So I stumble upon blogs I like from time to time and put them in my pocket. So instead of just holding on to them myself, I am going to start sharing them here.
Today while looking up the word "solastalgia" after hearing it on NPR, I found The Penultimate Word.
The Penultimate Word is a linguist dream. I love the word "penultimate." A teacher whom I still have bad feelings toward introduced it to us in high school. It is a perfect example of why a strong vocabulary makes you better at speaking, writing, communicating. When one word can replace "the one before the last," how can you not joyously add it to your vocab?
Jed Waverly takes this excitiment from finding new and interesting words and blogs about them. I first ventured into the blog with , Solastalgia. Instead of taking a dictionary approach to the word, Waverly explains what the actual ailment would feel like, showing a definition rather than telling it.
We get a discussion of Palindromes not for their "racecar" antics but about the actual etymology of the word. A post about The Mythical Dad becomes a personal essay about his realtionship with his father.
Perhaps my favorite (that I've found so far) is an indepth look at the word that is 100% new to me: Jeremiad.
Waverly talks about topical issues and the etymological roots with Cinco de Mayo in Arizona, Oil Spill and Blockade. All offering insight different from a "normal" word-of-the-day type blog.
Creating a mix between the academic and the artistic, between the word nerd and the nerd who uses said words, The Penultimate Word sparkles as an example of what words can really do if we let them. They do not always have to just tell the stories, they can be the stories themselves. Explore it. It is a great time.
Read on.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Why I have Trouble Rooting for Team USA
Now. There is a partial hesitation to rooting for Team USA for the World Cup because well, I feel there is a level of insincerity about it. We don’t have the avid fan base. We don’t have the people who count every game. We don’t have the hooligans (which is probably a good thing) or the WAGs or the craze that other countries do. It would be like someone winning a contest and then just tossing the prize away at the end—there is pride in winning it, but ultimately the country searches onward.
This first tenant does avoid the feelings of the actual team. Our team is a team, my friend K was right to point out, that never gets the love and affection that other teams get. So, this would be everything to them. So yes, there is that, and to say that they don’t deserve it because we as a country might not deserve it is rude and unfair to the players, but the true reason I find rooting for Team USA comes from a different place entirely.
There are people in the states who firmly believe that America is the best place in the world, that there is no other place that comes close to the perfection that is the current American state. It comes from the idea of the American dream, that you can be whatever you want to if you work hard enough. It comes from the idea of the Founding Fathers actions when they decided to leave something they saw as wrong. It also comes from blunt arrogance and ignorance and an inability to break out of a severe myopic view of the world. I hate these people.
Yes, I do have pride in being an America. My abuelo immigrated here when he was 17 and did give his family more opportunities and chances (see my cousin: Nora Campos, next assemblywoman for California). My grandfather fought in WWII and Korea and was proud of his country. I have pride in being from here, but I also have the knowledge to see the flaws in our country. I have the ability to hold two somewhat contradictory ideas inside at once (doublethink) and not get mad or confused or even get heartburn about it.
I love America.
I also think we have to change to keep being good, and that to revert to old ways is never the best idea.
So, left-leaning politics aside, I see the grandeur in America, and in being American, but I try to hold back the blanket statements of “the best” and “the greatest” and “none other.” This is a society put together by people. People are flawed. The society will be inherently flawed.
So, it’s with this idea that I turn back to the big fan of any Team USA sport (not just the World Cup). It seems that these fans are so often the same people who are blinded by the pablum that has been offered from Day One of public school: America can do no wrong. America can do no wrong and it is our duty to show everyone how awesome we truly are. America! Fuck yeah! Number One!
And I find it disgusting.
Cocky American emperialism has created a world with a MacDonald's or Starbucks on every corner and Wal-Mart products in every household, to the (supposed) benefit of America and the detriment to other countries. It is a hatred of "The Man" that divides me. How can I view with pride something that I abhor?
And unfortunately, I can't seem to differentiate these small-minded people from the fans in the stands, when they are both shouting the cheers of the States, I fail to see them as anything but those simpletons. And that is unfair to them. And it is unfair to the team.
But for us to win, I almost feel as if we are continuing our Scorched Earth policy and taking everything that was someone else's and turning it to our own. It is sports afterall. They aren't capitalist trying to take over. They are just playing a game. A game I love in a contest I love even more.
K, whose father used to work with the USA World Cup team, has pointed out again and again how I am unjustly applying these prejudicies to players who have nothing to do with that. They just want to play. They want to play for the country they live in, and I should stop being a crazy poltical person and just enjoy and support.
