...Oh, how I sorely wish I could hide in a giant mound of sugar whilst stealing some of it for my tea at my leisure.
You see, I've completely gone off of sugar. (And into the deep-end.) As per per doctor's orders. It's been three days. I am also temporarily going without any form of carbohydrates (also per doctor's orders), but that's beside the point.* The point is, I am here to unabashedly whine about going off of sugar. And to go a little crazy. It's now embarrassingly clear how much of a hold it has on me. So much so, that before I started this gig, I can't remember the last time I went without at least a little piece of chocolate per day. I never thought "going without chocolate" was a real thing that people did, like buying eggs or watching Chevy Chase marathons. But it is. As is going without sugar. Before now, my brain just couldn't comprehend it. I would seriously try to understand the concept, and it never ended well. It just did not compute. "Go... with-out choc-o-luhhhht?? Wha? No... shoog-ar? Mom?" By that point, I'd be lying on the sidewalk with my eyes glazed over, thinking of some kind of weapon I would have to fashion in order to survive without such things. Or I would have just avoided full comprehension and moved onto something completely unrelated. "I wonder how many ladders it would take to get to the moon?" The possibility of going without sugar just wasn't a possibility.
The sad thing is, the gap between hyperbole vs. reality is slim here. I haven't ended up on the sidewalk in the past few days, but basically, I am having withdrawals that make me feel like a venomous, ravenous baby dinosaur and everythingisannoyingandIhateverythingalways!!! There have been tears. Mood swings. (Sorry, Mom.) Which doesn't sound like a whole lot if you're aware of my propensity for such things. It's kind of nuts. Sugar and I are going through a terrible break-up, and now I'm shuffling around the house in my robe, weeping quietly, hands clasping a wad of tissues, while thinking fondly of the great times we had together, and also thinking of how toxic our relationship was and how crazy it made me. But still. Oh, how I crave it. It's now painfully clear how truly addicted I was to sugar. Also, it's clear now why God portions it out in those tiny packets. And why he lives on a plantation in Hawaii.** But nothing really worth doing is going to be easy. That's just the way life is. And it's okay. Maybe even grand.
We'll see how long I can last without ingesting a single grain of sugar (and without a single grain of rice to boot!). Just don't be surprised if you find me crouched by the Lazy Susan eating brown sugar straight out of the bag with my bare hands.*** In the meantime, here's to everyone's good health. And to being grateful for health. And to doing everything we can to maintain it, even if it makes some of us a little crazy sometimes. May everyone feel great and be happy. Happy belated 2011, everyone! Let us all raise a glass in gratitude. A glass of plain-flavored water, of course. (Now with more plain flavor!)
*Don't worry, it's nothing serious. Just health issues that I don't really want to share on a public forum. You understand, right? Oh, and it's not because I want to be on the Atkins Diet. I'll haunt the Atkins Diet in its dreams! No, it's actually to lose weight. I'm really trying to get down to 80 lbs now. JUST KIDDING. Just very kidding.
**Simpsons reference. (Do they ever stop? Nope, they don't. Sorry.)
***This may or may not have happened once in the recent past. Or twice.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
...and the truth will set you free.
I wish I could say that I just watched An Inconvenient Truth and now have some profound thoughts to share about it. No, I have not actually ever seen that movie. And yes, I feel ashamed. Al Gore worked so hard. Surprising that I haven't seen it, I know, being the animal-tree-everything-hugger that I am. However, I was just thinking of the title of that documentary, and it stirred up an interesting thought. That's almost the same as watching it, I think. Right?
An Inconvenient Truth.
The phrase seems a bit redundant, yeah? Because, when you think about it, aren't most truths inconvenient? I'm not speaking of eternal truths, like the things that make the world comfortably spin. I am just speaking of Truth with a capital T. While studying to be a journalist (which still has yet to happen. Answer my emails, my darling Salt Lake Magazine!), Truth was branded into our brains. We were taught to analyze what truth really was, and when it was appropriate to seek and reveal truth so as to not harm individuals who might be affected by such revelations. We were also taught not to hide it because of vested interests. (That's the very short version of it. It's been a while since I've been in school, so I've forgotten how to speak of my trade in an eloquent fashion. Um, I like... words. Good words are... good. Roast... beef?) Nevertheless, it was drilled over and over into our eager, nubile minds to seek truth and report it, no matter how hair-ripping-out-inducing or cumbersome. We explored instances in which exposing the truth might be especially painful, or inconvenient. Of course, there are the heartbreaking situations involving death, accidents, medical results and such. Those suck. Those really, really suck, to put it ever so articulately. Sometimes there is nothing more painful than finding out a harsh reality of life. And dealing with it. Devastating, and yes, not the most convenient thing in the world. But on a lighter note, the title, An Inconvenient Truth got me thinking about different truths that may not be so convenient to discover or reveal.
