5000 hits. I wonder who the 5000th was?
Dang…it may have been me!
Even though I’ve got nothing to say, I’m back on the list of the howevermany growing blogs at #77. Nice.
So…I’ll babble on some more. I FINALLY finished a small project that I needed to do for my advisor’s bigger project. I’ll tell you sumptin’. Over the years in O&G there was several opportunities to learn Excel…a task which I a/ learned what I needed to in order to complete the job and b/ promptly (and possibly purposefully) forgot everything about it except how to actually double-click on the icon. Know what? I’m using it now and it’s really very useful. I’ve never understood how, if one is not an accountant, one could possibly give a crap about Excel.
I was wrong. Very wrong.
About the movie last night. To be very honest…my first reaction when she got pregnant was to think, ‘oh fuck…pro-life movie’. Only because I’m wary of these things…it was completely my own hangup. As I watching more I saw it for what I think it was supposed to be. It was a story of this particular couple and their particular troubles surrounding their particular pregnancy…and the troubles and lives of the people around them. And in that it was lovely and sweet. I definitely recommend it.
In other news, my shit is finally in my new place, though I’ve not got anything hooked up yet (interwebs, electric) and am frankly taking advantage of the first move of my life where there’s no rush to be out and in and packed and unpacked in 24 hours. Teh Octos went home to california and, also frankly, I think it may be a little hard on my mother for me to leave suddenly. In fact, it actually may be a bit hard on me…the last few weeks have been lovely. But, it’s definitely time to get back to my real life and take my head out of my ass.
For instance..I’ve not done my taxes yet.
anyway…it’s saturday night and I had a lovely day of good times yesterday and now I’ve come to the understanding that all the work i’ve been putting off is nipping at my heels and ass.
Well..the taller stuff is nipping at my ass.
Back to it.
I haven’t seen many movies lately…like, since I quit being a projectionist. I do, however, have a stack of films sitting right here that I look forward to watching very soon (thank you gerbils and plat).
Anyway…an old old old friend of mine rolled into town yesterday and we got drunk and went to a movie. We saw Knocked Up. It was good.
Really…it was very good. I really enjoyed it.
hmm…I honestly thought I had more to say about it, but I seem to have drawn a blank. Ooookee dokee. I’ll probably be back when I remember.
I resisted but I do have a small weakness for celeb gossip. I wish I didn’t, but there it is.
Now, I certainly did not want to support this whole ruckus about Paris Hilton’s first interview out of jail. Fascinating (well…maybe less fascinating than rubbing the frail ‘feel good spot’ inside us all) as her persona is, I do think enough is enough and that woman needs to be set free from our minds and our attention.
I didn’t watch the Larry King interview. Not even on purpose…just didn’t occur to me. However….I did take a peek at the Anderson Cooper ‘reflections’ or whatever on youtube. Actually, only partly because a/ my connection sucks and b/ it actually is getting to me that we’re now deciding that a panel of experts discussing Paris Hilton constitutes air time, if not news. There is nothing to read into. Even I have to wonder who effing cares…and I’m the queen of the trivial.
But…here I am. I’m about to comment on Paris. I’m about to comment on something that I’ve noticed in young women and is starting to drive me nuts. I’m talking, of course, about voice quality.
Ha! Just when you thought I’d zig, I zagged, mofos.
And…I didn’t notice it on my own, it was pointed out once in a phonetics class I was auditing…so I’ll start there.
There is a cool little tool you can download for free called Praat. I won’t bother linking it right now ’cause no one will care, but it’s a phonetic tool where you can see the patterns of sound waves in speech (through .wav files). I used it when I was building my stimuli. Praat (and other tools like it) are used to isolate certain characteristics in speech…like you can see each vowel, consonant…blah blah blah. You need to develop an eye, but it’s pretty cool.
As Teh Octogenarians say around here: Anyhow…..
