Friday, June 29, 2007

Boring

I'm concerned I may be boring. The signs are all there--I dislike all team sports, I enjoy grammar, I only watch movies for which I've seen previews, I couldn't even come up with a clever title for this post.

Do boring people realize they're boring? Do they themselves experience boredom? Do they endeavor to be more interesting and simply fail? What if I've been boring my whole life an never realized it? Or worse, what if I've recently BECOME boring! What if the reason that I've been unable to write a decent blog post for months is that my interestingness is shriveling up like an old...nothing. I've got nothing. No good analogy. This is troubling.

Friday, June 08, 2007

What fascinates you? Aside from everyday celebrity gossip, news about family and friends, and the latest plot developments on your favorite show, what are you dying to know more about? What things do you google when you should be working? What things do you want to take a class to learn more about? What things are worth an extra trip to the bookstore?

What captures your imagination?


I'm into:

The Mafia, The Godfather, Al Pacino

New Orleans, voodoo, Cajun and Creole culture, Marie LaVeau, the “laissez les bons temps rouler” way of life

Western Civ—ancient Greece and Rome, the spread of Christianity, the Middle Ages, the Crusades, the Plague, the Renaissance, the Protestant Reformation, the Enlightenment, the American Revolution, the French Revolution, Industrialization, WWI, WWII

England, history of the English language, kings and queens of England, the Elizabethan Era, the Victorian Era, Canterbury Tales, Jane Austen novels, issues of class and social hierarchy

Romantic poetry, early Modern poetry, Hopkins, Whitman, Hardy

Epidemics, infectious diseases, cholera, diphtheria, tuberculosis, viral hemorrhagic fevers (like Ebola, Marburg, dengue, yellow fever), public health

Television commercials, jingles, branding, product placement


Now your turn. Share.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Hello again

Hi. Been doing a little re-vamping. Found the more "user-friendly" Beta-Blogger to be not so user-friendly. Two hours later, I think I'm done for the day. More to come.

_t_a

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

To Create an Epidemic

I know I said I wasn't going to post until after the festival, but I had a creative burst that couldn't wait. I think we should start an epidemic. You heard me. An epidemic. Not like a bird flu-type epidemic. I think we should start a new word or phrase. One that gets into the Oxford English Dictionary. Check it:

The OED, as it is fondly known by English professors and other assorted geeks, is distinct from other dictionaries in that it provides examples of words used in context in newspapers, letters, books, websites, commercials, and other printed mediums. AND, it attempts to trace the origin of the word, or of a particular usage of a word; in some cases, they are even able to furnish the earliest-known written example of a particular word. It's delicious!

So clearly you see where I'm going with this. If we start an epidemic and succeed in elevating our word to OED status, we will have written documentation that we are the ones who came up with it. We'll go down in history! Who's with me?!

What shall our pet phrase/word be? A neologism? An old word used in a new way? A clever hypenation? Think on it and get back to me.


_the_analyst

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

An Unceremonial Exit

I've rewritten the opening sentence of this entry 10 times. I just couldn't get it to come out right. So, I'm just going to spill it. Here goes. I'm taking a sabbatical from Compulsive Analysis.

I wouldn't be so bold as to assume that your day centers on checking to see what I've posted, but my goal was that, on the off chance that you would check, you would find something that made you smile or laugh, or at least, that took you away from your cubicle for a while.

But between work and school, I'm just not finding the time to write quality stuff. So I'm going to take a little break for the semester.

Thanks for reading, and check back with me this summer.

_The_Analyst

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Busier Than a One-Armed Paperhanger

I won't say the birthday trip wasn't worth it, but I will say that the onslaught of emails and papers that greeted me when I arrived back at work today will make me seriously question taking anymore time off work between now and D-Day, April 20.

So I'm back in the saddle again, with a moderate case of pre-festival jitters already brewing. These are the days when no one at 620A Mystery Lane gets a good night's sleep.

As you know, I find doggerel poetry to be wonderfully cathartic. Thus,

I remember
Remembering
To Do
More than
I actually
Did.

What's stressing you out? Haiku me. Or limerick me. Whatever...

