I ask you to take a little quiz, dear reader.
-Do you have a list of favourite words?
-If so, do you think the number of words on this list might exceed the amount of a "normal" person?
-Do you read with a dictionary (or dictionary app) at the ready?
-Is discovering a new word akin to finding a new species?
-Is a book that is brimming with brobdingnagian, grandiloquent, esoteric, and pedantic words the stuff of your dreams?
-Did you know what all those previous words meant without having to look them up?
If you answered yes to all or most of these questions, you might be a logophile: a lover of words.
If you've not already guessed, I am, indubitably, a self-proclaimed logophile.
As such, I have plenty of neurotic tales to tell pertaining to words, including the following.
Recently, I've been searching for the right word for being overly proud or vain, but nothing felt quite right. "Snobbish" was too prosaic, "imperious" seemed too closely related to one's actions for what I was looking for, "supercilious" might induce quite a lot of eye rolling, and I thought something like "haughty" might be misconstrued in verbal conversation.
And then...the heavens opened and presented me with the perfect word: "orgulous." It's definition is, in fact, "haughty; disdainfully proud; snobbish; scornfully arrogant; supercilious." Perfect, I say!
Now you might think, "What the heck?! Aren't those all things he mentioned before?" Yes. However, that is part of the beauty; it covers all the criteria I was looking for, and is a word I hadn't known previously (which is always the very best part).
Ahhhh, the life of an inveterate nerd.
That's that, dear reader! If you found this post particularly enjoyable, look forward to similar posts in the future! If you found this post entirely boring or exceedingly geeky, then I fear I'll likely loose you as an audience member. If so, the best to you.
Until next time, dear reader!
Tuesday 28 January 2014
Sunday 26 January 2014
Music, Wine and General Inappropriateness
This week, dear reader, I had the pleasure to attend two magnificent performances!
Wednesday night Patrick and I went to The God That Comes, a cabaret-style retelling of Euripides' The Bacchae. Furthermore, it is a one-man show performed by the incomparable Hawksley Workman. It was wonderfully dark, humorous, atmospheric, splendidly raunchy and brimming with wine! Every thespian's dream. (And if none of these things draw your interest, perhaps the notion of "harmonica cunnilingus" will.)
If you have the opportunity to see the show, I highly recommend you go!
Then Friday night we attended The Edmonton Symphony Orchestra's Late Night Ravel. I had never been to the symphony before, so, naturally, I took the opportunity to dress in my finest! The performance itself was like nothing I've ever been to. To be enclosed in an enormous room entirely permeated by music was such a thrilling, yet peaceful, experience.
If you live in the Edmonton area and are fond of music, you might be interested to know that the "Late Night" tickets are $29.00 for any seat in the house (though I imagine they fill up quickly).
I also wanted to point out that Patrick won both pairs of tickets on Twitter, so if you see retweeting contests, enter them! They actually work!
Best to you on this chilly Sunday, dear readers.
Tuesday 21 January 2014
A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
Today, dear reader, I thought I would begin with a bit of a story.
Saturday evening, Patrick and I were returning home after a short walk and happened to pass by a most peculiar creature; A young fellow - I use young in a general sense, as we were likely of contemporary age - in a patterned suit more appropriate for a business meeting than evening wear and a size too large, bow tie askew, hair perfectly curled upward at the bottom from a ball cap or sports helmet, and wearing sneakers. And here is where we get to the point of the post, dear reader.
You could call this fellow many things, "young man in a suit" being one of them...but you would be gravely mistaken. For he is not a man wearing a suit, he is a boy wearing a man's suit. This is an affliction I see almost daily. In the business faculty of my university, there are frequently guys strutting around self-importantly, undoubtedly thinking they are hot to an unparalleled degree when, in reality, they are silly gorillas in ill-fitting trousers and overly loud shirts.
At this point, I would like to commend the anonymous lad on the street for at least endeavouring to dress well, for it is greatly heartening to see some sophistication slowly working its way back into society, but he is sorely missing half of the equation. The other, equally important factor being deportment.
