Sunday, May 30, 2004
Ode to Office Supplies
There is a reason, I will try to explain,
Of the comfort I feel again and again,
When I walk into the office supply room - shelves and drawers all littered
With notebooks, pens, and paper clips sparkling as if covered in glitter.
An overwhelming feeling spreads into a warm, fuzzy sense of calm,
Causing eyes to flutter and lips to tingle under layers of lip balm.
Is it the order and harmony these supplies create -
Saving messy desks and scattered papers, helping work ethics rejuvenate.
Whatever it may be
I will always get a sense of glee,
When incomes a shipment of post-it notes from Office Depot,
Which will most assuredly contribute to my getting an office window.
Of the comfort I feel again and again,
When I walk into the office supply room - shelves and drawers all littered
With notebooks, pens, and paper clips sparkling as if covered in glitter.
An overwhelming feeling spreads into a warm, fuzzy sense of calm,
Causing eyes to flutter and lips to tingle under layers of lip balm.
Is it the order and harmony these supplies create -
Saving messy desks and scattered papers, helping work ethics rejuvenate.
Whatever it may be
I will always get a sense of glee,
When incomes a shipment of post-it notes from Office Depot,
Which will most assuredly contribute to my getting an office window.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Convort
I made up a new word the other day: convort. Definition: to keep merrily in company; to associate happily with others; prancing around with others.
It's origin: consort + cavort
Consort - to associate; keep company
Cavort - to prance or caper about; to make merry
I wrote to Webster's, inquiring of how one goes about getting new words in the dictionary. I defined my new word, convort, and requested its listing in the next edition - free of charge, mind you. I haven't heard from them - it's been a good month.
I've used convort a couple of times in the office. Two people called me on my word, expressing its nonexistence and then consulted the dictionary for proof. Fuck them - I've tried contacting Webster's. Some people look a little perplexed, wondering what the word means. It sounds so familiar to them - are they just stupid and don't recall its exact meaning, or is Carrie participating in malapropism again? They, of course, do not challenge its use for fear of showing ignorance of some sort.
All of this got me thinking - how do I verify the existence of my word? I thought of it, therefore doesn't it exist? The philosophy of words should be a new college course somewhere.
My doubting coworkers referred to the dictionary to prove my vocabulary sucked ass. To them, the dictionary is the collection of birth certificates for words. We all consult the dictionary when disputing a word's existence. If it's not in there, then it's not a word. I bet, when Scrabble hit the market, dictionary sales skyrocketed - I'm not so sure about Boggle. By the way, make sure you keep your dictionary up to date. I just looked for the word "internet" in mine, and it wasn't in there. I about freaked out until I noticed my dictionary was published in 1991. The word "freak" has been around since 1555 - "skyrocket" since 1680.
We rely so heavily on the dictionary to validate what's right and wrong that I fear we're stifling the creativity of word making. Word invention is stuck in a rut. Technical talk and pop culture barely keep vocabulary's evolution above water. "Blog", "google", and "bling bling" are the only examples I can think of for right now.
I'm guessing that the way to get convort out there and known by the public is by slipping it into the script of some sitcom or talk show, maybe a movie but that's a long shot. Good examples of new words being introduced to the public through the media are John Wayne's famous phrase, "absolutely ri-goddamn-diculous", spoken out of frustration toward the American government - not sure why, but what a great goddamn word. A marriage of three words, if you count god damn as two, to express dismay with added zest. A more recent occurrence was that kinda pansy guy who was a guest on American Idol - I don't watch the show, but I heard this word spoken enough after that particular episode: "Ear-delicious" - what a great adjective! Think of the sarcasm that can be made with that word!
Now there are people who still believe that all words should be derived from Latin. Well, I say down with the Latin origin - let's move on. Creating new words can be fun, and most importantly, it will show those nerd-ass kids where to stick their pocket dictionaries. I just made up a new word: "nerd-ass". Or maybe, somehow, I picked it up from someone else. Who cares? It's out there being used - its existence is acknowledged.
