Author Archives: emsilees09

Apr 15 2010
Leave a comment
La Splenda Vita

Me Fail English? That’s Unpossible!

I’m at the computer all day. Then, I go home and more often than not, at some point of the evening, I find my fingers curling downward yet again, furiously typing away on the keyboard of my laptop.

I’m always typing.

I wish I could say that the sheer amount of hours that I’m on a computer has helped make me a more skilled and accurate typist, but I’m sad to report that though my speed has increased, I’m still quite typo-prone.

This isn’t a big deal nowadays, thanks to Spellcheck which runs on everything from Gchat, to my Blackberry, to even my WordPress postings. (There is even a redline underneath “Spellcheck” right now. How ironic. Also, I also had to re-type “nowadays” twice.)

Then I had a thought. Yes, just one.

Think about slang. Sometimes, words just exist out of convenience or habit, even if they aren’t proper English. Used again and again, as parasites that cling to the context of universally accepted words, we will ultimately find words like “staycation” inducted into the Webster’s Dictionary. Obvi.

But–when will this happen with typos? There are millions of words that I misspell on a daily basis, due to my poor skills of utilizing the Home Row keys.

As a writer, and the proud owner of a Bachelor’s degree of English Literature, I am in no way condoning that typos be elected into our language. But, I have found that some of my typos would make badass adjectives with tricked-out suffixes and prefixes.

Faced with the reality that every time I re-type my typo, my relationship with these “wordz” has only gotten deeper, I am now officially swearing in these words into my typing vocabulary:

“that” is now “taht”

“what” is not “waht”

“office” is now “offie”

“but it’s” is now “butt tit’s”

“today” is now “toady”

“Brian” is now “Brain”

“The” is now “Teh” (to be pronounced a la Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber when he’s trying to read the newspaper…T–Heh)

“me” instead of “my” (I’m now British!)

Official red line count: 3

Hmmm.

Spell check is apparently set to “incompetent” toady.

Apr 07 2010
Leave a comment
La Splenda Vita

A Choo.

It’s official. It’s not Spring for me until I feel my first pangs of itchiness in the corners of my eyes. Hayfever season is upon us, with my pockets full of Zyrtec.

I suppose it bodes well that I’ve always loved the Stay Puft marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, since I’m pretty much the spitting image of him after my eyes blow up. Ah. Such is life. It’s not going to stop be from being outside to enjoy the nice weather.

But, before I wax poetic about my desire to frolic, I will vent one more little rant, since for me, springtime is not only the time for itchy eyes, but also, the season of the sneeze.

The season of the sneeze. Big deal, you must think. It’s a natural response. It’s like breathing. You do it when you have to. Or do you??

You see, in a perfect world, the cycle would be easy: trees make pollen, pollen makes me sneeze, I sneeze, I blow my nose and then feel better until the whole lather, rinse, repeat cycle starts over.

But for me, I like to pick my battles, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I’ve picked a battle with the institution of sneezing.

I do NOT like to sneeze, or blow my nose in public, and I refuse to do so.

This may sound odd. I’ve been told by CP that he wasn’t aware that you could even take a stance on sneezing. Oh, but you can. Ladies and gentlemen, just like Jerry Seinfeld admitted “I haven’t thrown up since June 29th, 1980!” I too have a confession: I have been blocking my sneezes for as long as I can remember.

How can I stop a natural response to a stimulus to my respiratory system? It’s quite simple, really. I’ve just learned to somehow shut off (or close, I’m not really quite sure what I do) my nose and throat at the same time.

I think I’ve always hated to sneeze. It’s just messy, and your eyes water, and your nose drips. AND–more than anything, I can’t stand when others sneeze. It’s not even so much the germ thing as it is the noise thing. Some people can really hit high decibels when they sneeze. The worst offenders are those who don’t have a warning inhale. “CHOOOOOOOOOO!!!” While they are left feeling better, I’m the one with the quickened heart beat.

And so, I decided to make the world a better place by taking myself out of the sneezing game. I thought of it as helping to defeat noise pollution. I became a martyr.

But, just like Jerry, today was the day I lost my streak. As he said, “Fourteen years down the drain!” I’m not quite sure how long it’s been, but today, while watching the Today show and drinking coffee, I sneezed, and I let it all hang out. Everything–from the little inhales in when you feel a tickle, to the release in which you feel your throat clench was not blocked. It made CP happy, and I suppose it made me happy for my health, since a Googling session yielded Yahoo answers that when you hold in a sneeze, you run the risk of rupturing blood vessels or ear drums, which I doubt are true. Well, I may blow out an ear drum…but this sneeze was to see if I could do it; if I still knew how to sneeze correctly.

Verdict: it’s like getting back on a bike. I still don’t like it, but perhaps it is good to not reckon with the force.