And so, today on the cusp of the first Knockout round game with good ol' USA, I will be cheering and supporting those men. For K, and for the parts of America I like, I'll eagerly await every kick and goal, every shiny head butt and every piece of fancy footwork. But, don’t expect me to join in and resounding cheer of “U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A!” Now if only I could get my hands on a vuvuzela...
This first tenant does avoid the feelings of the actual team. Our team is a team, my friend K was right to point out, that never gets the love and affection that other teams get. So, this would be everything to them. So yes, there is that, and to say that they don’t deserve it because we as a country might not deserve it is rude and unfair to the players, but the true reason I find rooting for Team USA comes from a different place entirely.
There are people in the states who firmly believe that America is the best place in the world, that there is no other place that comes close to the perfection that is the current American state. It comes from the idea of the American dream, that you can be whatever you want to if you work hard enough. It comes from the idea of the Founding Fathers actions when they decided to leave something they saw as wrong. It also comes from blunt arrogance and ignorance and an inability to break out of a severe myopic view of the world. I hate these people.
Yes, I do have pride in being an America. My abuelo immigrated here when he was 17 and did give his family more opportunities and chances (see my cousin: Nora Campos, next assemblywoman for California). My grandfather fought in WWII and Korea and was proud of his country. I have pride in being from here, but I also have the knowledge to see the flaws in our country. I have the ability to hold two somewhat contradictory ideas inside at once (doublethink) and not get mad or confused or even get heartburn about it.
I love America.
I also think we have to change to keep being good, and that to revert to old ways is never the best idea.
So, left-leaning politics aside, I see the grandeur in America, and in being American, but I try to hold back the blanket statements of “the best” and “the greatest” and “none other.” This is a society put together by people. People are flawed. The society will be inherently flawed.
So, it’s with this idea that I turn back to the big fan of any Team USA sport (not just the World Cup). It seems that these fans are so often the same people who are blinded by the pablum that has been offered from Day One of public school: America can do no wrong. America can do no wrong and it is our duty to show everyone how awesome we truly are. America! Fuck yeah! Number One!
And I find it disgusting.
Cocky American emperialism has created a world with a MacDonald's or Starbucks on every corner and Wal-Mart products in every household, to the (supposed) benefit of America and the detriment to other countries. It is a hatred of "The Man" that divides me. How can I view with pride something that I abhor?
And unfortunately, I can't seem to differentiate these small-minded people from the fans in the stands, when they are both shouting the cheers of the States, I fail to see them as anything but those simpletons. And that is unfair to them. And it is unfair to the team.
But for us to win, I almost feel as if we are continuing our Scorched Earth policy and taking everything that was someone else's and turning it to our own. It is sports afterall. They aren't capitalist trying to take over. They are just playing a game. A game I love in a contest I love even more.
K, whose father used to work with the USA World Cup team, has pointed out again and again how I am unjustly applying these prejudicies to players who have nothing to do with that. They just want to play. They want to play for the country they live in, and I should stop being a crazy poltical person and just enjoy and support.
And so, today on the cusp of the first Knockout round game with good ol' USA, I will be cheering and supporting those men. For K, and for the parts of America I like, I'll eagerly await every kick and goal, every shiny head butt and every piece of fancy footwork. But, don’t expect me to join in and resounding cheer of “U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A!” Now if only I could get my hands on a vuvuzela...
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The World Cup
Four years ago this past February, I fell down while ice skating and made a unknown strained disc in my back (L4-L5) decide it would herniate. That is, it decide that a bit of it would pop out and poke my spinal cord.
Six months later, after countless bouts of Physical Therapy and epidural steroid shots (yes, they are as painful as they sound), I had a surgery to get that pesky bit of me from poking my spinal cord and causing massive pain to shoot down my leg.
I ended up having my surgery during June of 2006, amongst the World Cup. I spent many pre and post op days watching the games on Univision in my parents' house.
Once my teams get eliminated (and sometimes even before), I'm notorious for just rooting for the underdog. Last World Cup it was Trinidad and Tobago, Ghana, Angola, among other first time participants in the World Cup.
On the day of my surgery was the Brazil v. Ghana match, a match, that if Ghana won, would be simply amazing.
I am wheeled out of the surgery all druggy and hooked to a morphine drip the room seemed too bright, my back was smarting in a way that it had never hurt. As soon as I was aware to realize I was in a room, I told my dad to find the World Cup on the television. The game came in static-y with lines crisscrossing the screen so frequently the ball was sometime lost in a mess of electric snow. I told themt o turn it up. I couldn't read the score anyway, my eyes having lost all of their will to actually work.
