The End, The Beginning, The Something

i don't know about you, but often i get sucked into the bubble that is my mind and the reality that i build for myself. sometimes it is a colourful, joyous space and one that is full of excitement, inspiration and hope. lately, more often than not, it is a space of frustration, irritation and sometimes downright anger. it can also be a very lonely space - despite the saying "misery loves company", my misery does not attract any friends. so, when i raise my head and i am reminded that there are things that can brighten the world and those things can be very simple and straightforward, i smile a little.

it's the end of the year, let me try to make it the beginning of the end of spending too much time in the bubble. here's to holding each other a little more (with the other parties' consent, of course). here's to recognising more messages of hope, joy and inspiration.

here's to the somethings!

Whoa! Wonderment

August 21st is my father's birthday. I am not sure when it become tradition but I did what I have come to do every year on my father's birthday: I opened up a little box of letters from him and read a few. I laughed and I cried and I thought about how much I still miss him.

Then I got ready to go out and experience the eclipse. I made sure I made no appointments on Monday afternoon as I was determined to see this eclipse. We were only going to have a partial experience, we were told. No matter, partial is likely quite different from no eclipse at all. Because I had not ordered glasses (by the time I decided I was excited about the eclipse, I couldn't buy the glasses anywhere), so I went to a local bar that offered glasses to those who attended. By the time I got to the bar, all glasses had been given out (it seems I was not alone in snagging glasses early). I was deflated.

"Would you like to take a look?" A very kind woman offered me a peek through the glasses she was holding out to me. She didn't have to ask me twice. I put the glasses on and I looked up.

Awestruck. Silenced. Reverent. That photo doesn't begin to communicate the moment. I got even luckier when an employee gave me a pair of glasses that I was able to hold onto for the rest of the afternoon, as I watched the moon move along until it was gone.

I think I may have a new obsession. I'm already checking calendars to see when I can do this again. This moment reminded me what wonder feels like. During many many moments of cynicism and frustration, this was such an aah moment.

Seeing Red...

When you ask me what I want and I say, "that red one please", I wonder why you then choose to give me the purple, pink or even grey one. It makes me wonder - do you think I don't know what I want? Do you think that what I want is wrong? Do you think you know what I want better than I do and that, when you bring me that not-red one, I shall see the error of my preference? Why does it upset you, when the not-red-after-I-asked-for-red gets me looking a little disappointed? Why does it upset you when I don't say - "this is exactly what I wanted"? Why do you ask me why I don't have my not-red item on me all the time?

Here I am, wondering why you asked me in the first place, if you were not going to give me that. It may not make you happy to see me in red but, oh my goodness, it makes me ecstatic and... it's exactly what I want.

The Hangover...

Today is Guy Fawkes Day, which may mean a night of fireworks and fun for some. Today, over here though, it is the day after elections. I don't know if there is a country where fewer people turn out for elections. Even in countries where people are pretty sure that the results will be rigged, people show up in better numbers than in the United States of America. In the past 50 years, the highest turnout percentage has been 65% and, during midterms, which is what we just went through, the turnout is closer to 40%. I don't know what that all means.

I do know that I vote and I vote for all kinds of reasons. Even if things don't turn out the way that I hope (which is often the case) I can at least say that I tried and I feel that gives me the total right to gripe about all the things I don't like. I vote because I have parents who were not allowed to vote, simply because of their race, until they were over 30. Getting to the point where they could vote took a lot and so voting meant a lot. I vote because I am rather opinionated and I like to be able to put that opinion out there.

What sucks about today is the post-election hangover. A whole bunch of people is going over the ashes of what's left and trying to figure out what happened. Boy is that irritating. Postmortem, after postmortem, and none of it is illuminating. All we are doing is waiting for the kids we've given the badges to to throw their tantrums again, for another 2 years until some of us do it all over again.

Time for fireworks... hurrah?