Friday, January 05, 2007

Two Things

1. The fine folks at Blogger have upgraded, and they keep trying to drag me with them. Apparently, they've released a new version of Blogger that is 1) better? 2)faster? 3)more robust? I don't know. They didn't say. However, they are quite adamant that I must upgrade. They've taken to leaving not-so-subtle hints that I am a loser because I have not upgraded. Consider: when I log in, I must now select between logging into "NEW Blogger" and "Old Blogger." Not "Original Blogger" or "Blogger 1.0." OLD BLOGGER.

AND, "New Blogger" is somehow affiliated with Google (or, in other words, in league with the Devil). And I don't think I have to tell you how I feel about that! (See my senior thesis on Google Library.)

Well, Blogger, I have news for you: I'm still rocking my grey Old Navy sweatshirt from 8th grade and my brown Payless heels from '01, so your insinuations that I'm out of date are falling on deaf ears. I'm not switching. Deal with it.

2. I'm drained. Too much travel. Too much Christmas. Too many emails waiting in inbox. I don't know what to write about. Any suggestions? Anything you'd like me to gripe about? (You know ranting is a hobby of mine.)


Analyze this, Blogger.

Thursday, December 28, 2006

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree



Contents of my fridge, post-Christmas Party:

1 magnum bottle champagne, 3/4 full, has been open for 5 days; thus, likely flat
1 bottle Reisling, 1/2 full, still drinkable :)
1 bottle Lauderdale Cellars Red Cyn (yes, folks, that's Lauderdale County, Tennessee. As in Ripley. They have a winery. Indeed.)
1 liter Bacardi rum
3 Coors Lights (bottles, not cans)
1 quart Egg Nog
3 pints Half & Half
1 obligatory can Redi Whip
1 fridge pack Diet Coke
1 fridge pack Coke (I'm sticking to the diets for now. I don't know what will happen when they're all gone. You may find me sprawled out in the kitchen floor in a diabetic coma, surrounded by 6 cans of full-sugar coke)
1 pitcher sweet tea
1 quart skim milk
1 mixing bowl and spatula coated in hardened baking chocolate
2 limes
4 bell peppers
8 ounces cheddar cheese
3 tubes Betty Crocker easy squeeze icing
The last of one large Olive Garden salad
One bag of expired deli turkey
1/2 carton eggs
1 bag brown-ish apple slices
1 bag assorted baby carrots, celery slices, and broccoli crowns, in various stages of decay
1 bag hash browns (which were probably supposed to be stored in the freezer)
1 can cinnamon rolls (score!)

Conspicuously absent:
1 full carton eggs

Stored on the counter for lack of a better place to put them:
120 tiny candy canes
1 additional tube Betty Crocker easy squeeze icing
1 unused bar Ghirardelli baking chocolate
Approximately 15 surviving gingerbread men
1 bag bread cubes (pumpernickel and whole grain) left over from fondue; likely stale

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Glory be to God in the highest and on earth, peace, good will toward men. Lo, I send unto you tidings of great joy!

Weeks of yuletide anticipation will culminate tomorrow in the arrival of my most favorite season--the Christmas-New Year's-Birthday Trifecta! The next few weeks bring a whirlwind of excitement and merriment and other kinds of -ments, and I am breathless, nay, giddy with anticipation!

My joy in this most celebratory season is heightened by the fact that, beginning tomorrow at 12:00 noon, I will be off work for, count them, 10 and one half glorious days!

And how will I pass the time?

Saturday, December 23—Host Christmas party at my house for charmingly quirky and lovably ill-tempered relatives (my side)
Sunday, December 24—Travel to Tennessee for Christmas gathering with genuinely kind and pleasant relatives (Charles the Great’s side)
Monday, December 25—Return to Arkansas to accommodate Charles’ dreadful and wretched work schedule
Tuesday-Thursday, December 26-28—Wallow
Friday, December 29-Saturday, December 30—Fellowship with college roomies! Hooray!
December 30-January 1—New Year’s Eve in NEW ORLEANS!
January 1—Return to Arkansas
January 2-5—Work.
But wait—January 6-9—Birthday retreat to Tunica for spa treatments, shopping, and feasting on complimentary cuisine!