Here are some.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to amputate your butt." (No one wants or expects to have their butt removed.)
"I love you." Or, "I hate you." (Let's face it, you may not love or hate that person back. And that can be so darn inconvenient. And heartbreaking.)
"Excuse me, I ran over your cat. Oh, and I ate all your hotdogs." (Cat death + consumption of all your hard-earned sodium-injected mystery meat = no good.)
Realizing that there is no toilet paper in your bathroom stall.
"Oh hey, I just shrunk your favorite jeans down to a size negative zero in the dryer. Oh, and that canned chili you just ate? That was actually Botulism-in-a-can."
"You know that person you've been calling "Grandma" your whole life? Yeah, that's just a house plant named Steve."
Peering at your bank account. (A harsh truth/reality for some. "Some" meaning myself.)
See, all of these truths are rather inconvenient. In fact, they're downright difficult and sometimes painful. That's not to say truth can't be convenient, however. I may be beating a dead horse here, but the point is, no matter how incovenient or how terrifying, truth is not something to cower behind. What do we have to gain as individuals? Or as a society?
Whether in journalistic discipline or in everyday life, truth should irrevocably be sought out by ourselves. How far does anyone get not being true to themselves or to others? No matter what religious belief or ethics system you adhere to, truth should be the pinnacle of all that is right in the world. Because with it comes justice. And peace. Clarity. And so many things. Truth as an eternal, infinite principle is rather inexplicable. It's one of those things that just is. One of those things that makes the world turn and steadies the cosmos. I'd almost say that truth itself is a universal truth. It just is because it is. And no matter our quest to find truth, is guaranteed to be worth it in the end. Let us be true and honest with ourselves and with others. And the world will turn madly, steadily, bravely on.
An Inconvenient Truth.
The phrase seems a bit redundant, yeah? Because, when you think about it, aren't most truths inconvenient? I'm not speaking of eternal truths, like the things that make the world comfortably spin. I am just speaking of Truth with a capital T. While studying to be a journalist (which still has yet to happen. Answer my emails, my darling Salt Lake Magazine!), Truth was branded into our brains. We were taught to analyze what truth really was, and when it was appropriate to seek and reveal truth so as to not harm individuals who might be affected by such revelations. We were also taught not to hide it because of vested interests. (That's the very short version of it. It's been a while since I've been in school, so I've forgotten how to speak of my trade in an eloquent fashion. Um, I like... words. Good words are... good. Roast... beef?) Nevertheless, it was drilled over and over into our eager, nubile minds to seek truth and report it, no matter how hair-ripping-out-inducing or cumbersome. We explored instances in which exposing the truth might be especially painful, or inconvenient. Of course, there are the heartbreaking situations involving death, accidents, medical results and such. Those suck. Those really, really suck, to put it ever so articulately. Sometimes there is nothing more painful than finding out a harsh reality of life. And dealing with it. Devastating, and yes, not the most convenient thing in the world. But on a lighter note, the title, An Inconvenient Truth got me thinking about different truths that may not be so convenient to discover or reveal.
Here are some.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to amputate your butt." (No one wants or expects to have their butt removed.)
"I love you." Or, "I hate you." (Let's face it, you may not love or hate that person back. And that can be so darn inconvenient. And heartbreaking.)
"Excuse me, I ran over your cat. Oh, and I ate all your hotdogs." (Cat death + consumption of all your hard-earned sodium-injected mystery meat = no good.)
Realizing that there is no toilet paper in your bathroom stall.
"Oh hey, I just shrunk your favorite jeans down to a size negative zero in the dryer. Oh, and that canned chili you just ate? That was actually Botulism-in-a-can."
"You know that person you've been calling "Grandma" your whole life? Yeah, that's just a house plant named Steve."
Peering at your bank account. (A harsh truth/reality for some. "Some" meaning myself.)
See, all of these truths are rather inconvenient. In fact, they're downright difficult and sometimes painful. That's not to say truth can't be convenient, however. I may be beating a dead horse here, but the point is, no matter how incovenient or how terrifying, truth is not something to cower behind. What do we have to gain as individuals? Or as a society?
