Gambol means to skip about in play or frisk and frolic. I do not know if this is going to work for me. See, I am already in love with the word ‘frolic’ because it sort of sounds like what it means. I picture bunnies or Sophie jumping through fields of grass and rolling around in the sunshine. When I see the word ‘gambol’, on the other hand, I think of Michael Gambon, who played Professor Dumbledore in many of the ‘Harry Potter’ movies, and he does not exactly exemplify what I think of as person who would engage in carefree play and tumble in fields of sunlit grass. Now, it sort of sounds like and looks like the word ‘gamble’, which means to take a chance at a game for money or other benefits. So, in essence, both gamble and gambol involve ‘playing’, though I do not see any reason for money to be involved in gambolling. Oh, I know! Many gamblers enjoy playing roulette, which involves a silver ball gambolling across a spinning dial plated with notches worth fortunes or losses to the players surrounding the table. Yeah, baby! Jackpot! *beams*

Brockage is a defect or fault imposed on a coin during its minting. It can also refer to broken material such as shards of pottery or glass. I have been known to go catatonic on the television during late nights when I find myself hypnotised by a shopping channel that is on their block of numismatics. Oh, I already know what that word means, but I am not going to tell. *wink-a-smirk* It is true that brockage tends to be quite valuable when referring to coins, mainly because so much effort is put into making perfect coins, that defects are considerably rare and rare means value by the law of economics, i.e. supply and demand. What I just discovered that is quite interesting is that ‘brock’ may mean ‘rubbish’ in an English dialect. That is funny because, in regards to coins, brockage is some rubbish that one would never want to throw out.

Idoneous is an adjective that I do not wish to kill. Sorry, Ben Yagoda. Anyway, it means appropriate, fit, suitable, or apt. I may even add ‘ideal’ as an idoneous synonym for ‘idoneous’. Ha! This one should be fairly easy to remember. Idoneous looks like an adjective form of the word ‘idol’ and and idol is ideal in many ways as it is a representation of an entity that one admires and finds appropriate, fit, suitable, and apt. Okay, cool. So, an isle without sand and a hammock between shady palm trees would not be so idoneous. Got it.

I am happy that dromedary camels are coming out tomorrow. I do not know what I would do about them. Not that my Wednesdays are easy, but just knowing that those ungulates are looking out for me just makes me feel better.

Okay, as much as I am preferring the Safari experience, I am growing increasingly frustrated with the bookmarks. It is a pain to move bookmarks between folders because every time I move a bookmark over a folder and pause for a smallest fraction of a second to make sure I am about to place it in the correct folder, the whole fucking folder menu opens up and I find myself dragging up and down trying to make sure I place it in the right spot. I do not want the folder to open when their are hundreds of bookmarks inside and what makes it so annoying is that while I am trying to drag my bookmark over the correct folder, I end up opening half a dozen or more other folders, making a complete mess of the screen and making it impossible for me to place my item where I want it placed. With Firefox, this was never an issue because the folder would not open unless I double-clicked it. Safari opens the fucking folder when I just pass the cursor over it. I am also peeved because I have, more than once, gone and placed all my bookmarks in folders to find that, after syncing, Safari decides to seemingly randomly remove a slew of bookmarks and place them outside my folders. Not only that, but the syncing between my laptop and iPhone bookmarks is completely out of whack. I do not even know if my desktop bookmarks are on my iPhone. But, I do know that the whole situation is a fucking mess and I do not feel like spending hours trying to figure it out. I do not want to go back to Firefox, either. I have looked up information about it on the web to see if there is a solution that I have not been able to figure out on my own, but I cannot find that for which I am looking. At this point, I just want the bookmarks to stay in the fucking folders. I do not care about the folders opening up on their own because once I have all bookmarks inside, I can be careful about choosing which folder they go into as I bookmark through the menu. But, I need them to stay inside once I place them there, else I am going to go batty and there is not a belfry around here that is going to be able to contain me. Gah! Oh, dromedaries, please come soon. TTFN.

