word: compotation

compotation

\ kom-puh-TEY-shuhn \  , noun;

1. An act or instance of drinking or tippling together.

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                Where is she?  She’s here, I know it.  Ok there she is.  Alright, how do I do this then?  Do I just go up to her and kiss her?  Do I have to ask first, or will that be awkward?  I know I have to wait till midnight, but what happens then?  Oh god, what time is it?  11:50, that’s it?  Wait, where did she go?  How could someone move so quickly?  Ah, there she is, at the bar.  God, I need a drink.  Maybe that’ll help settle my nerves.  Everyone else seems to have one, and they’re all really happy.  Maybe too happy.  What if I have too many drinks?  Should I only have one?  What kind should I get?  Damn it, this is what I get for never drinking before today.  Well, maybe it won’t be so bad.  I hear one or two drinks can help settle your nerves, and I can really use that right now.  Ok, what looks good?  I have no idea what half of this stuff is.  Oh, this one looks good.  Oh wait, she’s looking at me.  Is this a good drink for a guy?  Or is it too girly?  It looks like some kind of fruity drink, so maybe I shouldn’t.  Will she think I’m not good enough if I take it, or will she think I’m sensitive?  Does it even matter?  Probably not, but I’d better take a beer or something, just in case.  Wait, will she think I’m a drunk or something if I take one of those?  Oh god I have no idea what to do.  Is she even looking at me?  No, she’s taking with some other guy.  Oh god, what if he kisses her before I can?  What should I do?  Should I just go talk to her to get in her good graces?  Will it even matter?  Here we go.  Ugh, this stuff tastes terrible.  How do people drink this all the time?  Well, I’ll keep it with me, just in case.  I want to seem like I actually know what I’m doing after all.  If I have a soda or something, she might think I’m a wuss, or childish or something.  Wait a sec, that guy is getting her a drink.  What should I do?  I should talk to her now, while he’s gone.  What if he comes back too soon though?  He looks tough, he could probably beat me in a fight.  Wait, why would we be fighting?  It’s a New Year’s party, why should me talking to her bother him?  Maybe he’s a really nice guy that’ll let me kiss her when it’s time.  What time is it anyway?  11:55.  Five more minutes, it’s now or never.  Ok, here I go.  Oh god, I can’t.  She’s too pretty for me.  She seems to like that guy though, maybe I should just let him have her.  He probably knows how to treat a girl, unlike me.  Maybe he could teach me some tricks?  Or is experience the best teacher for this kind of thing.  I mean, all girls are different, so how could there be one way to make them happy?  Wait a sec, now there’s another guy there, what’s he doing?  The guys are holding hands?  Oh, they’re gay.  That means I probably still have a shot with her.  Hm, I wonder what it’s like to be with another guy.  Is it a lot different?  It must be.  Of course, it wouldn’t matter anyway; I can’t even get a girl, let alone a guy.  Not that I’d want one, but it would be kind of cool to know that I would be able to.  Ok, now that the main obstacle is out of the way, it should be easy to just go up to her and kiss her.  I should probably at least introduce myself first.  After all, it would probably be awkward to just go up and kiss her when she doesn’t even know my name.  How much time do I have?  Oh god, there’s only two minutes left.  Better move quickly.  Bleh, this beer really does taste terrible.  Is it even working?  I think it is, I mean, everything looks kinda weird.  Wait, where’d she go?  Oh, she hasn’t moved.  Great, I’m getting disoriented, and I haven’t even had a whole drink.  Ok, just go up and talk to her.  Wait, what is she drinking?  Is it better than what I have.  Maybe that’s how I should break the ice, by asking her about her drink.  I mean, it’s better than just going up and telling her my name, right?  Do I have enough time for all that?  No, no I don’t.  There’s only a few seconds left.  And here comes the countdown, it’s now or never.  Ten, just do it.  Nine, hurry up legs, move it!  Eight, good, she’s not moving, I still have a chance to get to her.  Seven, go, why are there so many people here?  Six, wait, what if she doesn’t want to be kissed?  Five, oh what the heck, I’ll worry about that later.  Four, almost there.  Three, she’s right in front of me.  Two, just reach out and kiss her.  One, here we go.  Happy New Year!

