just print your address, phone number, and a list of your greatest fears in the opposite corner to give the road-ragers and serial killers a complete package? And while you've got that middle finger up, might I recommend a "Coexist" bumper sticker? They really make a statement I hear...
Thursday, May 19, 2011
As a manner of explanation...
So I realize that I have failed miserably in my promise to be more constant in my blogging during these weeks of blessed reprieve from scheduled, graded schooling. For that, I apologize. However much I've been avoiding it for untold weeks though, it's time for us to level kids.
My relationship with blogging has been a strange one. When this first started nearly two years ago on a night much like tonight, the chief reason for my writing was for expressive purposes. At any given moment I have at least two or three good rants stewing in my head, and this blog was a great medium in which I could give these rants substance and allow them to be viewed and enjoyed by others. As time went on, school and life got in the way, and it was difficult at times to find topics of suitable levity that I could use here. I suppose we've broken that one a few times, but for the most part seriousness and gravity have not been drawing points in this neighborhood.
Then came the great surge of Fall 2010——I know, it was a good time for all of us. Topics fell from the proverbial tree like plump, over-ripened fruit and I like to think that fun was had by all. It wasn't until I sat down about a month ago and really tried to write something again that I realized it's all different now. As it turns out, though I didn't recognize it at the time, I was writing for someone.
That someone has since moved on to greener pastures, and for some reason it seems that the creative spark has gone with them. Thankfully, I have good friends who aren't afraid to act as lighter fluid, so here's to recapturing the magic...
My relationship with blogging has been a strange one. When this first started nearly two years ago on a night much like tonight, the chief reason for my writing was for expressive purposes. At any given moment I have at least two or three good rants stewing in my head, and this blog was a great medium in which I could give these rants substance and allow them to be viewed and enjoyed by others. As time went on, school and life got in the way, and it was difficult at times to find topics of suitable levity that I could use here. I suppose we've broken that one a few times, but for the most part seriousness and gravity have not been drawing points in this neighborhood.
Then came the great surge of Fall 2010——I know, it was a good time for all of us. Topics fell from the proverbial tree like plump, over-ripened fruit and I like to think that fun was had by all. It wasn't until I sat down about a month ago and really tried to write something again that I realized it's all different now. As it turns out, though I didn't recognize it at the time, I was writing for someone.
That someone has since moved on to greener pastures, and for some reason it seems that the creative spark has gone with them. Thankfully, I have good friends who aren't afraid to act as lighter fluid, so here's to recapturing the magic...
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Of Demons, Jews, and Man-eating Cyclopes...
The finish line is in sight! I hope everyone has enjoyed this week's posts. I've enjoyed writing them and sharing just a few of my favorite things——perhaps one day we can chat about smells, art deco, The Oxford Classical Dictionary, and cute girls with freckles. But not tonight. To finish this week of enjoyment off properly there's only one thing we can discuss. Books.
I could gush for numberless pages about how much I love books, how sad it is that books are dying (yes, I hate the Kindle and its ilk and I really don't care about how convenient it is), and how much more enriched and colorful is the life of a person that reads. Perhaps some of you might want to hear that, but not tonight. In keeping with the buffet-style samplings of the past few posts, tonight I present to you some of my personal favorites from the past year or so.
Faust. Goethe's Faust is one of the finest works of Western literature. Period. Argue with me all you like, but I will win. The second half isn't quite as much of a winner, especially if you're not up to par with your Greek & Roman mythology, but the first half alone more than makes up for the price of admission. Obviously I've never read this in German, but the beauty of the sentiments expressed in Faust's journey and what Goethe ultimately has to say about humanity and Christianity are priceless.
Odyssey. You know we couldn't make it through a favorite book list without encountering at least one of Homer's epics. I just finished a class in which we read a few books of the Odyssey in Greek and I've read it enough times in English that I can assuredly say it rocks. Say what you will about long-windedness, the story of Odysseus' journey home is masterfully constructed and beautifully told in vivid, gripping language that has been imitated but never matched (that's right Vergilians——I went there). While it is a simple adventure story, there's so much depth to be found in Odysseus' behavior and flaws (because he's kind of a douche bag) that it doesn't take much examination for one to realize what a beautiful——and truly epic——commentary it presents on the human experience.
Ex Libris. I was given this as a birthday gift recently by my adroitly perceptive friend Jourdan and have loved every page. Though the author, Anne Fadiman, is a tad pretentious with all of her not-so-subtle references to British literature and use of obscure words (you can probably see why we get along), she still writes a batch of mean essays that any lover of books and writing will inhale with glee. She even dedicates a chapter to sentimentality and fountain pens. Essentially it's a much better version of my blog written by a woman. And it's even green.