Second Guessing

For the last few weeks, people have been going crazy. It seems as though everyone around me and and around the country is in a state - Armageddon is knocking on our door and is not taking "we're not in" as an excuse. Armageddon is bringing a visiting gift - Ebola. Yep. Over here, in the USA, we are worked up and, for good reason. Officially, just about 5,000 have died, though that may be a huge underestimate. More than twice that many have been sick. There is no cure and the spread is rampant, out of control even.

Oh, those numbers aren't just in the United States? In fact only one person has died in the United States and the part of the world that is being ravaged by Ebola is thousands of miles away, over an ocean and a lot of Americans couldn't find it on a map? But the TV reporter sounds frantic! So I should be afraid, right? I shouldn't pay the scientists any mind when they tell me how difficult it is to spread the disease. I know they say a person has to be symptomatic and that I have to get their bodily fluids on me but who believes in science? That person who just sneezed on the subway could kill me! Even if we have kids who come from a place in Africa thousands of miles away from the affected nations, we must quarantine them. I mean, one can't be too careful, right?

I wasn't really worried before. But then, the other day, I looked over at my husband and I said - I am beginning to think that I am the crazy person for being so relaxed about this. I turn on TV and the radio and I read the paper and I think - why am I not panicked. I should be losing it right now.

So I think I shall go some place and work on getting worked up...

The More Things Change...

A few weeks ago I went out to dinner with some friends and somehow, talk of Zimbabwean handmade paper came up. Hidef had many questions about it and wondered if he could print some of his photos on this paper (he is always on the lookout for new media for his images). I told him that I was sure that I had some of this paper at home - it may the the rule that any self-respecting Zimbabwean worth their salt must own some Zimbabwean handmade paper.

After searching the bookshelf, I found a notebook that, according to the first entry, I received as a gift on 23 December 1998. I made the entry at 7:54 PM. I am not sure why I made a note of that but it seemed important at the time. Judging also, from the entries, even back then I was not a daily journal writer.  Back then on as the year closed out I wrote down some "Proposed Resolutions"

• Get Fit - get a flat tummy (I still try to get fit, mostly so that I can finish well the races that I now run)
• Get a great new job
• Get a company car (A very Zimbabwean concept. No longer a thing here in NYC)
• Get organised - get focused. (Always a work in progress though, in many ways, I think I'm better. Then again it may just be what I tell myself in order to get by)
• Carpe Diem! (Still a philosophy I try to follow)
• Get a better flat (I think I wanted a garden. I still do)
• Have fun (YES YES YES!)

On later days in January 1999, I did also add that I must "learn to be not so tired so I can meditate without falling asleep". I read this out to hidef who tells me that the one thing I don't do well is relax, and he laughed and laughed and laughed. I do try though - I now have an official bedtime and that is a step in the right direction. I don't always get to bed on time but at least I have a goal that I strive toward attaining.

I think the analysis of the proposed resolutions and what happened is that, at the Pandave Resolution Board Meeting, I decided to focus on "Carpe Diem" and have fun and let the rest look out for itself. I mean, really, if you aren't enjoying your life and making the most of it, what are you doing??

Tick Tick What?

Yesterday they took down the massive tree over at the Rockefeller Centre. Today, as I walked to the subway, the empty dark space in the sky made it official - we are in 2013. The people who thought they could read Mayan calendars were wrong and there is no going back to 2012.

Wait, no, wait! I'm not done with 2012. I still want to mull over it a touch. I want to look it over and dance out the good times. I want to take a moment and remember it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes:

