adage: An old saying.
adamant: Any substance of exceeding hardness or impenetrability.
admonition: Gentle reproof.
adumbrate: To represent beforehand in outline or by emblem.
affable: Easy to approach.
The admonition "Love Thine Enemy." This advice was first presented to me through the Jesus (as the western world knows the guy, anyway). He mentioned this in that crazy big book called the Bible, so they say, as an ecclesiastical gentle slap on the knuckles for thinking of acting on hatred of another person. At least that’s the way I interpreted the ol’ adage, and I have to say, that way of being makes me much more affable. You know, other people may think of it differently, as a saying that adumbrates the implication of having enemies in the first place, that having an enemy is a loveless endeavor, and thus you'd become loveless yourself. An enemy, well, I think of an enemy as a sort of adamant type character, the villain in your life-book, someone who is incapable of being represented any other way to you. Funny, though, as soon as you love thine enemy, s/he’s no longer an enemy, eh?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
powerrewop
abut: To touch at the end or boundary line. (Often followed by upon or on.)
accede: To agree.
acquiesce: To comply; submit.
acrid: Harshly pungent or bitter.
acumen: Quickness of intellectual insight, or discernment; keenness of discrimination.
Is there acquiescence without an understanding of power differentiation between two people? Can one apply acumen to relationships such that the real or imagined submission of one person's will to another is no longer a word that holds "tried-and-true" meaning between them, and thus, in their life?
An acrid reality it is when we accede to the function of interrelational power. Is there a place the feeling of acquiescence just merely abuts upon equality and all it would take is applying acumen to the problem?
accede: To agree.
acquiesce: To comply; submit.
acrid: Harshly pungent or bitter.
acumen: Quickness of intellectual insight, or discernment; keenness of discrimination.
Is there acquiescence without an understanding of power differentiation between two people? Can one apply acumen to relationships such that the real or imagined submission of one person's will to another is no longer a word that holds "tried-and-true" meaning between them, and thus, in their life?
An acrid reality it is when we accede to the function of interrelational power. Is there a place the feeling of acquiescence just merely abuts upon equality and all it would take is applying acumen to the problem?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Settle, settle, pot and kettle
ablution: A washing or cleansing, especially of the body (though frequently used as metaphor in literature, religious connotation)
abrogate: To abolish, repeal (legal term)
abscond: To depart suddenly and secretly, as for the purpose of escaping arrest (commonly with the property of another.)
abstemious: Characterized by self denial or abstinence, as in the use of drink, food.
abstruse: adj, Dealing with matters difficult to be understood, esoteric, unfathomable
magniloquent: speaking or expressed in a lofty or grandiose style; pompous; bombastic; boastful.
“I don’t understand, Harold! How abstruse you are! Use simpler language, for Merriam’s sake!”
“Margot dearest, your cheeks flush with frustration and your voice warbles with ire. If I did not know any better, my impression of you would be that of an inebriate, not the abstemious, upstanding gentlewoman to whom I am most humbly betrothed.”
“You are stalling! Do not dare speak of our marriage again or of the absolutely filtered way in which you see your own manner, you magniloquent man! You hide behind backhanded flattery and abscond with my dignity every time we quarrel! I won’t have it! Not another second! Tell me immediately what I want to know… or… or I’ll… this time I’ll file for divorce!”
“You wish to submerge our vows to drown them rather than compromise with me so that they may experience instead an ablution? Lovely, effervescent bride of mine, even when you bubble over, you glisten. Especially then, I dare say.”
“Abrogation! Plain and simple! I will abrogate this marriage once and for all.”
“…”
“WELL?!”
“Follow me, dear.”
abrogate: To abolish, repeal (legal term)
abscond: To depart suddenly and secretly, as for the purpose of escaping arrest (commonly with the property of another.)
abstemious: Characterized by self denial or abstinence, as in the use of drink, food.
abstruse: adj, Dealing with matters difficult to be understood, esoteric, unfathomable
magniloquent: speaking or expressed in a lofty or grandiose style; pompous; bombastic; boastful.
“I don’t understand, Harold! How abstruse you are! Use simpler language, for Merriam’s sake!”
“Margot dearest, your cheeks flush with frustration and your voice warbles with ire. If I did not know any better, my impression of you would be that of an inebriate, not the abstemious, upstanding gentlewoman to whom I am most humbly betrothed.”
“You are stalling! Do not dare speak of our marriage again or of the absolutely filtered way in which you see your own manner, you magniloquent man! You hide behind backhanded flattery and abscond with my dignity every time we quarrel! I won’t have it! Not another second! Tell me immediately what I want to know… or… or I’ll… this time I’ll file for divorce!”
“You wish to submerge our vows to drown them rather than compromise with me so that they may experience instead an ablution? Lovely, effervescent bride of mine, even when you bubble over, you glisten. Especially then, I dare say.”
“Abrogation! Plain and simple! I will abrogate this marriage once and for all.”
“…”
“WELL?!”
“Follow me, dear.”
Horoscopes
aberrant: Markedly different from an accepted norm.
aberration: Deviation from a right, customary, or prescribed course.
abet: To aid, promote, or encourage the commission of (an offense).
abeyance: A state of suspension or temporary inaction.
abjure: To recant, renounce, repudiate under oath.
expiate: to atone for; make amends or reparation for: to expiate one's crimes.
It’s Sunday morning and I want to claw. eyes. out. It doesn’t really matter whose, though I will probably avoid my aunt’s since she’s the one feeding me. Never bite the hand that feeds you, they say, which isn’t terrible advice, unlike that advice with which I’m being assaulted at the moment. These chicken-feather-plucking gossipers will just scatter their conclusions about my moonphase tracking hobby to everyone in the congregation. Do I care about gathering those feathers back up again? Nope. Other than these banshees, not only do I not know anyone who goes to church, but also not for one second will I consider expiation on my part. Atonement doesn’t make sense for someone who doesn’t believe in sin.
