1. I watch the Big Bang Theory. I thought "Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock" was funny, even if I didn't get Sheldon's reasoning, but I'm not a theorectical physicist. Note: After I just watched the clip (with it's overly loud laugh track), I actually get it.
2. I went to one of the first Star Trek Conventions. I always thought I went to the first one, but after a quick google search, I apologize for my ignorance. That convention was at the Hilton Hotel in New York City, where a bunch of my friends and I rented a room. I don't remember us being die-hard Trekkies, but it was more of a science fiction convention, and besides, it was an opportunity to rent a hotel room in the city.
Sadly, this is my biggest memory of the convention: I was walking in the lobby of the hotel, smoking a cigarette (yes, you could smoke inside then). A man passed me, and as he did, he said, "Don't you know smoking is bad for your health?" I said, "Oh, f*ck off, old man." Then I realized he was Isaac Asimov. Isaac Asimov! He was one of my heroes! I may have been a nerd, but I was also a rebellious jerk teenager. I also had no idea how to employ snappy comeback lines. If I was going to be a jerk, I wish I had been more clever.
3. I wish there were more science fiction movies. Also, I wish there were more well-written science fiction books.
4. I read the New Yorker mainly for their science articles and wish there was a magazine devoted to science writing for the jargon-impaired.
5. I was fascinated with cryptology when I was a kid and actually fantacized about working for the CIA (or whoever hired cryptologists), but my family's politics made me think that I'd never pass the background check and that the CIA was probably evil. Early interest in codes is a dead giveaway for nerdism.
6. I love Scrabble. One of my favorite books is "Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players."
7. I like British (aka cryptic) crossword puzzles. What I like even more is to make my own, and one of the "100 things I'd like to do before I die" is get a crossword puzzles published in the New York Times. Somehow, I think this is not going to happen, but one can always dream.
8. Buying the Oxford English Dictionary was one of the most happy moments in my life. I love reading it. Unfortunately, it's too heavy and using that magnifying glass drives me crazy. I wish I had it on DVD, but it's three hundred bucks, and besides, I hear people have complained it doesn't run well on their computers.
9. I am one of those annoying people who tell complete strangers, in the course of conversation, what the origins of an interesting word is or how some idiomatic expression came to be. I also inquire of others, "Did you know that __________?" about obscure factoids, when they probably neither know nor care.
10. I would be lost without the interlibrary loan service.
Bonus: I have a crush on Dr. Reid on Criminal Minds, but I suspect that even non-nerds do. He was a model once (which disappoints me greatly).
Photo note: And, I have a soft spot for "GI Joel" Sherman, a professional Scrabble player and prototypical New York-style nerd. While googling his name, I discovered there is a documentary about called "Scrabylon". Why didn't I know this? I'm going to see if it's on Netflix right now.
Now this time Celina fly on the air because her stunning performance as Tamil Girl and her Tamil accent are very good in film Golmaal Returns. The second good news is that hot actress Celina was very gracing for the occasion of Red Carpet Premiere for her international film "LOVE HAS NO LANGUAGE". The pretty actress was floored by all the attention and warmth that she received In New Zealand.
The movie is about a Kiwi Indian girl basically a second generation Indian girl born and brought up in New Zealand. Marina Roy (Celina Jaitley) is torn between the Indian values of old Indian traditions and the fact that she is actually a kiwi girl who has never been to India. A kiwi-Aussie boy of Maori (Ben Mitchell) origin falls in love with her and the story follows how she plans to avoid the marriage set up by her parents with an Indian boy.
Bollywood’s pretty lass Kareena Kapoor has been busy travelling and shooting for months across the globe for her upcoming flicks ‘Kambakht Ishq’, ‘3 Idiots’ and ‘Main Aur Mrs Khanna’, but the actress is now reportedly planning a lavish holiday treat for herself after all the hard work.
Kareena has just got over with her hectic schedule which took her all the way from Los Angeles to Ladakh to various other places with co-stars Akshay Kumar, Aamir Khan and Salman Khan. Meanwhile, she has also been hooked up shooting for the brands she endorses.
