#WorldWaterDay: #H2O Is #Life! #GiveBack #Donate #BlackRanger #BuyALadyADrink #waterbaby #watersign

I'm a water baby, some would go so far as to say a nymph. They might not be wrong. (Naiad, Nereid, or Oceanid are all Greek to me. When in Ireland, I'm a seal Selkie.) I was born under a water sign, obviously. I have always been attracted to bodies of water. The first time I saw the ocean as a child, I apparently ran toward it as if greeting an old friend --- and this was merely the Atlantic. The first time I witnessed the Pacific, I nearly lost it. I danced across the beach. The feeling is mutual. Water loves me, too. Whenever I go near the Ocean he tries to splash me. I get chased by Waves. I laugh. It's a game we play.

World Water Day

I say all this as a preface to the day. Today is World Water Day. (Water nymphs everywhere celebrate!) Water is life. We all need it, must have it, and unfortunately there are still far too many people without access to potable water. We can change this. Give clean water, sustain life.

There are several great charities --- like Thirst Project and Water.org --- working to bring potable water to areas in need. Pick one ....or two or three. DONATE. VOLUNTEER. GET ON IT! (Steps down from soap box.)

A few links to check out, a mere starting point:
1. http://www.stellaartois.com/en_us/buy-a-lady-a-drink.html
2. https://www.thirstproject.org/powerrangers/

Those Wild & Crazy #Vikings! #Norway Ditches #FMRadio, Goes #Berserker. #DAB #BFF

I have a thing for Vikings, or perhaps, more accurately Vikings have a thing for me, because I certainly seem to attract all manner of them. (I kid you not, I was once handed a credit card and told to book myself a flight to Sweden in order to rendezvous with a certain Swede at his cabin in Göteborg --- 'twas quite the pickup line.) It's appropriate then, that one of my besties is a Viking... er... mickay... I mean, he's Norwegian.

The two of us have been good friends for well over 15 years and presumably we'll remain as such for the rest of our lives (baring his or my turning out to secretly be a serial killer or something worse). We met in California when I was still a student at university and he was working as a Silicon Valley Venture Capitalist and afterward spent a LOT of time in each other's company. We were so close that people often assumed we were a married couple when encountering us out & about, and I seemingly picked up a Norwegian inflection to my speech at times.¹

My friend and I continue to keep in touch via Skype (mainly in-app txt & Skype-to-phone), regular txt and email though he's since returned to his native Norway and I'm back in my native Georgia. We crack each other up, as we both have a sometimes acid sense of humor, coupled with a VERY secure sense of self.

An etymological aside: The English word "berserk" meaning crazed or crazy is derived from the Old Norse term bearserk, the frenzy into which bear-skin wearing Vikings or bearserkers would work themselves with all that raping and pillaging, which apparently takes a lot of energy. (You've got to respect a culture that gives yours the word for crazy.)

We spend a good deal of time ribbing each other over the various and sundry things which make our individual countries and cultures great. For instance, a month or so back an entire herd of reindeer were struck by lightning when a freak storm caught them out in the open on a random Norwegian plateau. After seeing the article on a news site, I sent him a quick Skype txt asking why Norway had it in for reindeer and pondered whether Santa Claus would be next on their "hit list."

Norway also happens to be one of the most oil-rich nations in the world and so, (circa 2003, i.e., the Iraq War) I would tease that he'd better watch out because America might "discover" Norway held WMD and use it as an excuse to invade any day now. In his turn, he, of course, laments American hubris and gets in his own zingers. We argue good-naturedly over who's selected for the Nobel Peace Prize each year ---- Norway names its recipient, while Sweden picks the recipients of the remaining Nobels --- and sometimes watch the annual Nobel concert together virtually. Between us, nothing is sacred.

