A fellow blogger posted her “names’ for her blog. You know, her mother, daughters, some friends. Their real names were anonymous. I’ve decided to do the same.
Mr. Moose Man- Or, just plain ol’ Moose Man, depending on your disposition. He was/is/always will be my writing teacher. In other words, I still get his feedback, but I don’t actually go to class. He’s a writer. How he got the name “Moose Man” is a whole other blog post.
Tishmeister- Oh, where to begin. Well, in the audition choir I’m in, ERT, as I’ll call it, she is the head honcho. She volunteers there. Wholeheartedly. She handles so much that I literally cannot name them all. Tour, office, dealing with parents, chaperoning, you name it, she’s involved in it. She’s the person everyone goes to. There’s a joke that there can be fifty people standing in a room, but the choir director will ultimately call her name. It’s a name I hear often.
Grecian Girl- I will tell the story behind her name. We were in an opera together, and we were going around getting the cast to sign our programs. Great fun! One of the singers was from Greece. Anyway, Grecian Girl approached him and asked for his autograph. She knew he was from Greece, and asked him, “Do you speak Grecian?” In case you didn’t catch that, she called it Grecian, not Greek. That would be like someone asking me if I spoke American. Anyway, he laughed- loudly and without reserve- and said, “Grecian? Do I speak the people of Greece?” She turned blood-red, and I won’t stop laughing about it. I love GG. She’s a very loyal friend, even when I’m just talking to hear my head rattle.
The other ones I have no name for- yet.
???- I really don’t have a name for her yet, but she’s Tishmeister’s oldest daughter. And my friend. She’s one of the most musical people I know. She’s in ERT with me, and has a beautiful voice. She keeps getting so many honors in flute that I’ve lost track. She’s first chair in one or two of her bands, and is in the advanced band. All I’m completely sure of is that she is a very talented young lady. But wait, that’s not all! She also plays the piano very well. I get to be in a piano camp with her this summer, and I’m so excited. It’s going to be amazing! I’m working on a name....
???- All I know is that he’s my piano teacher, and a wonderful one at that. He’s so inspiring. I’m jealous of how fast he play trills. Twice as fast as I can. He is too nice; he’s not mean enough to tell me to practice more often. Though that has not been a problem lately, in the past, he has patiently endured lesson after lesson with no improvement, because I did not practice. I apologize for my past laziness and hope that someone knocks me in the head next time I do something like that.
???- The choir director of ERT. I’ve known her since I was 7ish. I’ve probably spent a full year of my life with her. She’s a wonderful choir director; just the right mix of fun and seriousness. Those who don’t know her very well would probably call her stern. She is strict to a point of maintaining the choir’s professionalism. She’s very fun, just in her own way. You may not get her humor; I do, so don’t judge when I laugh. It’s not a pity laugh, it’s an honest-to-goodness laugh.
???- She’s my mom. Pianist, cow-milker, housekeeper, chauffeur, and so many more things that it’s another blog post for another time.
???- Mi papa. That’s several blog posts.
???- My little sister.
There are many others, but these are the ones I’m likely to refer to. I’ll be coming up with names.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Beware
I was getting really into the Brahms, and to keep up with the volume, I was pedaling like a madwoman. Then I felt it. Ouch. I must have hit my toe in the pedal. But I couldn’t stop then. I was on a roll.
I soon forgot about pain in my toe. After I finished the Brahms, I decided to check on my toe. Well, shoot. There’s blood ALL OVER my second toe. There’s a deep cut on the fleshy side of my toe. It bled onto my big toe. My sister discovers that I bled all over the pedal. Great. Mom poured some dreaded peroxide onto it, and fastened a band-aid. It’s all good now.
Beware- piano practice can result in blood loss.
I soon forgot about pain in my toe. After I finished the Brahms, I decided to check on my toe. Well, shoot. There’s blood ALL OVER my second toe. There’s a deep cut on the fleshy side of my toe. It bled onto my big toe. My sister discovers that I bled all over the pedal. Great. Mom poured some dreaded peroxide onto it, and fastened a band-aid. It’s all good now.
Beware- piano practice can result in blood loss.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Forearm Muscle- Weird
Today, I discovered something. I have a scary amount of muscle in my forearm.