So the lady has finally decided to unwind herself and is looking forward to a comfy holiday at the end of this year. According to our source, Kareena has planned to take a vacation from Christmas onwards and continue it well into the New Year, which clarifies the fact that she has no plan to perform at any function on the New Year’s Eve.
Grapevine has it that the destination of Kareena’s holiday would be Switzerland, and she is more than excited to usher the New Year in the cold winters of the Alps with none other than beau Saif, who is believed to be joining her.
Here’s hoping that Bebo spends some quality time with Saif while she takes him away on a well-deserved holiday.
You may be thinking, "What does that image have to do with something that has the word rose in it? And isn't she writing about a perfume?" I'll get to that shortly.
I woke up bleary and knew that I wouldn't be able to take a shower for a few hours, so I reached into my nightstand for a packet of new samples I have. I figured I'd just pick something at random. Not my usual modus operandi, and not the best of ideas when one has a bit of a headache.
When I have a plan, even if it's very small, I stick to it, so I opened the vial of Floris China Rose and sniffed it. My first reaction was "this smells like acetone." Great. I put some on in spite of my reaction. After all, I was bleary.
The card the vial is attached to was something of an alert. It's a bit too pink and pretty, suggesting something innocent and rather straightforward. Yet, the description promises a good deal of richness: "Top notes of rose, jasmine, violet and hyacinth lead to middle notes of peach, clary sage, clove, ylang ylang and geranium. Base notes include patchouli, tonka bean, vanilla, honey, amber and vetiver."
I sniffed my left wrist and the acetone smell was gone. In its wake was violet, a sweet and cloying violet, one that reminded me of something long past, but I couldn't put my finger on it. By the time I got myself to my pot of coffee I realized what it was - the violet candies and gum I used to adore when I lived in New York.
It took a few seconds of googling to find them. Choward's? I had no idea that was the name of the company, even though I've chewed their gum and eaten their candy since I was in grade school. I've never seen these candies sold in Maine, but when I'm in New York City, if I think of it, I buy a few packs. They still sell for under a buck.
Both the gum and the candy are just plain weird, but they truly are wonderful, once you get past the idea of eating violets. Now, that once was not unusual. In the Victorian era eating candied violets and other flowers was quite popular.
Getting back to the China Rose, it is truly awful. The sweet violet is pretty much all I can smell, though I am always a bit stuffed up in the morning. And that acetone scent? It's back and hovering around me. Where's all those other notes? I've had the stuff on for close to an hour and, well, perhaps I can smell a bit of amber, but it's just sweet, fake-smelling violets and chemicals. It doesn't deserve all this analysis.
I'm glad for one thing, however. It reminded me of those candies and gum. I will keep a keen eye out for them here in Maine. And if I don't find them, I'll be in New York in December. Those violet candies do sweeten one's breath. They do a better job of it than any icey-cold breath freshiener gum does. Curious? You can buy them on-line at the Victory Old-Time Candy Store.
And if you're also wondering why I have to wait to have my shower, I have a well. No city water for me (and I sure do miss it). That well fills slowly and if I'm doing laundry (as I am now), if I do something else that takes a good amount of water, like having a shower, the pump will start sucking air. Then poor Dick has to go into the cellar and do a lot of dirty and annoying work. So, I'm careful.
Earlier this evening, our power was out. I sat at the kitchen table and ate my ramen noodles with tofu and egg by candlelight. When I was done, I thought, what shall I do? I only had these little tea lights and they aren't good for reading, no matter how many one uses. So, I used my chopsticks as drumsticks and sang a bunch of songs. I'm not very good at either of these things, but I was having fun.
I used to be self-conscious about my lousy singing. Nowadays, I seem to care little about the things I'm not all that good at. If I enjoy them, I do them. Maybe that's why the nanowrimo is coming fairly easily to me. I'm not judging it. If I wasn't having fun, I'd quit, and I'd say "oh well."
