Batty Ideas, Harmonizing Bubbles, and Bonsai Trees

Foggy morning in Leeds

Today at work I had one of those moments where I realized how bizarre my life is.  This time it had to do with two things.  1. My stranger than strange job.  2. My very strange mind.

Let me explain.  My job is to come up with new ideas for ways to talk about and ultimately write about my clients.  There are only so many times you can write about the way that blinds allow you to adjust the light in a room.  So you need to come up with other topics.  I'm really good at it because my thoughts are well, simply random.  When I interviewed for this job they told me they were looking for more creative thinkers.  So I employ my creativity without any filter at my job.  Which means that I write about whatever come to mind.  Sure I've written the articles about decorating with blinds, but I've also argued that wooden blinds are more eco-friendly than curtains.  (There is some truth to it in the way that some materials are produced and acquired more sustainably than others.  Nonetheless, they're about even really.)

Perhaps my crowning work was the piece on creating a cardboard castle for your children to play in.  It comes complete with a working drawbridge I'll have you know.  What does this have to do with wooden blinds you ask?  Ah, well, every castle needs a portcullis and what better to use than wooden blinds?  I kid you not.  I get paid to write these things.  But today while I was writing a slightly more sane article about kitchen safety I had my realization that my job is truly strange.  I was talking about the danger of toasters getting too close to curtains and catching them on fire (you should really use wooden blinds see?) and I happened to write the phrase "errant toaster".  I had been thinking that it had simply wandered out of it's usual place and gotten too close to the curtains.  When I revisited this article I read it with the other connotation of the word errant.  I read the sentence with the mental image of a wayward toaster.

I am sure I do not need to tell you that my mind took this idea and started running with it.  Suddenly I was grinning vacantly at my computer screen as I imagined evil toasters with devil horns and pitch forks running around the kitchen prodding things, setting toast and curtains on fire, and generally creating havoc.  Undoubtedly I was scarred forever by the nightmare scene in The Brave Little Toaster and deep down still cringe at the idea of a toaster in flames.  Except this didn't star a creepy clown and the toaster in my work was evil not cute.  This is like the Brave Little Toaster's evil twin.  With that train of thought derailing my sane article writing I decided to switch to another topic.

Photo by Stellajo1976, via Flickr

Cleaning.  Surely cleaning was a safe topic.  I'd write about how you can make cleaning more fun.  I wrote an article about turning household chores into the Cleaning Olympics, complete with sibling rivalry turned into athletic competition, timed events, and medal ceremonies.  Then I started working on making cleaning fun for adults and my thoughts got derailed by bubbles.  Yes, bubbles.  Ever since I watched Disney's Cinderella I have wanted bubbles to harmonize with me while I scrub the floors.  Is that really so much to ask?  I'm not asking for singing, talking, loveable mice to help me.  I'm not asking for Fantasia like powers to make the mops do the work for me.  I even sing the song, Sing Sweet Nightingale while I do my work.  All I'm asking is that the bubbles oblige and harmonize along with me while I work.  I started thinking about this and got utterly derailed on that article too.  I decided that the problem was the head scarf.  I haven't been wearing a head scarf while I scrub and I can't tie a perfect bow behind my back.  I mean, how do you do that anyway?  Mine always end up sideways.  Sigh, yet another Disney ideal I'll never reach.

At the end of my shift I realized I had to stay and water the bonsai tree.  Now that I've started watering my colleague's tree and everyone knows that I'm keeping it alive it is sort of my job.  If it dies it will now be my fault not my colleague's.  So I now have bonsai watering duties at work.  It is growing leaves again, but it looks so straggly and sad.  I feel sorry for it.  When I placed it back on the desk I shook my head.  I have the weirdest job in the world, but I guess at least I have the mind to match it.

Is brevity a virtue?

Concise.  Pah.  I couldn't be concise to save my life.  What other people can say in two words I feel requires so many more.  I turn phrases into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and paragraphs into pages of ramblings, rants and randomness.  I am verbose.  And that perplexes me actually, because I'm quite the opposite in real life.  In person, in real life face-to-face situations I'm quiet.  No, I'm worse than quiet, I'm down right reticent.  Maybe my writing style just makes up for the cautious nature of my quiet personality.  But then is this really such a bad thing?  All through school they try to tell you that you need to be as concise as possible.  But some of the most beautifully written things are those that elaborate, in a great many words I might note, on the beauty of some minute detail that mere mortals have passed over unobserved.  Poets are not exactly concise, yet their writing is arguably far more worthy to read than the most concise documents with legal abruptness to their credit.  So why is concise writing considered such a virtue?

If a picture is worth one thousand words and you aren't using pictures and don't use one thousand words... are you really communicating? Just a thought.