After my all-too-brief sabbatical, I will rejoin you, refreshed and rejuvenated and ready once again to analyze, critique, and write bad poetry.

God rest ye, merry gentlemen and –women!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Unburdened

My socks of argyle gray--
I wore them yesterday.
Left home in a flurry,
Was in such a hurry,
I wore them again today.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Polyps, Revisited

I found this on the hard drive of my computer today and thought some of you might enjoy reading it, for old times sake. This essay was part of a grand scheme ls and I cooked up to incorporate our favorite relationship term, "polyp," into the American pop-culture lexicon. We envisioned a best-selling book and apperances on Oprah. Someday, ls, someday...

If you happen to know someone who knows someone who knows Oprah, send 'em a link.

Cool-ly confident with a bad-boy demeanor and smoldering brown eyes, Jason has emerged as the heart-breaker of this season’s Laguna Beach. [This reference kinda dates the piece, huh?] Even sassy Alex and last season’s heroine, LC, have fallen for his charms. And Jessica. Oh, Jessica! There’s just something about Jason that keeps her coming back for more, despite his flirtations with other girls, his aloofness, his own admission that he treats her badly. What is it about this guy that turns an attractive, popular girl in to a clingy, ex-boyfriend-dialing wreck, and why does he continue to send Jessica the let’s-be-more-than-friends vibe, even after he’s insisted that’s all they’ll ever be? Arrgh! He’s such a...such a...polyp!

WHAT IS A POLYP?

The word polyp [paul-up] is a medical term—it’s defined as “a growth that projects, usually on a stem, from a membrane in the body, and can develop into cancer." Ewwww. However, researchers have recently borrowed the term to describe a particularly troublesome group of males discovered to be lurking around the dating pool. (Well, ok, maybe not researchers. Maybe my college girlfriends and I.) As it turns out, members of this newly identified subset of the human male population bear a striking resemblance to icky, dangerous polyps in both behavior and toxicity.

Insistence upon keeping a relationship at arm’s length is a cardinal identifier of polyp-like behavior, distinguishing a true polyp from any number of other irritating male sub-groups. If you’ve been polyp-ized, you may be familiar with one or more of the following scenarios:
o The male in question likes you, but he won’t introduce you to his friends.
o He wants to hang out, but only when it’s convenient for him (or when it’s inconvenient for you!)
o He says he’ll call you later, but forgets (or loses his phone, or gets tied up at ball practice, or is abducted by aliens, or offers some other partially convincing excuse.)
o You’re pretty sure that when you call him, your number on his caller-ID is greeted by a press of the “ignore” button.
In short, he’s not really a part of your life, but he’s still around, just danglin’ like a polyp! And such a toxic relationship definitely has the potential to become cancerous.

POLYP FIELD IDENTIFICATION

In order to aid savvy young women in the identification and removal of polyps, we've compiled a catalog of typical polyp behavior. If one or more of these characteristics applies to a male in your life, you may have been polyp-ized.

Too many good excuses: Best friends Lauren and Matt had been involved in an on-again-off-again flirtation since freshman year. Though Lauren was Matt’s trusted confidante and was always willing to console him after a difficult football practice or to keep him company on the night before a big game, Matt never seemed to be available when Lauren needed him. Though she was hurt when he missed her birthday or left her dateless on Valentine’s day, she felt guilty about expressing her anger to him because he always had such a good excuse. “There was always some good reason for him to be away on my birthday,” she says, explaining that Matt often offered his football schedule or family obligations as excuses for missing important events. “I drew a happy birthday card on the sidewalk at school for his birthday, and on my birthday, I didn’t even get a phone call!” she exclaims. Although a guy’s excuse may be totally legitimate, if it’s a part of a larger pattern of all-too-frequent really great excuses, it may be a sign of polyp-ization. A guy who sincerely wants to be a part of (rather than a dangling appendage on) your life will find a way to be there when you need him (and if he can’t be, he’ll find a really great way to make it up to you).

