Where did you watch it?

Mr. Green (a.k.a. Brian) in the conservatory (a.k.a. the music building lobby) with the candlestick (a.k.a. a T.V. wheeled in specially for the occasion).

Happy MLK Day!

I won this fabulous marker board from Stephanie Rhodes at an Office party last year. I try to keep the illustrations current, but as of yesterday it still had the old Thanksgiving traced-hand turkey. So I whipped up a little MLK tribute that I think is my masterpiece in the genre so far. I particularly like the shimmery reflection of the Washington Monument at the bottom.

Hope you have some fun plans for the day - there is a special screening of Rear Window at the Michigan Theater at 7:00 p.m., so if you're around and interested, let me know.

All About Eave

Quick quiz - what is the word for the extra panel you can slide into the middle of a table to make it longer?

This question came up in a conversation with my roommates a while ago, and while they were quite adamant that it was a "leaf," I was quite adamant myself that it was an "eave." Of course it's "eave" - that's the word I' ve always said, and a table "leaf" just sounds stupid. We finally whipped out Micah's laptop to look it up. After going to a half dozen on-line dictionaries, I was defeated. It is "leaf."

However, I still am quite adamant that "eave" is a much better word than "leaf" for a table extension. Consider the definition(s) of the respective words:

Leaf:
(noun): 1 a (1): a lateral outgrowth from a plant stem that is typically a flattened expanded variably shaped greenish organ, constitutes a unit of the foliage, and functions primarily in food manufacture by photosynthesis (2): a modified leaf (as a bract or sepal) primarily engaged in functions other than food manufacture b (1): foliage leaf> (2): the leaves of a plant as an article of commerce

2: something suggestive of a leaf: as a: a part of a book or folded sheet containing a page on each side b (1): a part (as of window shutters, folding doors, or gates) that slides or is hinged (2): the movable parts of a table top c (1): a thin sheet or plate of any substance : lamina (2): metal (as gold or silver) in sheets usually thinner than foil (3): one of the plates of a leaf spring

(verb): 1 : to shoot out or produce leaves leaf out in spring>

2 : to turn over pages especially to browse or skim <leaf through a book>: to turn over the pages of

Eave:

(noun): 1 : the lower border of a roof that overhangs the wall —usually used in plural
2 : a projecting edge (as of a hill) —usually used in plural

As you can clearly see, "leaf" currently has way too many definitions and "eave" has way too few. "Leaf" is like this big greedy fat-cat word, wallowing in excessive definitions at the expense of poverty-stricken, definitionally oppressed words like "eave." Surely "leaf" would hardly even notice if we took one of its tiny little sub-definitions and gave it too "eave." It would force a public dialogue about "eave" that may change many people's perceptions of the word. It might even to lead to a renaissance of "eave" usage. Besides, I don't find the piece of table anatomy in question to be "suggestive of a leaf," as the good people at Merriam-Webster define it. So regardless of what the whole rest of the world does, I'm going to keep saying "table eave" because I know it is better. Consider this exchange from Alice in Wonderland between Humpty Dumpty and Alice:

[Humpty:] "There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents, and only ONE for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!"

"I don’t know what you mean by 'glory,'" Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. "Of course you don’t — till I tell you. I meant 'there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!'"

"But 'glory' doesn’t mean 'a nice knock-down argument,'" Alice objected.

"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less."

"The question is," said Alice, "whether you CAN make words mean so many different things."

"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master - that’s all."

This whole "eave" thing got me thinking that there should be a word or expression for when someone insists on using a word incorrectly even though he/she knows it is incorrect. There is "malapropism," but that is the accidental and humorous misuse of a word (for instance, "We cannot let terrorists and rogue nations hold this nation hostile"). I want a term that describes the deliberate usage of a wrong word because the speaker believes his/her definition to be better.

I'll give you an example: Yesterday Seth and I were talking about English country dancing and he said that he thought it was called "contra dancing." Contra dancing? Come on! How does the contra dance go - up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start? Seth kept on insisting, and I asked him, "Is "contra dancing" your "eave?" However, this probably isn't the best example, since I just looked it up and it turns out Seth was right again - it is called contra dancing.

Okay, better example: when I was a kid my best friend's little brother used to call dragonflies "cresamilas" because he had a dream in which that was what they were called. We asked him why the word "cresamila," and he answered with a tone insinuating that it should have been obvious to us, "Because it has a crease in its wings." To this day I still sometimes call dragonflies "cresamilas."

I therefore propose the following amendments to the word "eave":

Eave:
(noun): 1 : the lower border of a roof that overhangs the wall —usually used in plural
2 : a projecting edge (as of a hill) —usually used in plural
3: the movable parts of a table top
4: an alternate, non-traditional definition of a word that the speaker uses in place of the accepted word, believing it to be superior

So, do any of you out there have any "eaves" that you insist on using? I'd love to hear them so that I can start using them myself.


