Kristen the Brave

For those of you who have noticed...I've been missing in action for two days. 

For those of you who haven't noticed...I've still been missing in action for two days. 

I was going to post my schedule to explain what's making me so busy these past few days, but I figured you'd stop reading if you saw it. If you haven't already stopped reading.  ...Hello?  Is anybody out there?

Okay. So now that everyone is bored off, I can talk about the really exciting stuff!  Heh, heh. Instead of blogging yesterday, I wrote a 3,000-word story for my sister's birthday, which was also yesterday. (Yes, I procrastinated. But I finished the story by 2:00 p.m.)  It's actually fan fiction of sorts, because it originated with a story that my sister wrote when she was in 8th grade.  The main character is a plucky young heroine who is pretty good at doing heroic stuff.  Here are the first few paragraphs for your reading pleasure. 

Kristen the Brave dashed under cobwebs and over fallen beams. The ghosts of the Haunted House didn’t seem like they would stop chasing her anytime soon.

“You’ll never catch me!” Kristen the Brave yelled. She smiled to herself. The ghosts didn’t know that she had raced on a cross country team for years.

She clutched the ruby in one hand and her sword in the other, though it was useless against ghosts. But who knew what other dangers lurked in the old Victorian house.

And then her foot hit something in the dark, flinging her into the air. She landed flat on the rotting wood. The ruby clattered out of reach, winking like an evil eye in the lamplight.

“Oops,” said Kristen the Brave. But she was already up an running again. She snagged the ruby as she went. The icy breath of the ghosts fogged against the back of her neck. But that was okay. Kristen the Brave liked winter.

She burst out into the dark night and found herself in an old cemetery. Why it was in the backyard of a Victorian house, she didn’t know. Kristen the Brave ran amongst the tombstones and spun back toward the house. The ghosts had stopped in fear, dipping and drifting at the edge of the graveyard. They didn’t dare go in amongst the stones. Otherwise their mothers would find out they were up past their bedtime.

    

Continental philosophers and other animals

Next month, I will be going to Melbourne to attend the annual conference of the Australasian Association for Continental Philosophers (I know, it sounds like something out of a David Lodge novel, but it’s real). Continental philosophers are not people who think deeply about the significance of living in a nation that’s also an entire continent. Nor, you may be relieved to learn, are they sponsored by Continental Airlines (although the concept of the “bar in the sky” developed by that company is somehow in keeping with the spirit of many continental philosophy discussions).

Rather, the term “continental philosophy” refers to philosophy from or inspired by thinkers from the continent of Europe, which mainly means France, Germany and Italy. Even more importantly, it designates philosophy that is NOT part of the (predominantly) Anglo-American tradition of analytic thought. Somewhat confusingly, analytic philosophy is said to originate with the work of a German philosopher, Gottlob Frege. It is scientific in spirit, whereas continental philosophy is anchored in the methods of textual interpretation and inquiry of the great religious, literary and historical traditions that inform European culture. The split between the two is a recent phenomenon, dating only from the Twentieth century, when the school of analytic philosophy emerged.

Although (or perhaps because) their school is a mere baby of the Western tradition, analytic philosophers tend to show a fundamentalist, reformatory zeal, asserting that their approach to philosophy is the one true way. As David Attenborough might have observed, had he ventured into the jungle of contemporary academia, analytic philosophers will fight fiercely to protect and expand their communal and material interests. Sociable, loyal, even charming among their own kind, they become territorial and dangerous in dealings with philosophers from other schools, insisting that continental philosophy (which, mind you, covers pretty much the whole tradition of Western philosophy before the arrival of analytic philosophy) is not worthy of the title “philosophy” and ought to be stamped out wherever possible. And indeed, it has proved close to possible in many philosophy departments in Australia, the United States of America, and the United Kingdom. Analytic philosophy is clearly in the ascendency in these countries.