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Happy New Year!  Don't get too drunk, ok?   Also, aren't streams of consciousness fun?

word: stridulous

 

stridulous

\ STRIJ-uh-luhs \  , adjective;

1. Also, strid·u·lant . Making or having a harsh or grating sound.

2. Pathology . Pertaining to or characterized by stridor.

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                A harsh, grating screech filled the small room as the young boy drew his bow roughly along the strings of his violin.  Amelia resisted the urge to cringe at the sound, instead offering a warm, encouraging smile.

                “That was a very…nice first try Derrick.”  She said.  The boy gave a wide smile at the compliment, his missing baby teeth making his mouth look like a mini piano keyboard.  “But maybe you should try to be a bit gentler with your bow.”

                “How come?” Derrick asked, his smile turning into a quizzical line.

                “Because the violin likes it when you’re gentle.”  She said, bracing herself for the inevitable question.

                “Why?”  The boy asked.  Amelia smiled through her frustration.  She had been teaching music to children for almost ten years, and that one question never failed to show itself in just about every lesson.  She knew the response by heart.

                “Because when you move the bow along the strings too hard, you hurt it.  That’s why it was screaming like that.  But when you move it lightly, you’re tickling it.  The music is the violin laughing.”  She said.  It was like clockwork for her.  And it usually worked.  The results were never perfect, but it was a start.  Her job was to get the students making sounds instead of noise.  Actual music would come later.

                Derrick thought about her words for a bit.  Amelia was just glad he was one of the nicer kids that would at least try to do what she said.  Some of the meaner kids would actually press on the strings harder after she said that.  The results were not pleasant, and the harsh noises could even border on painful sometimes.

                “But when I pluck the strings you say to do that harder.”  Derrick said.

                Amelia had started the violin lessons by teaching the students pizzicato, which was playing by plucking the strings instead of using the bow.  It got them used to handling the instrument, but some of the more inquisitive or compassionate students found fault with that once she gave her tickle reason for lightening up on the bow.  Like her previous response, she had this one memorized to the point where she could recite it in her sleep.

                “Well, you know when you’re really tired in the morning and your mommy has to come in and nudge you awake?  Plucking the strings is kind of like that.  So the harder you pluck them, the easier it is to wake up the violin.  Then it likes to be tickled by the bow.”  She said. 

She knew it was completely inaccurate, even with what she was trying to do, but it would work until Derrick understood enough about music to know what was actually happening.  Until then, she would try to make music more appealing to him in the same way she always did.  By telling students the violin had feelings and likes and dislikes, she hoped to make music more enjoyable by making it seem less like a chore and more like being with a good friend.  It had its difficulties, but she also noticed that it tended to make students more willing to play that those taught in a more conventional manner.  Of course, that may have just been because of her own bias showing her only the successes, but she didn’t much care about such things.  Derrick, one of the five violin students this year, seemed to be shaping up to be another of her successes.

                He looked at the violin intently for a bit, then smiled.  He nodded his understanding of her words.  He raised the instrument up to his chin and began another attempt at the A note.  Again, the sharp, grating screech filled the room.  However, it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the first time.  Amelia smiled through the buzzing in her ear.  He might turn out well enough, but it would take quite some time, just as it had with all her previous students.  It was what kept her going really. 

                “Better.”  She said.  The boy looked up and smiled his big, gapped toothed grin.  He churned out another horrendously grating note.  The only thought that ran through Amelia’s head as he tried to play were: ‘this is going to take awhile’.

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I used to play the violin in school.  My teacher didn't say things like this to me though.  Also, music! 

Word: whinge

whinge

\ hwinj \  , verb;

1. To complain; whine.

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               Alex collapsed on the grassy ground in a panting, sweaty heap, taking deep lungfuls of air.  His body ached as he slowly managed to flip himself over to face the sky.  He was so exhausted that he didn’t even care that a small rock was jutting into his shoulder blade.

                “I’m going to die.”  He said, each word interrupted by a deep, panting breath. 

                “No you’re not.”  Rebecca said.  “Now get up.  You’ve still got lots to do.” 

                “Five minutes.”  He said, raising a shaky arm and holding his fingers out for a few seconds before the limb flopped wearily back to the ground.  Rebecca looked at the pathetic, sweat drenched lump that was Alex and sighed.

                “Ok, fine.  Five minutes.  That’s all you get, and then you have to do five more laps.”

