September 13, 2007
I know. I'm in therapy.
Christopher Moore is one hell of a writer - at one turn hilarious, at the next serious and metaphor-y. He writes storylines that are completely impossible, and yet you go with it because he's either making you laugh or making you suck in your breath. An example of a passage from this book he's written that stunned me:
Leathery bar girls worked the charter booths at the harbor, smoking Basic 100s and talking in voices that sounded like 151 rum poured into hot grease - a jigger of friendly to the liter of harsh. They were thirty-five or sixty-five, the color of mahogany, skinny and strong from living on boats, liquor, fish, and disappointment. They'd come here from a dozen coastal towns, some sailing from the mainland in small craft but forgetting to save enough courage for the trip home.
Jesus.
Maybe you're not impressed, but I sure as hell was.
Or I would be, only I was still bitter over the "you didn't prove you can speak English" bit. I know it seems like nothing, but language is hugely important to me, it's everything, it's the basis of who I am. Angus (and every ex in my past, actually) gets angry with me because of how I work over the language in an argument. I can talk my way out of all kinds of scrapes, and while I used to be able to do it in several languages, these days I'll stick with just the English version.
I woke the other morning in a pure panic because I couldn't remember what a gerund was - it's pathetic enough that I know the word "gerund", add in to the fact that I a) was in a panic because I didn't remember what it was and b) I looked it up to relieve my mind, and it should show you what a loser I can be. English was my favorite (and easiest) subject in school. Lemme' diagram a sentence anyday, it'll rock my world. I'll accept that I suck at many things, but one thing I always wanted to be proud of myself for was my control of the English language.
Then along came the Home Office, and suddenly I felt like they came in and took away my eblows - a vital part of me that I needed was gone, as was my flexibility.
A non-blogging friend of mine recently sent me a joke:
For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition
and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.
1. The Japanese diet consists of very little fat and yet Japanese suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
2. The Mexican diet consists of a lot of fat and yet Mexicans suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and yet suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and yet suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
CONCLUSION:
Eat and drink what you like.
Speaking English is apparently what kills you.
As far as the visa goes, as I am an American, speaking English was indeed my issue.
Yesterday after running a few errands and looking forward to a nap, I came home to an envelope in the post box for me.
I opened it.
This was inside.
Yessss....
Today is the final day of name voting. A few of the name choices are really, really close. May the best names win.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
07:31 AM
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