Word: Antigodlin

antigodlin

[an-ti-god-lin]

adjective Southern and Western U.S.

1. lopsided or at an angle; out of alignment.
2. diagonal or cater-cornered.

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The noise outside was getting far too distracting.  It was enough that Penny finally got up and closed the window.  It did not completely silence the noise, but it made it quite a bit more bearable.  Her task done, she started back towards the comfort of the couch.  She saw something out of the corner of her eye that gave he pause though. 

               It was a piece of abstract art that she and her roommate, Beth, had bought on a whim.  It was a horrid thing, really, filled with clashing colors and random patterns.  Beth said they needed some color though, and this seemed as unobtrusive as anything.

               Penny looked at the picture and tilted her head, first to one side, then the other.  She considered it for a moment before speaking.

               “Hey, Beth, does this look crooked to you?”

               “Hm?” Beth replied, looking up from her small laptop.

               “This painting.  It looks crooked to me.”

               Beth slid out of her chair and started towards the picture.  “That can’t be.  I just hung it yesterday, and it was straight then.”

               When Beth joined her roommate, she to tilted her head from side to side.

               “Huh.  You know what, I think it is a bit tilted.”

               The room fell relatively silent as the two young women regarded the off-kilter painting, tilting their heads from side to side.  Penny scratched the side of her nose idly.  Beth did the same to the top of her head. 

               “Should we fix it?” Penny asked.

               “Probably.”

               More silence.  This one lasted for nearly a minute.

               “You know, I think it looks better like this.” Beth said.

               “Huh?”

               “Yeah.  You know, brings it more, I don’t know, meaning?  Impact?  Something like that.”

               “So, should we turn it more, do you think?”

               Beth tried it.  She tilted the small painting as much as the cheap hanging wire would allow.  The two of them looked at the new orientation of the piece of artwork.

               “Nah.  Not like that.” Penny concluded.  “Try the other way.”

               Beth did just that, and once again, the painting was looked at in silence. 

               “I kind of like it like this.” Beth said.

               “Really?”

               “Yeah.  Gives it another dimension.”

               “Eh.  Looks the same to me, but tilted.” Penny replied.  “I mean, I don’t really care, but I’m just saying.”

               “You have to look at it right, I guess.  Here, look at it like this.”

               Beth shifted Penny’s head, so that it was tilted against the painting.  Penny held her head like that for a moment.  It just made her confused.  She shrugged her shoulders.

               “We can leave it like this, I guess.” Penny said.

               The wall fell away.  It simply separated from the rest of the building, leaving the two women standing there, blinking against the sudden influx of light and sound.  A man dressed in red, gold and blue spandex flew by, his form a blur.  He charged at a large robot that was positioned a block away, standing in the remains of the wall.  People screamed as the robot launched some kind of beam weapon at the flying man.

               Beth and Penny groaned in unison. 

Beth trudged back into the remainder of the apartment, sat down and took up her laptop.

               “I’ll start looking for a new place.”

               Penny looked at the rubble that used to be their wall.  She shrugged.

               “Meh.  I never liked that painting anyway.”

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Bet you didn't that that one coming, did you?  Did you?  Please tell me you didn't see it coming.  I need this.  (Okay, maybe not, but I'd still like to know)

Word: Schlimazel

schlimazel

or schli·mazl, shli·ma·zel, shli·mazl

[shli-mah-zuh l]

noun Slang.

1. an inept, bungling person who suffers from unremitting bad luck.

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             Jack sat slumped over the old, worn table.  He moved the coin over the paper-like material, revealing what was hidden under the iron-grey surface.  Another number he did not need.  Of course.  He was not expecting anything else.  There was only one more space left to scratch off, and it would probably be a bust too.  The fact that he had two of the big winning $25,000 numbers showing just made it worse.

               He rubbed off the peeling layer of the scratch-off ticket and his hand paused mid way through.  He blinked and shook his head.  Could it be?  It was not a number that was being revealed, but the bonus symbol.  At least, he thought it was.  It could have been some kind of printer error.  He finished revealing the ink and sure enough, it was indeed the bonus symbol.  His eyes grew wide with amazement.  Never before had a dollar sign meant so much to him.

               $50,000.  He had just won a whopping $50,000 from a $2 ticket from a gas station.  He could pay off his debts.  He could get a better apartment.  He could do so much with that money, even if much of it would disappear after the IRS got done with it.  It was still more money than he had ever had before.  And all he needed to do was get somewhere to turn it in.

               He rushed to make himself ready to leave, throwing on his shoes and jacket.  As soon as everything was on, he felt his toe start to pierce the worn out material of his shoes.  He put it out of his mind.  He could buy new ones.  He left his run down apartment and was met by a bitter blast of winter cold, made worse by his shoe.

               He looked around and started running as fast as the icy sidewalk would allow him.  He would allow nothing to get in his way.  This was his first big break in, well, ever.  He had never seemed to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.  His entire life was a string of failures and bad luck.  Well no more.  This winning lottery ticket was the end of all that.  From now on, he would be a success.  He would make it.  He would get by.