Word invention is the new thing. Soon high school English classes will have an assignment to create a new word and then write an essay about it. Maybe there will be contests to get new words published in Webster's, or better yet, some independent alternative dictionary. Maybe there will be "New Word Bees" modeled after spelling bees.
I sign off by saying Haptil.
Haptil - used as a farewell, meaning "be happy until I see you again"
It's origin: consort + cavort
Consort - to associate; keep company
Cavort - to prance or caper about; to make merry
I wrote to Webster's, inquiring of how one goes about getting new words in the dictionary. I defined my new word, convort, and requested its listing in the next edition - free of charge, mind you. I haven't heard from them - it's been a good month.
I've used convort a couple of times in the office. Two people called me on my word, expressing its nonexistence and then consulted the dictionary for proof. Fuck them - I've tried contacting Webster's. Some people look a little perplexed, wondering what the word means. It sounds so familiar to them - are they just stupid and don't recall its exact meaning, or is Carrie participating in malapropism again? They, of course, do not challenge its use for fear of showing ignorance of some sort.
All of this got me thinking - how do I verify the existence of my word? I thought of it, therefore doesn't it exist? The philosophy of words should be a new college course somewhere.
My doubting coworkers referred to the dictionary to prove my vocabulary sucked ass. To them, the dictionary is the collection of birth certificates for words. We all consult the dictionary when disputing a word's existence. If it's not in there, then it's not a word. I bet, when Scrabble hit the market, dictionary sales skyrocketed - I'm not so sure about Boggle. By the way, make sure you keep your dictionary up to date. I just looked for the word "internet" in mine, and it wasn't in there. I about freaked out until I noticed my dictionary was published in 1991. The word "freak" has been around since 1555 - "skyrocket" since 1680.
We rely so heavily on the dictionary to validate what's right and wrong that I fear we're stifling the creativity of word making. Word invention is stuck in a rut. Technical talk and pop culture barely keep vocabulary's evolution above water. "Blog", "google", and "bling bling" are the only examples I can think of for right now.
I'm guessing that the way to get convort out there and known by the public is by slipping it into the script of some sitcom or talk show, maybe a movie but that's a long shot. Good examples of new words being introduced to the public through the media are John Wayne's famous phrase, "absolutely ri-goddamn-diculous", spoken out of frustration toward the American government - not sure why, but what a great goddamn word. A marriage of three words, if you count god damn as two, to express dismay with added zest. A more recent occurrence was that kinda pansy guy who was a guest on American Idol - I don't watch the show, but I heard this word spoken enough after that particular episode: "Ear-delicious" - what a great adjective! Think of the sarcasm that can be made with that word!
Now there are people who still believe that all words should be derived from Latin. Well, I say down with the Latin origin - let's move on. Creating new words can be fun, and most importantly, it will show those nerd-ass kids where to stick their pocket dictionaries. I just made up a new word: "nerd-ass". Or maybe, somehow, I picked it up from someone else. Who cares? It's out there being used - its existence is acknowledged.
Word invention is the new thing. Soon high school English classes will have an assignment to create a new word and then write an essay about it. Maybe there will be contests to get new words published in Webster's, or better yet, some independent alternative dictionary. Maybe there will be "New Word Bees" modeled after spelling bees.
I sign off by saying Haptil.
Haptil - used as a farewell, meaning "be happy until I see you again"
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Volume 2: Cops, Robots, Soldiers, and the Annoying Customer Service Person on the Other End of the Phone
Jesus, I've been writing and rewriting about the connection between these four topics for weeks now. Coming up with what they all have in common was easy enough: The Loss of Common Sense and Free Thinking due to Power, Fear, and Programming.
I wrote this whole long damn essay that talked of the bolded statement made above. But I junked it - it started to take on a tone similar to the rantings and ravings of a conspiracy theorist. It was hard to tie it all together and then explain it. Plus other topics started weeding their way into the essay - consumerism, the Bill of Rights, Mickey Mouse toys, air deodorizers, and TV's. I was all over the place, and I may still be.