If you are trying to be scientific then yes, brevity is admirable.  You lay out the facts in a logical and clear way that communicates all the important points neatly and concisely.  Well done, you can write a brief report and make charts; but I will argue that this is not what real writing is all about.  Writing is not about merely communicating facts it is about telling stories and communicating feelings.  And stating facts concisely does not make for interesting reading.  Every love story ever told can be condensed into this, two people met each other and fell in love.  That is not interesting.  Yet, we are continually drawn to love stories.  Why is that?  We are drawn to them because we love to watch the way they unfold.  Sure, they all start the same way, with two people who discover that the other person is unlike anyone they've ever met and they can no longer see themselves with anyone else.  But what we really want to know are all the details.  Why it works for them, how they respond to each other and difficult situations, how they work through the struggles that face every couple.  Love brings out the very best and very worst in people and we want to be made to feel for the characters with every delicious word of their story.

Sometimes a sentence just isn't enough to capture the depth of feeling.  Sure you can simply state, I'm angry, or I love you, and leave it at that.  The Emperor of Brevity will no doubt knight you on the spot.  I will argue that this is not enough.  Why you feel that way is just as important as the fact that you do.  The beauty of language is that it allows you to communicate with great variety and depth everything you feel and think.  You have an entire language or two, or three if you're feeling ambitious, to draw words and concepts from to express your thoughts.  You have the ability to use all of the rich and subtle variations of thousands of years of vocabulary to put your feelings into words that express them exactly and beautifully.  Do not cheat them of this richness by believing that brevity is a virtue. 

Scholars may opine that brevity is best.  They may look down in haughty disdain on those of us that cannot reduce our words into scientifically precise sentences.  Yet, I would challenge them to argue that the statement I love you, can in any way compare favorably to an entire love letter.  I would bet they cannot do so convincingly.  No, no, words are a delicious thing and I believe they were meant to be devoured in great quantities.  Let others strive to be concise.  I think I'll keep my words.

Expressions of exhaustion

Today was one of those weirdly long days.  I got up early this morning to sneak off to a book fair at the Medieval Congress.  I met a friend hopped on a bus and got all the way there to discover that the book fair wasn't on today.  Grumble.  So I got rained on and then had to pay two pounds extra to get home without the solace of books.  I did get to see some pretty moss growing on a wall though.  And I got a lovely picture, so it wasn't a total waste of a trip.

Moss on a rainy July morning in Leeds

Then it was laundry time before work.  I tiptoed around the freshly mopped floors, did a bit of cleaning of counters and threw in my laundry.  Then I rushed off to work where I had a fashion client again today.  It was a long day of looking up prospective link targets.  So, my colleague and I took turns sighing and using our various expressions for exhaustion.  She would say, "oh honey" with a large sigh, then she'd look at me with exhaustion on her face. Sometimes she would add "I'm just too tired for this", or "I'm not making any progress".  A few minutes later when I hit a wall with my client I'd sigh and use my very American expression "Oh man".  I really don't know why I say oh-man, I just do.  Sometimes when I didn't understand a strange blog I was looking at my inner southern woman would come out and I'd express my disbelief at the world and my job by sighing "Oh, Lordy".  Apparently exhaustion is not expressed the same in the UK as it is in the US.  But then again, maybe that is just our individual ways of expressing it.  Nonetheless we had a few sighs and Oh-honeys and Oh-Lordys over in our corner tonight.
We were both glad to be out of there when our shift ended.  Luckily I made the early bus even though I had to run for it a little bit at the end.  But I was triumphant that I made it.  And really excited that the poor office plant that everyone was neglecting had started to flourish now that I was watering it.  Then on my walk home it was actually sort of pleasant.  It had finally stopped raining and the breeze was nice.  I got a nice picture of the Parkinson building and some church spires on my way home.

Parkinson building at sunset. July in Leeds.

So it wasn't an altogether unpleasant day even though it was tiring for some reason.  So now that I'm home sighing "Oh Lordy" at my piles of laundry. I think I should go to bed.

Words, confounding words!

Guaranteed allergy quality because substandard allergies are unacceptable  - Photo Credit: Flickr by elliottzone

Allergy friendly.  What does that really mean?  Yes, I know that the phrase is meant to be telling you that you are safe it eat it, use it, or what-have-you.  Somehow this is meant to be alerting you that this product is hypoallergenic.  I mean, hypoallergenic makes sense as a word with the prefix hypo meaning under and having a connotation of less in a medicinal context.  It makes sense then for people with allergies to search for products that have less allergens in them and are therefore hypoallergenic.  But allergy friendly?


I don't know about you, but to me, the expression allergy friendly sounds like it is somehow more friendly with the allergy than the person who suffers from allergies.

