“Proof brevity does not protect against dullness.”
– Jonny Lee Miller as Sherlock Holmes in regard to Twitter.
I learned this week…
…that I don’t have to worry about those pesky little logarithms, after all. My Historical Geology professor announced this gem during our last lab session. It seems he’s not a big fan of the evil math, either. He just might take over the top spot on my favorite professor list.
…that there is a new spy thriller on FX called The Americans, and I’m not too sure I care for it. Don’t get me wrong, the concept intrigues me: Soviet KGB operatives posing as Americans during the early days of the Reagan administration, stealing intelligence. Sounds right up my alley, right? It is – for the most part.
So what’s the problem, you ask?
Yes, I know. I should let my aversion to Felicity go; after all, it was the show that launched Jennifer Garner into Alias stardom. Okay, perhaps that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But still, I don’t like Keri Russell (as an actress – I’m sure she’s a lovely person), and her character, Elizabeth Jennings, seems even less appealing. She is cold and detached with a glint of something homicidal in her eye. Perhaps this is the writers’ intention. Maybe I’m not supposed to relate to her, to sympathize with her, to like her. If that is the case then they are doing a superb job.
Bravo.
…that for the first time in a long time, I found the Grammys enjoyable. Usually, it’s a tortured affair, one that leaves me feeling old and out of touch, yet strangely fixated. It’s like witnessing a horrible train wreck – the pitchy performances, the excessive bleeping of lyrics too inappropriate for primetime, the painful acceptance speeches by artists scarcely worthy of the name. I want to look away, but I just can’t. Most years, I am doomed to disappointment and will spend a solid week bemoaning the sad state of music and vowing to do something more productive with that three and a half hour block of time.
This year was different. This year there were (by and large) real musicians on stage, playing real instruments, and producing real music. I enjoyed most of the performances and tributes – Mumford and Sons, The Black Keys, fun., Jack White, Dr. John, Carrie Underwood and her hypnotic dress, Ed Sheeran, Sting, Sting, and Sting.
What? He wasn’t alone on stage?
Funny. I didn’t notice.
In all seriousness, I felt renewed hope. Maybe music has turned a corner; maybe the manufactured, auto-tuned sludge we’ve been subjected to for two decades will finally give way to the return of the vocally and musically talented singer/songwriter.
Maybe? Please?
The only dark spot on the night – besides Elton John and Taylor Swift – was the Florence Welch snub. I may hold that against Kelly Clarkson for a very long time. I’m a grudge holder, you know.
On a side note: Ratings for the 2013 Grammy Awards were down, and critics panned it for its somber feel. Mature…somber. Whatever. Click here to read one of the more scathing reviews.
…that listening to an audio book in the carpool line will cause me to do something I rarely do – nap. It’s problematic for a few of reasons: 1) I’ve never gotten around to tinting my windows; 2) the telltale head bob that accompanies vertical napping is embarrassing; 3) inevitably I will have to rewind (can you rewind an MP3?) the audio book because I end up missing vital chunks of the story. Yesterday, I missed the whole part about Chiara being kidnapped from the villa in Italy. I woke up in the middle of a shit storm and had no idea what the hell was going on.
I panicked a little.
…that ginger tea is the elixir of the gods. For the last year or two, I’ve suffered from a stomach quirk and steadily over the months, my tolerance for many of foods has waned. I am a notorious self-diagnoser, so I tossed around the idea of a gluten allergy, a fructose intolerance, a faulty gall bladder. I cut a lot out of my diet. Sometimes it helps; sometimes it doesn’t. After a recent upswing in symptoms, I took to the internet for advice – because if it’s on the internet, it has to be true – and discovered ginger tea. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I have to say it has helped a lot.
<covers ears to block out BFF’s (licensed RN) screams that I need to stop with the internet diagnosing and see a professional>
I did finally make an appointment for next week with a specialist. But I already know what he’s going to tell me. I looked it up on the internet.
…that I am not irrational. Okay, yes I am, but not when it comes to cruises. My friends go on cruises – they love them. They tell me I should go, too. I would love it, they say. “You forget you’re even on a boat. It’s so much fun. Go. Try something new.” I have no desire for the obvious reasons: big ship; inflatable “life” boats; tiny windowless cells staterooms; crushes of people breathing my air; lack of wide open sandy beaches; and the Norwalk virus.
Here are few more reasons: no power; no ventilation; no working toilets; Soviet era bread lines for a daily hot dog rationing. Read more here.
No, thank you. I’d rather risk getting my head loped off by the drug cartels in Mexico.
…and last, but not least, this week’s photo is a macro I took in November, at the Dallas Arboretum. It’s always a nice surprise stumbling across these shots and I am a sucker for water droplets.
Of Bears and Boating 