scuttlebutt - Navy slang for a water fountain, also used in place of 'gossip' because saiors would all hang around the scuttlebut and exchange rumours and chat.
bulwark - An embankment built around a space for defensive purposes, as in "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, a bulwark never failing."
hubris - Overbearing pride or presumption, arrogance. For example, a theif who signed the inside of a vault after he robbed it would be committing an act of hubris.
dearth - A scarcity. During a period between food deliveries to the army, there would be a dearth of provisions. (antonym: surfeit?)
deference - Great respect. A courtier would bow to his king with great deference.
emulate - To strive to match or equal, by imitation. I try to emulate my favorite singer by eating locally and buying secondhand clothes like he does.
imitate - To appear like, in behavior or physical appearance. Although I emulate Davvey Havok in his lifestyle, I do not attempt to imitate his distinctive style of dress.
mimic - To imitate something, usually for humorous purposes. My Dad likes to mimic the voice of Walter Cronkite at the dinner table to make my mother and I laugh.
endemic - Describing something that is found where it originated. This usually refers to a disease particular to a specific locale.
aborigine - An indigenous person or native.
inchoate - Only partly in existence, imperfectly formed. The most common example of an inchoate offense is conspiracy.
precursor - Something that precedes or indicates the approach of something else. Fever and vomiting are common precursors to the onset of a deadly case of H1N1.
volatile - Fickle, marked by erratic changeableness in affections or attachments. It was the thi week of the month and as always, her emotions were volitile and mercurial.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Monday, November 2, 2009
In Defense of Food
1) I think people eat "food" that they know is bad for them because they like the taste and they just don't care. I personally ate so much candy on Halloween that I was violently sick the following morning, and I know that almost none of the ingredients found in said candy are also found in nature. I ate it because it's yummy. And besides, I only binge like that once a year. :)
2) The government has a responsibility to serve and protect the citizens. I think that this definitely involves labelling anything that could possibly cause harm to someone. I don't know if genetically modified food needs to be labelled, because most of the food we eat now is GMO and nothing is happening (except for swine flu...maybe there's a connection). In short, I think that the government should be responsible for educating people about risks and keeping the super toxic stuff OFF the market. Like that energy drink called Cocaine that they used to sell. Not good. I'm glad the FDA got that one, it was just a lawsuit (not to mention a PEOPLE magazine expose) waiting to happen.
2) The government has a responsibility to serve and protect the citizens. I think that this definitely involves labelling anything that could possibly cause harm to someone. I don't know if genetically modified food needs to be labelled, because most of the food we eat now is GMO and nothing is happening (except for swine flu...maybe there's a connection). In short, I think that the government should be responsible for educating people about risks and keeping the super toxic stuff OFF the market. Like that energy drink called Cocaine that they used to sell. Not good. I'm glad the FDA got that one, it was just a lawsuit (not to mention a PEOPLE magazine expose) waiting to happen.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Novalena
We interveiwed a friend of Elika's and wrote a mock-personal statement about her.
Here goes.
Novalena Betancourt is a slight, very pretty young woman, with dark hair and eyes. She smiles with her whole face, giving the impression of an effortlessly happy person.
But Novalena says her biggest challenges in life are keeping a positive attitude and staying balanced, so much so that she’s decided to make that the focus of her second book, “The Total Female Package”. She summarizes it with five simple words: Authenticity, Growth, Love, Relationships, and Connection.
Novalena says she learned this lesson from her father, the son of Puerto Rican immigrants. His parents, her grandparents, urged him to get a job as a janitor, but he decided instead to put himself through school and is now a successful computer technician.
Taking her cue from him, Novalena plans to turn her book into an entire franchise, including (hopefully) a TV show on the Oprah network that would focus on helping women achieve their dreams using Novalena’s method and her five values: Authenticity, Growth, Love, Relationships, and Connection.
What is most striking about Novalena is the vitality and passion she brings to everything she does, and her obvious love for working with people. She wants to eventually raise a big family with both children of her own and adopted children. Novalena says that the biggest lesson she wants to impart to her children (when she has them) , is the same one that she is learning from her parents and the same one that she wants to tell the world with her book: “Love yourself.”
~FIN~
Here goes.
Novalena Betancourt is a slight, very pretty young woman, with dark hair and eyes. She smiles with her whole face, giving the impression of an effortlessly happy person.