               In his haste, he ran into people, who looked at him oddly, some with suspicion, others with disgust, but most with annoyance.  Jack tripped over his own feet as he went, but was able to right himself.  He quickly checked his pocket.  The ticket was still there.  He still had his shot.

               He kept going, heading to the nearest store.  He was in such a hurry that he did not notice some movers carrying a heavy piece of furniture towards an apartment building.  He ran right into it.  This put him on the ground, and earned the immediate ire of the movers. 

               They yelled at him as they retrieved their load, calling him all manner of colorful, and none too flattering, names before continuing on their way.  Jack moaned as he started to recover from the run-in.  He slipped his hand into his pocket as he stood.  His eyes shot open.  The ticket was gone.  He checked every single pocket, but he no longer had it. 

               He looked around at the ground nearby.  There!  It was there, caught under a crack in the sidewalk.  He dashed over to it.  Before he could reach it though, a passerby’s foot loosened the ticket.  A harsh winder wind caught it and stirred it up, moving it away from him.  He chased after the ticket, desperate to catch his big break.  People moving in the opposite direction kept getting in his way, and he shoved them away as much as he could.

               Then it landed.  The ticket finally came down to the ground.  It landed in a slushy puddle, but it was still usable if he got to it fast enough.  The puddle caught a breeze kicked up by passing cars.  The puddle lead into a drain.  And Jack was powerless to save the ticket, and he watched in despair and horror as his big break literally went down the drain. 

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 I've never won anything higher than $4 on a scratch off ticket.  Of course, I don't really get them either. I think I've bought maybe one in my life?  All the others came from gifts and such.  It's nice to think what would happen if I actually won though.

              

Word: Excogitate

excogitate

[eks-koj-i-teyt]

verb (used with object), ex·cog·i·tat·ed, ex·cog·i·tat·ing.

1. to think out; devise; invent.
2. to study intently and carefully in order to grasp or comprehend fully.

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Frank furiously poured over the textbook.  He read and reread each line, willing his mind to greater understanding and familiarity with the material with each pass.  And yet it was not enough.  There was still some information that eluded him.  Evaded his every attempt to grasp it.  His eye twitched.

               “You know, you’re going to have an aneurysm or something, right?” Victor, Frank’s roommate said.

               “Quiet you.  I’m trying to study.  Which, by the way, is what you should be doing.”

               While Frank sat hunched over the college provided desk in the shared dorm, Victor lounged on the bed, puttering around with his phone.  And Frank could see that he was browsing through his social media feeds, rather than using the device for more constructive purposes.

               “Eh.  I never put much stock in studying.”

               “And that’s why you get such mediocre grades.”

               “Not my fault.  Not really.  I mean, if you’re going to learn something, then it’ll happen the first time you’re taught it.  So really, it’s the teacher’s fault if I don’t do well.”

               That got Frank to look away from his book for more than a few seconds.

               “That…that’s just blatantly not true.  It’s been scientifically proven that that’s not how learning works.  It takes a lot of repetition and effort to really learn something.”

               “Says who?”

               “Says a lot of people who spent a lot of time doing research and experiments with the express purpose of understanding cognition and how the brain processes new information.”

               “Sounds like a lot of people who didn’t have good teachers and wanted an excuse about why it took so long for them to learn stuff.”

               “That’s just so wrong in so many ways.  They’re people who are very smart.  Way smarter than me, that’s for sure.  I’d say if anyone knows their stuff, it’s them.”

               “Meh.  Bad learners then.”

               “Bad…learners?”

               “Yeah, you know.  People like you who need to study a lot because they didn’t get it the first time.”

               Frank had no idea how to respond to that.  Was Victor, a guy who was barely making a 2.5 GPA, calling him, who had a 3.8 GPA, an idiot?  He could barely even comprehend how that could be possible. 

               “You know what, this is pointless.”  Frank said, turning back to his book.  “Finals are coming up soon, and I need this stuff to be fresh in my mind.  But hey, if you want to skip studying and fail everything, be my guest.”

               “Oh please, you don’t need to.  It won’t help anyway.  All that stuff you’re cramming in there will all leak out the moment you start taking the test.  The only stuff that’ll be there is what you learned the first time the subject was covered.”

               “Well, that and everything else I took the time and effort to study and understand while you were doing nothing.”

               “Uh huh.  Hey, how about a little bet.”

               “I don’t make bets.”

               “Come on, it’ll be fun.  We’ll see who gets the highest score on the finals.  $20 to the winner.  Sound good?”

               “It sounds wholly unnecessary.”

               “You say that because you know you’ll lose.”

               “I won’t.”

               Frank sighed and looked at his educationally inept roommate.  It was an easy $20, certainly.

               “Okay, fine.  If it’ll shut you up, let’s do it.”

               “Awesome.”

               “Good.  Now shut up and let me study.”  

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Studying is very helpful, as long as you do it right.  Cramming day (or night) before a test probably isn't the best way to go.  And yet, we all do it without fail.  Procrastination FTW!