Capitalization in Emphasis

I think every "about me" section I've ever done has at one point included the fact that I am extremely fond of using Capitalization seemingly at will (and often to the chagrin of every grammar teacher I've ever had).My favorite completely fabricated rule about the Upper Case, is using Capitals to show emphasis. To enter subtle meaning into a sentence's structure. Most of the time it's completely subconscious. I want to make sure This is the important thing, and that all the Other words fall into a supporting role. The only problem is this: I'm not sure anyone else has ever noticed my attempts at subtlety... If anyone has noticed, they most likely see this tendency to stick the big ones everywhere as a failure to master the simple rules of third grade grammar. 

Fascinating how you can have intentions in one direction and find that they have been interpreted in another.  People see things differently. This is a fact. I'm sure it's what makes us so diverse, our Backgrounds so different, and contributes to our aptitudes for any given thing. 

Or simply: A Difference In Opinions.

Our personalities dictate the winner in some of these inevitable debates.  I know plenty of people that would concede an argument just to avoid the confrontation, or even because the effort needed to win said argument isn't justified by the subject. Of course, I know equal amounts of people that tend towards the opposite. Then, there are those that waffle (myself occasionally included). These middle dwellers test the waters of debate with a toe-dip gauge of "Is it worth it to let them know they're misguided?"

Then there are those that find every occasion to tell you their opinion, share their feelings, and/or correct what must certainly be your lack of knowledge on a subject, because you are absolutely Wrong. 

Believe me, it happens more than you would think. 

In fact, this personality-based phenomenon will be, from this point forward, known as

 "Rudeness".

I encounter Rudeness on a daily basis. It may just be my job. 

Example: I stand, helping a member (Club speak for: person who shops in our store). This poor woman was a tad bit confused about the parameters of her membership, and I, as a proud, vest-wearing associate, was explaining to her everything her membership entailed. Educate. The elderly gentleman behind her in line took this moment to loudly ask if I was "going to talk all day". 

I have little patience for bladder control issues and/or irritability caused by advanced age. 

So I turned my mechanical smile to him, nodded, and continued to finish helping the woman in front of him. 

This brings me to my next phenomenon, which might be an evolution of the last... Does this personal tendency to Rudeness increase over time? Do the people who avoid arguments fade even further away from them? Do the people who enjoy debating throw caution under the electric wheelchair wheels and, whippersnappers-be-damned, speak even more outrageously? 

Does your personality get magnified over time (like the inevitable prescription for your glasses), or is this just the end of the journey of discovering who you are? 

I don't know. And maybe I won't know until the vast majority of the people I know are at that stage in their lives. When will that be? Hopefully when I am equally as old and obnoxious. 

Or maybe if I find myself spending most of my time at either a nursing home, Bingo, or in Florida. Or apparently at Sam's Club at 8 A.M.

The Confession

I'm admitting my guilt publicly.

I have not been online/attached to the real world/

doing anything constructive at all with my life because I have been addicted to...

Go ahead, mock me mercilessly-- God knows I deserve it. But every time I get online, the only thing I feel like talking about, the only thing I think about, is who Jillian will pick? What story lines will they come up with? Is it real? Why, again, am I wasting my life on reality TV?

I've never really watched reality TV, or been attached to any particular show. (I can't even commit to a GUY, you think I could commit to a SHOW?) I have a fairly short attention span, don't like surprises, and find the pre-conceived drama overrated. Why then, would I actually watch a show that would contend with all of those parts of my personality? A show that uses all of those things as the very basis of its appeal?

I honestly don't know. I just sat here for 20 minutes trying to think of a good answer. Even a simple one.

Sometimes I can't help but think I'm a little too sappy for my own good. And while my logical side wars constantly with that aspect of my personality that drips gooey piles of "aww" on everything, I find that if I let myself get too logical, I border on cynical.

To live your life through rose-colored glasses has got to be better than being constantly unhappy with yourself and your world.

How can we find a balance?

Sure, you can photoshop the shit out of the color levels, but living in high contrast can't be comfortable.

I think balance must come from some sort of superhuman ability to be well adjusted. Though maybe the very thought of being "well adjusted" comes from a more Leave it to Beaver, 50's era idea of the well rounded person.

What does "well adjusted" mean other than truly being happy?

If you live a quirky, offbeat existence defined by online message boards, lots of animals, and little-to-no human contact, who's to say you aren't "well adjusted"? I'd like to contend that no matter how you define yourself, as long as you are happy-- then you are adjusted enough.

I'm sure modern psychology would completely disagree with me by suggesting that such a person is attempting to replace what they don't get in life with online contact and a pet's affection. This may be true, it may be that in every stage of their adolescence to adulthood, they have been dogged by comments and insinuations that they are "weird" "awkward", and "don't fit in". So what that they no longer seek the arms of those who may have publicly shunned them in the mortifying halls of high school?

Maybe they've found a way to be happy. They've found acceptance and love in a completely different way.