But Novalena says her biggest challenges in life are keeping a positive attitude and staying balanced, so much so that she’s decided to make that the focus of her second book, “The Total Female Package”. She summarizes it with five simple words: Authenticity, Growth, Love, Relationships, and Connection.
Novalena says she learned this lesson from her father, the son of Puerto Rican immigrants. His parents, her grandparents, urged him to get a job as a janitor, but he decided instead to put himself through school and is now a successful computer technician.
Taking her cue from him, Novalena plans to turn her book into an entire franchise, including (hopefully) a TV show on the Oprah network that would focus on helping women achieve their dreams using Novalena’s method and her five values: Authenticity, Growth, Love, Relationships, and Connection.
What is most striking about Novalena is the vitality and passion she brings to everything she does, and her obvious love for working with people. She wants to eventually raise a big family with both children of her own and adopted children. Novalena says that the biggest lesson she wants to impart to her children (when she has them) , is the same one that she is learning from her parents and the same one that she wants to tell the world with her book: “Love yourself.”
~FIN~
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Opinion- US foreign policy
If our foreign policy were entirely up to me, I would avoid military intervention at all costs and refrain from any interference besides trade and civilian travel. Also, I'd encourage organizations like "Invisible Children", because I think it's good for people from different countries to help each other sans government involvement. Sometimes the government (any government, not just the US one or the one of the country in question) works too slowly or is too heavy-handed. They can't be everywhere at once, and there are things that legally they aren't able to do, or aren't financially capable of doing, that civilians can do.
For example, if the US government had started something like "schools for schools", there would have been an international uproar about putting the government into education, the US government interfering too much in Uganda. But when citizens take it upon themselves, it's just people helping other people.
On August 15, 2008 President George W. Bush stated: "Bullying and intimidation are not acceptable ways to conduct foreign policy in the 21st century." Although I REALLY didn't like our former president, I agree with this statement. I think the best way to try to shape the world is with kindness, compassion, and generosity, and this is best achieved by the people of different countries reaching out to each other in friendship.
Haha, I sound like the minister at my church now! But it's what I think. :)
~FIN~
For example, if the US government had started something like "schools for schools", there would have been an international uproar about putting the government into education, the US government interfering too much in Uganda. But when citizens take it upon themselves, it's just people helping other people.
On August 15, 2008 President George W. Bush stated: "Bullying and intimidation are not acceptable ways to conduct foreign policy in the 21st century." Although I REALLY didn't like our former president, I agree with this statement. I think the best way to try to shape the world is with kindness, compassion, and generosity, and this is best achieved by the people of different countries reaching out to each other in friendship.
Haha, I sound like the minister at my church now! But it's what I think. :)
~FIN~
Monday, September 14, 2009
Jan von Holleben Story-- The Magic Turban.
We were asked to look at a photo from Jan von Holleben's series "dreams of flying" and write a story about "The Dogrider" (found here: http://www.janvonholleben.com/?page_id=4&att_id=989 )
My story is titled "The Magic Turban".
Markl found the turban in his attic, stuffed between an old trunk and the wood-paneled wall, gathering dust. At first he thought it was a shirt, because the part sticking out looked kind of like a sleeve, but when he pulled it out, leaning all of his thirty-three pounds on it, he found that it was a long strip of heavy orange linen.
He frowned at the fabric, dissapointed, and sneezed from the dust in the air. After a few futile seconds trying to figure out what it was, he ran off downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, to ask his mother.
Markl's mother was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad. She spared the long piece of fabric a small glance, and told him in a slightly bored voice that it was a turban ("What does it do?" "You wear it on your head, dear.") that Daddy had brought back from a dig in the East. Then she turned back to her vegetables.
Left to his own devices, Markl decided that he would don the turban and go on an adventure. He knotted the fabric clumsily around his head, leaving long, trailing ends, and hopped up on the hall table to look at his reflection in the mirror.
Maybe you would only see the little boy in the ridiculous head wrap, but Markl saw a tall, powerful, swashbuckling adventurer in the mirror, a hero with the face of his father. He struck a pose, glaring at his reflection in a way he thought looked impressive, and jumped down from the table.
He had walked a few steps before he realized that his feet were not touching the ground. He stared for a moment, wide-eyed, then took an experimental step upward.
