Hyponym

Hyponym - noun Linguistics: a term that denotes a subcategory of a more general class: “Chair” and “table” are hyponyms of “furniture,” "Armchair" and "Bar stool" are hyponyms of "chair"

So, I'm reading for my final exam, and going through linguistic definitions like there's no tomorrow. Come the zombie apocalypse; I'll at least be armed with a kick ass vocabulary.

Yesterday I refreshed my resume to apply for a job, and I struggled to see any kind of connecting thread between working backstage in metal concerts, being an office manager for a year, snorkeling on Iceland, writing poems and teach English for health workers. I think this bothered me more than I realized at the time, because several times tonight i woke up thinking random lines like "grouped in like-column it makes sense" and "how about if we consider this a category of its own?" I believe my brain had a subconscious discussion with itself trying to figure out how everything is put together, using the lovely system of hyponymy.

I'm not sure I'm quite there yet, but I have realized a couple of very interesting things. For instance: I have a column, in my mind's inner workings, of values that affect how I make decisions, dream and function. They are about 8 that I've figured out, but I'll only share two of them with you right now.

Be Helpful: This value seems to affect everything else I do, more than any other value, and (perhaps more disturbingly) more than any other concept in any other column. More than interests, more than things I like or love, more than dreams or hopes, helpfulness is the key. Realizing this gave me a whole new outlook on my resume. I have, more than once, said yes to work engagements I really didn't want, to be helpful. I have also spent quite a lot of time "being there" for people, I then never heard from again.

And, this is also responsible for one of my most annoying habits, correcting people. I sometimes confuse helpfulness with poking my nose where it doesn't belong. Insight.

To me, this is useful information because being aware of this may open up for a new way of dealing with things: value-shuffling. I'm excited to see if this works out.

The second value that seem to override everything but helpfulness is:

Be Grateful: This concept is extremely important to me, and I use it frequently to give my self a positive outlook on troubling  events. I really want to be grateful. But dividing this up into a chart of hyponyms and relations showed me that I frequently settle for less than I should, because I'm focusing more on being grateful for what I get, than getting what I deserve. A healthy balance should probably be in place.

This might seem like garden variety obvious facts to you, but to me they are ground breaking insights into "what's holding me back." Changes to come, but first an exam....

Brave

Brave - adjective, noun, verb 1. possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance. 2. making a fine appearance. 3. Archaic . excellent; fine; admirable. 7. to meet or face courageously: to brave misfortunes.

The final "Contemporary British Novel"-class was a very busy one. It was kind of a tense atmosphere. Our wonderful teacher started off by telling us we were short on time and had a lot to go through. It was a Friday, exams were looming in the corner of everyone's eye, and it was just one of those days.

In my head I have named groups of the 50 or so people in my literature class. There's the drama people, the geek squad, the hipsters, the exchange students, the catcher in the rye crowd, the punks, the freaks, the dames and the loners. I like them all, and I mean every one of the names in the nicest possible way, it's just a way to place them in my mental map of the world.

 Most of the geek squad had chosen White Tiger as their  book (we all had to choose one of the six as our book to talk about), so they were getting ready to give their presentations. One of them, a really sweet guy I've talked to a couple of times( who's also into Dungeons and Dragons and therefore gave the name geek squad to the geek squad) was about to give his presentation, but he looked really really nervous.

Something happens to a crowd when the speaker looks nervous and begins nervously. People try to avoid eye contact. They squirm a little in their seat. Some feel sorry for the person, and try desperately to find something the speaker says to take notes from, just to make it look like the nervousness doesn't bother them at all. We were 50 squirming people.

He gathered his papers, cleared his throat, and said something like this: I'm sorry if I stutter or stumble. I do that when I'm nervous. I am really nervous now, so just know that I'll be imagining you all naked.

Oh, sweet relief.

We all laughed. What an effective way to defuse the situation! Tension melted away and the awareness of the awkwardness made it way less awkward.

He then got on to give a stumbling, stuttering presentation, but with some of the very best points that were given that day! What a brave thing to do, I thought. Playing your weakness face up on the table.

I never do that. I tend to avoid situations where I don't feel I have the upper hand, and I don't like admitting I'm scared or uncomfortable. But I will try this now, this new thing. So here goes:

I get extremely uncomfortable in regular social settings. Wherever I don't have a clear role, be it class representative, teacher, "hobby psychologist", supportive person or quirky-positive-friend-to-hang-around, I  get nervous, my hands get clammy, and my mouth gets dry. I desperately try to think of random facts I know, just to have something to talk about. When found I blurt them out, and in the frightening awkwardness that inevitably follows I  try to change the mood by asking overly direct questions. I am a train wreck.