It should be admitted that most of the philosophers grouped under the rubric of “continental philosophy” are secretly equally dismissive of the value of analytic philosophy, considering that should it magically disappear without trace, this would be no loss to the world. However, they are much less organized or unified in their opposition to their natural enemy, tending to be preoccupied with depressing problems of their own, such as how to continue a tradition of thought which is implicated in the terrible events of European history in the last century, particularly the Holocaust. Busy deconstructing, critiquing, and declaring “states of exception” involving the suspension of the authority of their own intellectual heritage, continental philosophers have been in a weak position to withstand the energetic and strategic advances of the analytic philosophers. While retaining a foothold in philosophy departments, they have tended to scatter into other disciplines, such as literature, fine arts, cultural studies, and the social sciences.

Hence the need for an Australasian Society for Continental Philosophy (ASCP), to bring the diaspora together. There is no equivalent society for analytic philosophy. The analytic philosophers simply dominate the Australasian Association of Philosophy.

This year, the ASCP conference has been given the theme, “The Times of our Lives.” I am preparing a paper on Walter Benjamin’s concept of Now-time. This is a suggestive understanding of historical time, not as an empty, homogenous expanse in which events occur sequentially, but rather as an intense experience of the present as a moment that is full to overflowing with the past, to the point of catastrophe or possibly redemptive revolution. To get a better sense of Benjamin’s work as a whole (his oeuvre, to be continental about it), I have been reading Howard Caygill, whose summary of Benjamin’s project goes some way to explaining why continental philosophy is not in a stronger position in contemporary academia:

Walter Benjamin

“To a large extent Benjamin’s thought may be understood as an attempt to extend the limits of experience treated within philosophy to the point where the identity of philosophy itself is jeopardized. In place of a philosophical mastery of experience, whether that of art, of religion, of language or of the city, Benjamin allows experience to test the limits of philosophy. The work of philosophical criticism according to the ‘method called nihilism’ allows experience to invade, evade and even ruin its philosophical host.”

This is the kind of thing that makes analytic philosophers see the work of continental thinkers as akin to a parasitic disease. But to “allow experience to test the limits of philosophy” need not amount to a suicidal flirtation with destructive forces. In less melancholic mode, it might involve allowing experience to invite, lead and even enliven its philosophical partner. But that would mean moving on from the oppositional category of continental thought, and adopting the ‘method called tango philosophy.’ 

My Digs: Can't take My Eyes OFF OF You

 

How are you today? :)

I have to admit that I am a little bit frustrated. Why? Because I have been planning to write this post for quite some time now and I've been thinking: wow, the idea behind the post is so cool, so magnificent that it's going to blow everybody's mind. The post is going to get big. The blog is going to get huge and next thing you know is me receiving an award for outstandingblogging.

(Yeah, I know what you're all thinking: Not happening!!!)

But now I can't even write a proper intro.

So let's just say that I'm going to write something mildlyinteresting and you're going to be troopers about it and read the whole post ;).

Getting back to the subject...

The inspiration for the post was a beautiful love song performed byLauryn Hill – Can't take my eyes off of you. You can listen to it below. (WARNING: people going through a love crisis might want to skip it.)

 Can't take my eyes off of you

 

The first 20 seconds give me a shiver every single time. That's how amazing this song is!

Let's focus on the linguistic aspect of the song though – the off of bit to be precise, which is not common and not even correct to use, but still you can hear native speakers use it in everyday speech. What I have learnt from short online research and my own experience is that

• phrases containing off of belong to colloquial and highly informal speech and are often considered incorrect by English language purists;
• the of part is almost unnoticeable, but saying off of definitely takes longer that just saying off
• in most contexts, off of means: from but you can't always replace it with from.

A few examples:

MAKE MONEY OFF OF

'Garage Sale Gal' makes money off ofjunk'

Why can't she just be REALand say she makes money off ofthat?

Obviously,she makes money off ofher TV work. She does not have a large amount of money by any means, but she is not poor either.

BASED OFF OF

Dr. House is based off ofSherlock Holmes.