The air was like solid ground under his feet, and soon he was leaping all around the hallway gleefully. Now the front door wasn't too high for him to reach, and he opened it and bounded out, somersaulting in midair.
His dog, Barder, was sitting on the top step of the porch, staring at him with canine bewilderment. Markl grinned as he had an idea, and air-walked over to his dog and climbed onto his back. When he was really little, he used to be able to do this, but recently he'd become too heavy for Barder to carry. He had a feeling it would work this time, though.
And it did. Barder sensed the difference instantly, and rocketed off the porch and into midair, and Markl shreiked delightedly as they soared up into the sky together, holding onto Barder's collar for dear life.
Back in the kitchen, the phone rang. Markl's mother answered it.
"Oh, hello Jan." (Jan was Markl's father.)
"Hello, Carla. You haven't happend to find any orange turbans lately, have you?"
"Yes, I--only this afternoon, actually!"
"Well, I've just spoken with the man who gave it to me, and he's proved irrefutably that it carries a very powerful enchantment! Just one scrap of the fabric gives you amazing powers!"
"You really think it's magic? Markl found it and dragged it in--"
"Oh, go find him and get it from him, who knows what kind of trouble our boy could get into with it!"
At that moment, Markl's mother happened to look out the window, and Markl and Barder were looping the loop around their neighbor's chimney.
"Too late," she said, chuckling.
~FIN~
My story is titled "The Magic Turban".
Markl found the turban in his attic, stuffed between an old trunk and the wood-paneled wall, gathering dust. At first he thought it was a shirt, because the part sticking out looked kind of like a sleeve, but when he pulled it out, leaning all of his thirty-three pounds on it, he found that it was a long strip of heavy orange linen.
He frowned at the fabric, dissapointed, and sneezed from the dust in the air. After a few futile seconds trying to figure out what it was, he ran off downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, to ask his mother.
Markl's mother was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad. She spared the long piece of fabric a small glance, and told him in a slightly bored voice that it was a turban ("What does it do?" "You wear it on your head, dear.") that Daddy had brought back from a dig in the East. Then she turned back to her vegetables.
Left to his own devices, Markl decided that he would don the turban and go on an adventure. He knotted the fabric clumsily around his head, leaving long, trailing ends, and hopped up on the hall table to look at his reflection in the mirror.
Maybe you would only see the little boy in the ridiculous head wrap, but Markl saw a tall, powerful, swashbuckling adventurer in the mirror, a hero with the face of his father. He struck a pose, glaring at his reflection in a way he thought looked impressive, and jumped down from the table.
He had walked a few steps before he realized that his feet were not touching the ground. He stared for a moment, wide-eyed, then took an experimental step upward.
The air was like solid ground under his feet, and soon he was leaping all around the hallway gleefully. Now the front door wasn't too high for him to reach, and he opened it and bounded out, somersaulting in midair.
His dog, Barder, was sitting on the top step of the porch, staring at him with canine bewilderment. Markl grinned as he had an idea, and air-walked over to his dog and climbed onto his back. When he was really little, he used to be able to do this, but recently he'd become too heavy for Barder to carry. He had a feeling it would work this time, though.
And it did. Barder sensed the difference instantly, and rocketed off the porch and into midair, and Markl shreiked delightedly as they soared up into the sky together, holding onto Barder's collar for dear life.
Back in the kitchen, the phone rang. Markl's mother answered it.
"Oh, hello Jan." (Jan was Markl's father.)
"Hello, Carla. You haven't happend to find any orange turbans lately, have you?"
"Yes, I--only this afternoon, actually!"
"Well, I've just spoken with the man who gave it to me, and he's proved irrefutably that it carries a very powerful enchantment! Just one scrap of the fabric gives you amazing powers!"
"You really think it's magic? Markl found it and dragged it in--"
"Oh, go find him and get it from him, who knows what kind of trouble our boy could get into with it!"
At that moment, Markl's mother happened to look out the window, and Markl and Barder were looping the loop around their neighbor's chimney.
"Too late," she said, chuckling.
~FIN~
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Writing In Reverse- Equilibrium
This is an assignment for Government-Sociology class. We chose a person from Bill Sullivan's Turnstile Photography Project, and wrote a story about them. I chose the third woman from the left in this image: http://www.3situations.com/BillSullivanWorks/MT3.html
The title is Equilibrium because the core theme I am trying to express in this story is that everything in life will eventually balance out.