When I told a writing professor I know that I'd been writing 2-4000 words a day, he was impressed. I said, "I didn't say they were good words." And they probably aren't.
But here's the thing: even though I use words like "good" and "bad", it is not a judgment. At least it's not a judgment in the sense of feeling bad about it (there's that word again). I've gotten to this point lately where I feel pretty comfortable with mediocrity or even downright lousiness. When we're kids and we're learning to do new things, we not "good at" the things we do. It's acceptable (to some people). We're kids and we are learning. You don't go from not knowing how to read on day one and being able to read Tolstoy on day two. That is reserved for some very unusual geniuses.
Unfortunately, when I was a child, I was given the message that if one wasn't very good at something, you shouldn't do it. I've written about this before.
I was fortunate to have gone to an Elementary School where, when we were in the fourth grade, we were all asked if we wanted to learn an instrument. It was optional, but in my memory everyone did, though it seemed quite a number of kids picked the triangle. The school gave us an instrument, for free, and also provided free group lessons. Some kids did have lessons at home, which would have to be paid for, but the lessons at school were quite good.
I wanted to learn to play the bass, but I was steered away from that because I was so short, and so I picked the cello. I loved to play. Noone ever had to tell me "Julie, it's time to practice." If it was up to me, I would have played until bedtime and beyond, but my parents didn't want me to play at night.
I loved Bach and struggled hard to try to learn some of his Cello Suites. But I just loved to practice. If it was scales, fine. It didn't matter. The sound of a bowed instrument, a deep one, thrilled me. I was transported. I would completely merge with that cello and its sound. Years after I stopped playing, my childhood friend told me that one time my mother let her in our house and she saw me in my room, playing the cello, and that it scared her. She said I didn't look like a child while I was playing. I was lost in what I was doing and my face was so serious that she left my house without saying a word.
If you were reading carefully, you'd have noticed I said that I stopped playing. There were a few reasons and they aren't happy ones. For one thing, my parents didn't seem to like that I played. I never once heard a thing about my playing from them (except to quit playing at night). Neither of them ever said, "You've improved" or "that sounded good" or anything.
In the orchestra, one was seated according to how good you were. There was 1st, 2nd and 3d cello and all the rest. Well, only three kids played the cello, so I was 3rd. I didn't care. Celloist #1 was a child prodigy who spent half her day out of school studying with someone we heard was famous. She didn't look very happy. And besides, her sister was Violinist #1 and was already playing concerts, so everyone rather thought she was in a tough spot. The second celloist was a gifted young boy, and besides, he was a friend of mine, who seemed to enjoying playing with me at home, even if I wasn't as good as he was. So, I was quite content.
Now, I have to admit I have no memory of my parents saying any particular words, but I knew they thought I was wasting my time. If I couldn't be the best, I shouldn't be doing it. Besides, I had a talent for drawing and I ought to have been doing that. This was the one thing that they were proud of, but they could understand it, because they were both visual artists. Maybe I'd grow up to be more successful then they had been. That's the message I got.
But drawing never gave me the pleasure that playing music did. I loved to draw, but it didn't transport me beyond myself. Sometimes I felt like a peforming monkey because I was talented, and I hated it. When I played music, there were no thoughts of good or bad or talented or not. I was just playing music.
Unfortunately, when grade school was done, the free instruments and lessons ended. That's when the anvil dropped. I was told that I had to choose between renting an instrument and taking lessons. Now, that's not a choice. You can't take lessons if you don't have an instrument, and you can't teach yourself the cello without an instructor (not unless you're a genius, which I plainly was not). So, that was that.
I was given a cheap guitar at the end of the year to make up for things, but classical guitar just didn't cut it for me. It sounded plunky and even when I listened to a master play, it still sounded plunky. So, I wound up being a punk rock guitarist who thought she sucked. Well, that's making a long story short there (which is unusual for me, I know), but you get the idea.
