Prefixes: The Root of All Evil

It's kind of funny...don't you think?

The power that words have. You ask someone "what's the most beautiful word in the english language" and you can't an answer that has deeper meaning that just the random collection of letters and sounds. You ask the opposite question, and you'll get the same result.

But it's all words are, isn't it? When you break it down to the bare bones of what we call language, words are nothing but a representation of what we're saying. We assign sounds, we assign syllables, we assign meaning; words are symbols for what we want to say. Haley commented on the first question and brought up a very interesting point--that people who don't know our language find beauty in words we would find repulsive. "Diaherra" It almost sounds like an Opera. Any word in french is a pretty word, "poubelle" "devoirs" "maird" ("trash", "homework", "shit", respectively). Personal opinions of opera music or the french culture aside, these words do sound very nice, they're sort of fun to say. Yet if you asked anyone in their native tongue what they thought of these words they would say that they are ugly.

So what makes a word ugly? After all words are just symbols and symbols have no more power than what we assign them; "Cross" what did you just think of? If it was anything close to religious than you see what I'm saying. I remember vividly accidently saying the word "nigger" in front of my mother when I was younger. Her reaction quickly led me to believe that it was never okay to say that word. Yet if you examine the current hip hop culture, one of the primary objectives is to reclaim the word and desensitize it, to strip it of it's meaning. Is this a wrong thing to do?

I love words, I don't think theyre is anything more powerful or beautiful or tumultous as a word. I believe that, when used well, words pack a force that nothing can stop. Words can topple governments, words can make a fortune, words can define a relationship. But the only reason any of this is true is because we let it be true. I am a writer, and I believe in the power of words. I believe that words are like any other tool--use it well and you can change the world.

So what do words mean to you?

another question, a little less random

What is the ugliest word in the english language?

Random question:

What is the most beautiful word in the english language?

celebration

So I'm 21...

Cabin Fever

I've spent every night this week alone in my room. In fact I've spent nearly every moment not in class in my room. I wake up in the morning and I get ready for class, make myself some breakfast and a cup of coffee, get my bag ready and walk the same route to class every morning. After class I walk back, come to my room and sit down and get online, visit the same five or six websites I always do and generally let my eyes glaze over while the hands on the clock march steadily towards the next hour. How did this happen to me?

I have organized my semester so that I would have time to get away from this very symptom--the same symptom I find myself in time after time. But it seems no matter how strong my convictions or how well-placed my intentions complacency reaches up and grabs my ankle and just pulls me back down. Why do I let myself get caught up in this same struggle time after time? I know the solution to my problem, I just don't know how to get there. I get so comfortable in my room that I simply don't want to leave. I get so comfortable in my routine that I simply don't want to diverge.

This is the same problem I'm constantly fighting against--it's the one issue that seems to always be able to drag me down. There's so much I want to do, and so much I want to see, there's just so much I want to think about that I don't know how to cope with it. I feel like it's pushing me away from my friends, I don't know how to connect to them. So when I try I feel like I'm coming on too strong. This is the last curve that bends this issue into a viscious cycle. So now I find myself at a cross-roads. I know I need to get out and do more. I want to spend more time with my friends, but I also want to find comfort in spending time alone again. Problem is if I go too far towards the latter I won't see anyone at all. I'll become a transcendentalist and go off in the mountains bymself...but even Thureau had friends.

I need to get away--I need to change my cycle. I need to clear my head. I need to get back to stony point (and not talk myself out of going). I need to stop being so afraid of the outside world. I'm not sure what has made me feel this way again, but I want it to stop. Maybe the Tai Chi will help....

wtf, crane?

So I woke up this morning to a cool, crisp breeze. It's overcast out, and the sky looks wonderful. I went outside three minutes ago and it's serene and peaceful and very relaxing and has absolutely nothing looking like a crane. I go back outside just now and, wtf? Crane!

thanks, crane, for killing the mood.

Skankadouche.

Gloat

click the title.

The man responsible for the single greatest art project of our modern time is speaking at my school in eighteen days. At 3:30 pm.

Be jealous, it's okay.

so much time, so little to do...

wait a minute; strike that, reverse it.


I love Yesterday's Books of Modesto California. I love them. If I could take some action to that would make my love legal I probably would. However given the state of the current conservative marriage laws in California, I will continue to worship from affar.

Wednesday, as I was leaving my english class we were instructed to read 154 pages of The Rise of Silas Laphem by William Dean Howell. I was 100% sure I had this book and was ready to read on my arduous journey home to Modesto. Turns out I was 100% wrong. I did not have this book, and from the reports of others in the class had no chance of buying it anywhere in Los Angeles. At all. Ever. Unsure of exactly what I was going to do, I put it behind me and concentrated on the upcoming trip.

Planes with propellers are cool.

Saturday it was time I left with Kasey to look for the book, problem is by the time I drove half a mile from my house to Barnes and Nobles the sum of the information about the book I could remember was that it had something to do with "Silas" and the author's name had an "H" in it. Still the deligent detectives at B&N found the book (my hats off too them) however, they did not have the book.

Enter "Yesterday's Books" the quintessential around-the-corner-used-book store. I show up and hand them the sheet with the picture of my quandry. "I'm looking for this book," I say. "ooh, Howell...I think I've seen one title by him in section 21." I trek back to section 21, and sure enough "The Rise of Silas Lepham" by William Dean Howell, the only Howell title there. It was $2.50. I love Yesterday's books.


Now, I have the book. the next step is read the 120 pages I haven't read yet that I was supposed ot have done by today. 130 pages and negative three hours to read it. Guess I better get started.