Too low-key: At first, sophomore Beth found the secrecy of her low-key relationship with sophisticated senior J.C. exciting. She didn’t mind that they didn’t ever go on dates because they had so much fun just talking about life, books, philosophy, everything. Determined not to be the clingy sophomore who pathetically followed her upper-classman crush around, Beth contentedly gave J.C. the space he seemed to need in social settings, rationalizing that she didn’t want to interfere with his time with his friends. After a few months, though, she started to feel a bit silly when he would pass her in the cafeteria with barely so much as a smile and a ‘hi’, and she had no idea what to tell curious classmates when asked about the status of her relationship. Though when they were alone she felt very much like part of a couple, when they were in public, they barely seemed to be friends. “You can’t really say we were dating since we only went on one date in nine months!” Beth jokes. Granted, a little privacy in a relationship can be a good thing; after all, what could be more uncomfortable than being subjected to a couple’s public fight or (worse yet) public make-out session. However, if you’re starting to feel more like his secret than his girlfriend, you may have a polyp on your hands.

Too inconsiderate of your time: Rebecca’s relationship with Liam was a classic case of good girl falls for bad boy. For this small-town girl, there was something irresistible about the school soccer star’s Irish accent and impish grin. Liam flashed the impish grin in question to ensure forgiveness for his chronic lateness. Night after night, Rebecca would sit by the window and watch the clock, wondering where Liam could be and how, in this age of electronic connectivity, he could have stumbled into an area totally cut off from all telecommunication. Why couldn’t he just call if he were going to be late, she’d wonder. “One night,” she recalls, “he said he was going to come over at nine. I didn’t hear from him until nine the next morning.” And though Liam had no problem canceling plans with Rebecca to spend time with his friends, he seemed surprised if she wasn’t available when his nights with the boys wrapped up. Failure to recognize the value of his girlfriend’s time is a classic polyp tendency, a tendency that shouldn’t be tolerated. Although it’s unrealistic to expect that your guy will always be on time, a phone call when he’s running late is simply common courtesy, as is respecting previously made plans.

PROPER TREATMENT FOR POLYP-IZATION

Just as in the medical world, the only proper treatment for this serious condition is a polyp-ectomy. Yep, you’ve just got to cut him off. Unfortunately, removing your emotional polyp is even more painful than removing a medical polyp—at least you’re anesthetized for a surgical polyp-ectomy! The prospect of removing your polyp will almost certainly evoke thoughts of those qualities you most admire in him. How, you may wonder, could a girl ever cut off the guy whose smile makes her socks melt or who understands better than anyone else her artwork,/sense of humor/love of Dickens’s novels? But cut him off you must! Whether or not he intends to, he’s becoming a hazard to your health and preventing you from finding someone who genuinely wants to be a part of your life, and by allowing him to continue dangling, you’re helping him. In the long run, the scars will be deeper if you allow your polyp to grow on you; the sooner you cut him off, the better!

Thursday, December 14, 2006

You Know...

...when you get your hair done and you think it looks drastically different, but no one else notices?

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

No Pizza For You

We had heard the rumors, but we thought our neighbors were exaggerating. Surely not in 2006. Surely not after all the work that's been done, all the progress that's been made.

The rumor didn't even cross our minds when we called Papa John's on Sunday evening. One large pepperoni, one two-liter coke, delivery please.

No problem, they told us. It'll be 30 minutes, they told us.

And then they called us back. Charles the Great took the call and reported that the conversation went thusly: "Uh, yeah, man, I checked with my delivery drivers, and, uh, they won't go down there after dark. Sorry. Uh, you can come pick it up..."

The rumors were true. You really can't get a pizza delivered to downtown North Little Rock after dark.

We laughed, loaded Peanut up in the truck, and went to pick up our pizza. What else could we do?


I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this.

Got the formerly-blighted-neighborhood blues? Sing me a little ditty.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

My Buddies

They tell me stories on long car rides. They make sure I keep up with foreign affairs. They are constant, reliable friends. They are the voices of NPR.