It happens because I am a socially awkward person. I beg your pardon if I seem flustered, stuttering or random. It will get better with time, as I get to know you better, or manage to define my role in our relationship.

Until then, just know I'll be imagining you naked.

Whore

Whore - noun verb 1. a woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse,usually for money; prostitute; harlot; strumpet. 2. to act as a whore. 3. to consort with whores. 4. Obsolete. to make a whore of; corrupt

Firstly a clarification: Yes, this blog is called "I love to love the words I love," and no, I don't love the word whore. Except I sort of do. I wish whore meant kitten. How perfect wouldn't that be? Listen to that sound whooore. It sounds cuddly and fluffy and puffy and cute, doesn't it? But yes, whore is the word of this blog post, because I do love words, and I think words are important. Today, I'm talking about the word whore just because it is a word, and I love words.
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My school is filled with wonderful people. I had lunch today, with a few  different girls and they are in every way fun to talk with. They talk in broad strokes and colorful expressions. One of them in particular uses such grandiose words, even when describing minuscule things, that when she arrives at her wedding day, I cannot imagine she will have anything left to describe her husband with than supercalifraglitisticexpialidocious. They are a blast to listen to, a blast to chat with, and the way they talk makes me truly sorry that I've never had many friends, especially not of the female persuasion.

Now, don't get me wrong, these are really bright ladies! They read, they discuss, they think and they talk about important things (in between nail polish and other people's behaviour). Today, however, they caught me completely of guard mid lunch. They were talking about clothing. I had zoned out and focused on my food and was contemplating buying a new lunch box, when my subconscious danger-alert went off in the back of my head. One of them had just said something like: have you seen 6th graders now a days? They're whores!
My shock must have been visible, because one of the others looked at me and said "No, but they are. Have you seen the way they dress?" I heard confirming sounds around the table.

Up until now, the conversation had been so funny, clever, elegant and interesting. But this part blew my mind. Is this what we do? Really? We, women in university, still use "whore" as an acceptable description of people, based on how they dress? And 11-year old girls, no less. Seriously?

Now, I realize this wasn't meant literally. They do not think all 11 year old girls are prostitutes, and I get that.  I also understand this has become quite common in Norway (and I'm sure my American friends will be appalled by this), and that even politicians in later years have been called whores by other self declared adults. I understand it is just "a figure of speech." I understand that "this is how people talk now a days." But seriously? Seriously‽ 
Using crude, vulgar and gendered epithets is, and should forever remain, a sign of bad manners, low education, aggression and low intelligence. Why on earth would we let "whore" slide up to "acceptable derogatory terms"? Why on earth would we, bright, otherwise well behaved, good mannered ladies in higher education WANT to take part in the normalization of such offensive speech? Think about it! You can make a difference here!

I have arrived at the conclusion that the only possible explanation is "we've never thought about it." So now, I'm begging you all. Think about it. Take a good hard look at your vocabulary and consider your choices!

Feel free to call me inappropriately dressed, a pretentious snob, brown noser, geek, nerd, coccydynia, miscreant, nincompoop, idiot, simpleton or even, if you absolutely have to, and you can't find a more learned word, call me a bitch. But do not call me a whore.

You see, I give it away for free. 

Figure

fig•ure - noun, verb 2. an amount or value expressed in numbers. 6. the bodily form or frame: a slender or graceful figure 22. a phantasm or illusion. 26.to portray by speech or action. 29.Informal . to conclude, judge, reason, or think about

So, after a short break, I'm back at uni trying to figure out a plan for the next 8 weeks of revision, preparation and exams. I love my classes, but part of that love has translated itself into an increased focus on "related subject" and a highly decreased focus on reading. Now I have to pay.

Simultaneously I try treating my social life with a little care and affection, as that is always the first thing to go when I get stressed. So, I've filled up my week with appointments, made a reading plan for the week, prepared well for my day at work tomorrow, and even planned for a little "me time" smack dab in the middle of it all.

And then I lost my voice. No, seriously. It was bad during the weekend, but now it's even worse. When I got off the bus after school today, I could barely more than whisper.

This keeps happening and is my body's preferred signal for "calm down or I will shut down, madam." The second best signal is random muscle pain, and this time it's going for broke.

My body and I have always had conflicting ideas about its role in my life, and how much time it's allowed to claim for itself during a normal month. My figure is... let's call it wide, my flaws are numerous, and with the welcome exception of my hair and eyes, I don't really have much to brag about or write down on those "What I love about my body" pages from old school year diaries.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am of the firm belief that physical beauty isn't all it's cracked up to be. And I am not saying that I am ugly, or BuHuHu I'm so big, or any of that self critical crap. I'm just making the truthful observation that my body and I would never appear in beauty pages in a magazine. And that's fine.