1. I spent my year listening to a LOT of NPR. A LOT. And it was fantastic. For all I thought I learnt, there was always so much much to know and be amazed by. 
2. During the first half of the year, I did quite a bit of running. I joined a running class and made some fantastic friends. Unexpected bonus! Who knew that while running so hard you can't talk, a bond can be made, a bond that is cemented by a heaving-breath, silent high five?
3. I had my first stint as a rabbit! It was AH-MAY-ZING!There I was, waiting at a little before the 7 mile mark, waiting for my new running class buddy to come by. I was nervous as heck - she had asked me to help her attain a goal time and I, who had never done this before, wanted to make sure I didn't mess up. There were so many runners that I was afraid I might not see her. Also, there were cops about and I did not want to get busted for jumping into the race like a bandit. She came up and off we went. As we ran, I could not stop smiling - her effort and resolved were incredibly inspiring. And she made her goal time! A month later, she repaid the favour - without her I don't know how I would have made it up that last hill in the race.
4. I ran my fastest half marathon and it was in Brooklyn, my home turf. Helloooo Brooklyn! 
5. Granted, I spent a week in hospital, had my stomach operated on AGAIN, but the views from my hospital room were incredible and the hospital folk took excellent care of me. 
6. My, then future, mother-in-law came to take care of me after my hospital stay (hidef had to travel for work). We spent 10 days together and, during that time, she shared parts of her life that hidef didn't even know about. It was a quality time.
7. I spent Christmas with my mother and sister! I had not done this since 2003, when my father passed away. It was so joyous to celebrate a non-orphan holiday.
8. I got married! What fun the wedding was and how great marriage is now. It's funny - we were having a ball living in sin and we are still having a ball now even though we are no longer edgy sinful bad-asses.
9. I danced, and danced, and danced some more. That ALWAYS makes life better. ALWAYS. How can one be mad while dancing to music? 
10. Even though I did not share my stories as much as I would have liked, I was still very lucky to have about me blog friends like  Dodo, Prettylyf, Oscar and El Editor, and other new ones I came across. When sanity threatened to forsake me and when things looked bleak, I went to them and they renewed my hope and belief in thoughtfulness, beauty, art and a celebration of life.

 Look at that! That's not even a tenth of the great things that happened to me last year and it all seems really darn awesome. Now I'm ready.

2013, let's do this thing.

The Worst

Is there really anything worse than autotune? A song comes on and, as the intro plays, you think it may have promise. Then, the 'singing' begins. My poor ears start to beg for mercy, asking me what they did to deserve this punishment. Why?

I mean, really. Why? At this point, why even bother with the people? They aren't playing instruments. They certainly aren't singing. The machines have finally take. Over and we have not even noticed. I for one am too busy stuffing my poor ears with cotton.

It's That Time Again

So Monday is super famous for being the worst day of the week, but the worst night? That gets no play. I am proposing a candidate and I feel that it takes the cup by far. Sunday. Sunday night. The night before Monday. The night before we start that crazy race toward Friday. The night responsibility begins again.

Why should Monday be the only day that gets a bad rap? I propose Sunday night as the new holder of the crown.

Look Out Now

The Affordable Care Act or Obamacare (always said with a sneer in your voice) is making news all over the place. The issue even made its way to the Supreme Court and yet folk won't keep going on about how terrible it is - even though it has not happened. There are experts telling us that it will save money and other experts telling us that it will leave us broke. There are people declaring that almost every doctor in America will quit but this report is based on the nearly 700 (out of 36,000) doctors who actually responded to the fax. This in a nation of over half a million doctors. But I digress.

So when asked about what he was going to do, the senate minority leader who, if you ask me, looks a lot like Angela Lansbury (but is not) declared that their goal is not to ensure that 30 million uninsured people have health care coverage but instead, their goal is to improve the health care system. This health care system, he said, is already the best in the world but they want to make it even better. But not just make it better, make it better while reducing costs and increasing individual liberty. I had no idea that health care was about individual liberty, but there you go. Did I mention that this guy and his coworkers have access to some pretty awesome health care benefits? Nothing but the best for them!

My lesson continued. Word is that spreading the health care coverage is going to cost the currently insured even more because they are going to have to pay for the uninsured. And yet, I thought this was already the case because when the uninsured go to hospital emergency rooms, they can't be turned away and, when they can't pay, the hospital has to find someone who will. My money was always on the insured but it may have been a health fairy all along and this health fairy will go on strike if more people have more equitable access to health care.