And that is completely OK with me. Who am I to point fingers at another's life style when I watch The Bachelor or the The Bachelorette obsessively?

I can finally say now, at the end of this post, that I am no longer ashamed of loving a franchise of TV shows that promotes the idea of reality show love.

I can proudly say "I'm Team Reid" even though he totally got kicked off last episode... He should absolutely be the next Bachelor.

I can honestly say that I accept this cheesy addiction of mine, that in the end, it does not change who I am as a person.

While I may never find love on reality TV, in fact, I may never find that kind of "love" at all, I'm OK with that. Hopefully, when I decide to venture out into the real world (the one that does not include "final rose ceremonies" and "episode spoilers") there will be someone there who will accept my love of Chris Harrison and the phrase, "I'm sorry, you must now say your final goodbyes".

All that said, I finally thought of a reason to watch the Bachelorette: The guys are hot.

Cat Meds

Cat Asthma. The twice-daily bane of my summer existence...

Two weeks ago, I packed up a wailing kitten (read: pampered adult cat) and made my way to the vets office. My little one had been having major breathing problems... ever seen a cat breath completely through it's mouth? (thinkabout it: no.)

Cue mini-educational lecture on pet care and general health:

It turns out that dogs are not the only pets that get heart worms! While veterinary professionals believed that heart worms were harmless to cats, they've recently discovered that while the larvae die, their bodies cause inflammation in the lungs that can lead to respiratory problems and sudden death. In cats the cardiovascular system and respiratory system are closely related, and the heart worm larvae (transmitted by mosquitoes) end up in the lungs, where the cat's immune system kills the larvae. So where's the problem? The bodies of the larvae cause respiratory problems which can cause asthma-like symptoms. 

Alright. Mini-lecture over. 

The point is... my CAT has asthma. Because of her respiratory problems, she developed a secondary infection that involved a lot of mucus. 

That means antibiotics twice a day, a long with a steroid regimen for inflammation...

Cats don't like pills. At all. (Oh, the things you do for love)

Regardless, I persevere daily, fighting claws and bites with tenderness (one must not harm the little one in the process of making her better).

It's here where I make my exit and leave you with the moral:

Take care of your animals. Give them heart worm medication... Claws hurt.

The Aforementioned Soundtracks and Staying Up late.

I thought it fitting to write a post in the early AMs, as I've currently been lurking this end of the morning throughout the summer. 

I'm not sure why I feel the need to stay up until well after the crickets have closed their minuscule little eyelids. That is, if crickets even have eyelids... 

I know it's not because I feel the need to chaperon my little sister and her boyfriend as they make out in the pool right now as I write. That's completely not it.

At least, not every night...

I think it's because of a sort of nocturnal joie de vivre that can be linked to the days of lightning-bug catching and flashlight tag. Days when my parents would scoop big bowls of ice cream and take us out onto the porch during a thunderstorm to watch the lightning. 

Back when I had a porch.

That's when I think.

Really think. 

Huge, sprawling, wandering thoughts that are far reaching and unintelligible. It's when I try to fit my life into boxes, that morph into 20 sided figures that can't quite be articulated. It's when I question everything that I know myself to be. 

Who are we really in the dead of night? Certainly not

 the same people we are during the day, when we're driving down the highway with the windows down, dripping in the heat because the AC doesn't work.

At night we dream metaphors and sit in a cool darkness that wraps around your eyes if the clouds happen to be covering the numberless stars. 

Late at night, I believe in language. I believe in Hedonism.

It's night when I want to run through a moonlight forest in naught but a sheet, magic afoot. Nighttime is when I believe in magic.

It's daylight that brings with it the heavy humidity of a Virginia summer. Like a damper on a trumpet, your heart doesn't beat as fast and your actions more languid. 

Now every day isn't like this, but tonight- that's what I feel. Tonight I'm a lyricist. Words are my pleasure. 

I think I'll leave you with a completely unrelated book recommendation. Though it has nothing to do with this post- Marisha Pessl's Special Topics in Calamity Physics is a fabulous read. A great story, and thoroughly enjoyable style and syntax.

I'm at the Combination Pizza Hut and Taco bell

Why my life is inexplicably awesome...

So I've been gone a while. 

That's the thing about blogging without obligation. I can return to pseudo-journaling whenever I feel the urge to 'take up the pen'

The problem with that urge is that it's continually lukewarm whenever I sit in front of a computer. Sure, at work I'm constantly reviewing phrases in my head- a sort of running commentary of my every action that occasionally borders into a literotica-esque captioning of my day (i.e. "as I handed him his change our hands mashed together, crumpling a crisp dollar to the soundtrack of falling nickels and dimes").

A number of things I'd like to get out tonight...but since I'd like to spread it out a little bit, I figured I'd write a blog series. (A blog series because they will appear consecutively within the next day and a half- other than that they may be completely unrelated.)

The loosely termed 'theme' of this blog series? 

Summer. 

The first post? Soundtracks and Staying up Late. Read On...