I don’t know how I just discovered this. It makes sense. With all the lifting I do, I should have at least a little muscle there. I don’t build muscle like a normal person; my sister got all that. She can lift a piece of paper and build muscle. Grr.
Not only do the farm chores help, but piano. Piano is probably most of it. Piano can be very strenuous, depending on your technique. I have good technique, so I don’t strain much. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been working out after a long practice session.
It shocks me how much muscle I have in my forearm. Weird, I know. My upper arm(what do you call that anyway?) does not have nearly as much muscle as my forearm does. Again, I say, weird! It kind of scares me to flex it. Yes, this is really creepy and weird.
That’s my little blurb on my....forearm muscle. Weird.
Jeans
I have a long history dealing with jeans. Eight years ago, you couldn’t get me to wear anything but a dress or skirt. That’s changed.
I love jeans. A look at my denim pile would tell you that. I don’t wear most of the jeans in that pile. Many are too small, some are way out of style, and unbelievably, a few are too big. I wonder why I keep these jeans; I guess I’m a denim hoarder. You know, I’m saving those size zeros for “one day”, you know, the day when I am deathly ill and tragically lose thirty pounds and can wear some size zeros. Think of how relieved I will be on my deathbed when I have my cute jeans to comfort me! It could happen. And who knows, maybe the hippie look will come back in, and my super-flare bleached jeans will be so cool. And, sadly, I will probably need those jeans that are too big one day. Oh, well. I will survive.
I have my favorite pairs of jeans. My very favorite are the Calvin Kleins. They’re about a size too small by my standards, but I love them so much that I wear them. Maybe they’d fit perfectly if I’d stop eating like a hobbit. Anyway, they look good with more formal shirts, and I can wear fancier shoes with them.
I also have my t-shirt jeans. They’re very casual and very comfortable. I love these; they’re my “‘round town” jeans.
As it has been hot lately, I’ve been wearing my favorite pair of jean capris. They fit better than anything I’ve ever owned, and they look good with lots of stuff. They’re lighter, and cut off just below the knee.
Then, of course, I have my favorite pair of jean shorts. At one time, they were my jeans. I outgrew them and they were given to my younger sister. My sister has now outgrown them, but I tried them on, and they fit perfectly, except for the fact that they were a little short as long jeans. So, I took them to my personal seamstress. Maw-maw. She made them into some lovely jeans shorts. Yay! I’ve never heard of hand-me-downs to hand-me-back-ups, but hey, if it works, I’m all for it! Most jeans shorts are too small and too short for me, so I wind up just buying jeans and hacking them off. It works.
Living on a small farm, I have my work jeans. Boy, these jeans have lasted through thick and thicker. I have four pair of work jeans. Two of them were bought at Academy, and I believe I was supposed to wear them as my good jeans. Well, they’re ugly and don’t fit at all. So, these two pair are my works jeans.
The other two works jeans are both Levi’s. I have had these jeans since I was 9. They were my favorites until about two years ago, when I realized how terribly out of style they were. They became my work jeans. They are both faded so much that they look like they were bleached. They weren’t; in fact, they were the darkest kind of jeans to begin with. These jeans started out as sixes. Since I’ve washed them a thousand times, they have probably gone down to a size two. I can barely get them on anymore. I used to make fun of the commercial where the lady takes a deep breath to get her jeans on. I laugh no longer.
Like I said, these are my work jeans, and, yes, they are hideously small, but, yes, they get the job done and have saved me from a lot of cuts. They’re good, sturdy jeans. When it gets hard to breathe, I suppose I”ll have to stop wearing them; they’re small already. And no, don’t worry, I don’t wear them anywhere.
A quick funny about some Levi’s jeans I once received. A lady from church gave my mom and I some of her clothes. She has a son named Levi. Anyway, my mom said, “Mrs. L gave you some Levi’s jeans.” “What?” I said. Why was she giving me Levi’s jeans? After a long, confusing conversation, I figured it out.
I love my denim, and it goes with just about everything. This very moment, I am wearing jeans. In my graduation slide show, probably ninety percent of the pictures will have my jeans in them. I just love them that much.