And this is how it makes sense for how else can people know that they are special? So we must, we must make the best health care even better and make it so those 30 million uninsured feel even worse about themselves for not being able to afford it. It is obviously something they must have done to not be able to have access to the best (getting even better). They obviously don't deserve to live and, if they try to, they should just feel as crummy as possible about it.

Huh? What?

I ended up spending seven nights in hospital and, during that time, I managed to work my way through a lot of reading material. This is how the reading material worked. When I prepared to go to the hospital, I packed my New Yorker magazines, a book about a programme to introduce black students to Holy Cross University, back in the '60s and other reading material that involved long paragraphs and marmalade words.

I woke up from surgery to find myself connected to an IV that supplied me with an on demand stream of pain medication. The morning following my surgery, I reached for a New Yorker and found that the words would not stay still on the page and that, after staring at the page for about ten minutes, I was still on the first sentence of a story and that sentence made no sense.  It was then that I realised that the pain medication also rendered my brain rather diminished. I had lost the ability to even pretend to be deep. Lucky for me, I have friends who had foreseen my diminished state. They arrived with piles of celebrity rags - full of pictures and very few and very short words. I was able to spend my days sitting in a chair, bathed in sunlight from the massive window in my room, paging through magazine after magazine. I was asked to wonder "who wore it best" and challenged to "get that bikini bod" even though I do not have millions of dollars and trainers at my beck and call. Even with my half functioning brain, I was sure that my brain got even smaller.

During the week I was sitting around, it was two days before I was even allowed to drink a sip of water. I then spent another three days being given only clear liquids to consume. Toward the end of my stay I graduated to mashed potato and dry grilled fish (party time!). It was not so terrible as pain in my stomach kept my appetite at bay. I was also staying in a ward for people with stomach issues so there was very little food going around and none of it was appetising.

Half way through my stay I received a visitor. She sat down to chat and said, "I brought you something to read," and pulled out a magazine. I looked at the cover "FOOD & WINE". How did that happen? Was she walking around the bookstore wondering - hmmm... what do you give the person who cannot eat or drink most things? Oh, I know, the dream of food. Show her the life she cannot have. I mean, she has been paging through a bunch of magazines where people are in dresses that cost her annual salary so this is along the same lines, right? Right?

Pass Me the Fruit... Juice

My path to greatness and eating more real food involves a whole lot of walking and a whole lot of walking ends up involving coming across a lot of strangers. I also come across way more than my share of dog poop and pee and find myself wondering which season is worse for dog poop. Is it summer, when it hangs out, steaming and and stinking up the block, or is it winter, when you have no idea it is under the snow until your foot is right in the middle of it? It is a question I have not yet answered.

Today, as I walked along the street I watched the traffic light turning from amber to red and then heard a car honking loudly. I looked to my left to see a yellow cab speeding toward and then right through the intersection, yep, right past the red light.

My lesson for today: apparently it is okay if you break the rules of the road, as long as you honk loud and long first.

Do Me

My days are sucked up by things that suck up days. I have moments when I think, I should stop and read my favourite blogs; I like to do that. Often I am on the train, on my way to work, or I am sitting at work, trying to make a spreadsheet happen, and I decide that I shall do it "later". I tell myself that I shall get to it once the numbers work or once I have settled down and responded to the emails and gone through the inbox on my desk. And later never happens. I should know this by now - later never happens.

This morning, faced by the mountains of work that accumulate while one is away from the office for a few days, I decided to stop by my favourite blogs BEFORE anything else got in the way. I stopped by this super post from Prettylyf. I realised that I had commented on this before but today I read it again and gave myself a mental finger wagging. What have I been doing to feel pretty, inside and out? Do I even remember anymore, what makes me feel pretty? So this is my mission - I must make the list. Then I must do the list. And always I must respect, revere and redo the list. Innovate, elevate and celebrate!

Because, seriously, you can't be sucking time doing only things that suck!

My Own Darn Band!