The Chevrolet emblemis based off ofa wallpaper design from Paris.

The sequel, The Pacific, is based off ofseveral veterans' memoirs.

TAKE IT OFF OF ME!

Sick Grandma and Little Red Riding Hood

Cezar

 

OFF OF THE INTERNET

However, when I print anything off of the internet(through Mozilla Firefox) the print is miniaturized.

My router keeps kicking me off of the internet.

I've ordered off of the internetmany times, this seemed to be the easiest.

OTHERS:

We sit down to eat off of the plastic platesthat do not all match and drink tea from glasses."

I got it off of a friend of mine.

Get off of me, you freak.

I can't get my mind off of my ex?

Ok, I guess that's it for now.

Bye ;)

GLOSSARY:

magnificent– wspaniały

to blow somebody's mind – powalić na kolana (If something blows your mind, you find it very exciting and unusual)

outstanding– wybitny

an intro – wstęp (introduction)

mildly – umiarkowanie

to be a trooper (about something) – być dzielnym, wytrwałym, a trooper – żołnierz

performed by – w wykonaniu

to skip something – pominąć

a shiver – dreszcz

linguistic– językowy

research– badanie

highly– bardzo, znacznie

to be considered incorrect – uważana za niepoprawną

purists – puryści

unnoticeable– niezauważalny

junk– śmieci

be real – być szczerym

obviously– wyraźnie, oczywiście

not by any means/ by no means – wcale (not at all)

an emblem – symbol, znak

memoirs – wspomnienia

Get off of me! – Zejdź ze mnie!

get your mind off of somebody/ something – zapomnieć o kimś, starać się nie myśleć o kimś

A Cat Needs Privacy Too

My Own Lil Pep Talk

I found something I wrote from two years ago.  It was supposed to be for my eyes only, so please don't tell the unsuspecting me that I posted this.

I'm not sure if it's profound or cringeworthy.  You can decide for yourself...but you don't have to tell me which.

If you are a writer, you must do your duty. 

What is my duty?

Your duty is to write.  

It may seem like I am stating the obvious here, but you’d be surprised how often we need to be reminded of the obvious.  Take me, for instance.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come across a brilliant story idea and been too lazy, too tired, too busy or too fearful to write it.  

As a writer of stories you have a special calling.  No one else can tell the same stories you can or in the same way.  Unless you bring these stories into the world, no one else ever will.  It doesn’t matter if you are writing for millions of fans or just for yourself.  You have a responsibility to combat the laziness, exhaustion, business and fear and write whatever it is on your heart to write.  

Now go do your duty.   

What a sage. 

So, do you have any self-enforced responsibilities?

Happy Thanksgiving!

So.
1.  Thank you to everyone who comes here to read what I say. I realize there are a million other blogs to read and it's hard to keep up. I realize I'm weird and my posts are weird too. But I appreciate the minutes or seconds you spend on my blog!
2. I'm also thankful for all the people who shares their insights and stories on their own blogs. I don't have all the time I would like to read everything, but I've learned so much from you!

So do you eat anything interesting or "non-traditional" for TG?  I guess our meal is pretty normal.  The unusual thing about my family is that we never eat pie or dessert on Thanksgiving. My parents are watching their caloric intake, and I haven't eaten dessert for four years. But that's another story.      

Strange sympathies: Fritz Lang and reptilian aliens

This week my movie mate, Tom, came over with a dvd of Fritz Lang’s 1931 film “M.” This classic black and white crime thriller tells the story of a German community’s response to a series of child murders. The police and the criminal network of the city both mobilize to track down the culprit, using almost indistinguishable techniques: highly bureaucratic organization directed exclusively by men, their discussions wreathed in tendrils, building to clouds, of cigarette and cigar smoke.

Cutting through the haze, the head of the underworld comes up with the idea of delegating the task of surveillance to the “beggars’ union.” One step ahead of the police, the beggars find their man, and the criminal network swings into action. A chalky “M” slapped on the back of the suspect’s coat brands him, he is captured, and brought to a kangaroo court in an abandoned factory. And here the moral argument of the film becomes clear.