Happy Zyrtec season!

Tagged ,
Apr 05 2010
Leave a comment
My Life in Hoboken

April Showers

Sometimes, it’s the little things that teach you life lessons. You just have to keep an eye out. For example, I never thought that the recurring floods of Hoboken would teach me to be less hasty.


Let’s rewind to a recent Tuesday morning before work. Sensing rain, I pulled on my rain boots and scampered out the door. In the past, my rain boots have made me feel invincible, and perfect for what I call “fording the river.”


No, this was not an attempt to cross the Hudson, but rather, I’m referring to what it feels like to cross a street when it rains in Hoboken, while using a term that stems from my childhood and playing the computer game, Oregon Trail.


Intended for educational purposes, Oregon Trail was to help teach kids about the days of pioneers and Conestoga wagons, although the most kids pretty much remember is which family member got a snakebite or dysentery.


Despite all that business, personally, I loved when it came time to cross a river. There were a few options as to how to move forward, dependant upon how much cargo was in your wagon and the depth of the water. Though a risk, I always chose to ford the river with my oxen, despite what my situation was in my wagon. In my haste, I usually lost half my cargo, and my patience with the game.


I never thought that Oregon Trail really taught me much, but I was dead wrong. Nowadays, I still find myself wondering if I should ford the river, aka, the flooded streets of Hoboken, because, well known to Hobokenites, our town becomes something of a Venice during heavy rains.


That Tuesday, the skies had not let up since the previous Sunday, and there was a call to arms for my rain boots. And yet again, about 20 years later, I still chose to ford the river, rather than taking a moment to weigh my options, like walking a block down to avoid the water. I stepped right into the rushing waters, thinking my rain boots would be all I needed.


It was then that I realized I still haven’t learned anything from my Oregon Trail days. In my haste, and because of one tiny hole in my left rain boot that crushed my false sense of security, I once again lost my precious cargo that day—my mind.


As it turns out, it didn’t take the consequence of losing a whole wagon-full of goods for me to amend my ways, but instead, a wet left sock. For the remainder of the day, my damp foot served as a reminder that I should perhaps take a few seconds to think before plunging into any risky situation.


Faced with the approaching April showers, I’m not quite sure what I’ve learned from reminiscing about Oregon Trail so much, but I do know that I will use the Hoboken floods as an opportunity to focus on my new decision making ways.

Tagged
Mar 11 2010
1 Comment
Beyond the Tri-State Area

To A Destination Beyond 33rd and 6th Ave…

I always joked that when I moved to Hoboken, although having my own set of keys to my apartment was a new world, due to my measly salary, I could no longer leave the tri-state area.

Little did I know that Hoboken would ultimately lead to a one-way ticket to the South Pacific.

Well, maybe not a one-way ticket. I do still need a paycheck to pay my rent for my place still in, well, Hoboken. But, I’m off to visit a former Hobokenite and former neightbor from 10th Steet, my friend Kristine.

Stricken with an acute case of wanderlust, Kristine is living the modern, 20-something American dream—to figure out what she wants out of life by crossing the equator to live in New Zealand for a year.

I’ve decided to exchange the pork roll and cheese for kiwis. I’m living my version of the American dream by mooching off of her adventure by crashing at her place in Kerikeri, NZ, for two weeks.

At this point in my life, I’m still in that frame of thought where I really don’t care where I stay as long as it’s cheap and I’m in good company. When I studied abroad in college, when I was traveling outside of my home base of Bath,  England, you could find me in a creepy hostel bunk-bed complete with an 80’s-themed cartoon character comforter for 12 euros a night, or on a sofa of one of my other friends studying abroad like me in another country. The young are resilient that way. We may wake up with a slight kink in our necks, but we’ll sleep anywhere: bathtubs, cars, a corner with a pillow or balled up jacket for a pillow, as long as it’s cheap or free. And, you usually get a great story out of it, or if not, in the very least, you can at least sound like you lead a crazy life by always referring to that one time you were woken up by a fleet of drunken Irishmen sticking chips from McDonald’s practically up your nose at 4 AM, or to the sight of an old woman drying her unmentionables by an open window next to your head in 32 degree weather. (I really thought it was a youth hostel when I booked it, I swear).

When you’re older, it’s a different story. You’ve grown accustomed to the finer things in life. When you vacation, you want/need that chocolate on your pillow. Also, by then, perhaps you have arthritis or sprouted a new allergy for dust and you honestly can’t curl up in your friend’s dog bed.

Lucky for me, I am 26 and still don’t really care where I sleep, though the fact that Kristine does have a guest room in her house is quite comforting.

Here’s to a new adventure with a great friend. See you when I get back!

Tagged
← Older posts
Newer posts →