Buying and owning a suit is the first step. The second is giving the act of wearing a suit - and, really, any article dressier than a t-shirt and jeans - the proper respect it deserves. Show confidence, but not overly or when it is not due. Be funny and lighthearted, but not infantile or immature. Be respectful, not obsequious. Be chivalrous (to all people regardless of sex and/or age), but never supercilious. The list goes on, dear reader.
(Truthfully, these qualities should be implemented regardless, but they look nicer when done in a suit.)
It takes time to develop such deportment, but it is not unachievable. I promise. By giving a suit the respect it deserves, you will earn the respect of others.
Until next time, readers!
P.S. Because she was so awfully excited about this post, I would like to dedicate it to my dear friend Emily!
Saturday 18 January 2014
The Partner Paradox
Good day to you all, dear readers.
Today I wanted to discuss something that has been on my mind awhile now: the use of the term "partner" to refer to one's significant other.
In my younger years, I thought it was a term used exclusively by mature gay couples. Nowadays I hear it being used by couples of every age and orientation, to which I could not be more pleased! The thing is, I don't use the term, and, truthfully, have a bit of an inexplicable aversion to using it. My boyfriend Patrick, who is thirty-four, expresses a similar sentiment.
As I mentioned, growing up I can only remember the term being used by older gay men, both in media and in my personal life. Particularly where American media is concerned, I always took it as a way to say, "Since you say we can't legally call each other husband, we'll use this term as a way to show that our relationship is just as legitimate." Due to this, I suppose I've always been under the misconception that you have to be of a certain age or have been in a relationship for a certain period of time in order to be considered "qualified" to use the term. (Or take part in some sort of mystic initiation rite including a decorative dagger, an altar, and some sort of unlucky animal.) Recently, however, several friends my age - gay and straight - have casually used the term . Still, I feel no more qualified to use it myself than I did in the past.
My boyfriend and I contently call each other just that: boyfriend. But with "partner" becoming more widely used, I begin to wonder if perhaps I'm missing out on some great opportunity. There is a small, niggling part of me that wonders if when people hear me refer to Patrick as my boyfriend, they deem our relationship infantile or less worthy than those that would say partner. Are we being excluded from some wonderful, exclusive club? Do we get 10% off at all the best restaurants and clothiers if we join? Are we granted are very own private yacht? Who the hell knows?!
Perhaps one day I'll awake and intuitively know that is the day I begin referring to Patrick as my partner, and we'll drink tea by the fireplace whilst listening to classical music, occasionally catching one another's eye, basking beatifically in the knowledge that we are...partners blah blah blah. Until that time, I'll happily call him my boyfriend, because I am fortunate to have him in any capacity!
Ponder and tell me what you think.
Until next time, dear reader!
Today I wanted to discuss something that has been on my mind awhile now: the use of the term "partner" to refer to one's significant other.
In my younger years, I thought it was a term used exclusively by mature gay couples. Nowadays I hear it being used by couples of every age and orientation, to which I could not be more pleased! The thing is, I don't use the term, and, truthfully, have a bit of an inexplicable aversion to using it. My boyfriend Patrick, who is thirty-four, expresses a similar sentiment.
As I mentioned, growing up I can only remember the term being used by older gay men, both in media and in my personal life. Particularly where American media is concerned, I always took it as a way to say, "Since you say we can't legally call each other husband, we'll use this term as a way to show that our relationship is just as legitimate." Due to this, I suppose I've always been under the misconception that you have to be of a certain age or have been in a relationship for a certain period of time in order to be considered "qualified" to use the term. (Or take part in some sort of mystic initiation rite including a decorative dagger, an altar, and some sort of unlucky animal.) Recently, however, several friends my age - gay and straight - have casually used the term . Still, I feel no more qualified to use it myself than I did in the past.
My boyfriend and I contently call each other just that: boyfriend. But with "partner" becoming more widely used, I begin to wonder if perhaps I'm missing out on some great opportunity. There is a small, niggling part of me that wonders if when people hear me refer to Patrick as my boyfriend, they deem our relationship infantile or less worthy than those that would say partner. Are we being excluded from some wonderful, exclusive club? Do we get 10% off at all the best restaurants and clothiers if we join? Are we granted are very own private yacht? Who the hell knows?!
