Friday, August 22, 2008

A Lesson in Pernunciation

I am always so perplexed when people pronounce words incorrectly. I understand that if you read a word off of a page then you might say it wrong, especially if you've never heard the word before. But there are certain words that are part of our common vinacular and yet people still say them wrong. It's like they're refusing to hear the way every other person on earth says these words. LALALALA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU SAYING THINGS CORRECTLY! I WILL SAY THINGS HOW I WANT TO! NO MATTER WHAT! LALALOODYLOO!

Here are a few words that are currently bothering me:

Massage: muh-sahzh, not muh-sa-jah.

Height: hahyt not hahythe. There is no TH. Where are you pulling that th sound out of??

Spa: Spa not Spal. Ok. this is something I've only heard one person say but she says it every day and it drives me crazy because...spal? I guess refer to above but instead of wondering where the TH came from, wonder where the L came from. But really wonder. I understand how you can be a little dyslexic with the "ht" in height...but Spal?

Pillow: pil-oh not Pell-oh

Also, names. Some names can be pronounced in a variety of ways. However, if someone introduces you in a certain way, that is what you call them. When this person is in your class and you hear people call her name all day long, you hear people say "Hey, And-ree-ah" all day long, you do not have the right to continually refer to her as "On-dray-uh".

And now for the true debate:
"koo-pon" or "kyoo-pon"
According to, either way is acceptable. I'm a koo-pon girl. What about you?

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I saw this picture
and thought it was a man being pierced through the chest with a spear. What does this say about me?

*Look Megan, pictures. My blog is as good as Joannas.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Oh my God, Karen, You can't just ask people why they're white!

I was up at 6am, at the gym by 6:45, worked out til 8!
Went to school all day pumped up with energy!
And now look...look at me here...I'm actually writing in my blog!!

This is exciting, and a brand new day...but that's not why I'm here. Why am I here? Simply to tell you about a new teacher we got today. We started the massage portion of our schooling, thus gaining ourselves a new teacher.

Lets call him "William".

He's a bald gay man whose mother is German...full fledged German, not "my great grandparents are German", and his dad is Irish, of the same, real, legitimate Irish category.
He was born and raised in Columbia, Venezuela.

His native language is Spanish.

He speaks perfect English with an American accent and only the slightest tinge of a gay lisp. I would've guessed he was from Kansas if put on the spot.

This is so perplexing to me. He has so many influences, he might literally be the most foreign, exotic person I know. An Irish-German Spaniard? Living in America!

The weirdest part to me was when I asked him why he didn't have an accent, because, yeah, I ask people shit like that, he seemed a little taken a back. Like no one had wondered why he had no no no no no accent.

His answer was "I guess because we always spoke English at home?"

Or maybe, when you speak English growing up around The Irish, Ze Germans, and El Spaniards you end up with an accent that sounds mostly American with the slightest tinge of a gay lisp. Like when you mix all those liquors together and light it on fire and it taste just like a Dr. Pepper. After you've had a few shots of tequilla.

Think any one's ever conducted studies?

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The weatherman who called Faye

When Katrina hit in 2005, the public and media gave the residence of New Orleans a whole buttload of crap for not evacuating. So much of the country was outraged that thousands of people would stay put, despite the warnings to leave.

Those outraged people did not live in areas of high hurricaine impact.

I have lived 22 of my 23 years in either or Tampa or Tallahassee where hurricaines happen.

And more so than that? Hurricaines that are predicted to happen and dont.

Yesterday there was substantial manditory evacuations for Tampa Bay...any one who lived in low lying areas, anyone who lived near any kind of water, any one in a mobile home...manditory.

Schools were cancelled in 5 counties in the Tampa Bay area.

The forecast for today (based on my keen ability to look out windows)? Sunny. And a little wind.

Hurricaines are not something to be taken lightly, they can cause a lot of pain and distruction. It's great that we can see them coming, but just because they're heading in a certain direction doesn't mean they stay that way. Forecasters know this yet they continue to drum up fear and anxiety in people.

Honestly, I could have gotten a sunburn yesterday if I spent it outside. And yet, on the national news chanels, they kept telling me how it was terrible outside, just the begining of something awful.

And today, too. I just turned on the news and checked and they both told me that right now, in my zip code, we're having torential down pours.

Even though Faye hit Ft. Myers and the projected path now is essentially all of florida except Tampa Bay.
Are they trying to convince people that they aren't complete idiots?

I imagine some old woman sitting inside her laundry room with her daughter yelling at her that shes fine, she can come out, but keeping strong to her convictions that "the weather man tells me its real bad out there! real bad!"

Monday, August 18, 2008

Points of Rememberance

Yesterday I went to the funeral of a girl whom I have know since we were five, and whom I was quite close with in our teenage years.
She was strikingly beautiful and a wonderful singer. She was religious in ways I could never comprehend, her God was not one that I could even consider let alone know. Her life was hard but her faith guided her steadfast. She was kind and caring. But more than anything she was a wealth of wisdom that was more than anyone our age possessed. Between her unwavering beliefs and her worldly notions, she always seemed just out of reach to me. A treat on a high shelf that I would never quite be able to get to.