The murderer defends himself by claiming that his actions are involuntary – he is continually persecuted by demons and by the ghosts of the mothers of the children he has killed. He finds relief only when he “does it,” but remembers nothing of his actions, only learning of them through the newspapers later. As he speaks of his compulsion, several of the criminals in his audience are shown nodding, evidently identifying with the unconscious, unwilled nature of his experience.

The crime boss responds by declaring that the man has condemned himself by his own words: he is clearly a danger to society and must be done away with. But in keeping with the way the criminal network mirrors every other aspect of respectable society, the accused has been appointed a defence counsel who is permitted to plead on his behalf. The lawyer speaks courageously of the rights of the accused, demanding that he be handed over to the police and tried according to the rule of law; he is sick and ought to be sent to an asylum, not executed.

The mob are not convinced; a woman raises her voice on behalf of the mothers who have lost their children, arguing that they should be the ones to determine the murderer’s fate. This incites the crowd and they move to attack the man, but just at this moment, the police arrive. The members of the criminal mob all raise their hands – suddenly the tables have turned and they are the ones exposed to potential arrest for attempted murder. We see a hand laid very gently on the accused’s shoulder, about to lead him away to another scene of judgment.

The final speech of the film is given to a bereaved mother we met in the opening sequences of the film, who declares that we all share in responsibility for such murders – we must take better care of our children.

After we finished watching, Tom said he had felt himself identifying, for a moment, with the mob who wanted to lynch the murderer. He looked at me, “But you didn’t, did you? You were the lawyer.” He was half right. I did identify with the lawyer, not so much as a defender of due process, or the institution of the law, but as the protector of the accused against the passions of the mob. I have a strange sympathy for criminals – or more specifically for the isolated individual accused (even fairly) of crime.

My maternal instincts lead me not to share the mob’s anger, but to fear for the fate of their lonely target. At a gut level, I feel that every criminal is in danger of being scapegoated, punished personally for a crime with collective dimensions, caught in a social web spun of passion and sticky prejudice, which sweep the rights of the unpopular away, rather than the even strands of measured judgment which would keep them intact. Where mob passions take charge, the punishment of individuals risks becoming like the persecution of Christ, with the difference that punishing an ordinary human being for the sins of a whole society (its failures to “look after its children”) brings no redemption. To use a more ancient metaphor, the concern is that without the safeguards provided by law (and love), crime and punishment operate on the ouroboric model of the serpent which endlessly devours its own tail, a single force, constantly feeding upon and regenerating itself, with no opportunity for justice or mercy to break the cycle.

Given its historical context, an obvious reading of Lang’s magnificently ambiguous film would be to take the marked man accused of child murder who is ignorant of his crimes, only learning of them in the popular press, as a figure of the Jew, while the portrayal of a society in which the underworld and the institutions of law and order are disturbingly difficult to distinguish would be a prescient portrait of Nazi Germany. But there are contemporary parallels that also spring to mind.

Lately, I have repeatedly come across references to the strange conspiracy theory of David Icke, who teaches that the human race, and the US administration in particular, has been infiltrated by shape-shifting reptilian aliens. It is a more extravagant, imaginative version of the idea that any powerful (or simply unpopular) person who shows signs of the ruthlessness that is encouraged by the system is a psychopath, a being that is constitutionally, and irreparably, different to the rest of the human species. It is worth noting that these theories make the same rhetorical moves that the Nazis used to brand the Jews as inhuman, and deserving of elimination. But the interesting aspect of the alien reptile theory is that it also evokes the sense of an ouroboric element alive in society, writhing beneath the surface of liberal institutions like the rule of law. Lang’s film points to the idea that the real reptile, its jaws closing on its own thrashing tail, is a social (or these days, social media) body – a mob moved by paranoid fear and generalized anger, which generates and feeds upon the dangerous attitudes it claims to expose and eliminate.

