Word Nerd

I know what you're thinking; I'm practically psychic that way. You're wondering what the hell I'm doing up at such an ungodly hour. I'm kinda wondering that, myself. Actually, I'm anticipating an exciting day tomorrow (well, today), and I can never sleep when thrilling events await me. So, since my mind is still spinning from that one cup of contraband caffeine, I thought I'd put myself to good use on the Internet. Mwahaha!

Emilie, other assorted awesome people, and I went to see Alice in Wonderland on Saturday night. It was my first 3-D movie. Can you believe it? I wanted so badly to reach out and pet the Cheshire cat (shocker), but I was afraid someone might see me flailing my arm about like a fool, so I kept that nearly overwhelming desire to myself. I have to admit, though, that I had a real issue with Lewis Carroll's vocabulary fabrication. In my world, it is a crime, punishable by death, to randomly invent new words -- especially if you're a mathematician. Fudderwacken, Lewis Carroll?! Off with your head! (As an aside, you may not know that this same author is responsible for the word chortle. Yes, he made it up ... and it is now a regular part of our lexicon. Sigh.) I was thankful, really, that it was pitch dark in the theater and that, as an added bonus, everyone was wearing dark glasses ... because I was unable to suppress a violent shudder each and every time a nonsensical word was uttered on the screen. I imagine that, had we been in a well lit setting, I might have been mistaken for a Tourette's Syndrome sufferer. Or an epileptic. Other than that (and an astoundingly unrealistic ending), I quite enjoyed the film.

On the way back to Emilie's place, I started a conversation about lazy eyes. No need to go back and read that a second time; you've got it right. Lazy eyes. I mentioned that, if I place my hand about an inch in front of my eye, it automatically moves (independently of my other eye) to the side, searching desperately for something to look at. If I take my hand away, you can observe both of my eyes staring in different directions. It's pretty creepy. Naturally, I demonstrated this. Seeing is believing, after all. And why should Emilie pay attention to the road when she could witness a phenomenon like this? You're, no doubt, wondering why the hell I happened to bring that up, aren't you? Well, we started off talking about the 3-D glasses and how they bugged our eyes out for the first several minutes. My mind just wandered from there. And you know how I am; my mind flits from one thing to another to another until, eventually, I'm so far off on a tangent, it's almost impossible to understand how I got there. Okay, scratch the almost. It's full-on impossible. And, since I'm me, I'm going to talk about it, whatever it might be. Talking is just what I do, yo. Emilie, on the other hand, is a normal human being. But she always takes the time to carefully consider everything I say, no matter how bizarre. I totally love her for this, of course. She's a deep thinker, that one. Although, she usually thinks about really complex concepts like philosophy and theology, literary symbolism and mysticism. Pondering the random shit that flies out of my mouth must be like a vacation for her. In any case, she always gives my words far more attention than they deserve, and she provides insight on top of it.

"It's almost like I have a lazy eye, except that both of my eyes do it," I said. "And only when I cover one with my hand. The covered eye just can't stand not being able to look at something, so it wanders off on its own."

Several moments passed in silence as I watched the wheels turning in her head. Then, with great sincerity, Emilie thoughtfully replied, "I think that, instead of a lazy eye, you have an ambitious eye." And that totally made my day. Maybe even my week.

I would love to believe that, even if only in a random body part, I am (in some small way) ambitious. So what if I have no goals for my future? Who cares if I don't even have concrete plans for tomorrow? And what's it to ya if I can't bring myself to care about any of it? I have an ambitious eye. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from looking at stuff. No matter how far it has to wander or how freaky it has to look doing it, my eye will see, damn it!

Meanwhile, we had a big family dinner last night. It was amazing, as usual, because Mom cooked it. And I'm not just saying that because I eat the same odd concoction every night when left to my own devices. Beans by Brooke. I invented it. And no, I'm no hypocrite; it's perfectly acceptable to invent recipes, just not words. Anyway, Beans by Brooke is cheap, healthy, and kind of gross. Easy, though. That's the ticket. Slowly, over the past five days or so, the scurvy and rickets have started to resolve because it's been that many days since I've eaten dinner at home. Thanks, everybody, for feeding me and possibly saving my life. I owe you!

While attempting to plop a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on Tony's plate, Lindsay managed to get his arm instead. "Oops! I potatoed your arm, Tony," she said. And I totally cracked up. You were expecting to see this in the "Pet Peeve of the Day" section, I know. I would have thought so, too. But, for some inexplicable reason, I completely love it when people misuse nouns as verbs. It just tickles the hell out of me. For the life of me, I can't understand it. I mean, just look at how crazy I get over invented words, misspelled words, and annoyingly abbreviated words. You would think that misused nouns would turn me absolutely batty, but no. They make me laugh with glee. (They do not, however, make me chortle.) Go figure. Must be a glitch in my software.

I laughed out loud and exclaimed, "I'm going to write about this!" And you should know that, whenever I say that (which is quite frequently these days), I mean it 100%. Tony is wondering if he'll have to watch his every word now. I've got him all paranoid. Hee hee hee! Didn't I tell you, Em? Here it is: the lazy eye story in all its glory ... as promised.

Anywho, Tony napkined the potatoes from his sleeve and the night progressed normally. See what I mean? I will even go so far as to misuse nouns, myself. Napkined! Ha!

B

Pet Peeve of the Day:
Gotcha! There is no pet peeve today. Instead, I have a favor to ask of you. As you can see, I have four followers. (Is it just me, or does that sound uncomfortably cult-like? I will call this the Church of B. Each night, we shall commune over steaming bowls of Beans by Brooke and talk about vocabulary at every opportunity ... and there will be countless opportunities because we are an unambitious people.) Other than those four wonderful, supportive friends/relatives, I have no idea who's reading my nonsense. I know that curiosity killed the cat and all (and there's nothing that devastates me more than a dead cat), but I would dearly love to know my audience. It is, after all, the first rule of composition. I can't very well scream at a room full of students for breaking this rule if I can't follow it. Please, please don't take that joy away from me. Would you be so kind as to click the "Follow" button and type in your first name? I strongly discourage the use of your full name. You will pop up on every search engine forever if you do. Trust me; I already learned that lesson. (If you ever want to read something boring as all get-out, google me and click on the blogger link. You'll find loads of snooze-worthy writing about 20th century literature. It was part of my grade; I swear.) First names, however, are nice and anonymous. I happen to know that more than my special four are reading this on occasion, but it would be cool to see your names. And, for God's sake, people, write a comment every now and then. Mom cannot be expected to shoulder this burden on her own. Thanks!