I remember the first time she spent the night at my house, we were seven. She couldn't comprehend how I could sleep with my closet light on, how I would be afraid of the dark. I was angry because, what's not to get? Even then she wasn't just fearless but lacked any notion of childlike dread. She convinced me that just this one time, I would be safe because she would be next to me, which meant nothing else could be.

As her adult life began unfolding she decided on her dreams and took hold of the reigns. Instead of making plans for someday, she made plans for today. In her short life she visited 7% of the world, including most of Europe, Australia and lots of Asia. She backpacked through eastern Asia for 6 1/2 weeks by herself. She had a passion to see the world, to know people, to learn about everyone she could meet and to help them in any way she knew how.

And on Monday night, she wrote her mom an e-mail telling her that her back hurt so bad she was afraid to go to bed.
But she did.

At her service her aunt explained that her heart was too big for her body to contain, and that's why it stopped.

Is it possible that she knew somehow, consciously or subconsciously, that she would live a short life and that she had to live it to the brink?

I've been wondering this for a while.

A friend of mine lost her daughter to a brain tumor at the age of nine. This little girl was not bothered by the issues that plague most little kids, she didn't cry when she didn't get the toy she wanted, she didn't pout when things didn't go her way. She was kind, and loving and could never grasp why anyone would ever be mad at anyone for any reason because there is too much goodness in the world, too many reasons to be happy. She seemed more in tune with emotions and had words of wisdom that couldn't have possibly come from her own experiences.

She would also constantly ask her mother "how old will you be when I die?"
At the time, these questions just seemed bizarre and macabre. But in hindsight...

I asked my friend once if she thought her daughter knew she only had a short life to live and that's why she jammed so much happiness into it.
"I hope not", she replied. "I could never be ok with the notion that my daughter always knew she would die"

But for me? I find it comforting. At least that if they somehow knew, even if it was within the depths of their souls that they could only hear as faint whisper, they were made aware of their untimely doom and given the opportunity to seize what brief time they had.
The other thought I've had racing through my head is one that we all have when faced with death in whatever capacity.
When you die, what will people say about you? Will you be happy with your story when the last chapter is written?

If I were to die tomorrow I'm confident that people would talk about my humor, my independence, my desire to go gently against the grain. Doing what I did because it made me happy, not because I was supposed to do it. But mostly, that I loved fiercely and cherished the ones I loved explicitly.

It forced me to acknowledge that I am happy with myself, my life.

What will people say at your eulogy? Tell me with explicit truth, don't be afraid of coming across cocky or arrogant, what are the things people will remember about you?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I asked him!

For about a year now I have preempted every holiday, vacation, or anything that could possibly be taken as celebratory with this statement for Jeff-
"Do not ask me to marry you. I'm not ready yet."

Understandably fed-up, Jeff eventually told me, "ya know what? You have to ask me. Since you're the one who isn't ready, you ask me when you're ready."

So on Saturday night, I did.

and he said yes.

he also said he was joking about me asking him, but I asked him. I'm never one to do things by the books, anyway.

He had a really really old crappy lap top so I bought him a new one and wrote on the wall paper - "Jeff, will you marry me?"

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Is it still stealing if it's an accident or Should I have empathy for big business?

I just accidentally stole a pair of shoes from Target. I was purchasing several things including a top, a pair of shoes, some food and scrap booking items. I was shooting the shit with the cashier, talking about the shirt I just bought, how she loves it and wears it all the time, paid the 30 dollars and walked out to my car.
"Wow," I thought to myself. "I never go into Target and spend 30 dollars. That's got to be a first. I can't think of a single time I've ever done that because usually I get trapped in all of the awesomeness that is Target and spend...wait...these shoes alone were 30 dollars."

Checked my receipt and sure enough - no shoes.

But wait people! As I sat here writing this I started thinking about the receipt and how it still didn't add up. She didn't charge me for a 15 dollar pack of scrap booking paper either.

At first I thought it might have been an accident, but it can't be. She couldn't have forgotten to ring up a pair of shoes and a big ass pack of paper but remembered to put them in a bag.

So, my ethical and moral alarms are ringing. Faintly. But they are ringing and I try not to ignore those. So, I sat for a second and thought if I should go back and pay for the shoes. (And now, the paper). I didn't. I don't really have the money to spend on them but I did make the decision to buy them anyway, and I was too busy chatting it up to realize that the amount she had told me to pay was less than half of what I was purchasing. It's not like she told me 30 dollars, and I thought to myself "that's not right, but I better not say anything at all". She said 30 dollars and I said "here is a 20 and here is a 10, good day ma'lady". (I'm paraphrasing).

So is this stealing if it's an accident?
Do you think check out lady, who's name tag read was "new team worker" or something like that, did it on purpose?
Should I even be torn over 45 dollars of merchandise that Target won't be receiving?

Thoughts, people. Thoughts.