I will try to sum it up, but if this doesn't work, then I just flat out give up. I know there's a way to bring this circle to a close, but I've tried for a good couple of weeks to make it work. I even tried designing a flow chart. But the paths between fear and power and the commonalities between the four subjects keep getting intertwined. Is programming the path or is it a result? Well, I think it's a part of the means to an end that starts at the beginning. Anyway, I was never very good at flow charts, which isn't surprising given that I get left and right and yesterday and tomorrow mixed up a lot.
My essay started out with the idea that Fear begets Power and Power begets Fear. I don't guess it really matters which happened first - power or fear. Darwin pretty much summed it all up. Survival starts from hunger, and so the race begins. To keep power, fear must be induced or created - showing fear gives power to the source. And that right there is a very fucked up yin and yang. It's a yin and yang where a dragon chases the tail of a tiger and the tiger the tail of the dragon. Very Darwin like, if you ask me.
Right now, I'm looking at the items floating in my space of a flow chart, and I am again getting lost and feel the pull of a black hole. Let's see... I think I should get to my four topics and maybe something will pan out, because, after all, they are the stars listed in the title.
Starting at the shallow end:
Governments fear attack, uprisings, unruliness, and even the fear of stuff getting stolen, so they try to maintain power by programming their soldiers and police to protect. To protect whom or from what is not a path I really want to go down right now. Some of it, I'm sure, is justified and a lot is not.
In programming police and soldiers you give them guns and other killing devices, which instantly creates fear in people who don't have guns and other killing devices, which in turn gives power to police, soldiers, and really anyone toting guns and other killing devices. Mr. Police Woman feels that she can act like a major asshole and can behave in a pompous manner, showing no courtesy, because the gun attached to her hip gives her the power to do so. But still there are rules, laws, regulations that even the police and soldiers have to abide by, and these are programmed into them, as well.
So programming:
The programming of any human is really breaking down areas of the brain that were once molded by experiences and years of cognitive development. The programmer replaces all of it with whatever the programmer now wants you to think. This can lead to a loss of common sense and can stifle free thought. Programming men and women into police and soldiers, breaks them down and rebuilds them into robots. Annoying Costumer Service People on the Other End of the Phone are programmed by their crap companies to give only general answers; the ability to handle a specific problem that may not lie in the Frequently Asked Questions manual causes severe short circuiting within the inner workings of the Annoying Customer Service Person on the Other End of the Phone.
Examples:
Do I really need to get into the details concerning Mr. Police Woman again? Where's the common sense in giving a person a second parking ticket within a 30 minute window of the first? Really now, it screams of injustice. I don't feel I need to cite other injustices caused by police mishandlings. Just watch Cops (the TV show), and you'll be astonished by the use of excessive force and coercion. I really can't believe cops get away with that kind of behaviour, much less that they're stupid enough to have it recorded and then displayed on TV nationwide.
With military programming, free thought is reprimanded, and movement occurs only when given orders. The higher ranking officer always knows best, even if he is a dumbass. However, military programming has been malfunctioning as of late. It seems that no feasibility study was performed to assess "post-war" clean-up. Therefore, no programming was created in how to cover your ass from disgruntled militia. Since programming is what a soldier relies on and since his common sense and free thinking were replaced with programming, well, then how will a soldier cover his ass, if no programming exists? April was the bloodiest month seen by the military thus far.
I had to deal with this insurance customer service guy over the phone, whose common sense - if he had any to begin with - was replaced with jargon programmed into his slower than molasses CPU of a brain by his nit-wit company. Instead of answers, I got regurgitated bull cocky; I even took precious time out of my day to explain to him that his if/then statements and do-loops were illogically computing my input, giving me output that totally stunk of horse shit. "Ma'am, I'm trying to help you out here, please don't use such hostile language." Insurance companies have programmed their robots well, creating a fire wall of stupidity that is practically impenetrable.
