Another Word on Writing

Here are some thoughts on writing...but not my own. This is an excellent excerpt (or, more accurately, two excerpts) by Lewis Thomas - yes, that Lewis Thomas, so loved by Mr Robertson of AP Biology fame - on punctuation, from an essay fittingly called "Notes on Punctuation."

It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across a semicolon than a period. The period tells you that that is that; if you didn’t get all the meaning you wanted or expected, anyway you got all the writer intended to parcel out and now you have to move along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; to read on; it will get clearer.
...
Exclamation points are the most irritating of all. Look! they say, look at what I just said! How amazing is my thought! It is like being forced to watch someone else’s small child jumping up and down crazily in the center of the living room shouting to attract attention. If a sentence really has something of importance to say, something quite remarkable, it doesn’t need a mark to point it out. And if it is really, after all, a banal sentence needing more zing, the exclamation point simply emphasizes its banality!

Read the whole thing if you're interested - it's not very long, but I find the ideas within continue to sift to the top of my head whenever I'm writing an essay (or other such drivel).

Some Short Reflections on the end of Mr Tennant's Dr Who

Why hello.

Just finished watching the season finale of Dr Who on BBC America (yay) and, since it's the most cultural thing I've done thus far today (with the possible exception of attempting the application to "the Other place") I guess I'll have a go at a brief review.

And why not make it numerical.

1) First of all, let it be known that I do, in fact, find David Tennant perfectly dreamy, especially when he's out of character and in full command of his Scottish accent, but also when he's handling his sonic screwdriver (no comments, please). However, these last few episodes, the Doctor has seemed to me entirely too emo. I miss his humor (or, humour). I miss his scampering about in a flowy coat. I miss his companion - although perhaps not as much as he does, that's for sure. No matter how upstanding Mr Donna Noble is, an 80-year-old man is no substitute for the other half of whatever witty repartee we expect to be bombarded with. And so, for this reason, I'm rather pleased, or at least not completely devastated, to see this latest incarnation depart. Goodbye, Mr Tennant, we loved you, we'll miss you, but I at least am willing to put a brave front on and welcome your successor.

2) Which brings me to Dr 11. Chin up, Whofans...from the 30 seconds we got, he seems like a longer-haired, larger-chinned version of the same. Substituting geronimo (?) for the trademark allons-y...well, some things will take some getting used to.

3) And questions left unanswered...if my nerd-ville zip code hasn't been revealed yet, this should do it. What actually happened to the Master? If Tennant is no more, does that mean his clone living in an alternate reality with Billie Piper has gone longer and lankier, too? (what a shock for her). And what about that possible plotline, seemingly abandoned, with that woman River Song (strange name) who we met in the Library? There are some other questions that have flown out of my head, probably because my intro-level conception of physics doesn't like the idea of a man jumping out of a space ship, hurtling through a conservatory roof, and smashing onto a marble floor without breaking a bone, not to mention the possible implications of a large, boiling planet suddenly popping into existence a mile or so away from the surface of the Earth.

But - that's! entertainment! And I do enjoy it. Looking forward to the next season (Steven Moffat's new head writer!), not to mention any reruns. Right. Until tomorrow.

New Beginnings (once again)

Oh my giddy goodness, it's 2010. We've exited the noughties. I can tell that I am going to have trouble with this, as I just now typed 20010, and I still sometimes, when I'm less aware, think I'm in Y2K. This is what happens when you enter your fourth decade? (Although, my grandfather tells me no, we won't truly be into the teens until next year.)

Still, exciting stuff. And it brings me to my purpose for this post, namely, explaining my reasons for re-opening RecAnth. How boring. And these are: (1) it's the new year, and new years call for new resolutions, of which I have several; I've made up a little digitalized post-it note to remind myself of what these are, and let me pull it up to enlighten you all...ah yes, here we go. True to the spirit of things, they range from the nebulous to the doomed. Over the course of the year, I plan on drinking more water (one can only improve on this), running at least twice a week (hence the water), working through the Bible nightly (fit and holy, excellent), and - more to the point - posting something (anything) on my blog once a day. Furthermore, (2) these resolutions will hopefully distract me from the chaos and turmoil which doubtless will accompany my exiting the dubious utopia of undergraduate life and entering...whatever it is that I will be entering.