I love jeans. A look at my denim pile would tell you that. I don’t wear most of the jeans in that pile. Many are too small, some are way out of style, and unbelievably, a few are too big. I wonder why I keep these jeans; I guess I’m a denim hoarder. You know, I’m saving those size zeros for “one day”, you know, the day when I am deathly ill and tragically lose thirty pounds and can wear some size zeros. Think of how relieved I will be on my deathbed when I have my cute jeans to comfort me! It could happen. And who knows, maybe the hippie look will come back in, and my super-flare bleached jeans will be so cool. And, sadly, I will probably need those jeans that are too big one day. Oh, well. I will survive.
I have my favorite pairs of jeans. My very favorite are the Calvin Kleins. They’re about a size too small by my standards, but I love them so much that I wear them. Maybe they’d fit perfectly if I’d stop eating like a hobbit. Anyway, they look good with more formal shirts, and I can wear fancier shoes with them.
I also have my t-shirt jeans. They’re very casual and very comfortable. I love these; they’re my “‘round town” jeans.
As it has been hot lately, I’ve been wearing my favorite pair of jean capris. They fit better than anything I’ve ever owned, and they look good with lots of stuff. They’re lighter, and cut off just below the knee.
Then, of course, I have my favorite pair of jean shorts. At one time, they were my jeans. I outgrew them and they were given to my younger sister. My sister has now outgrown them, but I tried them on, and they fit perfectly, except for the fact that they were a little short as long jeans. So, I took them to my personal seamstress. Maw-maw. She made them into some lovely jeans shorts. Yay! I’ve never heard of hand-me-downs to hand-me-back-ups, but hey, if it works, I’m all for it! Most jeans shorts are too small and too short for me, so I wind up just buying jeans and hacking them off. It works.
Living on a small farm, I have my work jeans. Boy, these jeans have lasted through thick and thicker. I have four pair of work jeans. Two of them were bought at Academy, and I believe I was supposed to wear them as my good jeans. Well, they’re ugly and don’t fit at all. So, these two pair are my works jeans.
The other two works jeans are both Levi’s. I have had these jeans since I was 9. They were my favorites until about two years ago, when I realized how terribly out of style they were. They became my work jeans. They are both faded so much that they look like they were bleached. They weren’t; in fact, they were the darkest kind of jeans to begin with. These jeans started out as sixes. Since I’ve washed them a thousand times, they have probably gone down to a size two. I can barely get them on anymore. I used to make fun of the commercial where the lady takes a deep breath to get her jeans on. I laugh no longer.
Like I said, these are my work jeans, and, yes, they are hideously small, but, yes, they get the job done and have saved me from a lot of cuts. They’re good, sturdy jeans. When it gets hard to breathe, I suppose I”ll have to stop wearing them; they’re small already. And no, don’t worry, I don’t wear them anywhere.
A quick funny about some Levi’s jeans I once received. A lady from church gave my mom and I some of her clothes. She has a son named Levi. Anyway, my mom said, “Mrs. L gave you some Levi’s jeans.” “What?” I said. Why was she giving me Levi’s jeans? After a long, confusing conversation, I figured it out.
I love my denim, and it goes with just about everything. This very moment, I am wearing jeans. In my graduation slide show, probably ninety percent of the pictures will have my jeans in them. I just love them that much.
Westerns
I hate westerns. Yes. Hate. Normally, I would use the words “strongly dislike”. But those words aren’t strong enough to describe my feelings towards westerns.
I suppose it has something to do with my mother and her dislike for them. I grew up with a critical eye of westerns, and now, I can’t stand them. My dad and sister love them. Blech.
It’s the same thing over and over. Indians or have a conflict with whites, whites make peace with Indians. Same thing over and over and over. I know that there are variations with the townspeople, and in fact, you could probably even name THREE variations.
I hate westerns for three reasons.
Westerns become boring because they are so filled with action. That sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s not. It’s like playing a piano piece as loud as the piano will play for the whole piece. Very boring. It’s like cheerleaders doing the most exciting moves over and over. It’s like playing an egg toss where the egg always breaks the first time. Boring.
