Tag: life

Nerd-ing

I am years into having a smartphone, and my most visited webpages remain almost exactly the same as when I started using one.  They are translation websites and dictionary websites.  Originally, it was wordreference.com and dictionary.com.  Wordreference.com was an easy one, because I had already done the research for my preferred translator for French, Spanish, and German.  But, after some research into different dictionary websites, I found that I preferred merriam-webster.com over dictionary.com.  So, today, my most visited webpages are wordreference.com and merriam-webster.com. (I would add in Google Translate, because of my constant use with Japanese on it for kanji translations and photo translations, but I had to download the app almost immediately, when I moved to Japan, so that I could use it almost constantly to understand things around me.  Therefore, it isn’t a website I’m visiting, but an application I am using.)

I’m just a word and language nerd.  It’s like that day at work, earlier this year, when I spent an hour looking up information on certain punctuation marks – I am a word nerd, and there is ample evidence to support the claim.

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Post-a-day 2017

the body

Do you ever feel betrayed by your own body?  Where you believe in something intensely, and then clarity suddenly sets in, bringing reality along with it, and you see easily and perfectly that things are not as they had seemed… perhaps this betrayal is the worst of all betrayal, because the body has no conscience nor malice, nor does it have an ability to love or to hate you… it just betrays you.

 

Post-a-day 2017

Tying up dirty boys with grammar

Changing laundry from the washing machine to the dryer (It’s a machine, I know!!!!!!!*), I saw a towel on the floor between the two machines.  It was originally intended for the load of red shades earlier today, but the load was too large for comfort, so I pulled out the towel.  I left it on the floor, because a towel load needed to be done today or tomorrow anyway, so why bother bringing it back upstairs just to bring it back down only hours later?  But that isn’t the point.

The point is (sort of) that I saw the towel sitting there, and I had an almost-urge to pick it up and put it in the dryer with the laundry I was transferring.  Not that I wanted to put it in with the clean laundry, but that, usually, whenever something is on the floor there, it is because it has fallen in the transfer between the two machines.  So, I simultaneously wanted not to touch the towel, to put it in the dryer, and to move it to the dirty towels upstairs (since I wasn’t doing the final two loads tonight, but doing them tomorrow).  And, for a good moment, I was worried that I would pursue the final of the three, and accidentally fulfill the second in my tiredness and in the middle of routine muscle movements, and then wish for the first.

I managed to let go of having to deal with the towel now, and I left it on the floor, for fear of the second result.

As I thought about that possible second result, I was practically distraught at how it would ruin the fact that I had already put the load of clothes on to wash.  By putting one single towel in the dryer, I thought, an entire load of laundry would be considered dirty.  Now, why doesn’t that work the other way around?  Why does one piece of clean laundry not make a load of dirty laundry clean, when mixed together?  The dirty still win out.  And how come a whole load of clean laundry can’t overpower the one dirty article?  The clean just can’t overcome.

And then – now, this is the point of this all – I wondered about what is life is like this, if anything.  Almost immediately, I thought about gender pronouns (and particularly in Spanish and French, because I learned those first).  It’s just like guys and girls.  A group full of guys, the dirty clothes, is (let’s use French) ils.  Add one girl, the clean clothing, and it stays ils.  A group full of girls is elles.  Add one boy, and it becomes ils.

So, no matter what, if there are any boys, it is ils, dirty.  The only way to keep it elles is to have only girls – no boys allowed.

And how odd that the boys are the dirty laundry and the girls are the clean… so like life, and I hadn’t even intended it to be so.**

Anyway, isn’t all of that fun?!  Towels to grammar to life comparisons – I do lead an extraordinarily interesting life, huh?  😛

 

 

*Japan doesn’t exactly do dryers.  People are expected to hang clothes outside, because every has a stay-at-home wife, you see… not.  Everyone used to have a stay-at-home wife, but the lifestyle hasn’t changed.  It just takes days and days to do laundry as a solo-liver, because weather can decide to soak your clean clothes while you’re off at work, or hide the sun from them, or be too humid for them to dry at all until they start to smell of mildew…  I just hung mine all indoors, because I’d heard too many stories from my brother’s issues.  Plus, supposedly people steal women’s underwear from the drying clothes in Japan.  I didn’t need to deal with any of that nonsense.  So, I set my air conditioner to a daytime setting to keep the apartment mildew-free, which also helped dry my clothes!

** I once wrote a poem about how boys are dirty.  I didn’t exactly believe any of it, but I knew that people thought boys were dirty and smelly, and I rolled with the idea.

Post-a-day 2017

Clothing

We went to the Oscar de la Renta exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts today.  Inside the exhibit, a display said that Oscar de la Renta deigned his clothes so that they would inspire women.  I certainly was inspired looking at the outfits alone – I was filled with some kind of hope, delight.  And now, afterward, I want, more than ever, to make my own clothes.  And I want to have a cape on at least one dress.  If he did it, then I definitely am allowed to do it, right?  I want capes and cloaks.