On 11-01-2017 at 11:11a local time, Norway began turning off FM radio transmissions, becoming the first country to officially ditch the band, and started moving to Digital Audio Broadcasting (DAB) which proponents say will be cheaper to operate and provide more clarity of signal. Opponents, of course, worry about the Norwegians who live in far flung rural areas and who travel in older vehicles who might not be able to receive digital signals. It will be interesting to see how this plays out, but either way, it was so kind of Norway to act as world guinea pig in taking on this endeavour. I sent my friend a quick txt asking if he could still hear me now or if the broadcast signal was fuzzy where he is and attached the article. (He lives in an Oslo suburb, so I was obviously being facetious, but that's the point.)

As for the transition to DAB, as a tech geek, I like the idea of a crisp digital radio signal. And I also believe America will have to cross this same bridge soon enough --- rather like our recently completed transition to DTV. But as someone who grew up in a rural area, I can definitely understand the concerns that Norwegians in rural areas are voicing. As America is a much larger country with huge swaths of wide open spaces, such issues will no doubt be compounded for us and a solution (potentially a subsidy like that employed to assure rural America could get telephone service) will have to be found. Fun times are ahead!

____

¹An explanation for my Norwegian accent: At a friend's house party in San Francisco one evening, I happened to end up standing next to some guy who was regaling everyone with tales of the years he'd spent working in Finland. He'd also traveled extensively throughout Scandinavia, he said. He kept trying to cozy up to me and at one point asked if I wanted to go back to his place, which so happened to be right around the corner. Shaking my head "no," I made an offhand excuse which elicited a very odd look from the guy (odder than being politely turned down should have elicited). When I inquired as to why he suddenly looked as if he'd seen a ghost, he responded, "This is so strange, but you just spoke with a Norwegian accent." I laughed so hard I think I probably snorted my drink through my nose. In between my peals of laughter, the poor fellow tried to find out why on earth this was so funny. I finally gasped that as I spent nearly every day hanging out with a Viking, I suppose that was fair consequence and that I'd also never hear the end of it, if said Viking ever gets wind of the fact that he's succeeding in "turning" me Norwegian.

Adult Story Time? Being Read to vs. #Reading. #Audiobooks #SmartAssistants #DigitalLibrary

I am an inveterate reader. I was lucky enough to obtain a public library card at a young age and I made extensive use of it. As I have mentioned previously, I grew up materially poor (in poverty) but educationally enriched. Obviously, periodically lacking basic necessities like food, water and shelter made an impact on me. Poor childhood health care made an impact. But excepting daily sustenance requirements, the only thing I have sought my entire life is Knowledge.

To be honest, I didn't realize I was "poor" until I went to school and first encountered "rich kids". Prior to enrolling in kindergarten, I'd assumed with the naivety of childhood that being "working poor" was the standard, as it was all I'd known beforehand. I can't say I was much impressed with "the other side." Not being materialistic, the lack of having random things didn't matter to me, but "ownership" certainly seemed to be the end all and be all for many of my neighbors. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoy creature comforts and like having my toys, but at the end of the day it's just stuff and will never outweigh what truly matters.)

The other children with whom I went to school would often ask me silly questions. How'd I get so smart? (DNA and curiosity leads me to read.) Did my parents pay me for getting good grades? (As if.) Did I go home and read the encyclopedia for fun? (Sometimes.) Learning is fun. Not school, but the ability to learn. School is an often unpleasant institution. The majority of my learning occurred away from school immersed in books, often at the local library. Being self-taught also made me an oddity, as I would often know more about a subject than the person who was supposed to teach it to us in school. I'm not boasting, my expertise on specific subjects often resulted in my teachers turning over a class to me. For instance, I taught a mini-course on Greek Mythology in high school.

I guess it was difficult for other schoolchildren (not to mention the teachers and administrators) to understand me. According to what had been ingrained in them by a segregated, conservative, and patriarchal society, I was an anomaly or perhaps worse, an aberration --- a female child "from the other side of the tracks" who effortlessly outperformed everyone else by leaps & bounds. If since birth, you've been given to believe that you're special, that you're superior to others and that certain privileges are your God-given right (think Divine Right of Kings), then I suppose meeting someone like me is a rude awakening. Welcome to the real world, lad.