I'm Done:
Well, I'm not really sure if I've made sense of any of this. I think in a round about way I have explained the bold statement above. It's a pretty bold and extreme statement, I guess. I certainly don't want to imply that all cops and soldiers are lacking in independent thought. I'm more or less commenting on their training and the strict code to which they must adhere. Also, I think a person's mentality changes when having to carry a gun day in and day out. I suppose some people use it their advantage, while others may begin to deteriorate relying on a gun to give them power.
It all started with Mr. Police Woman and then this damn title popped into my head. The four subjects all played roles in the same week, so maybe that's how the title found itself. If someone can better explain the picture those puzzle pieces create, I would love to hear it.
I wrote this whole long damn essay that talked of the bolded statement made above. But I junked it - it started to take on a tone similar to the rantings and ravings of a conspiracy theorist. It was hard to tie it all together and then explain it. Plus other topics started weeding their way into the essay - consumerism, the Bill of Rights, Mickey Mouse toys, air deodorizers, and TV's. I was all over the place, and I may still be.
I will try to sum it up, but if this doesn't work, then I just flat out give up. I know there's a way to bring this circle to a close, but I've tried for a good couple of weeks to make it work. I even tried designing a flow chart. But the paths between fear and power and the commonalities between the four subjects keep getting intertwined. Is programming the path or is it a result? Well, I think it's a part of the means to an end that starts at the beginning. Anyway, I was never very good at flow charts, which isn't surprising given that I get left and right and yesterday and tomorrow mixed up a lot.
My essay started out with the idea that Fear begets Power and Power begets Fear. I don't guess it really matters which happened first - power or fear. Darwin pretty much summed it all up. Survival starts from hunger, and so the race begins. To keep power, fear must be induced or created - showing fear gives power to the source. And that right there is a very fucked up yin and yang. It's a yin and yang where a dragon chases the tail of a tiger and the tiger the tail of the dragon. Very Darwin like, if you ask me.
Right now, I'm looking at the items floating in my space of a flow chart, and I am again getting lost and feel the pull of a black hole. Let's see... I think I should get to my four topics and maybe something will pan out, because, after all, they are the stars listed in the title.
Starting at the shallow end:
Governments fear attack, uprisings, unruliness, and even the fear of stuff getting stolen, so they try to maintain power by programming their soldiers and police to protect. To protect whom or from what is not a path I really want to go down right now. Some of it, I'm sure, is justified and a lot is not.
In programming police and soldiers you give them guns and other killing devices, which instantly creates fear in people who don't have guns and other killing devices, which in turn gives power to police, soldiers, and really anyone toting guns and other killing devices. Mr. Police Woman feels that she can act like a major asshole and can behave in a pompous manner, showing no courtesy, because the gun attached to her hip gives her the power to do so. But still there are rules, laws, regulations that even the police and soldiers have to abide by, and these are programmed into them, as well.
So programming:
The programming of any human is really breaking down areas of the brain that were once molded by experiences and years of cognitive development. The programmer replaces all of it with whatever the programmer now wants you to think. This can lead to a loss of common sense and can stifle free thought. Programming men and women into police and soldiers, breaks them down and rebuilds them into robots. Annoying Costumer Service People on the Other End of the Phone are programmed by their crap companies to give only general answers; the ability to handle a specific problem that may not lie in the Frequently Asked Questions manual causes severe short circuiting within the inner workings of the Annoying Customer Service Person on the Other End of the Phone.
Examples:
Do I really need to get into the details concerning Mr. Police Woman again? Where's the common sense in giving a person a second parking ticket within a 30 minute window of the first? Really now, it screams of injustice. I don't feel I need to cite other injustices caused by police mishandlings. Just watch Cops (the TV show), and you'll be astonished by the use of excessive force and coercion. I really can't believe cops get away with that kind of behaviour, much less that they're stupid enough to have it recorded and then displayed on TV nationwide.
