By the Power of uh... the Internet

Before I start, I just want to publically wonder why Blogger her doesn't always play nice with my system. I just spent 15 minutes recovering from a very frustrating system freeze trying to log into my account. Ended up having to reboot. Jus' wonderin'.

I've been on the Internet (apparently style guidelines say it's OK not to capatalize that now, but I'm old school) thing here for a long time. Pre-dating the web, in fact. (That'd be Usenet-only access ... there was no web yet, so that was really all there was). In all that time my primary usage has been keeping tabs on pro wrestling. Really. This wonderful tool has allowed me to talk with the creator of my second-favorite TV show, argue with a famous SF author (OK, that was on GEnie, but it coulda been the net), and discuss English usage with someone halfway around the world. My brother has recieved advice on turtle-keeping from a well-known expert. Well, well-known amongst those who have some knowledge of turtle-keeping experts. All that potential power used to keep up on events in an industry of admittedly niche interest.

But now I've found an even more marginal use for this power. I ordered pizza.

From the place down the road.

So much for the power to span the world, I guess.

Lay Down Sally

It is not unusual for the English language to be abused in song lyrics, usually to maintain a rhyme scheme ("you and I" in Bryan Adams' "Run To You") or rhythm ("E-gyp-ti-an" in The Bangles' "Walk Like an Egyptian"). Eric Clapton's "Lay Down Sally" doesn't seem to have a reason for its linguistic abuse. Try it: sing "lie down" instead of "lay down". Fits just as well.

The two phrases mean different things, though. Not in the cosmic "Dust in the Wind" sense of meaning. Dude. The more mundane sense of how a person who speaks English interprets the particular vocalization "lay down".

"Lay down" is a command to put down something being carried or held. I can't help but having visions of King Kong scaling up the Empire State Building, hapless Sally clutched in his fist. Eric stands on the sidewalk, musically imploring Kong to "lay down Sally" - put her down.

But the intention of the song is to invite Sally to have a lie-down, you might say. I know that. I take that intent into account. I don't really think the song is about King Kong.

What Eric meant to say trumps what he actually says. "Decoding" the lyrics is dependant on intent.

Moment of clarity

First though:

Clearing up. Can definately see the summit now. For awhile there looked like I'd need an airlift out, but looks better now.

And I'm no longer being pelted with stuff. Well, no more than usual.

Main event:

So, you may be wondering why I keep talking about mountains. Simple. Metaphor.

Sometimes it is just easier to talk about something other than what you're REALLY talking about. It can be illuminating as well - there are facets to the idea of mountain climbing that I really wasn't aware of looking at the actual situation. I'm going through a rough patch right now and will admit to being sick of talking about it in the numerous situations where speaking metaphorically is inappropriate. This blog is not such a beast.

So, mountains.

Plus, it amuses me to make references to other things. The whole idea of a mountain standing in for difficulties was suggested by an Elvis song. Not the first with the idea, but I happened to hear the song at just the right time.

On the topic of references, this post and the previous both have references related to the band Pink Floyd.

I'll take that as proof things are 'clearing up' for me.

I mean, I didn't even try really.

Still climbing

Saw the summit briefly the other day. Obscured by clouds now, though.

And this damn grizzly keeps pelting me with stuff.

Wrestling is Real

In my previous post I misspelled "poruresu". If I'm going to use Romanizecd Japanese terms, I should at least get the spelling correct. Bet you didn't even notice, but still.

One of the frustrations in my life is the reaction people give me when I reveal I am a long-time pro wrestling fan. "But that is so fake!" they helpfully chime in.

Well, thanks. Even though I have a BA (double major no less) and a BS apparently I lack the mental muscle to determine when I'm watching something scripted.

And "scripted" is a preferred term. Or "worked", but that is more jargon. I wouldn't want to confuse anybody. Yes, the outcome is predetermined. Yes, the participants work out what will happen when ahead of time. Yes, dire enemies in-ring are often good friends behind the scenes.

But still I watch it. I like a good story, and even though the characters are painted with a pretty broad brush, much of the time pro wrestling tells a pretty good story. Besides, it's not fake.

But I should show, not tell.

I have a DVD laying around titled Rob Van Dam: One of a Kind. In one match, RVD climbs to the top ring rope (around 8 feet above the floor, including the ring itself), jumps across the area around the ring (around 10 feet), over the ringside barrier (about 4 feet tall), landing on his opponent who is on the other side amongst the ringside seats.

He actually made this jump. And landed on his opponent. Without seriously injuring himself or anyone else. In one move. No wires or trick camarawork.

See, not fake. Not convinced? Try it.

But he is trained for such things, I hear the protests. Yes, he is. Doesn't change the facts at all.

"But, but ... It was scripted!" Yes, it was. And?

I have to feel pity for someone who can't sit back and enjoy a good lie.

Cupcakes (no figure skates)

Today is May 13, 2007. It's a holiday. Shame on you if you forgot.

It's not really a holiday associated as some are with food, but I have some chocolate stuff laying around waiting to be eaten. Might as well use the day as an excuse.

That would not be such an easy choice to make for some folks. For instance, I had an elementery school classmate who was allergic to chocolate. Couldn't eat it. If she did, things would end up badly.

This made bringing treats for the class sometimes difficult. Most kids LOVE chocolate, almost as much as they hate not getting what they want.

So when it was my birthday that year and I could bring treats for the class my mom did something special. She made chocolate cupcakes (what the other kids wanted) for the class. And a special non-chocolate cupcake. No one asked her to. She wasn't fishing for praise or looking for special acknowledgemment. Sometimes, when something is right (in this case, being inclusive of my classmate), you just do it.

I don't know if she ever realized the example she was setting for me played a major role in some of the concerns I showed later in life. Sometimes you just do what is right.

Sorry, no figure skates. I can use what I wanted to say about that in a later blog entry. I can probably catch the end of today's NASCAR race on TV if I finish here. And I have that chocolate. It's not going to eat itself, you know.

Love ya Mom.

Things to come

I had a more topical post I was going to do today, but I'm just too darn tired. I still need something to do while my medicine warms up enough to inject comfortably, thusthis little preview.

Tomorrow I have a very timely post planned on cupcakes and figure skates, so what I was going to post today will have to wait. A teaser: the post is called 'Wrestling is real'. Pro wrestling. WWE. Prororesa. And I'm being literal. No ironic metaphor intended.

You're probably wondering how someone who uses phrases like 'ironic metaphor' can say wrestling is real.

Well, 'cause it is.

But tomorrow, like I said, cupcakes and figure skates.