Clean Up Your Brain

Dang it, Facebook. Don't tell me who's going to miss me when I deactivate my Facebook account. You have no idea. Trust me. *hits deactivate button*  In your Face. 

I don't really spend that much time on Facebook or twitter. But it's not even the time that matters. 

The problem is all the mental tweeting that's involved. 

In non-twitter lingo: The anticipation clutters my brain.

That's the real problem. I may not be on twitter, but I wonder what people are tweeting. I wonder if anyone has mentioned me. I wonder if I'm missing out on contests or news or pillow fights.

I may not spend all that much time actually looking at my Facebook newsfeed, but it's like a drug that calms the itch in my brain. When I come home from my peregrinations out of the house, the first the I do is check my mail, FB, and twitter accounts. Obviously. I've been gone. I want to know what's going on.  (Like my poem?)

I'm writing, and in the back of my mind, I know that at my first break I'll look at Email, FB, t. Or I check on stuff whenever I'm stuck somewhere in my story. Kind of ruins the suspension of disbelief involved in writing, doesn't it? 

"What are we going to do, Tristan? I'm out of fireproof dragon powder!" Sampson wailed.

@RainLaaman I totally agree! Dogs are way lame. #catsrule

"Well, get the dragon tamer charm," Tristan said. "Obviously." Minions. So incapable. 

Insanebookperson Josy Pickle 

One hour left for my rad book giveaway!  books.pickles.blogspot.com/rad-giveaways-forever

Hmm.

When I was a young lass I didn't know a thing about Facebook, twitter, youtube, blogging or online forums. My distractions came in the form of looking up medieval costumes and swords. I really lived in the stories I was writing. A computer wasn't there for there internet. It was there for that blank white document--that vista into places only words could see.

I realize Facebook and twitter are useful and fun. I value my friends there. But sometimes it's just too much for me to handle along with everything else. Maybe I'm more easily affected by their presence in my mind than other people. I don't know.

What do you lovely people think of twitter and Facebook?  It's a very open question on purpose.  ;)

Eat Cottage Cheese and Yogurt

Today I'm going to talk about cottage cheese.
Cottage cheese is my favorite food. Oh, but not alone. Just like God made Eve to be with Adam in the Garden of Eden, cottage cheese was made to go with yogurt in my bowl.

So, here's my favorite meal of all time:

1/2 cup lowfat cottage cheese
Greek yogurt--the best to go with cottage cheese is the kind with fruit on the bottom
1/4 cup of Kashi Go-Lean cereal or Fiber One Original

MIX IT AND EAT IT LIKE THE BIG BAD WOLF WOULD HAVE EATEN THE THREE LITTLE PIGS IF BRICKS HAD NEVER BEEN DISCOVERED.

You will thank yourself later.  It's seriously delicious. I tweet about cottage cheese and yogurt all the time, it's that delicious. I eat it all the time, so now I just abbreviate it to cc and yg. Anyway, we're going to have a poll in the comments section.

Do you think my favorite meal is strange?  Yes or no.
Have you ever heard of mixing yogurt and cottage cheese before?  Yes or no.
Bonus question: Do you love to eat anything that's considered weird? WHAT IS IT?

English in Pics - 12 Cold Weather Must Haves

 

Hello everybody!

How's your life been treating you lately?

I hope you are all OK and have started this week on a good note.

Me? I'm feeling kinda bad about not updating this blog for a week. Therefore, I would like to extend my apologies to all the readers. Yes, all two of you ;).

Today I'm going to discuss different ways in which you can protect yourselves from the cold in the winter time. I know what you are going to say: there is still loads of time before the winter starts, but trust me – it's going to get freezing before you can say Quidditch and didn't your mum always tell you to wrap up well way before December anyway?

1. TRAPPER HAT

This is my favourite type of winter hats.Wear it to show others that it might be cold outside but you are the one who is the coolest.