So, these days I'm reveling in doing things badly and enjoying them. There are others who say I shouldn't say I do these things "badly" because I'm putting myself down. I don't agree. I'm being honest. I'm not a novelist and I'm not some genius in the rough. I thought I'd give writing a novel a try and it's good fun. Will I ever get published and get on the best seller list?
I doubt it highly.
I know people have trouble reading my long blog posts. But I'm having a good time and that's what counts. I'm learning a lot, expressing myself freely and even, at times, reveling in doing something I'm not all that good at. So, please, let me say I'm bad at stuff. It feels really good. It feels freeing. There are no expectations when you aren't good.
But I wouldn't mind a little pat on the back once in a while. I wished I had gotten it from my parents when I played the cello. I wouldn't have minded one bit if I grew up to be the very last celloist in some small city somewhere. But no, if I couldn't make it to Carnegie Hall, it was no go. Well, that's a sure fire way to create an underachiever, if you ask me.
Image note: Apocalyptica. Four cellists cover Metallica songs. Once, I was listening to this in my tat shop, when a guy I knew came in. He said, "Turn that classical crap off!" Then he stopped dead, "Is that Enter Sandman?!", he said. The first time I heard it, I couldn't stop laughing. That sounds like a bad review, but it was the cognitive dissonance that got me. Check it out for yourself:
I found the album cover on a sweet little web site made by a young kid (I think). Take a look.
Addendum: Just in case you think I'm a whiner who's still all upset about what my parents did to me (oh, the pain!) I'm not. One remedy for childhood hurts like this is to do them over and be your own parent. Some years ago, I rented a cello and took a lesson. It was fantastic. At the end of the first lesson, I played the first four measures of one of the Bach Suites. And here comes that word: I played it badly. Of course I did! I didn't care a whit. I was in heaven. Unfortunately, my hands were pretty shot from tattooing and I had to leave it at that one lesson. But that was enough. I had parented myself, gave myself permission to try it once again before I dropped dead, and any resentments I still harbored were gone. Well, maybe there's a wee bit. . .
I do feel the need to say this: If you are a parent, if your child is lousy at something and loves it, be happy for them and encourage them with everything you've got.
The Tattoo Help Desk is now officially closed. In spite of putting up this side project, all the tattoo questions still wound up being directed to this blog. If you do have any tattoo questions, feel free to ask away. I may not tattoo any more, but I still like talking and writing about it.
And the answer to the most frequently googled question about tattoos is this: No, it's not the best idea to get a tattoo when you are sick!
I also need to watch how I use my time. I'm not done with the novel (oh, it's so hard not to put that word in quotes!), but I'm already thinking about novel number two. Plus, I'm going to be getting free books to review from Amazon. I have no idea why I was solicited for this, but I'm pretty happy about it. I'm not going to turn down free books, even if there are some strings attached, like having to read them. I could fake a review, but that wouldn't be right.
Any other business to attend to tonight? I don't think so. Now, I'm going to write a real post.
I feel badly, but I've cancelled tomorrow's knitting classes because so few people signed up. I hope if you are one of the two people who did, you will sign up for the one that will be after the holidays.
I am also mulling over teaching a lace knitting class at Treetop Zen Center. Knitting complex lace is basically meditation with yarn. Mindfulness and concentration are essential.
Knitting is so rich with meaning. Come to think of it, is there anything that isn't? How could I be so foolish as to think that?
A friend asked me last night if I thought that "spiritually evolved" people might have different taste in music. I am not exactly big on the idea of "spiritually evolved people", but we'll leave that matter aside.
As for music, like what you like! Sure, some people think they are more evolved because they listen to John Adams instead everything that Justin Broadrick's done, but I think they're deluded. So there.
But I sure can't knit lace and listen to anything by Broadrick. Well, perhaps I could listen to Jesu and knit.
I had thought I'd failed miserably in trying to find an embed, but here it is, thanks to stumbling onto a new blog today (not that the writer of said blog likes Jesu or anything. He just had a lot of music embeds). Be forewarned - this is not the happiest music:
Image note: The cover of Jesu's Silver (linked above), which looks just about like what I see out my window today.