With military programming, free thought is reprimanded, and movement occurs only when given orders. The higher ranking officer always knows best, even if he is a dumbass. However, military programming has been malfunctioning as of late. It seems that no feasibility study was performed to assess "post-war" clean-up. Therefore, no programming was created in how to cover your ass from disgruntled militia. Since programming is what a soldier relies on and since his common sense and free thinking were replaced with programming, well, then how will a soldier cover his ass, if no programming exists? April was the bloodiest month seen by the military thus far.
I had to deal with this insurance customer service guy over the phone, whose common sense - if he had any to begin with - was replaced with jargon programmed into his slower than molasses CPU of a brain by his nit-wit company. Instead of answers, I got regurgitated bull cocky; I even took precious time out of my day to explain to him that his if/then statements and do-loops were illogically computing my input, giving me output that totally stunk of horse shit. "Ma'am, I'm trying to help you out here, please don't use such hostile language." Insurance companies have programmed their robots well, creating a fire wall of stupidity that is practically impenetrable.
I'm Done:
Well, I'm not really sure if I've made sense of any of this. I think in a round about way I have explained the bold statement above. It's a pretty bold and extreme statement, I guess. I certainly don't want to imply that all cops and soldiers are lacking in independent thought. I'm more or less commenting on their training and the strict code to which they must adhere. Also, I think a person's mentality changes when having to carry a gun day in and day out. I suppose some people use it their advantage, while others may begin to deteriorate relying on a gun to give them power.
It all started with Mr. Police Woman and then this damn title popped into my head. The four subjects all played roles in the same week, so maybe that's how the title found itself. If someone can better explain the picture those puzzle pieces create, I would love to hear it.
Volume 1: Cops, Robots, Soldiers, and the Annoying Customer Service Person on the Other End of the Phone
The other day I was accosted by a female cop. I refer to her as Mr. Police Woman. I must warn you before I tell my morning tale. The image I'm creating here is not a pretty one, my friends - not at all. Innocent eyes are waking from a sweet, sweet slumber, in which they see only what they want - eyes waking to a morning, whose stage is set by the venomous hands of those who get their kicks by causing really nice people to have crapola mornings.
And so... a drama begins: The curtains rise. Somehow the audience knows that the story takes place in the morning (it's probably written in the program). On stage is a dirty Jetta with hazard lights blinking. A person (gender does not matter), fashioned in a uniform that can only suggest bad news for illegally parked cars, is standing near the driver's side and placing what is most assuredly a parking ticket underneath the windshield wiper. Slowly gaining momentum, laughter percolates from the mouth of Parking Ticketer Person (PTP). Turning to the audience, PTP bursts into shrill and maniacal shrieks and skips away, exiting stage left.
Two seconds later, Mr. Police Woman (MPW) enters stage right. Sporting a mullet and displaying herself in a stance modeled after a soft ball player, she purses her un-lipsticked lips, eyes fixated on the soiled sedan. Her demeanor warns that no shenanigans will be allowed during her watch. No sir-ee-bob - she's all business, and goddamn it you better abide by every little law in the book. Thumbs tucked into her pants, Mr. Police Woman meanders her polyester, badge wearing self over to the blinking automobile. She inspects the car and examines the parking ticket. Shaking her head and chuckling to herself, she pulls out her pad of citations and begins to write. If the story took place after lunch, a tooth pick would be moving side to side in the mouth of Mr. Police Woman.
Entering from stage left, is a flustered and hurried looking girl - a sweet girl and, I would say, with my eyes in a bit of a squint, that, yes, she is quite cute. The girl, who we will call Cuteng, runs to the dusty car with her satchel and gym bag in tow. Realizing the injustice that's about to occur, Cuteng looks to the officer and spews out a tumble of words spelling out excuses and preaching the injustice of double punishment for the same crime. She points to the already issued parking ticket underneath the wiper. MPW rigidly stares at Cuteng giving no response. Moving from a brief state of perplexity, Cuteng puts her things in the vehicle, shuts the door, and showing no fear, stares into the stare of Mister. And this is where the story ends and little bothersome thoughts begin.
