Category: pondering

Semantics, what a kick!

I am quite the fan of words and language, and so it’s no surprise that while traversing the interwebs yesterday, I was drawn to an article talking about an affinity (or lack thereof) for certain words.

It’s not very interesting to know that love is picked most often as a favorite and hate picked as least favored.

But it’s the words that come in next on the list that were really fascinating to me.

Evidently, there is a good portion of the world that have a real problem with the word moist, devoting Facebook pages and blogs to the hatred of this word.

Hmm.

I’m ok with moist. It doesn’t have a bad connotation for me. I also like to use the made-up derivation moisty when referring to something that has a moist quality. Like, those damp Swiffer cloths. Those are “the moisty-kind Swiffers” (an abomination of the English language, I don’t deny).

Another disfavored word on the list is panties, and I’ll admit, I’m not a fan either. It is probably because the word is most often used by guys, and said with a letch quality to it. Skeeving me out doesn’t make me like a word so much.

However, I LOVE the word chones for the same article of clothing.

Yes, I own my Spanglish. I’m a New Mexican, it’s our state language. (Look no further than the “Toss No Mas” ad campaign!)

Also, people seem not to like the word ointment. I like it. Gotta say it with heavy emphasis on the “oi” part, though, and make a funny face while you do it. Makes the word fun!

But! I *much* prefer unguent (also said with a face). Man, that’s a great word. Salve is not bad either.

Some of the words on the hated list, like vomit, are more about the connotation of the word and not the word itself. Vomit can be fun to say! But no so much fun to do. So I guess I get why people don’t like it. I think the word itself gets a bad rap.

And one person notes her least fave word is vigil, which, must be a weird one-person thing, because I don’t get it.

I tried to think about what is my own least favorite word and nothing came immediately to mind. I can pretty much find something redeemable in most words.

While taking a walk, I realized that the words that make me wince are usually the made up and overused business-speak like mindshare and synergy.

Right now my least favorite word has to be optics. Not the word itself, but how it’s used at my job. It is put in place of “how it looks”. So, for example, if a supplier hands you the keys to a brand new Porche, even if it’s only to go for a fun spin around the parking lot, the optics of the situation are bad.

I was told, after one of my employees messed something up and the complaint went all the way to the VP, “yeah, the optics aren’t good on this situation.”

It’s sort of a way to make something sound scientific and serious…when it’s NOT.

Favorite words? Onomatopoeias (words that sound like what they mean). Squelch!! Boom! Bap!

Delicious bon mots for the day!

Oh, and simpatico. LOVE that word!

Yeah. Good stuff.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed

You know, I’ve been working here in the Imperial Tower of Doom for just under a year.

And about two weeks ago, I realized something.

Something you think I would have caught onto sooner, but didn’t.

Here’s my revelation:

I work in a trapezoid.

For those geometrically challenged like me, this is a trapezoid:

Or, to be very geometric and correct, this is an isosceles trapezoid, which is what my building is.

Isosceles. And a trapezoid.

I don’t know why, but I think that’s weird.

Weirder still is that it took me this long to figure it out. I always wondered why the conference rooms were so oddly shaped with lots of narrow, unusable space.

And yet, from the outside, you wouldn’t immediately “get” that it’s a trapezoid.

(note, this photo was taken on a rare clear day. One would think the weather is actually *nice* here with no swirling gray clouds. One would be wrong.)

It was only recently while waiting on the impossibly slow elevators that I got to inspecting the fire escape route sign (properly posted by the elevators) and as I followed the little red line, I really internalized the outline of the building and thought, “hey…trapezoid!”

This can’t be good for my chi, right?

Office Archeology: An Update

Each blogger, in the course of their writing and rambling, has one post that they might call their favorite. It may or may not be a fan favorite, but it’s one that sticks out the most in the blogger’s mind.

I have one of those.

Waaaay back, lo’ these many…uh..months ago, I prepared and posted what has become my favorite blog post ever.

Yes, my explorations of this Officine Era, this epoch in my history, the importance of documenting my findings!

And, it can become a living record, because there are some changes…some *updates* to the research and analysis!

My travels have taken me past those relics discussed time and again, and I feel, in the interest of scientific accuracy, it is vital to update the records.

So here we go, the latest understanding of the artifacts, as we know them.

First, recall the lonely and homeless set of keys? Those which secure a laptop from theft, but these, cast mercilessly aside?

Well. They are gone now. Extinct. Disappeared without a forwarding address.

What might have become of these sad, homeless keys? We may never know….

Folks, let’s have a moment in remembrance…

However, all is not bad news! Remember the lowly and lonely industrial strength stapler?

There he was, far from any stapling opportunities. Lost and alone. Unused. Unloved.

But look! He found friends!

Hi Mister Highlighter! Hey Miss Piece of Paper! Welcome to my expanse of file cabinets right outside the conference room. Wanna play flag football?

I’m so happy the stapler was able to make friends. His story doesn’t end tragically, like those keys…

And how about this? Remember that bit o’ Heath bar wrapper that was careless dropped and left abandoned on the stairs for some months?

It’s STILL there! And has adapted camouflage capabilities! It has moved over to the side and has flipped over….behold!

We are seeing evolution in progress, people! Amazing, fascinating stuff.