Perhaps one day I'll awake and intuitively know that is the day I begin referring to Patrick as my partner, and we'll drink tea by the fireplace whilst listening to classical music, occasionally catching one another's eye, basking beatifically in the knowledge that we are...partners blah blah blah. Until that time, I'll happily call him my boyfriend, because I am fortunate to have him in any capacity!
Ponder and tell me what you think.
Until next time, dear reader!
Thursday 16 January 2014
In Which Introductions Are Made
Greetings and salutations new friends on the internet!
How exciting - and tremendously distressing - it is to be composing my very first blog post! What does one write about to start things off with a bang and create allure? Do I attempt to tell a joke? Talk about puppies? Perhaps sloths?
A friend tells me it's as simple as discussing who I am, and what I want to write about on the blog, so why not try giving that a shot?
My name is Silverius, or Silve if you find the former too ungainly.
Currently, I live with my boyfriend in Edmonton, Alberta and am matriculating at The University of Alberta, majoring in Drama. (I wonder how many people are going to find that particular tidbit of information surprising.)
I'm an avid reader; I buy books frequently and in great amounts - it's not an addiction, it's an intellectual investment. Unfortunately, I don't find myself with an abundance of time for leisurely reading, what with being a student and all. What kind of books catch my fancy, you ask? A rather particular kind, I tell you! Historical settings - particularly the Victorian era - paranormal / fantasy aspects, steampunk (in moderation), a bit of romance, as well as wit and humour all attract my attention. Fit them all into one book, and you've captured my soul!
I like dressing in clothes that are dapper and slightly redolent of yesteryear. You can imagine this entails many bow ties.
Vocabulary - if you've not surmised by this point - is also of great interest to me. The more flashy and eloquent the word, the better. There are currently 1036 words on my favourites list, few of which I have occasion to use. Hopefully this blog will change that fact.
I often say that my biggest regret in life is not being born British. As far as I'm concerned, British is better.
In a related note...tea. Plenty and plenty of tea.
As for what I hope to do with the blog, who can say, really? I'm sure there will be numerous self-indulgent, bombastic, pedantic posts and a lot of curmudgeonly bitching about the human race. Perhaps, if I'm feeling particularly ambitious, there will even be a few posts on my wardrobe, photos included.
But I'd better maintain at least a modicum of my mystique for now, so that is all you get from me, dear reader.
Hope you'll be around again.
How exciting - and tremendously distressing - it is to be composing my very first blog post! What does one write about to start things off with a bang and create allure? Do I attempt to tell a joke? Talk about puppies? Perhaps sloths?
A friend tells me it's as simple as discussing who I am, and what I want to write about on the blog, so why not try giving that a shot?
My name is Silverius, or Silve if you find the former too ungainly.
Currently, I live with my boyfriend in Edmonton, Alberta and am matriculating at The University of Alberta, majoring in Drama. (I wonder how many people are going to find that particular tidbit of information surprising.)
I'm an avid reader; I buy books frequently and in great amounts - it's not an addiction, it's an intellectual investment. Unfortunately, I don't find myself with an abundance of time for leisurely reading, what with being a student and all. What kind of books catch my fancy, you ask? A rather particular kind, I tell you! Historical settings - particularly the Victorian era - paranormal / fantasy aspects, steampunk (in moderation), a bit of romance, as well as wit and humour all attract my attention. Fit them all into one book, and you've captured my soul!
I like dressing in clothes that are dapper and slightly redolent of yesteryear. You can imagine this entails many bow ties.
Vocabulary - if you've not surmised by this point - is also of great interest to me. The more flashy and eloquent the word, the better. There are currently 1036 words on my favourites list, few of which I have occasion to use. Hopefully this blog will change that fact.
I often say that my biggest regret in life is not being born British. As far as I'm concerned, British is better.
In a related note...tea. Plenty and plenty of tea.
As for what I hope to do with the blog, who can say, really? I'm sure there will be numerous self-indulgent, bombastic, pedantic posts and a lot of curmudgeonly bitching about the human race. Perhaps, if I'm feeling particularly ambitious, there will even be a few posts on my wardrobe, photos included.
But I'd better maintain at least a modicum of my mystique for now, so that is all you get from me, dear reader.
Hope you'll be around again.
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