                “What?”  Alex said, suddenly finding enough breath in his lungs to shout the question.  “But you said I had to do five when I started.  I should have two more after this.”

                “You would have two more if you weren’t resting now.  A rest, no matter how long, resets the count.” 

                “You.  Are.  Evil.”  Alex puffed.

                “You’ll thank me later, when you’re lying next to your little dream girl.”  She said, confidently striding over to a gym bag lying nearby.  She reached into it and pulled out her cell phone.  She used a timer app to count down to five minutes.  “You’re five minutes starts now, by the way.”  She said, hitting the start button.

                Alex was not in good shape.  His body was big, round, and flabby from years of very little exercise.  For the most part, that didn’t really bother him.  That is, until he met a girl named Leslie.  He felt she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and had developed a massive crush on her almost immediately.  The fact that they were in the same major and had three classes together ensured that he had little trouble seeing her.  He had even managed to strike up a solid friendship with her.  But, when he finally asked her out, she had refused.  Well, refused was too strong a word in this case.  He described it as putting it on hold.  She had admitted that she would be alright with dating him, as she liked him quite a bit.  However, his build was not something she found appealing.  As such, she said she would go out with him if he lost weight.  In fact, her exact words were: “When you have a stomach instead of a belly.”  He had almost immediately gone to the campus gym to get help in doing just that.

                That was where Rebecca came in.  She was one of the personal trainers the gym had.  He had chosen her for two reasons.  The first was that she was the only female trainer, and he figured that meant she would have a better idea of what Leslie would want.  The second was that she was the only trainer that couldn’t be called a ‘muscle head’.  Her build was trim and athletic, with toned, fit muscles that one found in fitness magazines.  The other trainers were large, muscular guys that scared him a bit.  She had even seemed very nice when they first met.  She had been jovial and friendly then.  He soon found there was only one problem with her:  when it came to physical fitness, she had a mean streak a mile wide. 

                She had a tendency to push those she trained to the breaking point, and then double that effort far beyond what the other trainers did.  Alex went back to his dorm room sore, tired, and so sweaty he looked like he had taken a shower with his clothes on.  He woke up every morning in pain, and only his desire to see Leslie made him able to move.  He had lost quite a bit of weight, but that didn’t mean he liked the process.

                Currently, Rebecca was having him run around an open field on campus.  The field was roughly the size of the running track used by the track team, with one key difference.  The field had a long, steep hill that took up a great deal of it.  In the winter, it was a favorite spot for students to sled and roll around on.  But now in the spring, it seemed like it was there to make Alex’s life a living hell.  When she had told him to run around it five times, he had thought that the downhill part would make it more manageable, but he soon found that the steep slope made him work just as hard to keep his balance as he did on the uphill.

                Rebecca had run alongside him the entire time, giving him her own unique brand of encouragement.  This mainly consisted of her shouting in his ear that he was slow and should go faster.  Alex looked at her and hated the fact that she was hardly breathing hard, and there wasn’t a drop of sweat on her body, even though she had been running the same amount he had. 

                “Yeah, right.  Is all that really worth dying over?”  He panted.

                “You’re not dying.  And you wouldn’t be so out of breath right now if you took the stairs like I’ve been telling you to.”  She said, crossing her arms in a combination of annoyance and amusement. 

                “Stairs are the enemy.”

                “Look, if you want to get rid of this,” She said, kicking him lightly in his still ample gut, “you’ve got to put forth a lot more effort than you have been.”

                “More?  You have me doing so much, it’s a wonder I can still move.” 

                “Oh stop complaining.  Anyways, you’re five minutes are just about up, so get ready to move.”

                “And if I don’t?  What if I just stay here until I feel like it?”

                “Then when you do, I’ll make you run ten laps.  With the weights.”

                “You wouldn’t.”  His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her.  Rebecca kept a set of five pound weights made to be worn on the wrists and ankles.  She had put them on him as a little punishment for slacking off, and he had barely made it around the field once.  Since then, she had used them as a threat to keep him moving the way she wanted him to.

                “Wouldn’t I?”  She said, a smug look on her face.

                “Oh god, you would.  Ok fine, I’m up.”  He said, hoisting his body into a wobbly standing position.