Also, I talk about time zones a little but I didn’t have time to check up on what the actual difference is between Reykjavik and New York. I think it’s only three hours, but I’m not quite sure.
ALSO, Elke (my character) is thirty-seven.
Equilibrium
This had definitely not been the best day of Elke Bjorson's life. She'd gotten up late, spilled coffee on her favorite blouse (and had to change into her least favorite because everything else was in the wash), broken her last good mug, and all that before breakfast. At work, the copier had been broken, her email had failed and the really ugly IT guy had hit on her. Again.
Not to mention, her best friend had called in sick, leaving her to eat lunch with the stupid lower office girls all alone. To top it all off, her twenty-year-old sister Silke had been calling her since two in the morning. Apparently, Silke didn't know about the time difference between New York and Iceland. By the fifth call, at around 3:20 AM, Elke had resolved not to pick up at all.
She pushed through the turnstile, phone in hand, and glanced down at it again. Silke had called nine times since she'd last checked, and Elke really didn't feel like calling her back. Any exchange today would just turn into a huge confrontation.
The train pulled into the station just as Elke arrived on the platform, and she got on, taking a seat near the door. A sleepy-looking young man sat down next to her, and she glanced briefly at him before looking back at her phone. One more missed call. Did Silke not want to leave a message?
She turned off her phone and stuffed it into her purse, leaning back against the seat.
The train ride passed fairly quickly, and Elke hailed a taxi and told the driver where to go. Her apartment was only about ten minutes’ walk from the subway stop, but she was too miserable to walk. Soon the driver pulled up in front of her apartment building and she thrust a twenty at him and mumbled for him to keep the change.
Elke almost knew before she opened the door that the elevator was broken. How couldn’t it be? She smiled ironically to herself as she started up the stairs. The only good thing about bad days like this was that everything consistently sucked.
When she opened the door to her apartment, her cat, Loki, was sleeping next to the phone and answering machine on the hall table. The little red light that indicated “inbox full” blinked. Elke dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and grabbed Loki and answering machine, tucking the cat under her arm and flopping down on the couch to listen to her messages.
“Twenty-four new messages and three old messages,” declared the phone in its hollow voice. “Message one. Two-oh-three PM. Friday, July the ninth.”
And then Silke’s voice blared from the tiny speaker, startling both Elke and the cat.
“Elke, why aren’t you picking up your cell phone? I’ve been calling you all day! Call me back!”
“Message two. Two-thirty-four PM. Friday, July the ninth.”
Elke turned off the answering machine and looked over to where she’d dropped her purse. It was comfortable on the couch, and the cat was curled up against her side. She decided to wait until Silke called again, and turned on the TV.
Consistent with the rest of her day, everything on TV sucked. Elke settled on Jerry Springer and let her mind wander, petting the cat absently.
The phone in her lap rang, about five minutes later, and Elke picked up without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Elke, why are you ignoring all my calls?!” It was Silke, of course.
“Sorry, Sil, I’ve had a really awful day,” said Elke, stretching. “And your first call was at around two in the morning…”
“Really?” said Silke, sounding surprised. “Oh, the time zones. I keep forgetting you don’t live in Europe anymore. It was only five for me.”
“Only five,” said Elke skeptically. “Okay, what were you doing up at five?”
“You’ll never guess!” chirped Silke.
Elke waited.
“Oh fine, I’ll tell you, since you’re obviously dying to know!” said Silke happily. “I was freaking out because……………I’m pregnant and I’m getting married!”
Elke’s mouth dropped open. “You WHAT?!”
“Pregnant and married!” repeated Silke. “I’m so happy!”
“You’re marrying the guy that knocked you up?” asked Elke in disbelief.
“Well, DUH,” said Silke. Elke could hear her hopping from foot to foot in excitement, like she used to do when she was a toddler. “And you’ll come back home, right? You’ll come to my wedding?”
“Oh my God, of course!” said Elke. “Oh my-Do you want me to fly over this week? When’s the wedding? When are you due? Oh my God, how far along are you?”
Silke began to chatter happily, and Elke smiled, listening. She imagined telling this story to her future niece or nephew.
“Well, it was shaping up to be the worst day of my life, but then your mother called and said she was getting married…”
~FIN~
The title is Equilibrium because the core theme I am trying to express in this story is that everything in life will eventually balance out.