Post-a-day 2017

Ninja Gym: Round Two

I tried out the ninja gym again today.  My brother is again in town, and one of our stepbrothers came with us to the gym to check it out.  Apparently, my brother hadn’t even really considered going while he was in town this time, because of his trip being about family time and all, but he was glad that I came up with the idea, and that we turned it into family time after all.

Really, though, I didn’t just come up with the idea.  I’ve been exercising specifically to help myself be able to go to the ninja gym with him the next time he was in town.  I’ve slipped off the goal exercise dramatically the past two-ish weeks, but I still have done way more exercise than I was doing the first time we went together.

Now, since my brother wasn’t planning to go, he didn’t have his special shoes with him.  They’re these special parkour shoes that were apparently ranked as the parkour shoe to have, but that aren’t made anymore.  The soles of the shoes look like they have a car tire pasted onto them.  I call them his cheater shoes (lightheartedly, of course).  So, he had to be with us mere mortals today without his special shoes.  (We both were laughing about it throughout the gym time.)

Our stepbrother got to nerd out with my brother in a way that made me just want to watch the two of them.  They had a good time trying the different obstacles together, and they were a good matchup for it.  Whatever one could do well, the other only mediocrely, and vice versa.  So they got to help one another figure out things, and work through it all.

As for me, I brought my gloves, muscles, and endurance, and went for it.  I didn’t attempt everything they did, for sure, but I gave a lot of things a good go.  I watched for a bit to start, and then went and ran on a treadmill for a quarter mile to warm myself (it was cold today, even inside the gym).  I tested obstacles I’d failed doing before, as well as loads of new ones for me, and made it through almost none.  I had a really good time doing it all.  My goal was not to succeed in the specific obstacles, but to attempt them, to have the ability to do something with them.  I was still terrified of various things, and so still haven’t done any lâchés, but I actually got up on a bar, swung around a bit, and even considered going for the jump.  I even tried a swing and jump on a ring-style lâché.  I almost got it, too, but my fear got the better of me.  (I actually was worried that I’d flung the ring across the room when I missed, because I was so immediately focused on landing safely, but it had only flown and landed about two feet in front of me.

So, I still had tons of fear present, and I worked through some of it anyway, and I had a great time.  I can tell that this kind of thing is really a process with me, for various reasons, and I accept that.  It doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on it, not at all.  It is just that I have to keep making new efforts and new goals, always with the plan of going to the gym again with likely very little notice.  I definitely have a goal for myself with this kind of gym.  No, it is not to be like the other guys doing all the obstacles in it.  Not in the least.  But there are certain specific motions, movements, and obstacles I can envision myself doing… that is where I want to be with my fitness and my confidence and this gym.  That’s what guides me forward in this endeavor.  (Even when I have other stigmas that hold me back from my goal fitness.)

All-in-all, I had a great go my second time at the ninja gym today, and my family is still awesome – notice how we so easily turned fun exercise into family time.

Post-a-day 2017

Something in your teeth?

Have you ever considered your opinion on the matter of what to do when someone has something stuck in his/her teeth?  I often fall to the scene from “The Emperor’s New Groove”, in which Kuzco listens to almost nothing that Yzma is saying, and is, instead, staring at a tiny piece of what looks like broccoli, which is stuck in Yzma’s teeth, as he wonders, ‘How long has that been in there?’

I have considered my position on the matter, and several times.  The most recent discussion I had with others on it was at my birthday brunch last year.*  We – a somewhat large group of ladies – discussed earnestly what we felt would be the appropriate way to respond, when someone has something stuck in his/her teeth.  The unanimous agreement?  Tell the person.  No, there’s no need to be rude about it, or even to be weird about it.  But do tell the person, and in a kind way, simply informing him/her of the simple fact that something is stuck in his/her teeth, providing him/her with the opportunity to remove said something, if desired.

Almost immediately after we finished our discussion on this, and we were somewhat quietly beginning new topics of discussion, we overheard a person at the table next to ours calmly point out to the guy across the table from said person that he had something stuck in his teeth…  We silently chuckled… deeply and to our cores, in an almost pain, so as not to give away that we had overheard the exchange, nor that we knew the person had clearly been listening to our own discussion.

 

*Well, some discussions in life happen alone, you know?

Post-a-day 2017

Handing it off to a better expert…?

Do you ever wonder about the appropriate time to pass something on to someone else to do?  Not that you are feeling lazy, and just don’t feel like making those copies, and so you give them to an assistant to do.  But like, in high school, when a friend of mine’s trumpet teacher told him that he had taught my friend everything he had to offer him, and so it was time my friend went to a different and better trumpet teacher.  That kind of situation.  Do we know when to do that in our own lives, when it is time to pass something onward to someone better at whatever it is?

I especially wonder if it makes a difference on the task.  If we want dinner in a certain part of town, we might easily call up or message a particular friend for recommendations.  For an appropriate computer purchase, we might consult someone we know who is into computers.