It is however probably not fine that i neglect my body and my body's needs in such a consistent and totally indifferent manner. It's probably not fine that I feed its sugar addiction to make it shut up, and it's probably not fine that I push its capacity to the very edge, long days and short nights, work work and some more work, then sleep for 8 hours one night, and then start over. It's probably not fine.

So, I give in. Body: you'll get your way. If you just give me my voice back, I promise to take care of you. It will be sort of a reward for having stayed with me for 26 years of randomness. You keep my voice hostage, I'll pay the ransom.

I will negotiate with this terrorist... Go figure. 

Rejection

re•jec•tion noun 1. the act or process of rejecting.     2. the state of being rejected. 3. something that is rejected.

1st thought
I once sent a manuscript to a publisher. The publisher said "this is something we'd like to work with, please revise, and make an appointment for discussion." I never did. Since then I've never tried to send in any of my texts or manuscripts to anyone, except for a few poems and articles here and there, but none of my projects. The fear of being worse than my 18 year old self, scares the crap out of me.

2nd thought
Next year I'm supposed to go abroad for two semesters. The deadlines, forms and papers are piling up on my desk, threatening to bury me in academic sounding nonsense. I never finished High School and have gotten to where I am more out of luck, than out of anything else. Twice I've woken up in panic, with the ringing echo of a nightmare in my ears: "You're just not worth anything after British standards,"  in the poshest, most condescending voice you could ever imagine. Seriously, Dame Judy Dench would have a challenge portraying a person this posh.. And she can do anything.

3d thought
When asking for favors, I often spend more words explaining how okay it is if the person can't help, than I spend on explaining the favor. This way, I don't feel like I'm putting too much pressure on the person, and I don't feel like I can be rejected, as I've practically said no to myself.

4th thought
In our wedding, when the priest asked if Hubby would take Wifey and all that jazz, I was never afraid he'd say no.

Flirt

Flirt – verb noun 1.to court triflingly or act amorously without serious intentions; play at love; coquet. 2.to trifle or toy, as with an idea 6. a person who is given to flirting.

It happens every year. When the birds start singing in the early morning, when the sun starts thawing the iceicles that hang, long and heavy, from my mood and self esteem, when people start playing with the idea of wearing thinner clothing; flirting with the spring and getting colds in return - then I fall in love. I fall in love with the world, and every person in it. I love every book, flavor, flower, sound, song and melody. I smile to myself of inside jokes, long forgotten, I smile to my friends of inside jokes, not yet created - and I flirt, I laugh, and I flirt.

I have my spring flings, sometimes they change daily, a few lasts longer, they're never serious, and they're always with the same type of person.

It takes a certain type I think, to flirt with a person like me (loud, large and awkward), but there is this undefined quality in each person I ever had a (spring) crush on, this life in their personality. I wonder if it's always there but I only notice it in spring, or if it's something that comes alive in people with the birds, the bees and the leaves on the trees.

I get so much energy from these moments of shared joy, a chat about something funny, eye contact and laughter, and I take all this energy home to my husband, and we laugh about the way spring makes me hyper active and happy.

It's all peaches and cream.

Unbending

un•bend•ing adjective 1.not bending or curving; inflexible; rigid. 2.refusing to yield or compromise; resolute. 3.austere or formal; aloof.

I'm rarely cross or angry with people, and I suppose that is a good thing. I like being flexible and helpful, forgiving and not to rigid, but last week I discovered "Unbending."

I had just found yet another compromise between two absolutes. It didn't fit me, nor the people on the oposing sides very well, but it worked out fine and seemed better than the alternatives. I wrote the decion down to remember it.

Just as I had put down my pen, this glorious word stood out from a page, jumped up and down and screamed "NOTICE ME, NOTICE ME!"

Unbending.

I flipped the page, but the word was stil there. "That's odd," I thought. Because it's not really a word you see a lot, is it?

Unbending.

I shut the book, but it wouldn't close. Unbending held the pages up on his strong arms and kept yelling, "NOTICE ME! NOTICE ME!".

Unbending.

I put the book in my backpack, but Unbending jumped up, punched me in the face and said, "DO NOT BEND! DO NOT BEND!"

So I didn't. I didn't on my way home with the lady who tried to push me out of the queue, I didn't with my friend who wouldn't say "sorry," I didn't with my students, I didn't in an e-mail I should have written a long time ago and I didn't with my decision to write a blog post today.

Turns out, not bending is kind of useful after all.