Also, I talk about time zones a little but I didn’t have time to check up on what the actual difference is between Reykjavik and New York. I think it’s only three hours, but I’m not quite sure.
ALSO, Elke (my character) is thirty-seven.
Equilibrium
This had definitely not been the best day of Elke Bjorson's life. She'd gotten up late, spilled coffee on her favorite blouse (and had to change into her least favorite because everything else was in the wash), broken her last good mug, and all that before breakfast. At work, the copier had been broken, her email had failed and the really ugly IT guy had hit on her. Again.
Not to mention, her best friend had called in sick, leaving her to eat lunch with the stupid lower office girls all alone. To top it all off, her twenty-year-old sister Silke had been calling her since two in the morning. Apparently, Silke didn't know about the time difference between New York and Iceland. By the fifth call, at around 3:20 AM, Elke had resolved not to pick up at all.
She pushed through the turnstile, phone in hand, and glanced down at it again. Silke had called nine times since she'd last checked, and Elke really didn't feel like calling her back. Any exchange today would just turn into a huge confrontation.
The train pulled into the station just as Elke arrived on the platform, and she got on, taking a seat near the door. A sleepy-looking young man sat down next to her, and she glanced briefly at him before looking back at her phone. One more missed call. Did Silke not want to leave a message?
She turned off her phone and stuffed it into her purse, leaning back against the seat.
The train ride passed fairly quickly, and Elke hailed a taxi and told the driver where to go. Her apartment was only about ten minutes’ walk from the subway stop, but she was too miserable to walk. Soon the driver pulled up in front of her apartment building and she thrust a twenty at him and mumbled for him to keep the change.
Elke almost knew before she opened the door that the elevator was broken. How couldn’t it be? She smiled ironically to herself as she started up the stairs. The only good thing about bad days like this was that everything consistently sucked.
When she opened the door to her apartment, her cat, Loki, was sleeping next to the phone and answering machine on the hall table. The little red light that indicated “inbox full” blinked. Elke dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and grabbed Loki and answering machine, tucking the cat under her arm and flopping down on the couch to listen to her messages.
“Twenty-four new messages and three old messages,” declared the phone in its hollow voice. “Message one. Two-oh-three PM. Friday, July the ninth.”
And then Silke’s voice blared from the tiny speaker, startling both Elke and the cat.
“Elke, why aren’t you picking up your cell phone? I’ve been calling you all day! Call me back!”
“Message two. Two-thirty-four PM. Friday, July the ninth.”
Elke turned off the answering machine and looked over to where she’d dropped her purse. It was comfortable on the couch, and the cat was curled up against her side. She decided to wait until Silke called again, and turned on the TV.
Consistent with the rest of her day, everything on TV sucked. Elke settled on Jerry Springer and let her mind wander, petting the cat absently.
The phone in her lap rang, about five minutes later, and Elke picked up without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Elke, why are you ignoring all my calls?!” It was Silke, of course.
“Sorry, Sil, I’ve had a really awful day,” said Elke, stretching. “And your first call was at around two in the morning…”
“Really?” said Silke, sounding surprised. “Oh, the time zones. I keep forgetting you don’t live in Europe anymore. It was only five for me.”
“Only five,” said Elke skeptically. “Okay, what were you doing up at five?”
“You’ll never guess!” chirped Silke.
Elke waited.
“Oh fine, I’ll tell you, since you’re obviously dying to know!” said Silke happily. “I was freaking out because……………I’m pregnant and I’m getting married!”
Elke’s mouth dropped open. “You WHAT?!”
“Pregnant and married!” repeated Silke. “I’m so happy!”
“You’re marrying the guy that knocked you up?” asked Elke in disbelief.
“Well, DUH,” said Silke. Elke could hear her hopping from foot to foot in excitement, like she used to do when she was a toddler. “And you’ll come back home, right? You’ll come to my wedding?”
“Oh my God, of course!” said Elke. “Oh my-Do you want me to fly over this week? When’s the wedding? When are you due? Oh my God, how far along are you?”
Silke began to chatter happily, and Elke smiled, listening. She imagined telling this story to her future niece or nephew.
“Well, it was shaping up to be the worst day of my life, but then your mother called and said she was getting married…”
~FIN~
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