Here's how I imagine them:

Gravely-voiced, marble-mouthed Carl Kasell is the curmudgeonly grandpa of public radio. I envision him with wavy, iron-gray hair and a santa-like barrel chest and jolly belly. He wears mismatched tweeds, suit vests, and a pocket watch. At night, he reads WWII military manuals by lamplight.

Terry Gross studied clinical psychology in graduate school. She drinks gallons of herbal tea each day (exclusively in large, earthenware cafe au lait mugs). She moonlights as a yoga instructor and owns only lightweight, pastel, knit cotton clothing. She conducts interviews sitting indian-style in her beige Herman Miller Aeron Chair.

Joanne Silberner has a very tiny nose, which prevents her words from resonating fully in her head. I have formed no other conclusions about her because I am too distracted pinching my nose to mimic her voice. I want to send her a box of breathe-right strips. I wonder what happens when she gets a cold.

Ann Taylor's greying blonde hair is parted severly on the left and cut in a practical chin-length bob. She wears skit suits every day except for Saturdays, when she dons sensible slacks and hush puppies. Her Afghan Elk Hound, Champion Martha's Vineyard Excursion a.k.a. "Martie", accompanies her to the studio each day and sits stoically beneath the control panel while Ann is on air.

Melissa Block and Robert Siegel, the achors of All Things Considered, have a thing going on. They play footsie under the control panel. Sometimes, when they've had a fight, you can hear it in their voices. Bonus for college classmates: is it just me, or does Robert Siegel's voice sound eerily like the voice of a certain vertically-challenged communications professor...?

When Steve Inskeep goes on vacation, he is replaced by a gentleman named "John Itsteen" (spelling?). John and Steve are actually the same person. Sometimes Steve gets a wild hair and decides to broadcast under a pseudonym for a few days. You'll note that NPR's roster bears no mention of Mr. Itsteen...

Peter Overby's domey pate is protected from the elements only by a fringe of auburn hair above his ears. His petite frame threatens to buckle under the weight of his egghead. He is afflicted with larger-than-average teeth which often impede his speech. He received a Master's degree in economics from a university at which it would be considered prestigious to receive a Master's degree in economics. He is a congenial fellow who enjoys cheese.

Daniel Schorr must have a chronic cold. He must. There's just no other explanation. Dan, I love you, but I need my foreign policy with a little enunciation.

You can view pictures and read bios of all your favorite NPR personalities by clicking on the link in the title of this post or by pasting this URL into your browser's navigation bar: http://www.npr.org/templates/people/?typeId=1
I caution you though, just as Adam and Eve suffered the consequences of eating from the Tree of Knowledge, so to will your illusions be shattered when you see what the NPR stars really look like.

Monday, December 04, 2006

That's My Prerogative

This is the purse I will be carrying throughout the Christmas season:


Deal with it.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Excommunicated from my Lexicon

You know what word really bothers me? Journey. As in, this journey has really taught me a lot about myself. It's even more irritating when used in conjunction with the adjective 'amazing.' As in, this has been an amazing journey. Really? Has it? Unless you are referring to the 1980s classic rock band or an extended period of travel during which you a) crossed a major body of water on a steam boat, b) traversed a continent, or c) floated down the Mississippi River on a log raft, you do not get to use the word 'journey'. So, just to clear up any lingering misunderstanding, a 10 week primetime network dating show is not a journey.

In fact, I would go so far as to say that the word has been so diluted, so overused, that it should be placed on sabbatical. We should not use it for a while. 'Journey' is tired. It wants to rest.

In the meantime, here are some suitable alternatives: excursion, expedition, odyssey, quest, promenade, ramble, sojourn, wayfaring.


Feel like buzzing about buzzwords? Holler at me.

Monday, November 27, 2006

This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: A Thanksgiving Story



I should begin by describing the ring. It belonged to my great-grandmother Joyce, whom I never met. It was her wedding ring. It's small; white gold with two diamonds. Kind of an art-deco feel. Tons of sentimental value. I wear it as my wedding ring, but on my right hand because it doesn't match my engagement ring. Kinda quirky, but it works for me.