Whether in journalistic discipline or in everyday life, truth should irrevocably be sought out by ourselves. How far does anyone get not being true to themselves or to others? No matter what religious belief or ethics system you adhere to, truth should be the pinnacle of all that is right in the world. Because with it comes justice. And peace. Clarity. And so many things. Truth as an eternal, infinite principle is rather inexplicable. It's one of those things that just is. One of those things that makes the world turn and steadies the cosmos. I'd almost say that truth itself is a universal truth. It just is because it is. And no matter our quest to find truth, is guaranteed to be worth it in the end. Let us be true and honest with ourselves and with others. And the world will turn madly, steadily, bravely on.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The perils of modern vernacular (and how that involves a dress made of cream cheese).
"Epic."
I am now going to take billions of words to express how vehemently opposed I am to the recent implementation and incessant usage of this word in the 18 - 40 crowd's daily vernacular. I hate it. Nay, I loathe it. (I made "loathe" a vomity green color to effectively express my distaste.) I realize it's rather ridiculous to go on about how much you hate a word, especially when it's inevitable that it has taken over everyone's vocabulary around you and there's nothing you can do about it. And that it's just a word, and there are much bigger problems in the world and maybe you should just get over it and go help some starving children. I also realize that pretentiously griping about it is probably just as annoying and trite as the offending word itself. But oftentimes word-nerds and nerds in general are moved to defend the honor of their respective fields, whether it be the English language or sci-fi films. And as a word nerd, I realize how hard-pressed people become to find words besides "cool" and "awesome" to describe cool and awesome things. ("My, those sneakers are capital!" "Boy, that guitar solo sure was first-rate!" See, I know how hard it can be.) Basically, "epic" is to 2010 as "radical" was to the 1980s. It's happening, and I'll just have to fall off my crippled high-horse and deal with it. Move over, "cool", there's a new sheriff in town and his name is "over-used, overblown adjective that should only be used in high-action thriller film trailers starring Will Smith." On that note, I've decided there are a limited number of situations in which "epic" should be used only:
1. In aforementioned trailers for thrilling, action-or-drama-packed blockbuster films starring Will Smith or Denzel Washington or that guy who has a creepy smile on his face all the time but is a really good actor.
2. I can't think of anything else.
I can't think of any situation that would ever occur in the existence of mankind in which I would use this word. I would rather shimmy around town wearing a dress made of cream cheese instead of using this word. Even if... let's see. Say there was an Radiohead/Led Zeppelin/Arcade Fire concert. And Steve Carell with a beard asks me to be his date. And then me and Steve are hanging out in our front-row seats with the Society of Beard Growers, and Conan O'Brien shows up doing a jig. Both of them tell me how great I am, and then Robert Plant winks at me from on stage, after which fireworks start shooting out iPhones and someone has a giant baby and Steve Carell proposes to me and Jonny Greenwood from Radiohead gives me his signed guitar and tells me that we are, in fact, related. Whew! Mind-blowing! Unbelievable! Still, STILL, I could not bring myself to use that word. "Epic" to me is like "Voldemort" to those dorky Harry Potter people. It must not be named .
Here are some real-life examples to help you properly use this word:
"Check out my epic mustache! My girlfriend hates it!"** NO. NOT ACCEPTABLE USAGE. YOU GET AN F.
"Did you see my grandma's milk mustache? It's epic!" ALSO NOT OKAY. And stop making fun of Grandma.
"Man, I can't wait for the millennium! It's going to be epic!" YAY! ACCEPTABLE.
So, here is a good rule of thumb. Millennium/apocalypse = okay to use. Will Smith action movie = acceptable. Everything else = not okay. (It is also important to note that the transitive property does not apply here: Willennium, Will Smith's 1999 sophomore rap album = not okay.)
Also, if you choose, here are some more appropriate, less cringe-inducing words/phrases you can use instead:
Phenomenal
Outstanding
Fantastic
Spectacular
Brain-aneurysm inducing
Panty-twisting
Oh, raspberries!
Meatloaf!
I can't believe it's not butter! Oh wait, it is butter!
If you are an "epic" junkie, I surely hope these tips will help you break your habit. "Epic" is so 2010. Boooooo to 2010! What say we come up with a new word for bright, shiny 2011? Grandtacularitis. No, that sounds like a vicious STD. Fantagrandimose? (Mmm, Fanta. Remember Fanta?) Spectubulawesocool. These keep sounding like diseases, so I suggest you come up with some of your own. Just remember, if the situation arises where you think you might need to use the word "epic," you don't need to use it. Just walk away. Look at you, you're way too sassy to be using such a silly word. Though for someone who hates it so much, I've sure used it a lot in this diatribe. Funny. But not... well, you know.