Because I've got no idea whether, by this time next year, I'll be a researcher back at Oxford, an EMT here in Sewickley, or a student at seminary - who knows, with all that Bible-reading - I can't quite tell you (who are you? Is anyone even bothering with this silly site anymore?) what the nature of these posts will be, but I'll try to refrain from too much navel-gazing, instead sticking to the original spirit of the blog and gazing outward. Regardless, whether it's a photo of me in a Russian hat or an essay on French slang, I hope you enjoy the quasi-cultural exhibition, and excuse my occasional cry for help if, as I suspect may happen, I accidentally reneg on this resolution for 2010 and start moaning about schoolwork rather than using this as an opportunity to escape for a bit while expanding my knowledge of the real and interesting world around me. (Also, don't blame me too much for back-dating...although I will try to avoid it.)

I've never been a terribly enthusiastic fan of the changing calendar, but I've got high hopes, and expectations to match; additionally, I hope everyone out there is well and having a Happy New Year!

End

Picture this:

A girl (yes, she still qualifies as a girl, despite her 'advanced age') walking down a narrow brick street, past small brick houses with multi-hued doors that catch the evening sunlight. Around her are students set on celebrating the end of exams - they're variously dressed up in academic robes, party hats, farm animal masks, and facepaint, and they're throwing glitter and confetti and shaving cream into the air. The girl doesn't break stride; she continues down that narrow street, eating fish and chips out of a paper bag with a wooden fork, and smiles as hums along to a Debussy song that's just come on through her headphones.

Strange. But that's how I'll remember the end.

Do Not Go Gentle

PICS! of me rage, raging against the dying of the light.

1 - the summer garden party!

in lmh's gardens, of course.

some interesting people...bramble, tink, and ben 'vlad' westwood. yeah i know.

the asian front

and owen of course.

samuel joins us after his final exam, so we throw glitter on him and give him a 'girls' night out' balloon.

famous burgers!

2 - eilyn's birthday dinner!

lovely little eilyn.

noodles!

3 - pubs!

finding our way to a secret pub down by the bridge of sighs (oooh)

found it: turf tavern

another night, with sam and some americans at the king's arms.

and one of the mitre, which was taken along a course involving several, including the white horse and turf tavern. i am not an alcoholic, bess. it's socializing.

4 - and clubs!

either babylove or anuba. sam hates anuba.

strange shots at risa

anddd back with the original gang of lawyers for clem's.

5 - croquet!

i am sooo much better than everyone else at this game thanks to my 'killer' grandfather.

john stopped by, but had to return to his greek history studies...stupid exams.

6 - the bitter(sweet) end

incredible...i'm going to miss these guys (and the ones who weren't pictured, too) so so so much. it's just started 9th week, and except for the handful of students who are finishing up exams, everyone's gone home, leaving me in a bit of a ghost town. i know we'll stay in touch, but i sort of feel like i'm going to miss their presence more than they'll miss mine. it's a matter of numbers. anyway, we'll stay in touch. they'll be fine. and i will too. :)

yep...

these will all be on facebook, plus more, in a few days.

xoxo

Quizzy (EDIT: now completed!)

Hellooo all...okay so it's (once again) been a while...does anyone even read this anymore???

I've been busy with tutes and lectures and, more recently, the Summer Eights regatta and investigating graduate options...too busy, it seems, to even take photos, as I had hinted to do last term. Sorry! I have some tentative plans to go dancing and punting - not simultaneously - this weekend, and maybe do some other photographic events. In which case I can put those up.

Until that point...quiz time! Brits are big on quizzes, as Mom can testify from the pub quiz and quiz machine and so on. Because I'm literary-minded, I'll make this about vocab...some alternate meanings, and some totally new words. You've all doubtless figured out lorry and lift and rubbish, and maybe a few of you know the naughtier British interpretation of fanny (and pants!), but let's see if any of these stump you. Answers to be given...when I remember. Prizes to be announced sometime after that. :D

