Motivated Self Starter

The sense hit me hard today that my life is made up of the myriad little decisions I make in a day. I probably read this on a bumper sticker in Bear Town.

I had a few hours to kill before my next appointment this evening (dinner with the Swedes! I am so blessed) and I was nearly overwhelmed with the options. I could take a bicycle ride in the Baylands. I could spend money I don't have and get coffee and draw. I could go to the library to check CL (something I am obsessing about this month). Even the library had an almost overwhelming number of options. I thought that having no money would narrow it down, but it doesn't. The internet, the stacks-- these jewelled moments are like diamonds in my hand. Its a gorgeous day, even staring out the window would be a lovely thing to do.

I made a choice. I decided to look for more rooms on CL. Now I am blogging. How is this molding my life, I wonder? What kind of person will I be?

Lessons Learned

This "vindication" thing has been bittersweet. As it turns out I was wrong about what people found wrong. I wonder how often this happens and neither party ever finds out.

I was just going to let it remain untouched. While I don't think anyone owes anybody an apology, I do want to thank all the principals for participating in this strange trip down English grammar lane. It illustrates just how easy it is to misconstrue and be misconstrued.

A Moment of Silence

I am going to have a moment of silence for this "language" thing-- this strange miracle of sounds and letters and signs. I don't even know where it comes from. (I know the sunday school teacher would say the "Holy Spirit").

Because I know I am laughing

At myself. Damn, I am always good for a good crack-up.

Vindication

3, originally uploaded by camille94019.

I have been editing the Fat Camille opus in preparation for an actual hard-copy printing. All day long I have been cleaning things up, correcting spelling and adjusting technical print stuff so it will look good on paper. I just got to this page and I decided to "fix" the so-called technical problems with the Professor's speech. Two people (you know who you are) commented that he (I) got it all wrong. Since I wanted to show that the character was "right" all the time, it was important to the story to get it right. So I just went on-line to clear the mix-up.

I found out some interesting things.

Crazy English

Good generally is an adjective (although, according to notation 49 on that page it can mean "well").

Well generally is an adverb, although it can be correctly used as an adjective as well (ha ha).

Adverbs do actually describe verbs.

Adjectives do generally describe nouns.

Perhaps the dog should have recommended, "I am doing well." But is not "am" a form of the verb "to be?" It seems that "I am good" would be correct also (colloquially, at least).

Case in Point

I understand that things can be technically correct, but still sound bad. Be that as it may, I am a bit peeved-- mostly at myself for taking what those two readers said seriously and spending all this time trying to untangle the mess. It is so funny, this incident illustrates my entire small-brain insecurity.

Corrections

English is a fucking kluge. I started this line of inquiry to actually find something new, to repair a hole in my knowledge, but as it turns out, it was pointless. If there is a hole in my head, I share it with the rest of Le Monde Anglais-phone.

Dirty Clothes Blues

giant dipper, originally uploaded by camille94019.

I was trying to get myself to fold laundry today, but all I could do was sputter impotently at the endless piles that cluttered the floor. I wanted to see the bottom of it, but it was daunting, like the faerie tale pile of straw in Rumpelstiltskin (fortunately, no evil dwarves, but there ought to have been).

I didn't want to burst a blood-vessel over clean clothes (I'd rather save those kinds of melt downs for things that are really serious, like road rage) so I biked down to the abandoned boardwalk (always empty in the fog) to clear my mind of linens, dwarves, and the miasma of my own skull. On the way, unemployed males of various makes, whistled and catcalled me from their perches on the levees, bridge underpasses and stairs. At first I was annoyed, but then I realized its a harmless reminder that, yes, indeed, there is such a thing as gender, and, by gum, it deserves to be whistled about.

I arrived at the house slightly less cranky than I had left. The piles remain, but the rage is gone.

Refreshment

This blog needs to be refreshed. It is time to move that CL badness to the nether regions of
"old blog entries." My mood has improved (and so should yours).

Yes! Yes! Hit that refresh button! Clear your cache!

Breathe deeply!

La La La LA!