The other day as I completed my Duolingo practice, I asked myself, Will I ever really need to know how to say “this theory describes liquids” in Russian? Or “We need to measure the size of the particle”?

(I’ve reached the “Science” section of the app; other upcoming lessons include “Politics,” “Justice,” and “Nothing,” which I assume will teach me to write about existentialism in Cyrillic. In my Mandarin course, there’s a section on “Existence,” which promises much the same.)

My answer to my rhetorical questions was “Surely not!” until I overheard the following in my apartment this morning, re: one roommate welcoming another to share his milk:

“Feel free to be communist about it”

“Go ahead and milk my udders”

Communism. Liquids. The only thing missing is the theory. OR IS IT?

 

Then there’s me, who has spent the morning asking roommates to come smell my room to check for cigarette and/or chemical odors. Is someone smoking in the nail salon beneath me, and is their ventilation system actually getting rid of the acrylic glue fumes? Or am I breathing in measurable carcinogens? I think we need to measure the size of the particle…

I’ve been flossing every other day for the past month, which is probably up there with the longest stretch of time I’ve managed to floss regularly. I still have to force myself to sit through the whole cycle of the electric toothbrush, though.

My poor dental hygiene habits aside, the new flossing habit got me thinking about the differences in our responses to negative reactions associated with doing certain things. That was a number of empty phrases! Let me be more concrete. For example: if you floss and your gums bleed, I think the conventional wisdom is that they’re bleeding because you don’t floss enough, ergo sudden flossing is trauma, and ultimately this all means you should be flossing more often. If you do, your gums will get used to it and stop bleeding (true, in my empirical sample of one).

But the opposite seems to be the received idea for milk and milk products. That is, if you consume dairy and have digestive problems, no one says you should be consuming dairy more often. Typically, they would say your bad response to dairy means you should avoid it because it’s clearly causing you issues. However, I’ve found that the same holds true for milk-drinking that holds for flossing…when I drink milk consistently (as I did for, I don’t know, the first 21 years of life) I never had the slightest stomach pain from it. The first time milk/cheese/ice cream (and it was the whole trifecta in one meal) made me ill (and it was violent!) was when I had been living in Bangkok for six months, and had consumed very little dairy up until that visit to a touristy beach town, whereupon after finishing my gelato I realized that I was in serious trouble.

I think there’s probably a flaw in my logic/in my basis for comparing flossing and dairy consumption–that they aren’t a one to one comparison, there’s some other contributing factor–but I did wonder about the similarities, especially in light of the new “actually, we lied; you don’t need to floss” admission of a few months ago.

Other medical myths of my own creation, which seem logical to me but are based purely on musing and not medical knowledge:

Retinol/Retin-A: Okay, if the way it works is to turnover skin cell production, getting rid of the aged cells on the surface and bringing forth “youthful” cells…does that mean your supply of youthful cells is being artificially shortened? Surely there isn’t an *unlimited* supply…it seems like using a retinoid would just run you through your layers of “young” skin more quickly.

Resting heart rate/cardio: My heart rate varies between 72 and 80, which is on the high side. I get that higher resting heart rate = oh no, your heart is having to work harder!/you’re “using up” your lifetime supply of heartbeats! (yes, I know that’s not what doctors are literally saying, but it seems to follow). But the way to lower your resting heart rate is to do cardio regularly…i.e. raising your heart rate tremendously for periods of time. Couldn’t it be possible that athletes have low resting heart rates as COMPENSATION for how hard their hearts have had to work/how many beats have transpired during all of that peak heart-rate activity? Is this a chicken-egg situation?

 

It’s day 2 of daylight savings, so of course I woke up with the Christmas song “Up on the Housetop” stuck in my head. This sent me into quite a rumination about WHY it’s up on the “housetop” instead of “rooftop”? Who says housetop?

Googling this troubling question only leads me to a “howstuffworks.com” explanation of how Santa delivers presents.

It does, additionally, clarify that the next lyric is “reindeer pause” not “reindeer paws.” HOOVES.

More housetop/rooftop conundrums via Duolingo, where I’m studying Russian and Mandarin: “An arrow hit him in the leg.”

IN the leg? (This comes from a Russian lesson titled “History and Fantasy,” so I guess this might be the fantasy part. In history, arrows just hit you on the leg.)

Then again…we do say “He was shot in the arm,” but I don’t know that I’d say “She was shot in the leg.” Shot in the thigh, yes, or the calf…am I just losing my mind due to daylight savings? I lost a whole hour that I could have spent thinking about prepositions.

The practice sentence that’s causing my possible change of heart (change OF heart, not change IN heart or change TO heart…) was “The warrior was shot in the arm.”

But I was thinking about this too much and got distracted, so I answered “The warrior was in the arm” and missed that question. That would be a sentence for fantasy, not history. The Greeks were in the horse; the warriors were in the arm!

Student, describing one interpretation of the justice system and putting someone away for smaller but more convictable crimes: “Like when someone is a murderer but you can’t prove they killed someone, so you get them for taxidermy or something”

Student describing a marriage: “Then Lady Macbeth is like, did you kill him without me? FOMO.”

Train conductor, apropos of nothing: “People wobble but they never fall.”

My Fitbit, confusing because I was simultaneously getting a text message and thought the person texting was telling me, “One foot, two foot” or “One foot in front of the other” or “Right foot, left foot” or whatever Fitbit says when it wants you to get more steps.