The second pot of coffee is brewing, and my aunt, who has stayed quiet this whole time, as though she’s kept her two cents in abeyance, opens the oak cupboard above the coffee maker and removes a glass jar with cinnamon sticks in it. Her arms flap a bit when she wrestles with the jar, and she has this habit of wincing and chewing on her tongue when she focuses. That ornery lid just wouldn’t budge. With enough coercion, it obeys. The smell of cinnamon emanated from just below her bosom, and my, was it heavenly. Orion, my cat, recoils at the smell, much preferring to burrow in my recently used slippers resting just next to my bare feet. I had removed them because the coffee ran my blood hot and thin by increasing heart beat and circulation, though, if my pit stains were spotted by these women, it would not surprise me in the slightest if they offered another explanation, such as the presence of hellfire in my soul.
Not only do they want me to abjure my allegiance to the stars, but also to my daily horoscopes. What harm do they bring me? You thought I meant the horoscopes. The “they” I of course am referring to are my aunt’s new Christian friends. All cardigan sweater-clad and smacking their eggs whilst condemning me to hell with their elbows on the table before they’re off to church as if that alone civilized them? If I choose to use my daily horoscope to…well, you see, there lays the problem. I tell them it’s my choice to read these horoscopes and watch the stars and track the shadow our big rock casts on the moon while the sun beams on other side of the Earth. They tell me, oh, no dear, it’s not your choice, the devil speaks to you in those horoscopes, and once you converse with the devil, your freedom is stripped from you! It’s as if once I read that horoscope and find it “hm, appropriate,” I abet the devil’s work, allowing him to continue cementing my life course further and further until it becomes the actualization of an aberration cloaked from Jesus’ light in a witch’s cape!
The light from the window facing my aunt’s backyard strikes the uncovered wood in the center of the dining room table, as if it were the centerpiece. Light. Always stealing the show. Had it ever occurred to anyone, especially these Midwestern moocows with bloated ankles and environmentally unfriendly hairdos that are unfortunately not the aberrant ones (because then there might be less of them), that it’s our biased eyes that literally see with the assistant of sun waves, that we value in the positive that which we can see! That religious metaphors can only describe our own existence, not explain neither it nor anything else’s! Our existence is suspended by the precarious balance of that which was here to evolve around, not by Jesus’ love. Give me a break. He’s not even here.
aberration: Deviation from a right, customary, or prescribed course.
abet: To aid, promote, or encourage the commission of (an offense).
abeyance: A state of suspension or temporary inaction.
abjure: To recant, renounce, repudiate under oath.
expiate: to atone for; make amends or reparation for: to expiate one's crimes.
It’s Sunday morning and I want to claw. eyes. out. It doesn’t really matter whose, though I will probably avoid my aunt’s since she’s the one feeding me. Never bite the hand that feeds you, they say, which isn’t terrible advice, unlike that advice with which I’m being assaulted at the moment. These chicken-feather-plucking gossipers will just scatter their conclusions about my moonphase tracking hobby to everyone in the congregation. Do I care about gathering those feathers back up again? Nope. Other than these banshees, not only do I not know anyone who goes to church, but also not for one second will I consider expiation on my part. Atonement doesn’t make sense for someone who doesn’t believe in sin.
The second pot of coffee is brewing, and my aunt, who has stayed quiet this whole time, as though she’s kept her two cents in abeyance, opens the oak cupboard above the coffee maker and removes a glass jar with cinnamon sticks in it. Her arms flap a bit when she wrestles with the jar, and she has this habit of wincing and chewing on her tongue when she focuses. That ornery lid just wouldn’t budge. With enough coercion, it obeys. The smell of cinnamon emanated from just below her bosom, and my, was it heavenly. Orion, my cat, recoils at the smell, much preferring to burrow in my recently used slippers resting just next to my bare feet. I had removed them because the coffee ran my blood hot and thin by increasing heart beat and circulation, though, if my pit stains were spotted by these women, it would not surprise me in the slightest if they offered another explanation, such as the presence of hellfire in my soul.
Not only do they want me to abjure my allegiance to the stars, but also to my daily horoscopes. What harm do they bring me? You thought I meant the horoscopes. The “they” I of course am referring to are my aunt’s new Christian friends. All cardigan sweater-clad and smacking their eggs whilst condemning me to hell with their elbows on the table before they’re off to church as if that alone civilized them? If I choose to use my daily horoscope to…well, you see, there lays the problem. I tell them it’s my choice to read these horoscopes and watch the stars and track the shadow our big rock casts on the moon while the sun beams on other side of the Earth. They tell me, oh, no dear, it’s not your choice, the devil speaks to you in those horoscopes, and once you converse with the devil, your freedom is stripped from you! It’s as if once I read that horoscope and find it “hm, appropriate,” I abet the devil’s work, allowing him to continue cementing my life course further and further until it becomes the actualization of an aberration cloaked from Jesus’ light in a witch’s cape!
The light from the window facing my aunt’s backyard strikes the uncovered wood in the center of the dining room table, as if it were the centerpiece. Light. Always stealing the show. Had it ever occurred to anyone, especially these Midwestern moocows with bloated ankles and environmentally unfriendly hairdos that are unfortunately not the aberrant ones (because then there might be less of them), that it’s our biased eyes that literally see with the assistant of sun waves, that we value in the positive that which we can see! That religious metaphors can only describe our own existence, not explain neither it nor anything else’s! Our existence is suspended by the precarious balance of that which was here to evolve around, not by Jesus’ love. Give me a break. He’s not even here.
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