There are too many different emotions and scenes in westerns. This must be why I love opera so much. One opera is all about love, one is about hate, one is about war, one is about nature. In westerns, there’s all of that and much more. Much much much more. There’s the wagon train, there’s the love life conflict, there’s the war, there’s the relations back home, there’s the emotional conflict within. It’s too much to be effective.
This next problem is an opinion. There is way too much gushy stuff in westerns. It’s annoying. Yes, I love opera, but within opera, it is not adoration after adoration. There is a slow progress towards love. In westerns, there is no progression. I do not like it.
John Wayne, I apologize.
I suppose it has something to do with my mother and her dislike for them. I grew up with a critical eye of westerns, and now, I can’t stand them. My dad and sister love them. Blech.
It’s the same thing over and over. Indians or have a conflict with whites, whites make peace with Indians. Same thing over and over and over. I know that there are variations with the townspeople, and in fact, you could probably even name THREE variations.
I hate westerns for three reasons.
Westerns become boring because they are so filled with action. That sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s not. It’s like playing a piano piece as loud as the piano will play for the whole piece. Very boring. It’s like cheerleaders doing the most exciting moves over and over. It’s like playing an egg toss where the egg always breaks the first time. Boring.
There are too many different emotions and scenes in westerns. This must be why I love opera so much. One opera is all about love, one is about hate, one is about war, one is about nature. In westerns, there’s all of that and much more. Much much much more. There’s the wagon train, there’s the love life conflict, there’s the war, there’s the relations back home, there’s the emotional conflict within. It’s too much to be effective.
This next problem is an opinion. There is way too much gushy stuff in westerns. It’s annoying. Yes, I love opera, but within opera, it is not adoration after adoration. There is a slow progress towards love. In westerns, there is no progression. I do not like it.
John Wayne, I apologize.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A Trip to the Eye Doctor
I thought something was wrong, but maybe it was just me being tired. It wasn't. I kept trying to pin it on mild ADD, but the signs weren't showing up any where else. I'm good at concentrating. My eyes sort of wandered, and it was getting hard to focus on a page. But what bugged me most of all was reading music. Playing the piano, I would often lose my place, but I attributed it to tiredness. My vision just kind of blurred together when I was reading. Today, I went to the eye doctor.
Apparently, I'm in the 3% of America that has this problem. I'm getting reading glasses.
As the eye doctor was trying to explain my problem, it became clear that he likes to hear himself talk. He was very nice, but resembled a rooster, strutting about in the exam room, explaining in "down to earth" terms what problem I had. As time went on, he kept referring to 15 and a half inches, and yard sticks, and 3%, and answers to his questions. It was confusing, and by the time we were out of the exam room, all we knew was that we needed to get a yard stick and cut it off t 15 and a half inches, and that's how far a book should be held. We got out, and the lady at the counter asked if I needed glasses. "Uhhhh....doctor, do I need glasses?" He looked incredulous. All that talking and we still didn't get it. "Yes, you do." Thanks, Mr. Rooster. Really, though, he was very nice.
It was really hard to pick out the ones I wanted. I basically left it up to my mom. I got the ones without the bottom colored rims; I thought that it might help when reading music. I get them within a week. Hoping that this will help everything improve. I'm glad we went to the eye doctor. Get your eyes examined, people.
Apparently, I'm in the 3% of America that has this problem. I'm getting reading glasses.
As the eye doctor was trying to explain my problem, it became clear that he likes to hear himself talk. He was very nice, but resembled a rooster, strutting about in the exam room, explaining in "down to earth" terms what problem I had. As time went on, he kept referring to 15 and a half inches, and yard sticks, and 3%, and answers to his questions. It was confusing, and by the time we were out of the exam room, all we knew was that we needed to get a yard stick and cut it off t 15 and a half inches, and that's how far a book should be held. We got out, and the lady at the counter asked if I needed glasses. "Uhhhh....doctor, do I need glasses?" He looked incredulous. All that talking and we still didn't get it. "Yes, you do." Thanks, Mr. Rooster. Really, though, he was very nice.
It was really hard to pick out the ones I wanted. I basically left it up to my mom. I got the ones without the bottom colored rims; I thought that it might help when reading music. I get them within a week. Hoping that this will help everything improve. I'm glad we went to the eye doctor. Get your eyes examined, people.