I did not apologize then, and I do not apologize now for being myself. My very existence does not require justification, regardless of what others were told. The very thought of which is ludicrous. And so went school. I ate the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge while surrounded by Philistines (Education is indeed a great leveler. It is not a perfect pill nor a magic wand, for our world is no meritocracy, though I wish it were, but Education is a boost that can make things more equitable.) In league with Descartes, I embodied Cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore, I am).

I might have been born and raised in a small (and often small-minded) town, but I knew that the world was not flat. No, the world was pregnant with wonder, for I had read it. The existence of books and the Knowledge contained within their pages sustained me, kept me sane. Trapped in a society that could not give me succor, I chose to inhabit a world of my own creation inside my head. Reading became such an integral part of my personal development, I could not imagine my "self" without it. This is still true today.

As a result, it is difficult for me to accept being read to. As a wee child, attending story time in school or at the local library meant that I would fidget. Impatient, my mind would wander. I wanted to hold the book myself, to turn its pages, to see the words. Where was the excitement in having someone else tell you a story when I could very well read it for myself? This mentality has carried over into my adulthood.

In spite of the popularity of audiobooks, I can feel no warmth toward them. The voice inside my head is a much better narrator than those people speaking various books aloud. I have tried to adjust my abhorrence of audiobooks through logic mentally chiding myself with statements like "Think of the multitasking advantage, listening to an audiobook means your hands are free to do other things." It hasn't exactly worked. I usually give up on listening to an audiobook within 10 minutes.

The only audiobooks I have ever been able to get through is the Harry Potter series, and I believe this is for two reasons: 1) I already knew and loved the stories before I attempted to listen to them and 2) Jim Dale's (the narrator of the American editions) retelling of them is very similar to the narrator inside my own head. Thus, I am able to suspend my knee-jerk reactions at having a story read to me. (I know this second part is true because I could not, in turn, cotton to the British editions of Harry Potter audiobooks. You'd think the British editions would be more authentic, considering it's Harry Potter, but I prefer the way Dale does them.)

I'm trying to embrace audiobooks more than I have in the past. Audiobooks will never supplant books in my heart, and I wouldn't wish them to do so, but I hope to use them as a supplement for times when I have other things going. Ever the geek, I do like the idea of asking a Smart Assistant like Alexa to read to me while I tinker in my lab or experiment in my kitchen. But this will take some doing. Right now it feels like ripping a part of myself away, giving up the privilege of reading in order to be read to. It flies in the face of my mile-wide independent streak. I keep repeating that doing this will allow me to be augmented in other ways. But so far I'm not buying it.

#Grammar Wrongs < An Author's Voice

Dear Grammarians,

I am a practitioner of the Language Arts in its definition as the art of language. I study language/s with relish. I'm a fan of Greek and Latin, Old Norse and Old English and these are merely the opening act. My vocabulary is writ large and multilingual, rife with dialects or cultural contradictions, accents and shorthand. Language is a Grand Old Party, preferably of the Lincoln vintage. (Sixteen is sweet for a number of reasons. Pun intended or at the very least intimated.)

I am well educated. This is said as a statement of fact, not as a boast, though I am an unapologetic snob in many regards. I became both a fledgling etymologist (and a budding entomologist, because I dig bugs (sometimes literally) and appreciated the tandem symbology) around the age of two. I was, to put it mildly, a precocious child. Words were my first Great Love. I am enamoured still. Agape mou (not meant in the biblical manner). Fuck Words! Oops.

To save you bother, know that Strunk & White are dear friends, but their ministrations are relegated to an electronic book these days. Have I mentioned that I am also also a techie (and Monty Python fan)? I know Grammar. Hi, Grammar! I often choose to ply or ignore completely its rules. Alas, poor Grammar! I do so intentionally... because I can. This amuses me. I'm laughing as I write this. My smile is wry. My humor chiefly British. (See the perhaps fabricated er, exaggerated "History of the State of Georgia, former 13th Colony". I'm the author. It's a work in progress, but I digress.)