I love Pollen! - Photo Credit: Flickr brookenovak

I can just see a saleswoman telling you "Oh yes, this is a very allergy friendly product.  It practically provides a paradise for allergens to multiply in."
"But," asks the allergy friendly customer, "what about the long lasting benefits?"
"Oh yes, of course.  You see our product is very good for feeding allergies.  It boosts the health of your allergies by providing the right environment and nutrients for allergens to prosper in.  But the allergies will run out of nutrients quickly.  You need to use our product frequently for the best results" says the saleswoman.
"I see. And how quickly can I expect this product to take effect and improve the health of my allergies?" asks the curious customer.
"You can usually see the increased strength in the allergies right away.  Sometimes you can feel your eyes start itching and your breathing become laboured and wheezy within seconds of using our product" says the saleswoman.
"Well, that's rather fast-acting.  That's good" says the customer.
"Oh yes. All our products come with an allergy satisfaction guarantee.  If you are not miserable within minutes your allergies can demand a refund" the saleswoman finishes.
"Perfect, I'll take it" the allergy friendly customer decides.
The saleswoman beams.  It is another glorious day to be an allergy.

Freedom without Fireworks

Being an American who lives in the UK there are all sorts of strange and somewhat unexpected cultural divides that I run into on a daily basis.  Sometimes the words I use get blank stares from the people around me.  Often my accent gets made fun of.  But the real problem of living here is that you can't really celebrate the Fourth of July properly.  You can't really run around saying, "I'm free from your tyranny", when you willingly returned.  You end up looking like the naughty dog that got off its leash and ran wild for ten exasperating minutes before returning, grinning foolishly, to your master to receive that withering look.  Of course, this doesn't stop me from running around wearing red, white, and blue and proclaiming my independence in this manner.  It just sort of dampens the camaraderie a bit.  If you can manage to find a few other Americans and all celebrate together all the better.  But we are still lacking one key ingredient.  Fireworks.

I don't know about you, but fireworks are the best part of the Fourth of July.  Don't get me wrong, I love the bbq's, the food, and the summer outdoor parties filled with friends, family, and the best of summer fruits.  But while I can attempt to recreate all of that here I am still missing the fireworks.  Fireworks are amazing, truly.  In my opinion we would all do good to invent more holidays that require fireworks.  There are just not enough times we get to have them.  And who doesn't love them?  I really don't think I've met someone who doesn't like fireworks.  Unless of course, you are counting your canine companions.  I have met a few dogs who quiver in fear at the loud bangs and if asked would probably tell you they hate fireworks.  However, I imagine that most of the people you'd be polling would not be answering from a dog's perspective, so I can safely say that most of them will love fireworks.  I can't imagine meeting a person who doesn't like fireworks.  They must be very odd people, and yes, I do realize I don't have much room to judge on the subject.  Have you ever met someone who doesn't like fireworks?  Think about it, they must be odd and very boring people.

What is not to love?  The deafening booms are regular, not like the somewhat terrifying and random demonstrations of canons in places like Colonial Williamsburg that can catch you off guard and make you jump out of your skin.  They are far enough away, for safety reasons, that they have a dullness to their booming that renders them slightly safe sounding.  Yet, if you are fortunate enough to be watching fireworks in a valley you can sometimes hear the booms echo off of the neighboring hills for great effect.  The colors and shapes, and fun fizzing sounds that fireworks make are eminently lovable.  There are the standard bright colors, the ones that look like smiley faces, and the ones that look like they are chandeliers made of fairy dust straight out of a Disney cartoon.  They are simply magical in a way that is all their own.  There is simply nothing that can compare to fireworks.

Maybe next year I should just plan on going home for the fourth of July.  But until then, Happy Fourth! Happy Independence! And enjoy the fireworks for me.

The Lazy Luddite

Despite that fact that I have always declared myself to be a Luddite, it would seem that I am a bit too lazy to be a really good one.  I do have moments where I consider defenestration to be the only real solution to my technological woes.  And of course, stomping on things can be truly satisfying.  But I always seem to stop just short of this truly Luddite action and carry on using, though slightly grudgingly, all the most modern sorts of technology I claim to hate.  I have thought about it and I think the reason is honestly that I am too lazy to be a good Luddite.

Throwing your laptop out the window might be satisfying for a few minutes.  Then the realization of all the things you have to do over will slowly sink in.  What about all those photos I put on it?  I don't have them saved elsewhere because that requires more technology and effort and time.  And all those random documents I have on it.  Variations of CVs and resumes that I really don't want to have to recreate.  I would die of sheer boredom.  Then there is the fact that killing off your current technological device just means you'll have to replace it with another one.  As much as the old device irritates you at least you know how it works.  New devices have all these complicated features that don't work the way that logic would dictate they should.  I suppose what I'm really saying is that I hate change more than I hate technology.  I could reasonably adopt the saying "change is bad, new is terrifying" as my personal motto.

Nice little phone minding its own business.  Suddenly senses that it is being followed.

