Tag Archives: words

Anomalies.

1 Feb

Monopoly.

Au gratin.

Onomatopoeia.

Abnormally.

Origami.

Cacophony.

Apostrophe.

Saskatchewan.

Say them out loud. They’re fun to say, but not often used. Especially apostrophes. Which also irritate me. Those who can’t use apostrophes should be stripped of the privilege of internet usage.

I’m not normal. Perhaps you’ve noticed. That alone makes me an anomaly.

But wait…there’s more!

I’m not a morning person, but with my work schedule, I now have trouble staying up past 1am. If I’m not a morning person and I’m not a night person, am I even a person?

I’m not the 99%. I’m not even the 1%. I’m just 1 person, which makes me 100% myself. And compared to myself, I am totally normal.

But compared to all you weirdos, I’m an anomaly.

For example, I don’t drink alcohol…don’t even desire to.

Iridescent. 

I wear skirts like it’s the unbreakable rule, except the truth is that I really do it because I want to. It makes me feel pretty, and like most girls, I like to feel pretty.

I have had the same best friend for two decades, yet I’m only 23 years old. That’s because loyalty is my strong suit, and loyalty is my downfall. I hold on to people long after they’ve walked out of my life. I also hold on to receipts, almost-empty favorite lotions, and cell phone pictures of every wonderful meal I’ve ordered at restaurants.

The front door I walk through every time I go to work and return from shopping ventures is the same door my parents brought me through when I was a newborn. I haven’t moved. I haven’t moved out.

Misconstrue. 

I’m always right. Which means you can’t always be right. Unless you’re agreeing with me.

I rarely brush my hair. After it’s washed, I run my fingers through it a few times, and that’s it.

I go to church three times a week. That’s why I have every single Sunday off and why I don’t work on Wednesday nights.

Sometimes my brain sends me a picture of what I’m trying to say, instead of words. When I force words out anyway, they come out jumbled and I get really frustrated and stop talking.

Effervescence.

I wear polka dot knee socks with striped shirts. In public. And I smile to myself at the kindergarten girls who are jealous of my rockin’ style.

I make my bed every day. That way I know one thing in my room is neat.

I’ve never liked my thumbs and toes. Ever.

I don’t like compliments. I have a high enough opinion of myself that when someone tells me something nice, I feel like it’s boring and repetitious because I already knew that about myself.

Spontaneity.

I like to smell my hair. In fact, I switch up my shampoos and conditioners every day to spice things up.

I have a mole on the back of one of my ears. I didn’t discover it until I was a teenager. Seriously, who looks at the backs of their ears?

I drive stick shift and change my own oil, when the weather permits. Oh yeah, and I’m a girl. Girls are capable humans too.

Immensely.

I live in a bakery and I’m not obese.

I take daily multi-vitamins. They’re gummies. Because somewhere inside me is a five-year-old girl who is still completely infatuated with candy.

Regardless of my age and maturity level, I do not and will not like peas. Not by themselves. Not in soup. Not in mixed veggies. Only in the trashcan.

In order to stay hydrated, I drink flavored water. Often it is carbonated as well. Clear, tasteless water is for those who are more committed to hydration than I am.

Astronomically.

Inordinate.

Ricochet.

Serendipity.

Chasm.

Volatile.

Plethora.

Expand your vocabulary. One word at a time. Try one word a day.

Theory of Distraction

18 Jul

I am easily distracted. Some call it forgetfulness; others say I sidetrack with little effort. I have given it some thought and formed a theory. No, it is not a scientific theory, for if it involved science, it would still be a hypothesis….and even that is being generous.

I have taken several brain-activity tests to determine whether my left or right brain is dominant. Neither is. They affect my life and thinking habits equally.

My analytic left brain allows me to memorize number sequences, see patterns where there are no obvious/visible/existing patterns, use words proficiently, be a painstaking perfectionist in my fashion pattern making; my artsy right brain is what enables me to be creative in my pattern making, draw with exquisite detail, enjoy a vivid imagination and exotic sleeping dream world, be inspired by the simple things like ribbons, fabrics, buttons, shapes, colors, etc.

I frequently switch between analyzing and creating. Mid-nerdy-sentence, a creative thought will strike me and I must stop talking and chase that train of thought. To the onlooker, I was distracted. To me, it made perfect sense. It was a momentary switch from left brain to right.

For example: A guest approaches the front desk of my hotel with two questions. First, would I print out a bill for them and explain the intricacies of tax refunds and rate changes? Sure! My logical left brain starts thinking through the best way to explain our tax and rate policies.

As I begin pulling up their bill on the computer, their second question descends. They are afraid that their pet has carried fleas to the hotel room, would I be so kind to bring a flea spray to their room as soon as possible?