Make no mistake; however, I am an American. I am "big on" personal liberty (and its kissing cousin personal accountability). By the way, I adore parenthetical phrases and hyphenated clauses --- and overuse them. And I occasionally start sentences with "and" or "but", use Apostrophe mercilessly and dangle participles as I choose. (In case you possess sensitive ears, I will state upfront at the getgo that I believe curse words are the pepper of language. I happen to like pepper in my cooking and my speech.) Odd to you, these predilections are my right as an Author. I believe language should be fun and exciting instead of being plainly utilitarian. Loosen up.

Please also note that I often employ vernacular, colloquialisms and turns of phrase which may offend your sense of what is right and proper. Sorry not sorry. Do not feel the need to "correct" me. Stay your red pen. I am woe to call anyone a "Nazi", a terrible term for a reason, but if the shoe fits wear it, Cinderella. I know Grammar. Bye, Grammar! I am no student Hell bent on proving to some teacher that I can memorize and regurgitate a set of arbitrary rules. This is not school. I have never enjoyed being spoon fed. I am an adult who strategically throws verbal tantrums. Take a deep breath, if need be. Deal with it.

I am an Author. Toying with language and grammar is the very foundation of my Voice. I've been at it a lifetime. For me, the Wonder of Language is in its active usage and we all know this alters over time. Words fall out of favor or return to fashion upon the whims of Man. In spite of this, nay, because of this, I always march to the beat of my own drum, which may or may not be in step with current conventions. For I am a true Southern Rebel. Also, a real American Revolutionary. Don't Tread on Me. Quote me.

Caveat Emptor! (Boy howdy son, was that fun to write!)

Signed,

--- The "Sybilant" Southerner, the Snake in your grammatical Garden of Eden.

P.S. Go ahead, bite the Apple. Knowledge is Power.

My Grand Design: Thematic Rooms

One of my goals in designing and/or renovating my abode is the creation of thematic rooms. For instance, the estate library could be dedicated to Prospero --- he of Books fame --- or a child's room could be dedicated to Winnie the Pooh or perhaps Peter Rabbit --- not that I actually have any children, mind you, only nieces, nephews and god-children. 

(By the way, I do hope "they" aren't going to muck up my beloved Beatrix Potter with this upcoming big-time Hollywood movie.)

Creating a thematic room/s allows one to commemorate an event or milestone; pay homage to important people, places or issues; and/or give in to the nostalgia of past eras (among other things). So, I keep a little list that is updated constantly with themes and ideas that are important to me, as a starting point for the interior design of my home.

I say all this apropos of.... I simply must have a "The Little Prince" room somewhere in my home. This is not negotiable. Not only am I fairly fanatical about aviation (including space flight) and all manner of flying machines, but the story itself has been dear to my heart since my early childhood.

As a wee tot, I found a rather battered old copy in a thrift store, it was in French, of course, though I did not know it at the time. I was simply fascinated by its whimsical illustrations. My mother, who always encouraged me to read everything, purchased the book for me. Luckily it was not expensive, being somewhat of an oddity (a foreign language book in a small Southern town's generic thrift store). And eventually, as I became more and more curious as to what the words meant, I would use it as a lexicon to begin learning the French language. Self-taught, of course. 

Oh, I butchered the language, no doubt. I was only about 4 or 5 years old at most, but it was a grand adventure, a magical journey that would inform upon my budding love of language, of engineering and of exploring new things and other places. It is an understatement to say the tale of The Little Prince occupies a special place in my heart.

Thank you, dear Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Je vous remercie.

(And no, I haven't yet seen the updated, animated version of The Little Prince [Netflix 2016], because I am wary of being greatly disappointed by it. I have, however, heard good things about it and I've read a few "the making of" type articles regarding it. I will see it at some point, once I've sufficiently shored up my childhood memories....)