That's really the problem with technology.  They never leave things alone.  They "improve" all the things that worked until they don't work anymore, until they become the least logical way of doing things, and make your life more complicated.  At the same time the real problems never seem to be fixed or worked on.  It seems like the masters and makers of the technology change things simply for the sake of creating change and that is the epitome of evil as far as I am concerned.  So, in this way I am truly a Luddite.  I see technological advances as challenging my way of life and I resent them.  I like the old way.  I understand it.  I do not want it to change.

Heart pounding the phone runs.  It trips on a curb and falls.  Then it sees its attacker and screams.

Perhaps you are wondering why all of a sudden I felt a need to rant about technology.  What precipitated this outburst, you ask yourself?  My phone.  My nice, easy, uncomplicated phone decided that it had worked for too many years.  It decided it was done working and that it needed to die, quite suddenly, in the middle of the night dragging me into yet another clash with technology.  I suppose it is rather fitting that my phone chose to die here in Leeds, that my technological struggle takes place here in this city.  You see, Leeds is located in what used to be the West Riding of Yorkshire, which along with Lancashire, saw the largest disturbances from the Luddite movement.  So it really is fitting that my old ways are being challenged here.

Incoming call from Hammer de Muerte.  A proud moment for a true Luddite.

So, being that I hate technology and change so much, and seeing that I think that technology is pretty much magic, see my thoughts on flash drives, the question is really this... why don't I seize this opportunity to really turn Luddite and do my convictions proud?  Because it requires too much work, that's why.  As much as I complain about the way technology ruins my life, it really has to be said that it makes many things easier.  For instance, I do prefer actually writing with a pen in my hand.  I find it easier to think that way.  But who has the time to hand write essays and then type them out later?  I barely had time for all the reading I had to do as it was.  Typing out essays as I went and using flash drives was the lazy option.  When it came down to it I preferred to spend less time writing and rewriting by hand, be a bit lazy and sleep a bit more.  Have you ever met a college/university student who got enough sleep?  I haven't.  Of course, this doesn't mean that I don't write by hand.  I do keep a hand-written journal.  On occasion I scribble down random story ideas and whatnot and I absolutely adore writing in this way, with real pen and paper.  It just feels better.

But wait.  What is that?  The Luddite begins to tremble in fear.

The same can be said for communication.  I prefer writing and receiving real letters to emails, but emails are so much faster.  I do still write letters but I write less of them because it is easier to email and get responses faster.  Then too you can write one email and send it to everyone.  Rewriting the same letter over and over again can get tiring.  Then of course, if you want to discuss instant communication, phones are even better.  I never really loved talking on the phone but it simply cannot be avoided.  It is the quickest way to organize things and provides instant communication despite distance.  My mistrust of technology is slowly being overcome by my real laziness.  I like convenient things.  If one phone call can sort out all necessary plans I prefer it to ten emails back and forth.  And if I can stay in touch with family and friends on multiple continents by suffering through a little technology, then it is worth it.  A smart phone can do all of these things and more you say?  Hmm.  It doesn't mean I like technology, or even trust it, but it would seem that I will continue using it.

Is that a smartphone? Oh God the horror!

I am the worst Luddite ever.

Flash Drives: The Inner Workings

First, I should explain that my views on technology are rather odd.  Basically I believe that technology is magic.  Electricity is definitely magic.  All the explanations of how it is supposed to work has only convinced me that this is the truth.  All electronic devices are therefore run on magic. 

Let me use an example.  I have my own strange explanation for how flash drives work.  If you have ever looked at computer components and thought they looked like miniature cities you may understand where I am coming from.  Now, I don't know about your flash drive, but inside mine there is an entire city of miniature scribes.  Lots of very little scribes.

So, when I put the flash drive into my computer the scribes run out of their little city and into my computer.  They copy my word documents down super fast, there are lots of them so it doesn't take long even though they are super small.  Then they all return to my flash drive with my document stored on their little writing tablets.  They archive it neatly away in little piles that are quickly accessible if I need it again.

If I decide that I need to read my document on another computer I put in my flash drive and all the scribes run in and copy my document down again quick as lightning.  They are really good at their job.  They are scribes of the highest quality.  They are highly literate, and well-versed in different scripts (or fonts as you modern people would call them).  It takes hours of practice to attain such perfection in their art.

This is why you must remove flash drives safely.  To remove flash drives unsafely is irresponsible as it circumvents the safety features of the device and could risk the well-being of your scribes.  Clicking remove safely is the final warning that the flash drive is about to be removed and all your scribes should make sure they are safely back inside.  It clearly sets off the flashing red lights and sirens.  This saves them from danger and you from frustration when your document is incomplete or simply missing because you left behind some scribes with key parts of your document written down.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation for why you would need a safely remove feature.  It is clearly to protect the magical city of scribes from harm.

That is how flash drives really work.  Magic.  How else do you propose the miniature scribes got in there?