Dr. D was playing us a sentence as spoken by a young woman in her 20s. He intended to show us a certain feature of the sentence but then stopped himself and imitated the ending of her sentence…which I can’t remember…but he turned himself into a “cute girl” as he imitated her…not by miming brushing her hair, putting on makeup, carrying a small dog or shopping but by the voice quality.
We all can do it. You constrict your vocal folds to a point where what you’re saying comes out creaky. Like when you imitate a creaky door…do ‘creaky door’ but talk at the same time. There you go. In some languages of the world it distinguishes words from each other, but in English it doesn’t. And chicks super dig it.
Young women in North America use creaky voice and I don’t know why, it seems cool or something, but they do and until Dr. D mentioned it I had no idea. I do it too, occassionally (probably to seem younger and cooler than I am and offsetting my love for computer games and Led Zeppelin), but next time you see a hip, pretty young woman and talk to her…check out her voice quality. Lots of times she won’t speak clearly…she will employ the use of creaky voice for something or other.
And now I can’t NOT notice it.
I was not surprised to hear Paris use it. I’ve actually, while writing this post, have been trying to find a good example of creaky voice to show y’all, but I think I might just do it this way…let Paris actually do it herself. No idea if she does it throughout the entire interview, this is all I saw. At around 2:26 she reads from her journals *snort*.
You thought ‘upspeak‘ was driving you nuts. Wait until you notice this all the time.
Wish me luck. I’ve got a stats final today.
Do you have any idea how much I ~don’t~ want to say that? Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be ~this~ stressed out about any first year course? Jesus! I’m in grad school and I’m performing at a sub-par level in first year statistics! Shoot me!
And…what pisses me off more, is that the stuff I need to be doing…the stuff I want to be doing…the stuff I’m here for…has to be put aside while I jump through these hoops. Yes yes…if I’m performing experiments, I need stats…whatever. *grump*
The old’uns are still here. I am not used to this much burping. Bless their gassy little hearts.
Again, it’s all what you’re used to. My grandmother would rather have her arm cut off at the elbow then regularly burp in front of people. They have, however, stopped asking me about boys…they now whisper/yell their concern to each other in the other room…unaware (though, I don’t understand how they can be unaware…they know they have to yell) that I can hear every word only a few feet away and that a wall (sans door) does not block sound very well.
I mean, my god…what is a relationship to these people? It’s only been weeks since the breakup…am I really supposed to jump into the next pair of pants that walks by?
It has, honestly, made me appreciate Teh Matriarch for what she is, though (91 on Monday is what she is). While they’re pretty straight forward and blatant, my Nanny is an enigma wrapped in a riddle while stuffing perogie. While they practice their sledghammer wit, my grandmother has a multitude of ways of manipulating emotions. She plucks and bends the emotions of her children and grandchildren (oh…lets face it…daughters and granddaughters, the men were never taught to feel pain) like a concert cellist. This used to be annoying, now it’s fascinating and I relish my next dose of guilt or disapproval…’cause she loves me enough to do it with finesse.
So, as mentioned a second ago, it is Nanny’s b-day on Monday (long weekend) and I also finally move into my new place. I’m looking forward to it, though honestly, it has been a nice little vacation living up here for the past few weeks. Truth is, it was nice to stay with my mother at a time when I needed it.
It will be, however, great to be back with my stuff. I miss my stuff. And a place to put it in.
I’d write more about my weekend, but for now I’ll just say, ‘what a weekend!’ The workshop I attended from Friday (well, thursday eve) to Sunday was an intense and incredibly useful experience. More later…
However, I am tired, very very grumpy and need to get some more studying done….so I’ll be around later.
A former city manager in Ottawa, Kansas had the habit of regularly drugging his wife and raping her while she was passed out. Now, this is shocking and horrifying. However, the actual story is not why I’m posting.
For all those out there who think that women have nothing to complain about anymore, that we’ve fought our way up the ladder and that, perhaps, we’ve gone too far. For those out there who hate feminism and feel that it has ruined ‘the family’ and muddled up gender rolls….read the comments made by everyday folks who posted on this story. They make me sick to my stomach.