**However, beards are a whole different story than mustaches. Although I do not think that a good, self-respecting beard should be marred with the word "epic" in its description. Heck, use epic to describe your mustaches, I don't care. They're usually only grown in an ironic fashion and they deserve it. Call me biased.
I am now going to take billions of words to express how vehemently opposed I am to the recent implementation and incessant usage of this word in the 18 - 40 crowd's daily vernacular. I hate it. Nay, I loathe it. (I made "loathe" a vomity green color to effectively express my distaste.) I realize it's rather ridiculous to go on about how much you hate a word, especially when it's inevitable that it has taken over everyone's vocabulary around you and there's nothing you can do about it. And that it's just a word, and there are much bigger problems in the world and maybe you should just get over it and go help some starving children. I also realize that pretentiously griping about it is probably just as annoying and trite as the offending word itself. But oftentimes word-nerds and nerds in general are moved to defend the honor of their respective fields, whether it be the English language or sci-fi films. And as a word nerd, I realize how hard-pressed people become to find words besides "cool" and "awesome" to describe cool and awesome things. ("My, those sneakers are capital!" "Boy, that guitar solo sure was first-rate!" See, I know how hard it can be.) Basically, "epic" is to 2010 as "radical" was to the 1980s. It's happening, and I'll just have to fall off my crippled high-horse and deal with it. Move over, "cool", there's a new sheriff in town and his name is "over-used, overblown adjective that should only be used in high-action thriller film trailers starring Will Smith." On that note, I've decided there are a limited number of situations in which "epic" should be used only:
1. In aforementioned trailers for thrilling, action-or-drama-packed blockbuster films starring Will Smith or Denzel Washington or that guy who has a creepy smile on his face all the time but is a really good actor.
2. I can't think of anything else.
I can't think of any situation that would ever occur in the existence of mankind in which I would use this word. I would rather shimmy around town wearing a dress made of cream cheese instead of using this word. Even if... let's see. Say there was an Radiohead/Led Zeppelin/Arcade Fire concert. And Steve Carell with a beard asks me to be his date. And then me and Steve are hanging out in our front-row seats with the Society of Beard Growers, and Conan O'Brien shows up doing a jig. Both of them tell me how great I am, and then Robert Plant winks at me from on stage, after which fireworks start shooting out iPhones and someone has a giant baby and Steve Carell proposes to me and Jonny Greenwood from Radiohead gives me his signed guitar and tells me that we are, in fact, related. Whew! Mind-blowing! Unbelievable! Still, STILL, I could not bring myself to use that word. "Epic" to me is like "Voldemort" to those dorky Harry Potter people. It must not be named .
Here are some real-life examples to help you properly use this word:
"Check out my epic mustache! My girlfriend hates it!"** NO. NOT ACCEPTABLE USAGE. YOU GET AN F.
"Did you see my grandma's milk mustache? It's epic!" ALSO NOT OKAY. And stop making fun of Grandma.
"Man, I can't wait for the millennium! It's going to be epic!" YAY! ACCEPTABLE.
So, here is a good rule of thumb. Millennium/apocalypse = okay to use. Will Smith action movie = acceptable. Everything else = not okay. (It is also important to note that the transitive property does not apply here: Willennium, Will Smith's 1999 sophomore rap album = not okay.)
Also, if you choose, here are some more appropriate, less cringe-inducing words/phrases you can use instead:
Phenomenal
Outstanding
Fantastic
Spectacular
Brain-aneurysm inducing
Panty-twisting
Oh, raspberries!
Meatloaf!
I can't believe it's not butter! Oh wait, it is butter!
If you are an "epic" junkie, I surely hope these tips will help you break your habit. "Epic" is so 2010. Boooooo to 2010! What say we come up with a new word for bright, shiny 2011? Grandtacularitis. No, that sounds like a vicious STD. Fantagrandimose? (Mmm, Fanta. Remember Fanta?) Spectubulawesocool. These keep sounding like diseases, so I suggest you come up with some of your own. Just remember, if the situation arises where you think you might need to use the word "epic," you don't need to use it. Just walk away. Look at you, you're way too sassy to be using such a silly word. Though for someone who hates it so much, I've sure used it a lot in this diatribe. Funny. But not... well, you know.
**However, beards are a whole different story than mustaches. Although I do not think that a good, self-respecting beard should be marred with the word "epic" in its description. Heck, use epic to describe your mustaches, I don't care. They're usually only grown in an ironic fashion and they deserve it. Call me biased.
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