I am sure I have mentioned before that I, pretty regularly, take a 6:30 a.m. yoga class. I was there this morning and so was another woman, who chose to set up right behind me. I was given the most fascinating vantage point - as I looked in the mirror, there she was. And, just in case I missed her, she wore a bright pink top. What a show I was rewarded to. I had an idea that things might get interesting when she insisted on controlling the window that the teacher tried to close. But how interesting? I had no idea.

Class started and, as we began our breathing exercises, she began adjusting the many necklaces that she was wearing. When she was done with that, I thought she might join us. No. She clasped her hands together and proceeded to look around the room. Next set? Same thing. We then moved on to the preliminary stretches and by "we" I mean everyone but her. She looked more like she was getting ready for the 100 metre dash, as she exhaled loudly and spent a couple of seconds reaching up in the air. Then she sat.

And so the class continued. At times she would rise as though to join us but she would instead do whatever she felt like doing. I wondered if perhaps she was hard of hearing but wouldn't she notice that everyone else was doing something different? When she sat, she would sit cross-legged for a few seconds, appearing as though she was about to meditate, her fingers in that meditative thumb-forefinger thing. But that would last, at most, ten seconds and she would be fidgeting again. The hair, the jewellery, the bright pink top. Anything but what was going on in class.

The teacher was lost for words. At first she tried to offer suggestions to improve the pose but, once she realised that our pink lady was doing her own thing, she gave up and let it go. Finally, towards the end of class as the groans became especially loud, the teacher suggested that the student leave since she appeared to be studying. The pink lady graciously declined the offer and groaned her way to the very end.

I want to say, thank you Pink Lady. Thank you for almost completely taking my mind off the usually very trying class. Instead of thinking about how I could take a nap mid-pose, I was was absolutely baffled. Now only were you marching to a different drummer, you had a whole darn band playing some crazy free form tunes! And to that I say - Cheers!

Well, Let Me Tell You!

I am a regular working stiff. My Monday to Friday is made up of my spending around fifty hours in the office, another eight or so commuting to and from work and, let's say about thirty hours sleeping. All this means that I spend more time with my coworkers than with anyone else in my existence. That's a lot of interaction and leads to various questions about what lines are appropriate to cross in these here relationships.

And as I sit wondering where those lines should be, my coworkers happily dance across them and pull me over with them. I, for instance, know way more about their body functions than anyone who is not their proctologist or gastroenterologist should. There is the coworker who likes to come by to share how much better she feels because she just moved her bowels. She sighs contentedly, while I make a mental note to avoid the bathroom for the next 20 or so minutes. I guess she is being servicey. Others share their stories of post hot-wings intestinal activities. At least the tales entertain, though I feel sorry for the now traumatised third parties who were caught in the crossfire.

From all I know about what is going on with these folk, you would think that I worked in a medical office as some kind of inner-body experience therapist. Hmmm... perhaps it is a niche career calling my name. But then again, that really does sound, literally, like a crappy job.

No Friends

I came across the story related to the photo above and I still can't figure out who is the person with no friends - is it the model on the cover of the magazine or the editors who let this happen? They say "there's one born every minute" with respect to fools, but it was when I saw this that I realised that with all the fools that have been born, it is more and more likely that a bunch of them will end up in one room with not one thinking person to say  - STOP IT NOW!

Someone thought it would be a good idea to create and image with a pale-skinned model surrounded by dark-skinned models. That was a bit silly but could have been taken in many ways. However, the fools decided to take any ambiguity out of the equation by putting the caption at the bottom of the screen "Stepping Out of the Shadows". Oh, so that's what those dark things are... shadows. And when she was asked, the model insisted that this was merely about coming of age (because we have all stepped out from among dark shadow-women when coming of age) and that everything was okay because the models were not all black folk - some were Filipinas who had been painted black. So you see, it's all okay. And for those of you wanting to say otherwise, you tell me what your shadows looked like when you stepped out of them at your coming-of-age moment.

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

I do realise that, at this point, almost everyone would consider us quite firmly in 2012. It is the beginning of March tomorrow, after all. You know what else I realise? I realise that this is my space, my spot, my domain and so I can live in the past if that is my wish. Right now that is my wish. I feel that I did not give 2011 the sendoff and recognition it deserves.

