Jul. 09, 2003 - 12:59 a.m.
Dear Vincent,
Whenever a side show performer desires to complicate his act he adds a 'while.' Juggling while walking across a tightrope. Taming the lion while walking on his hands. Belly
dancing while campaigning for the re election of the governor. Cell phones have complicated the daily action of living in more ways than I care to list. They add the 'while' to every day life. My personal favorite is, shopping while talking on the cell phone. A woman will weave her way in and out of racks of clothes sorting through them with a distracted eye and her free hand as she carries on a conversation on her cell phone. Suddenly, she wedges the cell phone between her ear and shoulder so that she may use both hands to heft a section of clothes out of the way with a light whine from the hangers scraping on the rack. Lifting her selection from the rack, she examines it with a critical eye and waits, for a pregnant pause to infect the conversation, so that she may inject the subject of her shopping selection with finesse. Finally she seizes her opportunity, "...it's a sort of cranberry, button down...yes, I could wear it with my black slacks...wait let me check..." she fumbles to find the tag and skims it briefly "...one hundred percent cotton...now tell me the truth, you don't think cranberry brings out the wrinkles by my eyes do you? Maybe it would be better to go with a lemon tone..." she muses.
And voila, my favorite type of cell phone related complication.
I have a very zany quirk when it comes to phones and dialing. I know, by memory what each number sounds like on touch tone phones. I can hum what my telephone number should sound like on a touch tone phone. And I rarely dial the wrong number, because I would hear it if the tone was different from the one I intended. Alas, it is not a talent that will bring me my fifteen seconds of fame. I suppose that I will have to content myself with living the rest of my life in relative obscurity simply because I wasn't blessed with some sort of publicly marketable talent like, well, something you know, completely useless like singing.
Immigration and Emigration are different things. I don't find that shocking. None the less I am tickled by the definitions that make them different. Immigration is when one arrives in a country from another country. Emigration is when one leaves a country for another. So, if I were to pack up today and leave permanently for Europe at what point would I cease being an emigrant and become an immigrant?
I am reading anything I can get my hands on right now by a female author with the last name of Bradshaw. She writes all historical fiction. I have found that the science fiction craving that usually seizes me around this time of year has abated more swiftly than in years past. Having been left quite abruptly empty of the desire to read about prophesies and Armageddon and chosen ones (of which there are an abundance in Science Fiction) I find that I've fallen into a historical fiction rut. I like Bradshaw because she never follows just one character's story, she follows a series of stories with different characters who are related to each other in some way plot wise. Bradshaw is absolutely at her best in a more recent work of hers called "The Sand Reckoner". She follows the life of a very famous mathematician called Archimedes. I cannot relate at all to math. But her prowess for articulating the nature of passion and wonder keep me with her step for step. I have noticed that she is excessively fond of the word 'vainglorious'. She uses it at least twice in all of her novels, well I haven't gotten to the "Beacon at Alexandria" yet but I will pointedly look for the word when I read it. I'm sure you are willing to acknowledge, Vincent, that vainglorious is indeed a fantastic word. It is a word I could well become fond of. But like anything, if used in excess, it looses its sparkle. And I fear that Ms. Bradshaw has slaughtered any joy I might have taken in such a magnificent word as vainglorious. Another word lost in the miserable dump of overuse which I suppose, is a better place to be than misuse (both of which sound curiously like refuse). On a final note about the science fiction section which has forsaken me, I observe that there are an awful lot of chosen 'ones' in science fiction. I have yet to come across a science fiction novel in which there was no chosen 'one' burdened with saving the worlds, or worlds, or universe, or universes or humanity wherever it may wander from destruction. I think that the first science fiction author to write a novel in which not a chosen 'one' but a team of people work cooperatively together to save humanity from Armageddon should be awarded a position as a full fledged bureaucrat.
I can't say I hold with self help books. When people enter retirement they seem to believe there are two options for occupying their hours. Number one, would be writing a self help or motivational book, number two, would be writing their autobiography in which they endeavor to show the world how in a mad collision of circumstance, fate and misfortune, they became the dysfunctional adult you see before you. Thus, the abundance of books like "Finding the U in You" or "Saving Your Marriage: Turn that 'M' in Me upside down and make it a 'We'". I don't know if such books are a by product of, or a catalyst for the trend of the age: over analysis. Though I myself am overly analytical, I don't like it about myself and avoid it when possible. More on this subject after I have some time to analyze my thoughts on the subject...
Allow me to steal one of your transitions: "Incidentally" I used to consume Flintstone vitamins. I was monumentally distraught when they stopped coming in the car shape. Now I have adult vitamins which I do my best to forget to take. Also, I'm very pleased that someone finds our letters honest. Being an incurable eavesdropper myself, I'm always happy to do someone else the favor of speaking loudly and clearly when it gets interesting... or I guess the equivalent would be writing letters to someone and posting them online. Happy to do that too.
You will remember, Vincent, that I told you that instigating at the end of a conversation is not allowed. When you asked me why, I really didn't have a good reason. But now, I do and here it is. To hearken back to our old analogy of this being verbal fencing... You cannot instigate at the end of a conversation because it would be like executing a blow on your opponent after they've removed their mask and sheathed their sword after the end of a fencing match. You leave your opponent ill equipped to parry. That would be hardly a fair fight, and in bad form. And that, Vincent, is why instigating at the end of a conversation is not allowed.
Vaingloriously,
Meghan
what they said - what they will say