                “Good boy.  Now, you’re rest stop is up…now.”  She said, looking at her phone.  Alex knew that meant he had to start moving.  He lumbered off around the track at a slow jog.  Rebecca smirked at his pace.  She calmly went to put her phone away, and then dashed to catch up with him.  Once she did, she immediately started berating his pace again, and ordering him to move faster.  Alex just took it all as well as he could, grumbling and complaining to himself the entire time. 

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Everybody, exercise!  Or, you know, don't.  Whatever you do with your body is fine by me.

Word: moor

 

moor

\ moor \  , verb;

1. To fix firmly; secure.

2. To secure (a ship, boat, dirigible, etc.) in a particular place, as by cables and anchors or by lines.

3. To moor a ship, small boat, etc.

4. To be made secure by cables or the like.

noun:

1. The act of mooring.

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                The docked boat rocked gently as the water lapped at its thin metal siding, the boat held to the dock by a mooring rope that was too thick for its purpose.  The group of three looked at it, one with joy, the other two with disappointment. 

                “Well, what do you think?” Dan, the only one who was happy with the boat, said.

                “It’s not really what I was expecting.”  Sarah, one of the disappointed individuals, said.

                “Yeah, the way you were talking about it, I thought it would be a lot bigger or something.”  Amy, the third member person said.

                “I said it was a boat.  I never gave any indication of size.”  Dan said.  While he hadn’t expressly said anything about how big the boat was, the way he had talked about it made it seem much grander in to the girls.

                “Well, it’s just that this is kinda…” Amy said, pausing to find the right word.

                “Tiny?  Pathetic?  Flimsy?” Sarah said, voicing her opinions about the boat.

                “Simple.” Amy said finally.  “I mean, it doesn’t even have a motor.”

                 The boat was all of those things.  The thin aluminum metal was arranged in a classical boat shape, and was of average length.  It lacked any kind of modern propulsion systems, having only a pair of oars.

                “That’s part of the charm.”  Dan said, defending the boat as best he could.  “I mean, you’d rather have a noisy, smelly engine than a calm, quiet, relaxing row boat?”

                “Yup.” Sarah said.

                “Of course.”  Amy followed.

                “You two don’t know what you’re missing.”

                “Oh, I can think of a few things I’m missing.”  Sarah said, more than a little annoyed.

                “Oh just give it a shot.  I promise, once we get out on the lake, it won’t even matter.”  Dan said, putting one foot in the boat.  The two girls looked at each other and sighed.  Neither had much else to do at that moment anyway.

                “Ok fine, but you’re doing all the rowing.”  Sarah said. 

                “Yeah, I know.  I was planning on that anyway.”  Dan said.  He had come in knowing he would be manning the oars, and so her comment didn’t bother him. 

Even though she accepted, she still had made no moves towards entering the thing.  Amy was the one who went in first, knowing the other girl wouldn’t move until someone was already in, if only to prove that no sudden leaks would pop up when it was weighed down a bit.  Once Amy was in, Sarah reluctantly got in and sat down.  Dan smiled at the two girls and went to work on the thick rope that was fastening the boat to the dock far more securely than was needed.

He had tied it very tightly, not wanting anything unexpected to happen to his vessel, and so it took nearly ten minutes for him to finally undo the knot and stash the rope in the boat near the front.  He sat down, taking the oars and began to push them out into the lake. 

“See?  Now isn’t this better than a motor boat?”  He said, rowing them out into the middle of the lake. 

“Well, it’s slower, that’s for sure.”  Amy said, trying to make it seem like a positive thing.  She didn’t do as well as she had hoped.  Even so, Dan still managed to see the positive side. 

“Yeah, isn’t it?  Nice and slow.  Calm, relaxing…”  He said.

“And boring.”  Sarah muttered under her breath. 

                “Well, if it helps, we’re probably out far enough now anyway.”  Dan said, taking the oars out of the water and allowing his tired arms to rest a bit.

                “Well, that’s good?  Isn’t it?”  Amy said, not quite sure what to say.

                “Oh god, you’re not going to take out a fishing pole, are you?”  Sarah said.

                “Nope.”  Dan said.  Sarah took a sigh of relief at that.  If he had said yes, she might have considered simply swimming back to shore instead of dealing with that kind of monotony. 