After reading those comments, how could you possibly think that women hold an equal place in society? A woman gets drugged and raped and still she is accused of lying, or faking, or not putting out enough (as is her duty). If she is not screaming and being beaten savagely some of these cretins don’t see the problem. Her husband owns her, right? She must’ve been a crappy wife. Doesn’t she have to have sex with him?
This came through Bitch PhD.
But this song is good.
(via my friend Nathan who doesn’t know I lifted it from his facebook because he doesn’t know I have a blog)
It says here that there are “graffiti” artists that are managing to “paint” murals by cleaning the grime off of the walls they are working on. It’s very cool.
I have to refrain from commenting at the moment since I’ve got a zillion thoughts swirling through my head. I’ll be back with something to say.
Again, thanks to Pandagon for this vid.
there are things I am not: a patient person, an accepting person, a tolerant person = a good person.
I am aware…so forgive me this post.
As most of you know, I’m currently still looking for a place to live…and last week was a bust with the car in the shop for 5 days + crazy crazy school times. That being the case, I am still up at my mum’s house itching to get back to a regular life…ie. a life with my own space and my own stuff. This, although I am very close to my mum and we’re getting along fine up here, is driving me a bit mental (well, this plus a few unfinished things that keep cropping up).
My stepfather is a nice man…we, too, get along fine. We’re not at all close, but we are fairly respectful of each other’s space. His mother has come up to visit (from California) a kind lady…sweet, though she’s lost her hearing and shouts. It’s okay…she’s well intentioned. She has, however, brought with her the 4th in a series of husbands and he is making me climb the effing walls.
John…for that is his name…this headache is dedicated to your wrinkled 81 year old ass.
Whatever. I know he’s old. I’m being as respectful as I can…but mother of god! Such an abrasive old prick!
I look in the classifieds for a place to live…”Are you looking for a man??”
I work on my computer…a word document is up with the title “Phonotactics study lab procedures”…”You’re not looking up boys on that thing, are you??”
I was tired the other night and parked maybe a foot away from the curb..he rode me about it for 2 days! “why’d you go an park in the middle of the street like that?”
Even when you’re 81, you’ve GOT to have better things to do…don’t you?
Truth is, I’m not used to this type of treatment. My grandmother is Polish. I”m used to passive aggression…not straight aggression. I’m used to the heavily accented and secretly barbed words of a woman with generations of training in the art of guilt. Not this straight ahead “I gots give the young’uns a hard time” that I’ve been receiving the past couple of days.
Okay…so..’let it go’, you probably are thinking. Yes..I have been. I ignore the comments and keep on truckin’ with clenched teeth….so when he said these following words (when discussing immigrants of Middle Eastern descent (a topic, by the way, no one brought up but him)):
“I call ’em sandn*****s”
…well…you know the “fight for flight” reaction? I picked flight and bolted away from the table and into the other room before I either laughed or threw water in his face. What do you do? He’s 81!! You can’t sit there and act like you agree! You also can’t stand up and say, ‘listen to me you ignorant fuck…’. Or can you???
Another gem from today:
(on me trying to help him with my mum’s ridiculous number of remote controls that I haven’t even grasped yet because I don’t really watch any tv)
“well..why didn’ you just TELL me that you didn’t know how to do it and we could have saved some time”
(luckily, a split second after he said it, I got it to work…smiled sweetly…and said, ‘well, it seems I know better than you do, doesn’t it?’)
Indeed, I am locked in a fierce battle with a 81 one year old man. I am aware this fact does not make me a big person. Got 12 days left…let’s all pray I can find a place to live before that is up.
Just now…after telling me what I should do with my car…he’s peeing with the door open. Grant me strength! I’ll never take my grandmother for granted again!
I tested my first two babies today!
However, the excitement of two babies + spanish skit + running back and forth between the lab and the ling office and going to classes all day has worn me out. I’m going to bed!