When I finished my internship, my mentor gave me a signed thesaurus as a parting gift because I had spent so much time sharing my WOTDs with the students and spreading my love of language to others. Well, now I have a word to replace thesaurus–synonymicon. A synonymicon is a dictionary of synonymous words or a thesaurus. I suppose that should not be too much of a surprise since it is essentially a combination of ‘synonym’ and ‘lexicon’. It sort of sounds like the name of a Transformer, but since it ends in ‘-icon’, it would probably be a Decepticon, which would be sad because a purveyor of synonyms should be considered a positive influence and that would mean that Synonymicon should be an Autobot instead of a Decepticon. Oh, maybe Synonymicon was a Decepticon and, then, changed sides and became an Autobot when he or she realised that they were on the wrong side. Yes, that makes sense to me. Cool.

A neoterism is an innovation in language, such as a new word, term, or expression. I think I have created a number of neoterisms whilst writing, the last of which I can remember is ‘rewatch’. It surprised me that it was not a word, but apparently the concept of watching a film for a second time must have some other word or expression to describe its action. Of course, it could be a word and just not listed in the dictionaries I check. I could very easily go around inventing words left and right, but I find just as much enjoyment discovering words that already exist and trying to use them in everyday discourse. I mean, it is sort of frightening to consider how many words there are in the English language that are never used, especially when they could be used. I think of all the unused and forgotten words of a language, i.e. the archaic ones, as missing colours on the palette with which we paint our thoughts and feelings and ideas. I remember that it was those extra large boxes of crayons that opened up into stadium seating and had a built-in sharpener that were the most coveted. Nobody gave a hoot about the box of four that could be procured for free at a restaurant or the one-dimensional box of eight or sixteen or what not. When it comes to colours or pixelation or words or Robin Hood’s band of men in tights–the more the merrier.

So, I discovered yet another Aussie artist’s music with which I have become quite enamoured. Lenka is easy on my ears and a welcome addition to the other Aussie artists that have become my favourites and comfort tunes. Here is the funny part, though. Anyone who knows me knows that I love Australia more than all, but I do not discover this music by looking for Australian artists. Many of these most recent discoveries are happening when I catch a tune with SoundHound and, then, look into the artist information and find out that they are Australian. What can I say? They just do it better down there. If I can confirm an extension into next year, I am going to start saving up for my plane ticket to Oz. By the time I have enough money to go, I should have enough experience that procuring a position down there should be no problem. I already know that they need deaf educators down there. Oh, I think I am going to need to be fingerprinted again, this time by the FBI. As long as I do not need to drive to Washington for the prints, I am okay with a fourth go around. And, hey, if the FBI ones are suitable for overseas, maybe they will be the last ones I will ever need to take. I hope. But, I mostly hope to make it home to Oz within the next three years. It should not be too hard to guess what music I will listen to on my flight down, either. *wink* TTFN.

I cannot believe this weekend is already over. They go by in the blink of an eye. I am still going to refer to tomorrow as Almost Tuesday and even though it is depressing that another work week starts tomorrow, Mondays are my lightest days, so that eases a bit of the pain.

I went to see ‘Man On A Ledge’ last night and I enjoyed it quite a bit. The majority of reviews are not positive for the film, but thrillers and suspense films rarely come through with overwhelmingly positive reviews. I am not sure about the reason for this phenomenon. I thought the film was quite enjoyable. In fact, I do not give much credit to reviews for my favourite genre because I rarely agree with the critics. I feel like critics are overly harsh on the thriller and suspense genre. I think some of the reviews I read were knocking the plot as implausible. Implausible? Most movies, save for documentaries, are implausible. I think another review said the plot was too complicated. Too complicated? If I understand it, it is not too complicated and I have found myself lost in some films that critics adore for the ‘layers’ of plot. Critics are not consistent and most of them our mindless idiots. There are too many of them and we only need a few. For some reason, every newspaper and magazine thinks they need their own critic and such a notion could not be further from the truth. But, enough kvetching. I enjoyed the twists and I hope that Sam Worthington continues to get more roles in my favourite genre because I love his accent and he looks nice in a trench coat.