And, I saved the best for last! We have a new artifact to introduce to the world. It’s amazing. Phenomenal! Fantasmagorical!

Ladies and Gents, I introduce you to…Big Ass Box Of Binder Clips!

This box of clips, located near the broken copy machine that no one uses, and is *SO* important that someone named Jon has demanded we not remove it!

I don’t even know who Jon is or why I would obey him, and yet, I do!

The exclamation mark on his sign coerces me to abide! And so, I don’t remove. Not a one. And neither does anyone else! No one uses these binder clips. So there they sit! Useless and unused! Shiny, taunting, but out of reach.

Damn that Jon and his demanding posted sign!

Ok, well, this is all good stuff. Much to consider. I encourage all to go out and explore their own Officine Surroundings. What you find might surprise you!

Genetics are an odd thing

A couple weeks ago, my best friend came out for a visit. As chronicled in these pages, we had a really nice time.

While out and about at the Japanese Tea Garden, I took quite a few photos. Beautiful trees, swimming Koi, flowing water.

Near the fabulous barrel bridge we stopped, and The Good Man took a photo of my friend and I.

I won’t publish it here since I haven’t asked permission, but seeing the photo doesn’t actually matter to the discussion.

Here’s the point: Later, when I downloaded the photo and took a look at it on my computer screen, I looked at my own visage and was a bit surprised.

You know who I look like?

My father.

Um. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I mean…as a woman, I think it might not be preferable to, you know, as you age…start to look like your *male* parent.

Growing up, I always favored my mom’s side of the family. I have the distinctive pointy chin. I have the body shape. Yeah, ok, so I’d given over to my genetics and was ok looking like my mom.

The first time I noticed I was starting to favor my dad was when viewing the proofs from my wedding photos. There is one photo where I have an expression on my face that is *exactly* my dad. In fact, The Good Man often teases me, “Don’t give me the dad look!”

It’s a sort of squinty eyed skeptical look, and I’d copied it to perfection. I remember the moment, the photographer was doing something weird, kind of annoying me, and I gave her that vintage dad look and click went the shutter.

Ok, so I own that. I was making the face.

In this recent photo, I wasn’t making a face! I was simply standing with my beautiful friend in a beautiful setting smiling at my husband taking a photo.

Something around the eyes, I think. And my nose. But damnit, I look like my dad! Ok, sure, I’m sure the faint whiskers now growing around my chin aren’t helping my “I don’t want to look like a man” cause, but sheesh!

I even sent it to my sister who confirmed that yes, around the eyes, I’m starting to resemble dear old pops. She said, “have you ever noticed you do that one eyed squinty thing?’

Gah!

It’s not that my dad wasn’t an attractive person, it’s just…..that he was a MAN.

Gah!

Genetics are weird.

Today: A Fable

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…we’ll call her…Karenita. This lovely princess was married to the most handsomest prince in the whole land.

But unfortunately for our lovely princess, every weekday, she was required to go and toil away the hours at the Imperial Tower of Doom. Gray clouds swirled overhead while poor Karenita was tormented by her oppressors.

There was one oppressor who was particularly a thorn in the side of our beautiful princess.

See, our lovely girl arrives to work in the morning tired and in need of something for breakfast. The princess keeps some food in the Imperial Tower office ‘fridge, and also likes a spot of hot tea on the cold gray swirly cloud mornings.

Unfortunately for the princess, there lived in the break room a mean and nasty troll.

No really, this lady is like five foot nothing with a bad attitude and a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder.

For some reason, the Evil Break Room Lady can always sense when Karenita the Princess needs to have breakfast, and makes sure to hustle in there first, blocking the egress for our lovely girl to reach the ‘fridge.

While Karenita is there heating up her food, Evil Break Room Lady makes nasty comments about how people don’t clean up after themselves (despite the fact that Karenita scrupulously cleans up after herself) and self-importantly restocks the paper coffee cups (it’s not her job, by the way, she’s a very high paid executive admin) while dropping hairy eyeballs on the princess the whole time.

And then Evil Break Room Lady takes paper towels and cleans the countertops, sometimes pushing Karenita’s bowl out of the way while she does. Karenita finds this to be very rude.

It’s clear that Evil Break Room Lady doesn’t like Karenita, but Karenita doesn’t know why. The princess was raised to be kind and cordial and always says hello and thank you and excuse me.

Karenita believes that Evil Break Room Lady must be very unhappy with her menopausal lot in life, and all the hot flashes must make her cranky. Karenita thinks Evil Break Room Lady envies her still productive ovaries and plentiful estrogen.

The princess tries to be understanding, but it’s kind of hard when someone gives you the equivalent of the finger with her face every morning. Karenita is just trying to make it through the day.

The princess has tried to be nice, to make conversation, to say “yeah, it’s really bad when people leave water everywhere” but none of this works. Evil Break Room Lady has just determined that the princess is a lesser form of life.

And this doesn’t make Karenita feel very nice as she starts each day.

In other news, the nicest person to Karenita in all the Imperial Tower of Doom is the janitor. The janitor thinks Karenita rocks and will make it a point to wave vigorously from across the room and say hi.

Karenita likes Mr. Janitor. He’s a good man with a sucky job and he does it with life and verve and kindness.

So there’s hope. Maybe Karenita knows she’s not such a bad person after all.

And they all lived crankily every after.