My right brain’s vivid imagination kicks in. This time it’s a Pixar-style animation of me in a Monsters Inc. orange exterminator suit walking in slow-motion to their room, armed with Home Defense spray. As I open the door, the background music grows louder and more sinister; their poor pooch cowers in the corner and the room is obviously infested with fleas hopping wildly. I hook up the hose to the Home Defense spray and push the spray release. Looks of terror cross the faces of the fleas as they die mid-hop and flop onto the floor, where miniature x’s replace their eyes as death settles in. Music becomes triumphant again as I turn to see all the guests from the hotel standing outside the room with rousing applause, a shower of roses, and blown kisses. I smile to myself as I imagine some of my guests with their disproportionate Pixar-style features. Of course, dear guest, I’ll bring some flea spray to your room.

And already I forgot why I was looking at their bill, so I exit it. The guest asks for their bill again, and they can’t believe it’s taking so long.

The problem is not a deficiency in my brain that causes me to forget or be distracted. Rather, my brain is so advanced that it switches so quickly from left to right brain and back again, that my brain does not have time to log information in its short term memory. It appears as though I have forgotten. The truth is that I have yet to be able to control my brain. It’s almost as if my own brain is too amazing for me to handle. Scary, huh? It’s still a theory I’m playing with. I haven’t even thought of a good way to word my theory, which makes it obviously very unscientific. Even so, I felt the need to inform my general public of the reasons behind my frequent distractions.

In other news, I’m still thinking about my amazing carnitas burrito from Chipotle several days ago. Life-changing.

dehoped

2 Dec

One beautiful thing about the English language is the use of prefixes. And for that matter, suffixes as well.

Prefixes change the way the word begins. They set the tone for the rest of the word and can revolutionize the entire sentence. It is one thing for a person to be presented to an assembly of people. It is quite another to be represented to that same group of people. And yet what does “re” mean? It could mean “again” and it could also mean “in the place of.” (Another beauty of English: multiple meanings for one word/prefix/suffix/etc.)

To hope for something is an exhilarating thing. If I hope for a cherry tootsie pop and reach into the candy jar and pull out a box of raisins, I have been dehoped. (Here we see two beauties: a prefix and a made-up word that can be understood because of the simplicity of prefixes and root words.)

This past week, naaah, it’s been about a month, I’ve been constantly dehoped. I hoped for a car. I set a budget. I set my sights high and have since lowered them considerably. Still no car. Every time I get my hopes up, text/call/email a car seller, test drive a vehicle… I end up in the pit of dehopement (ah, the combined beauty of prefixes and suffixes).

I’m so over this car search saga. May it end before my minuscule amount of patience evaporates.

grate topic

25 Nov

If one is grateful, are they full of grate? I realize that they are full of gratitude, but why not say “gratitudeful.” It would make more sense, albeit more syllables. Therefore, they must be truly full of grate.

I am full of grate. Abounding with thanks. Literally in awe of where I am today and where I’m not anymore.

People keep talking about being thankful during this season, and I, for one, am in quite the thankful spirit and have been for the past month (to approximate). As friends and acquaintances ask about my new job, my answer is, “I love it!” And then I try to expound on how much I love it and they end up with a confused look and simply reply, “Well I’m glad you’re happy there.”

I told someone recently, “I just hope my bosses and coworkers are as happy as I am that I’m working there!”

For I truly am happy. And grateful. Full of grate. Praise the Lord.

just the facts

27 Sep

I’m always amused by my blog stats. Seeing the line graph of hits per day excites the mathematical side of me. And it’s fun to see which totally random auto websites are sending me spammish business. But the search terms are the best. Who really searches for these things? And for what purpose? And did my blog satisfy their pondering?

“how to make elephant”

“fun jacket lining boy”

“face of a mad man”

“your eyebrows are so amazing mountain”

“how to spell achoo”

“achoo…blame it on the rain!!”

“beef slaughter”

“emoticons with a nose are weird”

“oldest working slaughter house”

“квадратная кружка” <— True story. This is in Russian…something to do with a square mug.

“blank square pillows”

The absolutely most popular search that brings viewers to my blog is “Lindt,” leading them to this post from almost two years ago. I was curious to see how close to the top of the search results my blog currently is for “Lindt,” but I got tired of looking after scanning through six pages of results. So I don’t know how long ago it was that my blog was a top result for “Lindt.”

But my blog is the eighth result in a Google search for “achoo.” This could be classified as exciting!

My most popular post of all time is “Of postage stamps and politics,” which is from many, many searches for “trumploid,” which isn’t even a word. But at least I’m not the only one who thought it was spelled that way. See? I’m not the only one thus convoluted.

Fact: This entire post was written in a frenzy of procrastination.

nameless thoughts

30 Aug

I wrote this poem before I graduated from high school. I still haven’t thought of a name for it. :-) But it’s kind of how I’m feeling again. You’d think I’d have figured out a fool-proof plan to dealing with the unknown future by now! But no. God thinks differently.

When the path before me disappears

and I can’t retrace my steps,

And the silence of unanswered prayers

is all that I have left,

Then my grief-torn face is moistened

by the slowly falling tear.