We have New Year pomp and circumstance and it is all about making resolutions about all the things you must do in the new year to be bigger, better, faster (or in the age of the eternal diet perhaps I should say smaller?) And yet, we do not take the time to say farewell to the year past and to look at the glorious things that happened in that year. Don't folk get tired of picking at themselves, seeking what is wrong and what they need to improve on? It's time to look and love!

2011! Thank you!

• I went to New Orleans Jazz Fest. It was New Orleans so the food was delicious. It was Jazz Fest, in New Orleans, so the music was glorious. To cap it all off, Hidef proposed and that was just perfect!
• I survived a 5-day stay in the hospital. Granted, I did miss our Super Bowl party but I did get to see what an emergency room looks like in real life. The nurses were wonderful and did right by me.
• I went to Austin, Texas, and ran a in a 5 km race. I came second in my age group! Whenever I run in New York, even when I run faster than I ran in Texas, I am lucky to place in the top 50 in my age group. So, yeah, I was pretty pleased to do that well without having to trip anyone up.
• I went to Niagara Falls. I had not been in Canada since I was 6 years old and had never been to Niagara Falls. I cheered my friends on as they ran a most scenic race.
• I renewed my relationship with my incredible 3 year old cousin and his mom. What a light that has brought into our world. He is smart and funny and helps me see the world in new ways. Bonus - he calls me Big Pandave. The looks we get when we're out and about are priceless.
• My brother graduated college! My mother came to visit and I spent a summer surrounded by family from far and wide. I have three siblings and none of us live in the same state. My sister lives in a different country on a different continent. My cousins are spread out far and wide. To have a family moment is something that really cannot be put into words. Naturally, there are moments when you want to strangle them but who better to strangle than family? They understand. Oh and my family is growing too - I now have extra family via Hidef and that's welcome too.
• I smiled, a lot. Smiling and laughing are really awesome and infectious and, if you are going to resolve to do something, that's a good thing to resolve to do.
• Oh and dancing. Always with the dancing. Have you ever danced the second line in New Orleans? Have you ever rocked out in your home, when it's just you and inhibitions have been shown out? Have you ever just danced and danced and danced? I did and I did it often. And I still wished I could do it more. Music and dancing are things I can't live without.
• I fell off the wagon several times but I always came back to my writing.

There are so many other incredible and amazing things that happened. I ran races, I hung out with friends, I travelled with Hidef and went to new and old places and spaces. I fought my fear of heights and walked over boulders. I never conquered my fear of rodents but, so far, they have not given me a heart attack. Oh I see them trying, running across my path and staring at me without fear. And I can't lie, I tell myself I shall react better but I just yell and flea. Maybe one day I'll be brave. But for now I give a water toast to 2011 (I am at work so the glass of wine will have to wait) and I say - 2011 I lived you!

I am amazing and I love super and I resolve only to keep on being me!! Look out 2012, I'm ready for you now.

Like A Cancer Grow...

Oh man! What a long time it has been. And for that, I received my just desserts. So, I am going through a transition in my little world and I am discovering that transition leads to a lot of bellybutton-watching behaviour. When I hang out with my friends and, during the dullest of moments, conversation drifts to workplace conditions, everyone I know declares that I need a new job. It is not a surprise to me - even after we get past the whole "boss smoking in an office where windows are locked" thing, there are many reasons that making a move may be wise. A big one, I am discovering is the soul-crushing nature of a less than ideal workplace. None of this is helped by a totally sluggish job market. So...

I have often found myself wanting to write, because I love to write and because I can't draw to save my life. Yet, I am either too emotionally and physically drained or I fear my posts will be full of bitterness and darkness. But now that I've written that, what is wrong with a little bitterness and darkness? It is the full spectrum of emotions that make this world an interesting place. Now I know. Always the tiredness though. Oh to speak of it, I would need a divan and corseted gown. I would need to swoon on it and groan "Alas" as I sank into the the massive cushions laid, just so, on the divan. "Oh, woe is me!" I would proclaim and the world would buckle at the weight of my distress.