I pushed the morphine drip.
I listened.
One of my doctor's came in to discuss the surgery. Brazil was up. He asked me a question. I put my finger up in the air. "Shhhh." I mumbled to him in a drug-addled state.
My father immediatly turned off the TV and tried to quiet my voice of dissent. The doctor looked at me questioningly, then chalked it up to the morphine and went on his way speaking about the surgery.
This is my favorite time.
More than the Olympics, or the World Series, or any other sport (to be honest I don't follow many), I love the World Cup. I love the excitement. I love the fans. I love the glee that people feel when they watch. I love the desperation, the joy, the hope that people have against hope. I love the post-game when the players exchange shirts or congratulate them.
I love the comraderie. I love that in other countries (perhaps not our own), everyone sits and watchs. One sport. One game. One time. Hell yes.
The Big Picture from the Boston Globe (one of my favorite blogs ever) chronicled the first weekend, and really I think it did an amazing job chronciling why The World Cup is the world's most watched sporting event. The people watching, the excitement, the tears. This is excitement. This is grand. This is The World Cup.
I'm a nerd about lots of thing (space, feminism, Doctor Who, books) none of them sports. But, once every four years (and occassionaly in between when I can actually watch games), I'm a nerd for football, the real football. And it's silly and I wake up early and jump up and down and
When we were kids, my sister and I would find the soccer commentary on the radio in English, and watch the game on Univision. We never had cable, so this seemed perfectly normal to us. We watched match after match and would run around our living room shouting and celebrating.
This is now. This is The World Cup.
I can't wait for the rest of the games. I can't wait to watch intently with everyone else. I can't wait to sit and scream and cheer and be a big ol' World Cup nerd.
Bring it on.
"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." says the mighty vuvuzela.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, indeed.
Six months later, after countless bouts of Physical Therapy and epidural steroid shots (yes, they are as painful as they sound), I had a surgery to get that pesky bit of me from poking my spinal cord and causing massive pain to shoot down my leg.
I ended up having my surgery during June of 2006, amongst the World Cup. I spent many pre and post op days watching the games on Univision in my parents' house.
Once my teams get eliminated (and sometimes even before), I'm notorious for just rooting for the underdog. Last World Cup it was Trinidad and Tobago, Ghana, Angola, among other first time participants in the World Cup.
On the day of my surgery was the Brazil v. Ghana match, a match, that if Ghana won, would be simply amazing.
I am wheeled out of the surgery all druggy and hooked to a morphine drip the room seemed too bright, my back was smarting in a way that it had never hurt. As soon as I was aware to realize I was in a room, I told my dad to find the World Cup on the television. The game came in static-y with lines crisscrossing the screen so frequently the ball was sometime lost in a mess of electric snow. I told themt o turn it up. I couldn't read the score anyway, my eyes having lost all of their will to actually work.
I pushed the morphine drip.
I listened.
One of my doctor's came in to discuss the surgery. Brazil was up. He asked me a question. I put my finger up in the air. "Shhhh." I mumbled to him in a drug-addled state.
My father immediatly turned off the TV and tried to quiet my voice of dissent. The doctor looked at me questioningly, then chalked it up to the morphine and went on his way speaking about the surgery.
This is my favorite time.
More than the Olympics, or the World Series, or any other sport (to be honest I don't follow many), I love the World Cup. I love the excitement. I love the fans. I love the glee that people feel when they watch. I love the desperation, the joy, the hope that people have against hope. I love the post-game when the players exchange shirts or congratulate them.
I love the comraderie. I love that in other countries (perhaps not our own), everyone sits and watchs. One sport. One game. One time. Hell yes.
The Big Picture from the Boston Globe (one of my favorite blogs ever) chronicled the first weekend, and really I think it did an amazing job chronciling why The World Cup is the world's most watched sporting event. The people watching, the excitement, the tears. This is excitement. This is grand. This is The World Cup.
I'm a nerd about lots of thing (space, feminism, Doctor Who, books) none of them sports. But, once every four years (and occassionaly in between when I can actually watch games), I'm a nerd for football, the real football. And it's silly and I wake up early and jump up and down and
When we were kids, my sister and I would find the soccer commentary on the radio in English, and watch the game on Univision. We never had cable, so this seemed perfectly normal to us. We watched match after match and would run around our living room shouting and celebrating.
This is now. This is The World Cup.
I can't wait for the rest of the games. I can't wait to watch intently with everyone else. I can't wait to sit and scream and cheer and be a big ol' World Cup nerd.
Bring it on.
"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." says the mighty vuvuzela.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, indeed.
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