The Sabbath: Its Meaning For Modern Man. Abraham Joshua Heschel is one of my favorite people of all time and a definite contender on the list of dead people I would want to spend a few hours chatting with. His book on the Sabbath is probably one of the most beautiful things I've ever read, religious or secular, and completely changed the way I look at God, Sunday, and my relationship with the universe in general. It takes quite a book to do even one of those, but all three in 93 pages?! We're entering miracle territory.
"He who wants to enter the holiness of the day must first lay down the profanity of clattering commerce, of being yoked to toil. He must go away from the screech of dissonant days, from the nervousness and fury of acquisitiveness and the betrayal in embezzling his own life. He must say farewell to manual work and learn to understand that the world has already been created and will survive without the help of man. Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world, on the seventh day we try to dominate the self."
The Great Gatsby. No list of favorite books is complete without Gatsby. I love this book for so many reasons, such to the point that I habitually read it about every six months in order to renew and magnify my appreciation. Lately I've hypothesized that it may actually just be my form of self-therapy. In any case, this book not only bathes the reader in the imagery of the 1920s, one of the greatest periods in history (never mind what it caused), but it also provides fantastic commentary on life as led by a number of different people. In reading it, I've come to grips with my own social anxieties, gained a greater understanding of my relationship with my father (something every child needs to do at some point——Sigmund Freud be damned), and was initially impelled to start this blog. Go team...
I could gush for numberless pages about how much I love books, how sad it is that books are dying (yes, I hate the Kindle and its ilk and I really don't care about how convenient it is), and how much more enriched and colorful is the life of a person that reads. Perhaps some of you might want to hear that, but not tonight. In keeping with the buffet-style samplings of the past few posts, tonight I present to you some of my personal favorites from the past year or so.
Faust. Goethe's Faust is one of the finest works of Western literature. Period. Argue with me all you like, but I will win. The second half isn't quite as much of a winner, especially if you're not up to par with your Greek & Roman mythology, but the first half alone more than makes up for the price of admission. Obviously I've never read this in German, but the beauty of the sentiments expressed in Faust's journey and what Goethe ultimately has to say about humanity and Christianity are priceless.
Odyssey. You know we couldn't make it through a favorite book list without encountering at least one of Homer's epics. I just finished a class in which we read a few books of the Odyssey in Greek and I've read it enough times in English that I can assuredly say it rocks. Say what you will about long-windedness, the story of Odysseus' journey home is masterfully constructed and beautifully told in vivid, gripping language that has been imitated but never matched (that's right Vergilians——I went there). While it is a simple adventure story, there's so much depth to be found in Odysseus' behavior and flaws (because he's kind of a douche bag) that it doesn't take much examination for one to realize what a beautiful——and truly epic——commentary it presents on the human experience. The Sabbath: Its Meaning For Modern Man. Abraham Joshua Heschel is one of my favorite people of all time and a definite contender on the list of dead people I would want to spend a few hours chatting with. His book on the Sabbath is probably one of the most beautiful things I've ever read, religious or secular, and completely changed the way I look at God, Sunday, and my relationship with the universe in general. It takes quite a book to do even one of those, but all three in 93 pages?! We're entering miracle territory. "He who wants to enter the holiness of the day must first lay down the profanity of clattering commerce, of being yoked to toil. He must go away from the screech of dissonant days, from the nervousness and fury of acquisitiveness and the betrayal in embezzling his own life. He must say farewell to manual work and learn to understand that the world has already been created and will survive without the help of man. Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world, on the seventh day we try to dominate the self."
The Great Gatsby. No list of favorite books is complete without Gatsby. I love this book for so many reasons, such to the point that I habitually read it about every six months in order to renew and magnify my appreciation. Lately I've hypothesized that it may actually just be my form of self-therapy. In any case, this book not only bathes the reader in the imagery of the 1920s, one of the greatest periods in history (never mind what it caused), but it also provides fantastic commentary on life as led by a number of different people. In reading it, I've come to grips with my own social anxieties, gained a greater understanding of my relationship with my father (something every child needs to do at some point——Sigmund Freud be damned), and was initially impelled to start this blog. Go team...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Sticking it to the man—without even leaving the couch...
Almost missed it again! You've probably noticed by now from the posts about TV, cartoons, and books that my life is pretty filled with media. I've always enjoyed learning (hence the books and my fascination with the Discovery channel as a kid), but if there's one thing that gives learning a run for its money, it would have to be taking in creativity. Yes, I realize how ridiculously art-snobbish that sounds, but that's really how I feel. Beneath all the organization and structure that encloses and compartmentalizes my life beats the heart of a poet. Okay, maybe not a poet. But I like to draw——does that count?
But I digress. Netflix has been a source of great enjoyment for me over the past year, and to those of you who remain unconverted or have yet to fully utilize its awesome powers, consider this your call to action. Over the years I've never been much of a renter. Blockbuster and Hollywood Video always repelled me because they far too often smelled like barf (literally) and wouldn't have what I was looking for. When I finally decided to get serious about movies, the prospect of having to rely on the dreaded rental store was a huge obstacle looming over me. Then I discovered Netflix instant.