A Cook’s tour is a rapid or cursory survey or review. I think that the tours I took at the Museum Of Modern Art in San Francisco could be considered Cook’s tours. I think each one was no more than an hour and I think I went on two of them, but I am not sure. I do not think that I had ever gone on a guided tour at a museum before, but it was pretty casual and the group sizes were quite small–only a few people. The tour guide would take us to a specific section of the museum and give us some facts and figures that could not necessarily be found on the plaques and identification cards. The nice part of the tours were that they were free and one could leave the tour at any time if one wished. I think the guides were volunteers, but they seemed to have their spiels down pat and their stories and explanations were quite enjoyable. I wish every museum had a Cook’s tour guide, but I will definitely go bake to the San Francisco MOMA if I cannot find them elsewhere.

An obloquy is censure, blame, or abusive language aimed at a person or entity. I wonder if it is possible to give one’s self an obloquy in the form of a soliloquy. That notion is a bit too sad to consider. Let us obliterate obloquies and and make the world a better place in which to live. Cool? Cool.

I wore my Akubra on Friday when I went out for dinner. I feel more complete when I wear it, but there are two situations that are bothering me a bit about its use. First, the hat is a bit dusty. I tried blowing as much of the dust off as possible and it does not look terrible, but the remaining dust is noticeable. If I am going to start wearing it more, I may need to invest in a hat brush, which is not so much a problem. I just need to order one. I think the one I looked up the other day was around thirteen dollars, which is reasonable. I may go ahead and order one this week. The second issue is that while it is easy to wear the hat out in the open, it is not so easy to wear it in the car or in a place where my head might be close to a wall or similar structure. It has a brim. That is the issue. Sometimes, it hits the car’s headrest, which is not the worst of situations, but I do not want to bump the brim too much so as not to tend it out of shape. I think I may be over worrying a bit as I want to keep my hat in the best shape and I should just love it and live with it as a way of appreciating it, so I may try to remember and focus on that. I guess, if I want to avoid bumps of the brim, I need to move out to the Outback or a ranch or some similar place. I prefer to be by the water, so I think I may just need to deal with the bumps for a while. No worries.

There is a place down the street that seems to be in the need of a pharmacy technician and I would like to look into the opportunity as a means to supplement my teaching work, but I need to get permission before I do that. I hope I can apply for the position because it is just around the corner and it would be a convenient skip and a jump to get there. If I do find a supplementary position for a couple hours during the week, it would help, but I would start stressing about my writing time. Yes, on some days, I can type out a post in thirty minutes, but on many, if not most, days, it takes an hour or two or  more or somewhere in between. I will figure it out when the time comes. I can still write my posts of ten and writing about my WOTDs helps speed writing time up a bit, as well. I am not ready to decrease my thousand word goal, so I will continue practicing until the time comes to put my speed skills to the test. TTFN.

A birr is a whirring sound. That should not be too much of a surprise. Just as slimsy turned out to be a synonym of flimsy, here is yet another word that is just a bit too close to its same-meaning cousin. Not that I have a problem with that. Variety makes me happy and I love being able to replace overused words with more novel ones, even if they only differ by a letter or two. Oh, how cool is this? The etymology of this word is that it comes from the Icelandic word, byrr, which means ‘favourable wind’. So, if a favourable wind makes a birr, what sound does an unfavourable wind make–’grrr’? I would definitely head for the in of doors if the wind began grumbling like a bear. I suppose a birr, a whirring sound, could be sort of like a purr of a kitten and that is one of the friendliest and most calming sounds I know. One revolution of a purr might not be so much of a birr, but some cats I have met will go into continuous and cyclic purrs that do very much sound like a whirring of purring that can not be considered a birr of a purr. Cool.

I went to see ‘A Dangerous Method’ this morning and it was rather interesting. It is hard to describe the purpose of the film. It did not feel like it was so much a biographical film as it did a sort of case study of the dynamics surrounding the relationship between two significant minds. I enjoyed the film and it did seem to use Jung as a central character more so than Freud, but I sort of feel like as much as it educed interest in the personalities and lives of the two men and gave glimpses of the men behind the public personas, it did not reveal as much as I would have liked to have known. That is not necessarily a negative. It just means I am interested in knowing more and that could be considered a positive effect of the film. I think it could have been longer and given a more epic and thorough examination into the friendship and conflict between the two men, but I understand that as much as it interests me, it is probably not the kind of film into which most studios would want to invest too much money.