                Instead, Dan stood up, setting the oars aside.  He took off his shirt, not caring that the bottom of the boat wasn’t completely dry.  He smiled at the girls and put his foot up on the side of the boat.  Without waiting for any comment, he hopped out into the lake, the boat rocking for a moment from his foot pushing off against it.  The girls looked out over the side as he came up a moment later and shook some of the water off his head.

                “Well?  You two going to join me, or are you just gonna sit there?”  He said. 

                “Ok, this, I can deal with.”  Sarah said.  She stood up and quickly removed her t-shirt and shorts.  When the girls had been told about the boat ride, they had come prepared, wearing swimsuits under their normal clothes.  Amy soon followed suit, setting her clothes neatly on the bench she had been sitting on.

                Dan looked appreciatively at the two girls.  While they weren’t exactly beauty queens, they were hardly bad looking.  Both were slender girls, but had very different ways of achieving this.  Sarah had the lean, athletic build of a tennis player, and wore her two piece suit reasonably well.  Amy on the other hand, was simply a health nut that had sworn off all forms of fat years ago, and was clad in a simply one piece.  Although they lacked certain features of Dan’s ideal female figure, he couldn’t really complain either. 

                Now that they were actually doing something, Sarah had cheered up considerably, and jumped out into the water head first, staying underwater several second longer than Dan had, coming up on the opposite side of the boat.  Amy was much less energetic about entering.

                “It’s not too cold, is it?”  She asked.

                “Nah, its fine.  I mean, it’s not a heated pool, but it’s not freezing cold either.”  Dan said.

                “Alright.  Here I come.”  Amy said, and hopped lightly into the water, hardly staying under at all.  When she did though, she looked at Dan wide eyed, and shivering.  “I thought you said it wasn’t cold.”  She said.

                “Yeah, it’s not.  I’d say it’s kind of chilly.  But it’s definitely not cold.”  He said.  Sarah swam around to join them, taking long, leisurely strokes.

                “He’s right.  This time anyway.”  She said when she had come to a stop.

                “You’re both crazy.  It’s freezing.”  She said, doing her best to keep her arms close to her body while still staying afloat.

                “Maybe you just need some extra insulation.”  Sarah said.

                “Oh come on, you’re thinner than me.  How can you be fine in this?” 

                “I’m hot blooded.” 

                “That doesn’t make any sense.”

                “Sure it does.”  Dan said, “It’s like how she can walk around in the dead of winter with only a long sleeve shirt on.” 

                “Winter’s here are wimpy.  Up north where I grew up you get some real winters.”  Sarah said, proud of her ability to tolerate cold more than her friends.  “Now come on, are we just gonna float around all day or what?” 

                She pushed a small wave of water in a broad arc, hitting both Amy and Dan in one shot.  Amy acted like she had been hit by a tidal wave, pushing herself back towards to boat.  Dan on the other hand, retaliated, soaking Sarah as much as he could by sending waves her way as fast she he could. 

                Their little splash fight continued for quite some time, the two repeatedly trying to get Amy to join in. She seemed quite content to float around, her body rocking gently with the waves as she held herself flat on the surface, enjoying the sun a bit once she had gotten used to the temperature of the water.  Suddenly though, she yelped a bit and thrashed around, recovering her more upright position as she looked around with panic in her eyes.

                “What happened?”  Dan said swimming over to her.

                “Something touched my leg!”  She said quickly. 

                “Don’t worry about it.  It was probably just a fish.”  He said.

                “It was not a fish.  I think it was a monster.”

                “Oh yeah, there’s lots of monsters in this artificial lake.”  Sarah said, not quite able to contain her laughter at Amy’s outburst. 

                “Well I’m taking no chances.”  Amy said, swimming over to the boat and lifting herself out of the water.  “You can stay in there all you want, but I’m staying right here now.”  She said.  Dan sighed.  There was no way to talk her down when she was in this state.  He looked at Sarah and rolled his eyes.  She knew just as well as he did what had to happen now.

                “Alright, fine, I get it.”  Dan said.  He pulled himself out of the water, quickly followed by Sarah. Without a word, he took up the oars and started rowing back, only a little disappointed that the day had been so suddenly cut short.

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My little attempt to help you all think warm thoughts with a small dose of summer.  Ok, so it's not a very good dose, but every little bit helps, right?