I am a Hobbit
I am a hobbit. Ok, not really, but I eat like one. It's true. I eat breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, lunch, mid-morning meal, dinner, and supper. Some people don't believe me. Believe.
I finished breakfast a little while ago. It was bran flakes with Splenda on top. Pretty tasty, for cardboard.
As I type this, I am eating second breakfast, and boy is it nutritious! Chocolate chip cookies with Propel Zero! Yum.
I'm thinking that I'm going to have an Atkins bar for elevensies, and maybe a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. My mid-morning meal will probably consist of a big bag of popcorn. Dinner has been really good lately, as Mom has been firing up the grill. Maybe we'll have chicken for dinner. Supper is not decided yet. I'm thinking cheese, though.
Yes, I eat like a hobbit. I'm hoping that I will not start to look like one. Maybe I should stop eating cookies now.
I finished breakfast a little while ago. It was bran flakes with Splenda on top. Pretty tasty, for cardboard.
As I type this, I am eating second breakfast, and boy is it nutritious! Chocolate chip cookies with Propel Zero! Yum.
I'm thinking that I'm going to have an Atkins bar for elevensies, and maybe a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. My mid-morning meal will probably consist of a big bag of popcorn. Dinner has been really good lately, as Mom has been firing up the grill. Maybe we'll have chicken for dinner. Supper is not decided yet. I'm thinking cheese, though.
Yes, I eat like a hobbit. I'm hoping that I will not start to look like one. Maybe I should stop eating cookies now.
The Effort is Worth It
I'm sweating, and feel like I might have a heat stroke. I can barely control my breathing. My arm aches from the effort, and fingers feel as if they might split. My calves ache. I'm playing the piano.
Okay, that was exaggerated, but not too much. I do get very sweaty and hot, and sometimes I have to stop. My arms do hurt sometimes, and my fingers get very tired. That's not to say that practicing piano should be painful. Done the correct way, it's not. I practice correctly most of the time, but sometimes I forget that I'm slumped over, and sometimes I just can't loosten up. It gets better with practice.
Trills, which are usually two notes that you play back and forth at the speed of light, have gotten much easier for me. They used to hurt- my hand would cramp up and my arms would get tight- but that doesn't happen anymore. I play them freely and without any effort at all. Except that I start laughing at the comical spectacle of my arm. Pianists will understand. My piano teacher can play trills twice as fast as I can. I get jealous.
Piano is so much fun, but practicing is a long and sometimes frustrating process. I like to practice, but I do get frustrated. Today, I was trying to get these sixteenth notes coordinated, and my hand did not want to! I finally just quit and started a new section. Sometimes, you just have to leave a piece alone. When I am very mad at the piano, I scream at it. "STOP MAKING ME MESS UP, YOU IDIOTIC PIANO!" It works. My mom thinks it's funny.
However, piano is very rewarding. I'm currently playing the Brahms Rhapsody in G minor(a BIG piece with lots of chords and loud notes), a Beethoven Sonata(a fast-paced piece with lots changing dynamics), and a Bach Suite(a bunch of dances). The Brahms is my favorite, and I'll tell you why.
It starts out fortissimo(loudly) with some big chords in the lowest part of the piano, and goes on to a sprightly(but still powerful) series of chords. All of the sudden, it gets very quiet and tension fills the air. I must admit that I love the deafening sensation of playing this piece. I can play this piece loudly, but still beautifully. And if I want to play it loudly, then I'm going to play it loudly. While I don't have to practice it so loudly, I do. It makes me feel powerful over this piece, and I like it. I apologize to the neighbors.
This Brahms is one of those pieces, that, if played correctly, makes anyone who plays a concert pianist. It is exciting, yet has this thrill that is eerie. It makes one think that a Samick is a Steinway. It makes one think that you are an Biss, not a Barnett(by the way, that's not my last name). I love this piece. It makes the threeish hours of practice worth it. Which is another things I want to talk at you about.
I probably practice about two hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Before today is over, I will have probably practiced about three hours. That's an hour on each piece. Playing piano pieces well is not an easy thing. If you're playing seriously for a concert or competition, and you're not sweating blood, you probably should pick a harder piece.