***it's now June 9th and I've put in the answers instead of writing an essay. Hurrah!***
1) faff (v) to waste time, to mess about, to procrastinate (stop faffing about!); derivatives include nouns 'faff' and 'faffer', respectively the non-activity and the participant(s).
2) manky (adj) inferior, disgusting, worthless, dirty, unclean (the showers in Wolfson North are getting increasingly manky).
3) prang (adj) afraid, paranoid, or confused (this experimental drug trial pays £125, but I'm feeling a bit sleepy and prang); apparently also a WWII era verb meaning to collide, bomb, or shoot down.
4) cringe (adj) embarrassing or awkward - actually, the closest they've got here to 'awkward turtle' and derivatives (my tutor tried to tell a joke today...so cringe); additionally used as an interjection.
5) whinge (v) to complain, to whine (she was whinging all through dinner about her essays); also whinger, a whiny person.
6) pavement (n) the sidewalk (I got a £30 fine during Summer Eights week for cycling on the pavement).
7) chuffed (adj) delighted, pleased, proud, tickled (I'm well chuffed to have navigated this punt out of a hawthorn tree).
8) ickle (adj) small, miniscule, itty-bitty (Aww, has ickle Johnny got a scrape from punching that wall?).
9) courgette (n) zucchini (By the time he got through the queue, all the courgettes were either shriveled up or drowning in butter under the heat lamps).
10) gutted (adj) absolutely disappointed, devastated (We were all gutted to discover that beautiful Welsh John has a long-term, long-distance girlfriend); also an interjection meaning something along the lines of 'ouch!'
11) lush (n) a drunk, a sot, an alky...generally a flirtatious one (Goodness, this weekend I've discovered that Matthew is quite the lush!).
12) gormless (adj) stupid, idiotic, lacking composure, grace, and style, brainless (I know that speaker is supposed to be brilliant, but honestly he seemed more like a gormless twit to me when I heard him this Sunday); non-rhotic, also spelled 'gaumless'.
13) kit (n) clothing, usually of the uniform variety (Be sure to fill out the order form for the boating kit, because we're going to look smart in all blue and yellow stash.)
14) swot (v) to revise for an exam (prelims are just around the corner - have you started swotting?); noun form has a negative connotation, meaning a bookworm or a teacher's pet.
15) gawp (v) to stare at something, standing stock-still and mouth agape (the preteens are always standing around Cornmarket Street, gawping in the shop windows, so that I want to run them over on my bicycle).
16) fringe (n) bangs (Mel's new fringe is super cute...it makes her look even more like those manga people she's always drawing).
17) fit (adj) hot, sexy, attractive (yeah, yeah, like I said, you are really fit...but my gosh, don't you just know it).
18) lash (n) a pub-crawl, a night out of heavy drinking with the lads (don't laugh, but three pubs with Sam and Owen is about as good a lash as I can take); banter seems to be heavily involved.
19) aces (adj) excellent, brilliant, fantastic (I'm aces at croquet, even with Pimm's in hand).
20) minger (n) a particularly ugly individual (Is that our M2? Nope, not unless the 5-seat suddenly turned into an ancient minger); derives from ming, a hideous odor.
21) knackered (adj) exhausted (I spent all morning reading, all afternoon writing, and now I'm outside getting well and truly knackered indulging Anya in her art).
22) keen (adj) eager, enthusiastic, interested in someone or something (Dave seems a bit too keen on taking his tutor's dog for a walk and generally complying to her every irrelevant wish).
23) cock up (n) a complete mess, a mistake (What a cock up...Worcester's W2 not only mounted our boat and split the Lemon Tart in half, they also broke the cox); also a verb.
24) bender (n) a drinking spree (So we stay in for one night to catch up on these reading lists, and you tell me Alex went on one of his benders and ended in puking down Jake's stairwell?); being 'bent' is to be drunk, although in the UK nearly anything means to be drunk if said in a certain way...oh man I was so ___ed last night. Silly.
25) skint (adj) lacking funds, broke, hard-up for cash (Constance insists that she's totally skint, but I keep seeing these packages come in for her in the lodge, so must be she's feeding the ebay habit by selling her brain to psychology).
26) fagged (adj) tired out from extensive working (Our Welshy friend's got mooting, essays, the CU, campaigning, these rowing outings, and last night I saw him at Kukui...I don't know when he sleeps, but he must be fagged to death).
27) chunder (v) to vomit (We got to the start line of the race early enough to practice our chundering technique, leaning over the side of the boat and away from all the blades and riggers, although fortunately this skill was never put to use).
28) naff (adj) unstylish, worthless, lame, tacky, or lacking class (It may be sensible, but a jacket in cool weather? Very naff. We may allow you a cardigan and scarf, but it's a stretch.); also a verb, noun, and mild expletive that goes anywhere f*** can (Naff the naffing naffers).
29) filch (v) petty theft, stealing something of little value (There's been so much filching of hall silverware and glasses they've had to put up an angry notice).
30) kip (n) sleep, a place to sleep, a nap (We were all studying in the library, except for Kalpana, who I had let go back to my room for a kip); also a verb often followed by 'down'.