P.S. - To help people get used to the new definitions of "eave," we could set up a "eave" advice centre, like the one seen here (starting around the 2:40 mark):

Busy Schedule

I have been working for more than a week now on finalizing my schedule for the new semester, and it has been tough. Not only do I have 13 credit hours (my last semester of classes!), 15 private students, and opera rehearsal for several hours nearly every night, I also am getting blitzed by the return of a few other commitments that I have to somehow squeeze into my schedule. Luckily, they begin on dates that are spread out a little bit:

January 11: 24
January 16: Battlestar Galactica
January 21: Lost
February 13: Dollhouse
March 8: Breaking Bad

I have an ongoing commitment to all of the above TV series (with the exception of the brand-new Dollhouse, but its creator has had his hook in me for years with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and Firefly). For years I ravenously consumed the cinema, but in recent years I have felt that television has become the new cinema. There are so many great artists who have realized that an ongoing television show provides a much more expansive canvas for their creations than the confines of two-hour-long movie. I believe we have been experiencing a golden age of television, with amazing, innovative, brilliantly-written shows like Buffy, Gilmore Girls, Lost, Arrested Development, 24, Pushing Daisies, and many more.*

However, unlike a movie, TV series require a good amount of commitment to follow. Just as my classes require different levels of commitment, the level of commitment varies from show:

24 (5.0 credit hours) - Attendance is mandatory to be able to keep up with the course materials. The pace of the material is fast, and there are a daunting 24 meetings over the course of the semester.

Battlestar Galactica (2.0 credit hours + lab) - The second of a two-part cycle (part one aired during the summer semester), consisting of only 10 meetings. This is the final semester that this course will be offered. Must register for the accompanying lab (a special made-for-TV movie called The Plan that will wrap up the entire series).

Lost (4.0 credit hours) - Pre-requisite courses: Lost 1-4. Lost has the same strict attendance policies of 24, but the load is somewhat lighter because it only convenes 17 times per semester. However, there is a lot of required reading and peer discussion outside of class.

Dollhouse (Not for credit) - This is a pass/fail course, since Fox will most likely cancel it within a few weeks (like its ill-fated cousin Firefly).

Breaking Bad (2.0 credit hours) - An intensive quarter-length class, meeting 13 times in as many weeks.

So you can see how busy it can get (I also have occasional extra-curricular meetings, aka Office parties). Good thing I have a DVR to automatically record everything for me, so that my real commitments don't keep me from my TV commitments.

How about y'all - does this sound crazy to you are do you also have shows to which you are absolutely committed? I'd like to hear about them.

*My apologies if I left your favorite show off the list and you feel slighted. Also, check out this article from Entertainment Weekly that argues that the golden age of television ended last year.

P.S. - I finished this post off as I watched the Jazz beat the Pacers in one of the most entertaining and dramatic finishes I've seen in quite some time - besides the double-overtime thriller I witnessed in person in Detroit last month. GO JAZZ!!!

Just when I thought I couldn't love Deron Williams any more (than I do now)...

I just read the following on the Salt Lake Trib's Jazz Blog:

As he came out and talked to reporters, [Deron] Williams did so humming the Mario Brothers theme. It probably was to be expected: The Warriors had lost to Oklahoma City and Minnesota before arriving in Utah and the Jazz were in need of a little comic relief.

That totally made my day - a day which started with me promptly showing up at the music building at 9:00 for my first class, only to find the building deserted. Psych! Turns out classes don't start until tomorrow.

P.S. - Thanks to all who helped me with my New Year's Resolution. You saved my blog from cancellation (too bad the same can't be said for Pushing Daisies). Hopefully sometime this year I'll eclipse the 7-comment mark without begging people to help me.

Musical Genes

This morning as I finished up my shower, I noticed a few stray hairs stuck to the tile:


Let's zoom in for a closer look:

It's a treble clef! Albeit one with a backwards hook thing at the bottom, but still about good as the ones I draw for my music theory assignments. My roommate Todd (who does not share my shower) said that he thought this was almost as good as finding the face of the Virgin Mary in a cinnamon bun. I'm not sure if it's mine or my roommate Micah's, but I would like to think that this little guy is a product of my musical genes.

A Resolutionary Post

Last year (which was, in this case, last night) I invented a new word: resolutionary. It's both an adjective and a noun, used to describe the behavior of one who is acting on a New Year's resolution. For example, last night Amy and Brady were lamenting that for the next few weeks their respective fitness centers are going to be clogged up with resolutionaries, and they don't want their longstanding exercise routines to be mistaken as resolutionary. I thought the word was a pretty innovative and clever, so imagine my disappointment when I just googled it and saw that many other people coined the word before me. The Urban Dictionary, for instance, lists several definitions for the word:

Resolutionary:

1. People who join a gym after the New Year, only to quit going within 3 months.
I couldn't find a free treadmill; the place was crawling with resolutionaries.

2. Of or describing the level of resolution of a digital image.
The pictures the client sent in this email are good for the brochure, but they are not resolutionary enough.

3. Having purpose and attitude leading to positive and fair outcomes.
Resolutionary thinking is the foundation of a global culture of collaboration.

4. Coined by the Lifted Research Group. An artist who seeks to advance the social, political and economic reform movements to an environmentally sound end through digital art.
Resolutionaries cringe at the thought of four more years of executive perversion.
[Editor's note: Those last two are pretty stupid.]

Dang - guess I can't cross "invent a groundbreaking, prize-winning word" off my resolution list - yet. I do have one resolution, though, for which I need your help, fair reader. In all of my 2008 blogging, I reached the 7-comment plateau on five occasions, never surpassing it. So this year I have a resolution to receive at least 8 comments on a post. So unless you to see me on December 31 pathetically commenting 8 times on my own post, please help me out with this. If you are comment rich, please give to the comment poor.

Together, we can make our resolutionary dreams come true.