Behold! One standing by my side;

my whispered name I hear.

The mystery of unknown ways

He shows me bit by bit.

The once-dark corridor I tread

now seems to be well-lit.

To walk a single path in light

quite easily is done.

But I am unprepared to face

three roads formed from my one.

I strain my ears to catch the voice

of One so calm and wise.

Why does He tarry? Why so long?

My time is passing by.

At last I set my feet on one;

the center path I choose.

I have everything to gain hereby

and even more to lose.

What are my plans after college? It’s becoming more and more trying to simply smile at the interrogator and say, “I’m not sure yet.” People don’t understand that. I should have a plan! I shouldn’t just glide through my last semester without thinking ahead!

And then of course come the suggestions. People who don’t know me think that they can tell me what to do with the rest of my life. Whatever happened to smiling back at the poor confused soul and saying, “I’ll pray for you” ? Hmmm? Cause I could indeed use more prayers and fewer interrogations.

Dissertation on emoticons

7 Aug

(**Update: WordPress changes my common emoticons from their punctuation form to an animated form. Unappreciated, WordPress. There’s probably a setting to change that, but I couldn’t find it. Hence the “spaced-out-smile” look. You know what I mean. Carry on…)

(**Update #2: Rachel has enlightened me as far as how to turn off the automatic animated emoticons.Yes!! Thanks, Rach! For the rest of you, ignore my previous update. It remains there purely for memory’s sake. And as a tribute to Rachel’s genius.)

Everybody has that one favorite emoticon they use and overuse in emails, texts, twitters, facebook statuses, etc. Or maybe more than just one. But everyone has a specific way that they emoticonnote, that is to say write emoticons.

Some people use the = as the eyes. Such as =) or =D . These display a certain amount of excitement. Constantly. I know several people who use = consistently and I love it. It shows a zeal for life and total wide-eyed excitement. Love it. This is probably my favorite way of emoticonnoting ever. However, I can’t usually pull that off because I tend to be more blah in my emotional swings.

Some people use noseless emoticons. When the eyes are big, as they are in the above example, going noseless is acceptable. Otherwise it’s just lazy. :( See? Sorry to disappoint. It really takes little effort to fill out the face with a nose of sorts. Could be like :-) or :o) or :~) or :+) or :<) . Noseless emoticons rank on my list of pet peeves. One more mark of punctuation, that’s all that’s needed.

Mine always have noses. Always. Whether the nose be a “-” or an “o”, the nose is there. To those noseless emoticons, I attribute the name “lazy smiley.” I refuse to use them. My emoticons deserve a nose.

The :-) kind of nose is what I usually use. It’s basic enough that no one reads into my smile and think I’m too anxious, too sarcastic, not genuine enough, not happy enough. It’s complete, hardly deserving a second thought.

The :o) kind of nose is cute. For some reason I equate it with eating, cute kids, or hidden frustration. Like when I use it, I’m usually thinking, “I should probably put a smile there, but I’m not really happy and I don’t feel like smiling.” This is as close as I’ve come to smiling sarcastically.

The :~) kind of nose screams “broken.” I wince when I see it and have been known to audibly whimper upon such seeings. Do not abuse your emoticons! They may come back to haunt you and break your nose in your sleep!

The :+) nose says, “My emoticonnotor broke my nose, but then had the decency to put a bandaid on it. Thank you, dear emoticonnotor.”

The :<) nose is obviously Italian. Or Roman. Or swollen Swedish. Wait, isn’t Rome in Italy?

Lately, tragedy has struck. As mentioned before, my keys stick occasionally (both on my phone and on my laptop). Thus sometimes when I press a key once or twice or thrice, there is still no resulting character.

And I trimmed my fingernails the other day and chopped my left thumbnail entirely too short, thus hampering my texting speed.

Furthermore, through an amazing display of ballet unlearnedness, last night at work I broke not only my second and last unbroken thumbnail, but also the lid and the cup with which I was twirling around behind the counter.

Thus, those who may have texted me within the past week (or month for that matter) may be confused at my dislike of noseless emoticons. Because I’ve used them. Inadvertantly. And it pains me. But sometimes I hit the punctuation key five times, hoping for a smile complete with a nose, and I get merely a noseless smile. So frustrating. Half the time I don’t notice it until it’s already been sent. The other half of the time, I notice it and continue hitting the punctuation key until my poor broken thumbnail is screaming for a break. Relief is given, and the text is sent with a noseless emoticon.

Now I have a confession. The noseless emoticons have grown on me recently. I even labeled one as cute the other day. I was shocked at myself. It is highly unlikely that I am no longer peeved by this long time pet peeve. However, perhaps I have become more tolerant? More importantly, is it totally weird that I have such qualms and unusual things to say about emoticons? Am I please not the only one who reads into them so deeply and attributes such inane characteristics to them?