That being said, when you play piano for fun, it should be very enjoyable, not frustrating. It's a balance between accomplishment and effort. It depends on how much accomplishment you want and how much effort you're willing to put into it. I'm willing to put in a lot, because I want a lot out of it. I play the piano for fun, but I also play it to prepare myself for concerts and recitals. I put my best into it, and hope to get the best out of it.
Got to go. I'm off to practice piano.
Okay, that was exaggerated, but not too much. I do get very sweaty and hot, and sometimes I have to stop. My arms do hurt sometimes, and my fingers get very tired. That's not to say that practicing piano should be painful. Done the correct way, it's not. I practice correctly most of the time, but sometimes I forget that I'm slumped over, and sometimes I just can't loosten up. It gets better with practice.
Trills, which are usually two notes that you play back and forth at the speed of light, have gotten much easier for me. They used to hurt- my hand would cramp up and my arms would get tight- but that doesn't happen anymore. I play them freely and without any effort at all. Except that I start laughing at the comical spectacle of my arm. Pianists will understand. My piano teacher can play trills twice as fast as I can. I get jealous.
Piano is so much fun, but practicing is a long and sometimes frustrating process. I like to practice, but I do get frustrated. Today, I was trying to get these sixteenth notes coordinated, and my hand did not want to! I finally just quit and started a new section. Sometimes, you just have to leave a piece alone. When I am very mad at the piano, I scream at it. "STOP MAKING ME MESS UP, YOU IDIOTIC PIANO!" It works. My mom thinks it's funny.
However, piano is very rewarding. I'm currently playing the Brahms Rhapsody in G minor(a BIG piece with lots of chords and loud notes), a Beethoven Sonata(a fast-paced piece with lots changing dynamics), and a Bach Suite(a bunch of dances). The Brahms is my favorite, and I'll tell you why.
It starts out fortissimo(loudly) with some big chords in the lowest part of the piano, and goes on to a sprightly(but still powerful) series of chords. All of the sudden, it gets very quiet and tension fills the air. I must admit that I love the deafening sensation of playing this piece. I can play this piece loudly, but still beautifully. And if I want to play it loudly, then I'm going to play it loudly. While I don't have to practice it so loudly, I do. It makes me feel powerful over this piece, and I like it. I apologize to the neighbors.
This Brahms is one of those pieces, that, if played correctly, makes anyone who plays a concert pianist. It is exciting, yet has this thrill that is eerie. It makes one think that a Samick is a Steinway. It makes one think that you are an Biss, not a Barnett(by the way, that's not my last name). I love this piece. It makes the threeish hours of practice worth it. Which is another things I want to talk at you about.
I probably practice about two hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Before today is over, I will have probably practiced about three hours. That's an hour on each piece. Playing piano pieces well is not an easy thing. If you're playing seriously for a concert or competition, and you're not sweating blood, you probably should pick a harder piece.
That being said, when you play piano for fun, it should be very enjoyable, not frustrating. It's a balance between accomplishment and effort. It depends on how much accomplishment you want and how much effort you're willing to put into it. I'm willing to put in a lot, because I want a lot out of it. I play the piano for fun, but I also play it to prepare myself for concerts and recitals. I put my best into it, and hope to get the best out of it.
Got to go. I'm off to practice piano.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Things I Mispell
I hope you caught the humor in the title.
I've always considered myself to be a good speller, but lately, I've found more and more words that I have trouble with. I'm sure it's because I type more often, but misspellings bother me.
Definitely- I keeps spelling it "definately" or "defenitely". I know it's wrong, but I can't figure it out!
Accompanist- I know- it's so simple, but it is like a brick wall. A-ccom-pa-nist. I wind up butchering this one. "Acompanist" or "accompanmist" tends to be the result of my effort.
Knowledgable- Generally, I can spell this correctly. Lately, though, I have to sound it out.
Uncharacteristically- It's not a word I use very often, but boy do I get lost in those letters!
Necessary- I usually catch this one, but I tend to add a "c".
Technologically- "Technologigically" is the usual spelling.
All these are simple words that just happen to give me a problem. What do you misspell?