And the bonus was 'stonking', another adjective which means impressive or extremely (getting up on May Day to hear the choir sing from the top of Magdalen and seeing the Morris dancers was a stonking good time!).

Okayyy there you go - have fun!

I'd Rather...

Hello once again, and greetings from an icecream shop filled with Italians (and their young children) at midnight. Yes. Apologies once again for neglecting the blog…but I think I’ll dive right into it. Since I last updated, I’ve had no real disasters, which is fantastic, and I’ve been to a ton of different towns and met with a ton of different people. I have no clue where to even start in some sort of reflective, critical piece, but I think I’ll just do a brief recap to keep you in the loop.

After Dublin and Kinsale, I left the land of the ginges and took a ferry to Wales, where I spent a few days in the north climbing mountains, traversing Telford bridges, and peeking into castles, and then journeyed south (by flagging down a train) to meet up with Owen, who showed me an outstanding time in Swansea, Cardiff, and the Gower. I learned a lot about Welsh culture, discovered a bit about the Welsh language, and learned about English, too – for instance, in the UK, a lot of USA mass nouns are plural. So, sadly, the Welsh rugby team weren’t able to beat Ireland in the six nations tournament. (Although the Welsh crowd were more enthusiastic – a goat, a flaming torch, and inflatable leeks and daffodils for the win.) I also revised my Dublin theory (a city park is the perfect amount of nature) to include parks with clear-cut paths and tracks. So all said, a good bit of travel.

I next visited Sam in his hamlet of Pangbourne, near Reading, having eliminated Constance and Mel from my travel plans; disappointing, but necessary, as they were not actually in Exeter, but instead had decided to go to Penzance. I like pirates, but not that much. After relaxing with Sam, his cat, two dogs, and other family members, I headed to London on my birthday to do some dangerous shopping and to meet Mom, who showed up a little late but no less thrilled to be there. Maybe more. We had some fun bonding time in London, York, and the middle of the Midlands, and then I was off to Italy! and France! to see Alyssa. Corsica was very amazing, and I will definitely have to get back there, probably with a car, to see the lush verdant forests, or whatever…I feel I don’t have nearly enough information about the place now, but I do know it was very beautiful and wild. And currently, as mentioned above, I’m in Italy, in Firenze, and I’m right around the corner from the Uffizi. This vacation has been, on the whole, a surreal experience.

Although I haven’t got anything for you in the way of interesting compare/contrast during my travels – I think anything I might try to say would be shallow and superficial – I have nevertheless been given a lot of time to think on all of those train rides from place to place. And now…Why I’d Rather Live in the UK. I know. Let’s say as compared to France or Italy. Because those places can be life-changing to visit, but as a home might be my undoing.

First: I am covered in bug bites! Again! Why! What is it about me that makes me so appealing to hideous insects? And why am I the only person who swells up like a balloon when bitten? I currently have about ten elbows, and about eight of them are painfully itchy.

Second: the language. I simply don’t speak Italian, outside of general niceties and food words (and of course ‘how much does it cost’). And I tried to ask for directions to a place to eat in France and got directed to a dark alley sooo who knows what I was really asking for. Although I suppose I could have just interpreted the directions wrongly.

Next: tea. People in Ajaccio and in Florence are insane about tea! They leave the teabags in! They leave the spoon in! They don’t have normal tea, only herbal things and Earl Grey – hey, that’s not normal tea! And they sometimes don’t even offer milk to go with it. It’s a travesty. I don’t even know what else to say about this.

And finally: queuing. Or lack thereof. I must have seriously got bit by the que bug, because I was filled with such silent moral rage upon being confronted by what might loosely be termed as a “line”, both in Italy and in Corsica (which, as we all know, is really populated by what used to be Genoans), that I was hard pressed not to mutter under my breath in indignation. It’s true.

So I am pretty thrilled to be going back to Oxford in under two weeks. Not to say that I don’t want to be back in the States, or that travelling hasn’t been really fun…but for now, I simply can’t wait to come ‘home’ to Oxford, where life is truly civilised! ;)