For my lengthy silence, the gods sent true silence upon me. On the afternoon of 2 January, my throat began to tickle. I sucked on lozenges and drank water. I gargled with salt and drank more water. On 3 January I woke up to find the frog had firmly lodged itself in my throat. I sounded like Eartha Kitt's less talented cousin. It got worse for a few days and then it started to get better. I thought of writing but produced nothing. A friend told me that my rasping non-voice was a sign that I was holding things in and needed to let them out. I needed to write everything I felt out, she ordered me. I agreed heartily and yet wrote nothing.

The gods struck again, this time silencing me completely. I was whispering. Whispering. For a week. Any attempt to vocalise resulted in breathless coughing fits. I could not call my mother for sympathy, for I could not be heard on the phone. When people spoke to me that week, they all shouted. I kept wanting to say - I can't talk but my hearing is just fine - but they could not hear me... even when I shouted. Is that irony?

As my voice crept back, "The Sound of Silence" kept playing in my head. A few days ago, as I was in the shower, I sang the song (with mixed results as my voice still lacks range) and as I sang the line,
Fools, said I you do not know,
Silence like a cancer grow

I saw that I had forgotten this and was allowing the cancer of silence to grow in me. So, I must crawl out of this dark echo chamber of silence. I must do right by the gods and use my voice. Look out world - it's about to get loud in here!

Celebrate Marmalade!

my sister and her friends went through a phase where they declared that every day they would use a word with at least as many syllables as marmalade in their conversations.  whenever this happened, the others would nod in approval and declare, "marmalade!" 

today i woke up to a new word - cymotrichous.  this is a word, so obscure, my spell-checker has underlined it and suggested that perhaps i wished to say meretricious or polymorphous or maybe even dichotomous.  so now, even though my hair is not cymotrichous being, instead, a probably obnoxious person, wearing meretricious jewellery, at a dinner party may refer to it as ulotrichous.  i would then realise that, after several hours of a polymorphous evening, the room had become dichotomous and i was standing on the wrong side.

i would then shift over to the meat and potatoes, no-thesaurus-needed section and grab a cocktail.  because sometimes you tire of marmalade and just want a little jam.

Potaytoe-Pohtahtoe

Some weeks ago, I read that some scientists had discovered a new species of monkey.  Such exciting news - what are these hidden corners of the worlds that man has not yet stepped upon?  That, for me was the most fascinating thing.  I mean, if we have not seen all the world, could the world maybe have corners that one could, theoretically, fall off of?  If we haven't been there, we don't know.  Instead of the Bermuda Triangle, it could be a Bermuda Edge and that is where people disappear - they actually, literally, fall off the earth! 

But I digress - back to the new monkey.  This monkey is a little thing and its outstanding characteristic is a nose that looks like the one Michael Jackson ended up with.  I was intrigued - how did said scientists find this monkey, heretofore unknown?  It turns out that the scientists were hanging out with some hunters that they came across and that the hunters had skulls of a shape the scientists had never seen before.  "What are these skulls and where did they come from?" the scientists wondered out loud, in the presence of the hunters.
"Oh, we'll show you," replied the hunters and then the hunters led the scientists to where the monkeys were.  And this is the tale of how the scientists discovered the monkeys.

And this really brings up a question (in my mind, at least).  If you hear people talk of things and you have them take you to see these things, an it really be called YOUR discovery (I'm looking at you David Livingstone, with Victoria Falls, aka Mosi-oa-Tunya)?  At what point are people going to start admitting - no, no, I didn't really discovered.  What happened is that a few people who knew of something, told me about it and I decided to tell the world.

Or is the power of discovery a power enjoyed solely by the powerful?  If you know of something and you have no power, does that mean that thing does not exist?

Maybe that's the deal with that tree in the forest that no one is hearing... yet.  Don't worry, tree, the scientists are coming!