NOUN (PLURAL SELFIES) • informal
NOUN (PLURAL SELFIES) • informal
From the always excellent archives, a letter I wrote to family and friends at the tender age of six. Enjoy my superb spelling and creative punctuation.
This is Hannah. it is my BirthDay Number Six ! .I am exsited !aren’t you to ?Well I am! Rejoice in the Lord always!we ALL! love all of you !. Here is some about me (Hannah)
THINGS I LIKE TO DO…
SWING (At PlayGrounds)
READ BOOKS (Very Much Evan Big Ones!)
WORK ON THE COMPUTER!
Things I don’t like…
my favrite foods and season and why?
Things I want to do while I’m six…
Learn to swim
Learn to ride a bike
Learn to play gatar
Learn to play piano
what I think about my DAD… he is…,speisal,happy,funny and loveable
MOM….she is…MY MOM!
My favrite things to do at SCOOL…
Here is a poem I wrote about hugs:
Hug’s Don’t Evaporate
Hug’s don’t evaporate
that is true.
When we say: Mama I’ve got a booboo!
that’s when we need a hug!
I was editing a news release today and had to come up with a bit more filler copy, but I had some really ridiculous jumble of phrases running around in my head, phrases that would sound completely absurd in a news brief. I’m pretty sure the words “tutelage” was there, and maybe “adulation.”
Stop being idiotic, I told myself, and write a proper sentence like a grownup.
But seriously, these words wouldn’t leave. So I grudgingly wrote them down (with a pen, on a piece of paper – it’s how I write best), and realized that I had, in essence, freed myself. I’d appeased the beast of my imagination by writing down what it gave me, and when I did, it offered more and more until finally I had written something worth reading.
It was a good reminder to keep on writing on, through the cruddiest bits, until something good somehow appears.
And finally, some jokes.
My favorite childhood joke:
What did the man say when he sat on a pin?
Nothing. It was a safety pin.
A joke that only makes sense to Texans:
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To show the armadillo that it can be done.
In doing research on the Kinetic Family Drawing for my Psychological Assessment class, the world’s largest library catalog sprung this glorious surprise on me:
The Politics of Courtly Dancing in Early Modern England by Skiles Howard.
I have a multitude of thoughts on this.
I just have to include the Amazon summary.
Scholar Skiles Howard examines the social and semiotic complexities of dance in Renaissance England as it changed over time and performed different work in court, city, and playhouse. Interdisciplinary in its approach, this well-researched study explores issues of power and the body, gender and rank, popular culture and European expansion.
Dearest scholar Skiles Howard of the University of Massachusetts, how narrow and impractical are your erudite pursuits.
However, do congratulate your parents on the brilliant first name with which they endowed you.
This post is dedicated to two excellent individuals. First, to Mr. Nathan Biberdorf, who actually reads my blog. Second, to Ms. Sylvia Daire, who composed this excellent piece with me over four years ago. Something reminded me of it, so I thought I’d post it, mostly for no good reason.
A Ten-Second-Long Discourse on Peas
by Fenton McKnight and Sylvia Daire
And now that you’ve been sufficiently enlightened and bestowed with knowledge, good night!
….Considering using the clothesline as a zip line.
And, to counter this bad idea (which I didn’t actually carry out, by the way), a good idea, some gratitudinal thinking:
#37 – Evidence of the Spirit working in my heart.
#38 – Knowledgeable doctors
Hannah sits at the piano, quietly … no, never. Not quietly. Not Hannah. Let’s start over.
Hannah sits at the piano, plinkering away to herself. (Just because she’s plinkering to herself doesn’t mean it’s quiet.) Many pages of these three hymnals have been witness to her peering eyes, thumbing … well … thumbs, and that claw-like system that keeps the pages to where she can see them.
She announces to the world (and to her mother in particular) the reason for the awkward harmonies her out-of-use hands have contrived at the expense of the well-worn keys. (It seems to be along the lines of her declaration at a young age: “Mom, I will do gymnastics, and you will clap.” Maybe the following words, like her former proclamation, will be prophetic.)
“When I am 75, I will be that old lady leading a small country church in worship. That’s why I’m playing all these hymns now. I’ll have years of practice.”
Her mother is unfazed and unconvinced. “It’ll have to be a very small church…”
Peter, reading camera: No valid picture to play.
Hannah: You’re not a valid picture to play.
Peter: Your mom’s not a valid picture to play.
Mom: I am so!!