For their ridiculously low price of ten bucks a month, I can average about three movies by mail per week (provided my homework schedule is accommodatingly lax) and, if I'm really feeling saucy, at least one instant movie on the other days of the week not occupied by its mail-order brethren. Even when compared to the cheapo two buck rentals from Blockbuster et al, that translates to as little as $14.00 a week and thus about $60.00 a month. This alone was enough to get me on board, but imagine my further joy when I discovered that Netflix had TV shows, documentaries, and all sorts of other fun biznass to try and sucker me into upgrading my plan to greater amounts of cash per month. Nice try boys.
But seriously, Netflix is a valuable resource for seeing otherwise rare movies, be they foreign, old, independent, or just weird and in short circulation. All I can say is good luck finding the complete works of Kurosawa at Blockbuster. I think when it really comes down to it I just love the notion of being able to get my money's worth of out something. Take the gym for example. Gyms make the most money when people underutilize their memberships. Because most gyms make you sign a contract for a year or more, you still pay even when you don't go. Not going means you're not using the equipment, and not using the equipment means that it will last longer and therefore not need to be replaced, thus making the gym more money in the long run. So it is with Netflix.
While ten bucks a month certainly isn't going to do much for them (except perhaps when multiplied by several thousand), Netflix relies on people's desire for more to really bring in the cash. Due to the speed and convenience with which we can accomplish and receive things in our time, people have a lot of difficulty with waiting. Why limit yourself to three movies by mail per week when you can get three movies at one time! Please my friends, don't be this stupid. Join me and take full advantage of Netflix's gateway mentality by signing up for a bare-bones plan that will still allow you to happily plumb the depths of its extensive movie library for the cost of a decent lunch. If anything, it provides valuable access to all those R-rated movies you never saw but heard good things about. Take my queue for example:
Full Metal Jacket
Fargo
Ong-Bak
Sanjuro
Jackie Brown
Kagemusha
The Godfather Part II
Burn After Reading
Downfall
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Scarface
Platoon
The Hangover
Glory
By the count of many denizens of Utah Valley, I am now officially going to Hell. I thought we had already established this, but whatever. We'll save that joyous argument for another day. In the meantime, I've got some serious advantage taking to do...
But I digress. Netflix has been a source of great enjoyment for me over the past year, and to those of you who remain unconverted or have yet to fully utilize its awesome powers, consider this your call to action. Over the years I've never been much of a renter. Blockbuster and Hollywood Video always repelled me because they far too often smelled like barf (literally) and wouldn't have what I was looking for. When I finally decided to get serious about movies, the prospect of having to rely on the dreaded rental store was a huge obstacle looming over me. Then I discovered Netflix instant.
For their ridiculously low price of ten bucks a month, I can average about three movies by mail per week (provided my homework schedule is accommodatingly lax) and, if I'm really feeling saucy, at least one instant movie on the other days of the week not occupied by its mail-order brethren. Even when compared to the cheapo two buck rentals from Blockbuster et al, that translates to as little as $14.00 a week and thus about $60.00 a month. This alone was enough to get me on board, but imagine my further joy when I discovered that Netflix had TV shows, documentaries, and all sorts of other fun biznass to try and sucker me into upgrading my plan to greater amounts of cash per month. Nice try boys.
But seriously, Netflix is a valuable resource for seeing otherwise rare movies, be they foreign, old, independent, or just weird and in short circulation. All I can say is good luck finding the complete works of Kurosawa at Blockbuster. I think when it really comes down to it I just love the notion of being able to get my money's worth of out something. Take the gym for example. Gyms make the most money when people underutilize their memberships. Because most gyms make you sign a contract for a year or more, you still pay even when you don't go. Not going means you're not using the equipment, and not using the equipment means that it will last longer and therefore not need to be replaced, thus making the gym more money in the long run. So it is with Netflix.
While ten bucks a month certainly isn't going to do much for them (except perhaps when multiplied by several thousand), Netflix relies on people's desire for more to really bring in the cash. Due to the speed and convenience with which we can accomplish and receive things in our time, people have a lot of difficulty with waiting. Why limit yourself to three movies by mail per week when you can get three movies at one time! Please my friends, don't be this stupid. Join me and take full advantage of Netflix's gateway mentality by signing up for a bare-bones plan that will still allow you to happily plumb the depths of its extensive movie library for the cost of a decent lunch. If anything, it provides valuable access to all those R-rated movies you never saw but heard good things about. Take my queue for example:
Full Metal Jacket
Fargo
Ong-Bak
Sanjuro
Jackie Brown
Kagemusha
The Godfather Part II
Burn After Reading
Downfall
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Scarface
Platoon
The Hangover
Glory
By the count of many denizens of Utah Valley, I am now officially going to Hell. I thought we had already established this, but whatever. We'll save that joyous argument for another day. In the meantime, I've got some serious advantage taking to do...
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