I love psychology. It is interesting to me because even though I never excelled in it academically, I always felt that I understood it better than most. I have had therapists tell me that I considerably profound and acute understandings of why I feel certain feelings and act certain ways and what not. Apparently, much of the time I have spent alone in my life has been spent thinking and psycho-analyzing the way I fit into the world. I find that many of the concepts of psychology become clear to the self when one is just brutally honest to the self, as well. Well, I did that because I wanted attention because that action you took made me feel like you preferred that situation to me and I am afraid that if you do not show me enough affection on a regular basis that that could be considered a sign that you are losing interest and may leave me and that, in turn, ignites the fear of abandonment, which would, in turn, make me feel like a failure and that the qualities inherent in me are not desirable to other humans and that that, in turn, could result in the deflation of my ego and self-confidence and feelings of self-worth and my mind is trained to preserve the ego in order to provide a reason for continuing to rise in the morning and not slit my wrists. Ergo, my reason for acting out of jealousy and losing temporary sight of the unintended consequences of my self-preserving actions. See? It is not that hard. I used to psycho-analyze myself and my actions for my ex-girlfriend, when she would become upset with me, as a way of trying to bring peace and understanding to the situation. Often times, though, it just made her more upset. And, that made me upset because not many people would be wiling to psycho-analzye themselves for another as it is a humbling and often embarrassing experience. I am so glad she is gone. I do not not need to be around someone who mistakes honesty and humanity for blatant, unforgivable evil.

But, I still find myself thinking a lot and wondering and trying to figure out not only how my brain works and why I do what I do, but also how I can become a better version of myself. And, that last part may be the most challenging concept to figure out. It amazes me how clearly I can see in my head the kind of person I want to be and the actions I want to make and how I want to live my life, yet when it is time to put my visions into action, I freeze up and find myself continuing down the same path to nowhere I have been on my whole life. Well, not that I am going nowhere, but I am definitely not living my life the way I wish I was living my life. I know that my OCD holds me back in many ways as it paralyzes me with fear. I think the hardest part about change and what holds me back, day after day, is the fear or losing my identity if I change ‘too much’. I guess what I am saying is that, in many ways, I do not feel so comfortable with k knowing who I am even though, technically, I probably know who I am more than most since I am not invested in some codependent relationship where my happiness and identity is invested too much in another person. But, in any case, I still find it difficult to take those steps towards that person’s life, that in my heart, I so want to live. I remember talking to one of my therapists, at one point, about my OCD and I told him how I knew that I had the strength to overcome my fears and not give in to rituals, but that I feared the loss of that part of my identity, in some ways, more than the anxiety of letting contamination set in without a ritual to cleanse myself back into a state of comfort. In many ways, as much as I suffer with my OCD, it has also become a part of my identity and what I tell myself makes me ‘special’ and unique. I hate having OCD, but I also value being different and unique, even in such a difficult and challenging way, because I turn that difference into a positive, i.e. I am different and different is special and worthy of love, even if only God’s love. So, I fear that if I let go of my OCD and leave it behind, that I will lose all the positives that come with it, like my analytical thinking and empathy and considerably unique view of the world and the way it works. I have read in many books that there is no cure for OCD and the evidence supports the notion that no matter how well I am able to cope with my OCD, I will never be able to make it go away. So, I should not be afraid of trying to leave it behind because it will always be there, but I have yet to find that strength to step away from it and choose not to be bothered by what has bothered me my whole life, or at least choose not to react, in ritual form, to that which has always bothered me.

I do not think I have every felt comfortable with my identity. I spent so much of my childhood trying to be someone else, thinking that wearing this would make me cool or that participating in that activity would win my friends. It has only been recently that I have started to feel more confident in my likes and dislikes and, even at that, I am learning to be honest about the fact that sometimes what I like on Monday, is not such a favourite on Friday. I have always been deft at that, though, thanks to my mom–honesty. Perhaps, contenting with that will help me go where I want to go. Perhaps, admitting that I am afraid and admitting that I do not know as much about who I am as I would like and that I am afraid of losing even more of my identity by changing, even for the better, will help me to gather the confidence and cognitive courage to step forward into the unknown, not because I am fearless or feel comfort with where I am going, but because I know, in my mind and my heart, that it is the only way to break free from this path that I am sure is not leading me where I wish to be headed. Such action may also help to clarify for me that identity is not so much a current state of being, at any given moment in time, but rather an ever-developing image of an ever-frameless portrait, limning new pictures in accordance with the visions and hopes of the soul whilst never completely erasing, but allowing to fade, those images that defined a beginning that is not the end. TTFN.