To make a long story short, Mr. Police Woman didn't give me a second ticket, but she sure thought about it. AND she expected me to be grateful. Just to recap here, I was already issued a parking ticket, when, not even 30 minutes later, Mister herself arrived on the scene and began to write a second ticket for the same parking violation. I'm sure you can see the grave injustice that could have taken place.
It's stuff like this that really burns my bubble of a butt. Thoughts of MPW's overbearing, audacious presence enraged me as I was driving myself to work. Maybe I just got up on the wrong side of the bed, but a bee, with a buzz as annoying as a police siren, flew into my bonnet and spurred a lot of thinking. I sat down at my desk, started to write, came up with some titles having to do with parking or ugly police women, when the above title (minus the Volume 1 part) infiltrated my bee stung brain. I was perplexed with the meaning of the title and its relation to my parking experience. Finally at lunch it all came together, but in fragments. I only had a feeling that the subjects were connected in some way, but I had trouble putting it all together...
And so... a drama begins: The curtains rise. Somehow the audience knows that the story takes place in the morning (it's probably written in the program). On stage is a dirty Jetta with hazard lights blinking. A person (gender does not matter), fashioned in a uniform that can only suggest bad news for illegally parked cars, is standing near the driver's side and placing what is most assuredly a parking ticket underneath the windshield wiper. Slowly gaining momentum, laughter percolates from the mouth of Parking Ticketer Person (PTP). Turning to the audience, PTP bursts into shrill and maniacal shrieks and skips away, exiting stage left.
Two seconds later, Mr. Police Woman (MPW) enters stage right. Sporting a mullet and displaying herself in a stance modeled after a soft ball player, she purses her un-lipsticked lips, eyes fixated on the soiled sedan. Her demeanor warns that no shenanigans will be allowed during her watch. No sir-ee-bob - she's all business, and goddamn it you better abide by every little law in the book. Thumbs tucked into her pants, Mr. Police Woman meanders her polyester, badge wearing self over to the blinking automobile. She inspects the car and examines the parking ticket. Shaking her head and chuckling to herself, she pulls out her pad of citations and begins to write. If the story took place after lunch, a tooth pick would be moving side to side in the mouth of Mr. Police Woman.
Entering from stage left, is a flustered and hurried looking girl - a sweet girl and, I would say, with my eyes in a bit of a squint, that, yes, she is quite cute. The girl, who we will call Cuteng, runs to the dusty car with her satchel and gym bag in tow. Realizing the injustice that's about to occur, Cuteng looks to the officer and spews out a tumble of words spelling out excuses and preaching the injustice of double punishment for the same crime. She points to the already issued parking ticket underneath the wiper. MPW rigidly stares at Cuteng giving no response. Moving from a brief state of perplexity, Cuteng puts her things in the vehicle, shuts the door, and showing no fear, stares into the stare of Mister. And this is where the story ends and little bothersome thoughts begin.
To make a long story short, Mr. Police Woman didn't give me a second ticket, but she sure thought about it. AND she expected me to be grateful. Just to recap here, I was already issued a parking ticket, when, not even 30 minutes later, Mister herself arrived on the scene and began to write a second ticket for the same parking violation. I'm sure you can see the grave injustice that could have taken place.
It's stuff like this that really burns my bubble of a butt. Thoughts of MPW's overbearing, audacious presence enraged me as I was driving myself to work. Maybe I just got up on the wrong side of the bed, but a bee, with a buzz as annoying as a police siren, flew into my bonnet and spurred a lot of thinking. I sat down at my desk, started to write, came up with some titles having to do with parking or ugly police women, when the above title (minus the Volume 1 part) infiltrated my bee stung brain. I was perplexed with the meaning of the title and its relation to my parking experience. Finally at lunch it all came together, but in fragments. I only had a feeling that the subjects were connected in some way, but I had trouble putting it all together...
Saturday, May 01, 2004
A sign I saw this Morning
Garage Sale - or what is it Garbage Sale? What I wanted they were keeping.