And if we are the one consulted for something similar, we typically do our best to help out, and, I believe, recommend someone else to ask, if we feel our thoughts aren’t sufficient help.  Do I know where to go eat around there?  Well, there’s this and this, but they’re usually packed on this night of the week.  I would check with so-and-so – they probably know several better options.

But do we do this with difficult things?  Do we ask ourselves, regarding the harder things in life, if we are the one best suited to handle the question or situation?  Do we let other things get in the way of asking for help, of asking the right person?  Things like embarrassment, pride, fear… do they win in the short-term of the situation, and a mediocre result is the best we find in the long-term outcome of the situation?  I suppose this ties in perfectly with the question of Do we ask for help when we need help?  Do we even ask ourselves often and honestly enough – and then answer honestly enough – if we need help?

 

Just some thoughts in my space tonight…

Post-a-day 2017

Family times

Good family is like good friends… so far as I described good friends before, anyway.  I have good family.

When we are together, there can be silence, if so desired, but there is never want for something to discuss.  There are no awkward pauses.  The space is open for discussion of just about anything we’d want.  At the end of an evening together with my family, if someone were to ask what we discussed, my answer likely would be something to the effect of, ‘Uuh… I have no idea… all sorts of anything?’

Yes, my memory is quite functional, and I could sit down and figure out almost every topic discussed and most comments said throughout the evening.  However, that isn’t what someone would be wanting to have happen with such a question.  ‘Oh, we talked politics,’ or ‘The stock market and country clubs, mostly,’ are examples of family conversations I hear regarding the families of acquaintances.  Not my family.  We might have a brief chat on politics, but it is equally likely that we will discuss dog breeds, logical fallacies, and farts.  And it never will be just one, but many topics of discussion, and usually knowledgeable discussions, too.

Whenever I leave time with my good family, I feel very conversationally and informationally satisfied.  It is always a good, loving, and fulfilling social interaction.  Yes, I have good family.  And I am grateful for them all.

Post-a-day 2017

Forgotten Decaffein

Trembling from my stomach outward, I place my hands on the keyboard.  They move as though shuddering, convulsing ever so slightly, unable to remain still.  They do not know what stillness is.  None of me does right now.  It is something of a vague memory, floating casually in the background, commenting, “How odd,” at the body that cannot pause in this sedentary position…  It is resting on this bed without rest.

Post-a-day 2017

Cultural Pants with Mom

Have you ever gotten creative with your clothing?  I certainly have.  Tonight was just an average ‘work with what you’ve got’ kind of night with clothes.  For tomorrow, I’d chosen to wear an Indian tunic – I think the actual name might be kurta, but I’m not sure.  However, I don’t have any pants or leggings that really go with the colors of it, and black is totally not an option, because its bright colors are just too happy for black.

So, I asked my mom if she had any leggings or pants I could wear with the top.  At first, she brought me Vietnamese yellow pants, which almost look Indian, but the color combined with the style was just not passable.  The tunic is a sort of reddish pink, with orange and green embroidery and stitching.  Bright yellow, baggy pants just weren’t the look I was going for.  I wanted the focus to be the top, not the bottoms.  I will wear said pants, however, on a different occasion, you can be sure.

After checking greens and purples, all to no avail, my mom brings in a skirt that is the exact color of the green embroidery and stitching of the tunic.  The fabric is different, but the color is darn near exact.  “But it’s a skirt,” I declared and repeated, somewhat laughing.  I tried it on.  My mom said it looked all right, but it totally was not the look I’d wanted.  ‘This is what we call “cultural confusion”…  I was going for “cultural fusion.”‘

We both laughed and stared at the perfect match of color and utter clash of styles.

And then I saw it.  “Aha!”  I bent over and grabbed the center of the skirt, both the front and back of it, through my legs.  As I stood up, my mom knew exactly what I was doing.

Five minutes later, we had it.  I eventually had to take it off and turn it inside out to make it all balance properly, but we knew it would work after the second knot I made while still wearing it.  We tied the skirt in a few places in the center to give the illusion of one type of traditional Indian pants (think Indian yoga pants), and it worked marvelously.  No, they don’t look exactly like the real thing, but they do look like what I’d wanted: cultural fusion and fabulous.

I wonder how it will go off tomorrow, in a world of latino heritage.  I look forward to the opportunity to respond to something like, ‘Cool pants!’ with a, ‘Oh, thanks.  I’m not wearing any.’  Or something silly like that.  We’ll see.  Whatever the case, though, I’ll be in an outfit that I love and that has been created with love from me and my mom.  I think that’s the best part, as usual, of course.

 

P.S.  I’ll see if I can get a photo of it all tomorrow at some point.

P.P.S.  Okay, so it turned out that I wore the yellow pants to bed, because it was so cold, and they were soft and comfortable.  Not what I’d had in mind when I considered wearing them soon, but oh, well…  😛

Post-a-day 2017