When it slipped from my fingers and dropped down the air conditioning vent on Thanksgiving morning, I felt oddly calm. Almost amused.

I'll be damned. Nothing but net. What are the odds?!

If you've never examined the inside of an air conditioning duct, I highly recommend it. I had not given much thought to what lies beneath the floor of my home and was surprised to discover a spacious system of pipes, an intriguing assortment of debris, and, thankfully, no spiders. After a few cautious, rubber-gloved swipes of the duct failed to uncover the ring, I called in reinforcements in the form of my pragmatic, level-headed husband.

Reason #28 why I know I married the right guy:



Our first attempts at locating the ring were rudimentary: a borrowed flashlight (courtesy of Gentleman C, our enigmatic neighbor) and a compact mirror. But with only an hour left until turkey-time at mom's house, we knew we'd have to step up our efforts. What a sight we must have been: Chuck crouched over the vent weilding a spatula and flashlight and me perched nervously nearby, one eye on the clock.

We'd drawn several spatula-fulls of dust and dirt from the vent when Chuck received a flash of inspiration. "I need a CAMERA!" he called, his voice echoing through the duct.



And thus we saw our first glimpse of the tiny ring, stranded several feet back in the duct. (That's it there in the photo--the little shiny object in the veeeeeery back.) Using the camera, we were able to determine the placement of our scooping tool in relation to the ring. Unfortunately, the spatula was just too short to reach the little sucker. (See picture below.)

We needed something longer. Something retractable. We needed... A SWIFFER! I raced to the kitchen and uncovered my Swiffer retractable cleaning wand. With the addition of a piece of cardstock it became a glorious scooping mechanism, and I felt truly smug and ingenius. (Except for the fact that I had, only minutes before, dropped a diamond ring down a vent. Except for that.) (See picture below.)

Like a surgeon and surgical nurse, we worked carefully, methodically. "Swiffer," Chuck would request. "Camera." The work was slow going, as the tiny ring was stubbornly entrenched and moved toward us only inches at a time. Beads of sweat gathered on Chuck's knitted brow, and I began to grow anxious--how was I going to explain to mom why I was late for Thanksgiving dinner? "Hi mom, I dropped your grandmother's ring down the vent. Sorry I'm late. Y'all go ahead and eat."?!?

Finally, after 45 minutes, Chuck had had enough. "You try!"

I kneeled beside the vent, peeked in to orient myself, brandished the swiffer, and scooped. And I GOT IT! On my first try! It was covered in dust but no worse for the wear.

And I'm never taking it off again. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead finger.


So, in this season of thanksgiving, I am thankful for technology--digital cameras, swiffer wands. I am thankful that my ring was saved. And I'm thankful for my best bud, who always bails me out when I do stupid stuff.

Thanks for letting me have the glory, Chuck. I know you quit just in time to let me find the ring.

Additional Photos

Photos won't upload. More later.

Monday, November 20, 2006

The Most Difficult Sentence in the English Language

Several years ago, some classmates and I embarked on a quest to create THE MOST DIFFICULT SENTENCE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. After much deliberation and painstaking pronunciation, we arrived a sentence so difficult to pronounce, so saturated with liquid consonants and tricky blends that I can't even say it in my head without becoming tongue-tied. Several of you are already familiar with this remarkable sentence, but in the interest of preserving it for posterity, I give you this heretofore unpublished conglomeration:

In the Christian Tradition, there's a particularly applicable rural brewery on the Marlboro reservoir.

Try saying THAT three times fast!



Your turn. Create THE MOST ______ SENTENCE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Words are fun.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Potato, Potahto

It's not a new topic, but I'm still intrigued by the differences in the way we pronounce words. How do you pronounce the following:

Grocery--
Gro-shery or Gro-sery?

Envelope--
In-velope or On-velope?

Mature--
Ma-chure or Ma-tour?

February--
Feb-you-ary or Feb-roo-ary?

Coupon--
Koo-pon or Kyoo-pon?

Due--
Doo or Dyoo?

Do you know anyone who's still hanging on to the "hw" sound, as in "hwat" (what) or "hwen" (when)?

What pronunciations really grate on your nerves?