Even with these ordinary words misspelled, I manage to have words that I never spell incorrectly.
Pyschiatrist, pyschologist, physical, sophomore, mischievious, and receiving have never bothered me. There are many more, but that's a short list of some words I see misspelled frequently.
Definitely, that accompanist is uncharacteristically technologically knowledgable about Brahms- it is not necessary to impress me.
I've always considered myself to be a good speller, but lately, I've found more and more words that I have trouble with. I'm sure it's because I type more often, but misspellings bother me.
Definitely- I keeps spelling it "definately" or "defenitely". I know it's wrong, but I can't figure it out!
Accompanist- I know- it's so simple, but it is like a brick wall. A-ccom-pa-nist. I wind up butchering this one. "Acompanist" or "accompanmist" tends to be the result of my effort.
Knowledgable- Generally, I can spell this correctly. Lately, though, I have to sound it out.
Uncharacteristically- It's not a word I use very often, but boy do I get lost in those letters!
Necessary- I usually catch this one, but I tend to add a "c".
Technologically- "Technologigically" is the usual spelling.
All these are simple words that just happen to give me a problem. What do you misspell?
Even with these ordinary words misspelled, I manage to have words that I never spell incorrectly.
Pyschiatrist, pyschologist, physical, sophomore, mischievious, and receiving have never bothered me. There are many more, but that's a short list of some words I see misspelled frequently.
Definitely, that accompanist is uncharacteristically technologically knowledgable about Brahms- it is not necessary to impress me.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Hey Y'all!
I've tried to have another blog, but it doesn't work. I don't find my posts very interesting on my other blog, because I was limited in topics. I have essays that are good, but they'll likely be used for school assignments one day, and I don't want to be accused of plaigarism. So here I am.
I'm going blog something about me every day. It might be a thought I had on some article, it might be about some odd habit I have. But this is going to be about me and my thoughts. So, let's start with the title of this blog post. Specifically, the second word.
Y'all. Some people type it as "ya'll", some as "y'all". I am a y'aller. Why?
In many contractions, the apostrophe stands for a letter that is missing. Don't(do n*t), shouldn't(should n*t), and ne'er(you may not consider this valid, but it still proves a point). Some contractions have apostrophes that stand for two letters- can't(can **t) is a good example. Some just don't quite makes sense- won't(wo n*t? I think not). In general, though, the apostrophe stands for one or two letter(s). This is why I place the apostrophe in y'all where I do. Y** all.
Someone pointed out that "y'all" could mean "ya all". Honey, if you're gonna get that there southern, then go 'head and place your apostrophe where you want, 'cause if it's that southern a tone, it ain't gonna matter. Not that that's a bad suggestion; it's just not how you hear "y'all" interpreted. If you think of it as "ya all", then by all means, write it like that. It's not a crime, and I won't judge you, unless you happen to be a certain person with a moose....but that's a different day's blog. Maybe tomorrow.
Type it like you want, but as for me? Bye, y'all!
I'm going blog something about me every day. It might be a thought I had on some article, it might be about some odd habit I have. But this is going to be about me and my thoughts. So, let's start with the title of this blog post. Specifically, the second word.
Y'all. Some people type it as "ya'll", some as "y'all". I am a y'aller. Why?
In many contractions, the apostrophe stands for a letter that is missing. Don't(do n*t), shouldn't(should n*t), and ne'er(you may not consider this valid, but it still proves a point). Some contractions have apostrophes that stand for two letters- can't(can **t) is a good example. Some just don't quite makes sense- won't(wo n*t? I think not). In general, though, the apostrophe stands for one or two letter(s). This is why I place the apostrophe in y'all where I do. Y** all.
Someone pointed out that "y'all" could mean "ya all". Honey, if you're gonna get that there southern, then go 'head and place your apostrophe where you want, 'cause if it's that southern a tone, it ain't gonna matter. Not that that's a bad suggestion; it's just not how you hear "y'all" interpreted. If you think of it as "ya all", then by all means, write it like that. It's not a crime, and I won't judge you, unless you happen to be a certain person with a moose....but that's a different day's blog. Maybe tomorrow.
Type it like you want, but as for me? Bye, y'all!
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