2. EARMUFFS

If you are not a woolly hat kind of person, at leastconsider wearing earmuffs or a headband.

3. HEADBAND/ EAR WARMER

4. INFINITY SCARF

This is not a regular scarf. Why? Because it never ends. Wrap it aroundyour neck as many times a you can and you are bound to look more stylish than if you wore a regular boring scarf with two ends.

5. GLOVES (MITTENS, FINGERLESS, GLITTENS)

MITTENS

If you like trapper hats, you will love mittens. These will keep your fingers warm and snugly.

FINGERLESS GLOVES

If you insist on tapping away on your phone while outside, you might want to invest in a pair of fingerless gloves.

GLITTENS

However, you will have the best of both worlds if you wear glittens. You can text when you want, and if your fingers get cold, just put on the retractable part.

6. LAYERING

When it comes to clothes, layering is putting on almost everything you own in order to keep yourself warm. You start with a simple spaghetti strap top and finish off with a big sweater.

7. CHUNKY OVERSIZED JUMPER

Those can be very fashionable too. Just make sure your look is more BOHOthan HOBO-inspired ;).

8. LEG WARMERS

Although I associate leg warmers with fitness exercises and fashion victims who wear them in the summer, I think they may come in handy in the winter time. Plus they look cute and girly.

9. SKI SOCKS

Even if you don't really know how to ski, you can still wear them.

10. LINED/ THERMO-PADDED BOOTS

Make sure that your winter boots are not only stylish and fashion-forward, but they can also keep your toes warm.

11. HOME-MADE COCOA WITH MARSHMALLOWS

If you have seen the Holiday (please, don't judge) starring Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz, you might remember the drink that the Cameron Diaz character is offered when she visits her lover and meets his daughters for the first time – home-made cocoa with marshmallows. It was that or hot chocolate. I can't remember now. But there were definitely marshmallows there and the right portion seems to be five marshmallows per serving!

12. OVERPRICED AND OVERRATED COFFEE

Just kidding ;).

Because you can drink coffee all year round!

Hope you enjoyed.

Stay warm! ;)))

GLOSSARY:

How's your life been treating you lately?– Jak się miewasz/ miewacie?

to update – aktualizować

to extend my apologies – przeprosić (extend – offer)

loads (of time) – mnóstwo czasu

freezing – b. zimno, lodowato

Wrap up well! – ciepło się ubierz

way before – na długo przed

anyway – i tak

woolly/ wooly – wełniana

at least – przynajmniej

to consider – tut. rozważać

to wrap something around something – owinąć

snugly – przytulnie

be bound to do – na pewno coś zrobić (bound – certain, extremely likely)

to insist on doing something – upierać się przy czymś

to tap away on (your phone) – uderzać, wystukiwać, klepać

to text – wysyłać smsy

retractable – wysuwana

layering – ubieranie się na cebulę, warstwami

a spaghetti strap top – bluzka na cienkich ramiączkach

chunky – gruby, grubo tkany

oversized – (wydaje się) za duży

boho (bohemian) – boho (a style in fashion)

to associate something with something– utożsamiać

to come in handy – przydawać się

lined/ thermo-padded (boots) – ocieplane

cocoa – kakao

marshmallows – pianki

starring – w którym występuje/ją

a character – postać

per serving – na jedną porcję

overpriced – za drogi, przedrożony

overrated – przereklamowany

When in doubt, poetry

Having so much trouble blogging, people. No, not blogging people--blogging, people.  There's a difference.  I'm in between drafts and I'm reading like a maniac, and I feel like there are a ton of things to do, even though I should supposedly have a little more time right now. Ever feel that way, kind listener? 

I wish I wanted to do "fun" things once in a while, but all I want to do is write.  And read and eat.  

I don't really know where this post is going, unfortunately. So, as I always say, "When in doubt, bring the poetry out."  Actually that's the first time I've said it, but not the first time I've done it. 

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.

I learn by going where I have to go.

~ from The Waking by Theodore Roethke