A paillette is a spangle for ornamenting a costume. I think there used to be a machine or gadget of some kind sold on late night television infomercials that was called a BeDazzler and it was used to attach sequins and shiny paillettes to clothing and shoes and what not. It was intended for use at home and while I am sure it was fun for certain people, I do not think anyone in their right mind would be caught wearing such decorated garments after a certain age. I mean, yeah, paillettes can look quite nice when decorating a high-quality garment where the paillette is the focus, but when it is used as a casual accent on a pair of tennis shoes or a cotton shirt, it just makes said item gawdy. I think the problem with paillettes is that they are so small and one just senses that they are going to fall off the garment to which they are attached. I have seen some dresses covered entirely in paillettes, worn by celebrities, and they do like quite dazzling. But, that seems to be the best way to go. Cover the entire garment in paillettes or do not even place one on. It is an all or none situation as far as I am concerned and, oh, yeah, silver paillettes and black ones are the best. I hate gold paillettes. Well, I hate gold in general, so. Silver and place paillettes in a diagonal pattern on a dress, though, that would be uber-nice. Oui, oui.

A loaf of bread. Five loaves of bread. I loathe gold paillettes baked into my loaf of bread. In fact, I am loath to eat bread with any colour of paillette baked into the crust because I do not want to get the spangles caught in my teeth a la popcorn shells. Oh, it looks like that popcorn shell, the piece that tends to get stuck in the teeth, is the pericarp. Anyway, loath means unwilling to act in contrast to one’s way of thinking. It is a synonym of reluctant. So, just as one might be reluctant to participate in that which one hates, one might feel loath to participate in that which ones loathes. Oh, how awesome is it that one letter can change the entire meaning of a word? And, how much cooler is it when those two words, different by only one letter, can be used in accordance with one another. Yes, it can confuse some learners of the language, but once one knows how to use the words, it can add to the fun of word play.

Well, I know that today is Australia Day and one would think that such an occasion might merit a week of words related to Australia, but it appears that the streak of Scottish words is going to continue. Pibroch is a wild, irregular kind of music from the Highlands that is performed on bagpipes. Some people might argue that all music played on the bagpipes is wild and irregular, but I would disagree with that. Yes, bagpipes sound quite unique and they are loud, but I would rather listen to them than an accordion or banjo any day. How am I going to remember this word? Well, I know that if I were to take a Mr. Pibb and shake it up and then pelt it with a rock, that it would likely explode and bounce and spin around in a wild and irregular way, just like a pibroch played on the bagpipes. So, yeah, pibroch is to Mr. Pibb pelted by a rock, where one is a thirst quencher and the other is an aural wrencher. *Smiles*.

Mettle is courage or fortitude, which is strength of mind that allows one to endure pain or adversity. I do not think of myself as courageous, quite the opposite, to tell the truth, but I do feel that I endure pain and adversity, especially that which comes with my OCD, so perhaps it is the case that I have some mettle. I think nettle is a plant that has parts to it that sting or scratch and cause pain and abrasions, so it would take considerable mettle to walk naked through a field of nettle. Ha! Not that I would ever go out into the world naked, even in the dark. Naked in nettle? Buh-bye, mettle! Feeling unsettled. *Frowns*.

I cannot believe Friday is just a few hours away. I am excited to have my weekend back, but there is a shadow of sadness covering my happiness because I know the weekend is going to fly by and I am going to find myself face to face with another five days before I can feel completely satisfied with my days off. See? I sabotage that for which I should be thankful. I am thankful, but I just so, so, so want three-day weekends every week. I think a key to making my weekend feel longer may lie with making the most of the second half of my Friday. Yes, I work for a lot of it, but I still have many hours of me time and no need to get to bed early, so if I can squeeze as much joy out of the latter part of the day, perhaps I can make Friday feel like a full day off instead of like an early dismissal. Oh, by the way, paisley shirts go well with pinstriped jackets. TTFN.