I’m currently watching gymnastics (American Cup) without commentary, because I’m watching the International Feed, which seems to be available in the US but not…internationally. I have to say that while I sometimes don’t like the commentating, I much prefer watching with it. Even if it’s to disagree.

 

Analog.

 

Overheard on the train:

One kid to another, describing a video game: “That’s the whole point. That’s the cool part about being a responsible dad.”

 

Overheard from my students:

High school student, reading Latin: “Delia, I only want to yoke oxen with you”

Student: —

Student: Chivalry isn’t dead!

 

11th-grade student, reading Sylvia Plath: “…and I eat men like air.”

Student: SENIOR QUOTE

 

There are deep thoughts and there are shower thoughts, but there are no deep shower thoughts. You need a bath for that.

 

I thought I just heard my roommate say “Alexa, regime change,” but I’m thinking it was probably “Alexa, resume please.”

Also heard in my apartment: “Think about how much rendering must have gone into these breasts. They’re very…breasty.”

Speaking of the digital world–so, the advertising for Candy Crush has gotten a little…sinister and desperate, no?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I usually ignore The Listserve emails even though I haven’t bothered to unsubscribe, but this one entertained me. Derivative of Black Mirror, yes, but they got me with the “title” of their company…

Gravy is an afterlife social media platform that allows you to continue to connect after you cross to the other side.  By installing Gravy’s proprietary deep learning algorithms in all your current social media accounts, our app aggregates the entirety of your data into an AI replica of you that can continue to create, share, and connect with friends and family in perpetuity.

Gravy operates on a freemium model.  Once you’ve built your Gravy profile, browse the Gravy store and check out our constantly-growing of in-app content.  Choose your own skins, themes, add-ons, soundscapes, and page layouts.  We’re even offering reduced prices for our full CGI-suit VR pack, which allows users to create custom avatars that will be fully interactive once a user’s account activates.

Until now, death has meant the end of your social media presence.  You can’t engage with content if you’re not alive!  What will happen to the sum of your online activity once you cross the great divide of mortality?  Nothing will happen.  Your accounts will sit inactive like monuments to a static past in which you were alive, signposts to nowhere.  Your vibrant online life of today will stand forgotten like the ivy-festooned relics of yesterday, mere oddities on the roadside of life.  That’s why we made Gravy.

Create a free account today.  See where it takes you.  And think of the possibilities. Tomorrow might be the first day of the rest of your death.  Don’t be content for it to end there.

Gravy Corporation
The Beyond

Here are some things my Fitbit credits as exercise:

-practicing the drums (sometimes, it even gives me cardio!). It usually classes this as “outdoor cycling”

-practicing the harp (it only logs this about half of the time, probably when I’m practicing faster music, and it automatically categorizes it as “walking;” since I *actually* walk at other times, I recategorized it. There is no option for “musical performance” or “fine-motor handwork,” so I went with “gardening”)

-walking, but only if it’s cold out and only when it feels like it

 

Here are some things my Fitbit does NOT credit as exercise:

-hourlong yoga classes

-TRX classes (come on! these are no joke!)

-a one-off exercise class I did titled “Best Butt Ever” (I spent about 30% of it making jokes along the lines of “FitButt” to myself), during which I definitely was working more strenuously than when I’m playing celtic music on the harp

 

Hmmm.

 

I’ve always liked the week between Christmas and New Year’s. This year I was even lazier than usual and spent most of my time sitting around in a panda suit and face mask, watching the new season of Black Mirror. I leave the house to go to yoga and also so that my Fitbit will congratulate me on things.

 

I read three more books through the end of the year:

Exit West, by Mohsin Hamid

Secondhand Time, by Svetlana Alexievich

Love and Math, by Edward Frenkel

 

I was reading the last two somewhat simultaneously – Secondhand Time is pretty large to be a subway book – which felt somewhat thematic, since they’re both nonfiction and take place (at least in part) in the later days of the Soviet Union. Initially I found Secondhand Time difficult because it’s so vast and seemed both static and amorphous – a chorus of voices that aren’t always identified, starting stories that are related by time, place, and theme but don’t necessarily begin at the beginning. It started to coalesce around page 150, or maybe something changed in the way I was reading it. That was also the point at which it became more depressing, such that I had to stop reading it on the plane home to Ohio for Christmas and read O Magazine instead. I think I would still recommend Voices From Chernobyl over Secondhand Time; an oral history of a singular event in one place has more clarity than one of a complex period over thousands of miles.

I actually made some progress on my bedside book stacks, which is good as I was tripping over them with some frequency. Granted, I have tripped getting out of bed even when there’s only a pristine floor.

I’m in the middle of both Love and Math, by Edward Frenkel, and Secondhand Time, by Svetlana Alexievich (so, technically, those are either *on* the bed or in my purse…but we’re being analog here).

Still forming the foundation of pile #1 are Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk Naked Pictures of Famous People by Jon Stewart, and Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. Joining them are Amen, Amen, Amen by Abby Sher and All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy.

Pile #2 consists mainly of borrowed books: Preparations for the Next Life by Atticus Lish, Beauty is a Wound by Eka Kurniawan, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson, and, on my Kindle, Goodbye Vitamin by Rachel Khong. Rounding out that stack is Augustus by John Williams, which was my holiday office party prize.

(And underneath all of that are about five magazines that I haven’t gotten to. That’s okay, because I like to take them on flights as a sort of ballast.)