Tuesdays

Tuesdays are usually much worse than Mondays. Here's my reasoning.
Monday: You're still thinking about the weekend.
Tuesday: You know you're in it for the long haul. There's no going back.
Wednesday: Hump Day!
Thursday: We're closer..
Friday: I can almost taste the freedom.
And then 5:00 comes on Friday, and you're free! Until Monday, when the cycle repeats.

But today was a good day. My best friend came over and we got lunch in this super cute little Mexican place near campus. After eating delicious burritos, we grabbed a pint of vanilla ice cream and a six pack. We walked back to my room, drank the beer, ate the ice cream, and listened to some good tunes.

And then R saw the pen that my Uncle gave me, "For editing purposes." It's impossible to write with.

I wrote: It is so hard to write with this. And she wrote: You're right, it's too top heavy.

But it was okay, because then we got iced coffee. And life was good. Maybe Tuesday's aren't so bad after all.

Look Who I Met!

Guys! When I was walking to grab dinner, I made a new friend.

I'm pretty sure she was a stray, but she was super nice!

She just loved getting pet. I was sad to say goodbye to her. Even if she did have mangy fur. It's cool though, because the sunlight hit the white in her, and made her gleam.

That's all.

Mondays

Well, I always try to give Mondays a good name. No one likes Mondays, but I've made it my personal mission to always make them good.

That said, on my way to the library this morning, I passed a horde of children from a local middle school. That's fine; our campus is very beautiful and lots of people from all over come to see it. It was even fine that the boys who would wave Hi to me, and try to get my attention. As is customary for me, I'd give them a head nod and a "What's up." What was not fine were the boys who, in an effort to impress their friends, would respond with, "You're freaking fat. You should lose some weight."

Well I never. I'm not fat by any standards: I'm a tad on the heavier side, but I'm not fat. And I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better. For me to be at my ideal weight, I'd need to lose 10-15 lbs. No big deal; there's reason I'm at the gym for an hour and a half and run at least 2 miles every day.

But really? Those comments were just simply uncalled for. I'm not sitting here crying about it, but it's just shocking to me that children have become so disrespectful.
What ever happened to respect your elders?
It's not like I'm super old, but I've got a good 8 years on those boys. Kids today, I swear. I guess summer really is here.

Regardless, I'm still trying to have a good Monday. Sitting in the cool library, getting ready to start an intense writing session.

I hope everyone else has a good Monday!

Edit: For clarification, I wasn't hurt by these comments. More astounded, if anything.

Dallas!

Woo! Let's go Mavs! I'm rooting for you, even though I'm not home!

We got this, y'all.

EDIT: It's cool, I'll still love you, even if we don't win.

The Search for Meaning

Here's a thought for today.

He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how.
-Friedrich Nietzshe

This quote has gotten me through quite a few hardships. An excellent one, if I do say so myself.

The Sound of Voices

An interesting question was asked of me:
If someone isn't taught a language (due to neglect or not) what do their thoughts sound like?

I've always found this subject intriguing. I first really began thinking about it when I read Bruce Perry's The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog, which is an emotional book revealing a few of the children Dr. Perry has seen in his career as a psychologist. The title chapter details a little boy named Justin who was, quite literally, raised as a dog. He was placed in a dog cage and rarely spoken to. Due to years of this treatment, his brain began to deteriorate and he began to only communicate with people in the only way he knew how: as a dog. He would moan and wail, and had absolutely no social skills of which to speak. Gradually Dr. Perry was able to communicate with Justin and begin to nurture him. Eventually Justin was placed in a foster home and his development rapidly increased with the amount of care he was given.

I find this fascinating because the little boy simply did not know language. Of course he had to have thoughts - it is impossible for one to not have thoughts - but what did they sound like? Might they have been action thoughts (eg. imagining oneself as yawning instead of thinking "I'm tired")? I think this must be the case, especially when it comes to the deaf. They do not have a verbal language - it is all physical. Their thoughts must be physical.

Or maybe a person can still think in sounds even if one cannot hear them (such as Beethoven). But when it comes to being without a language - without words with which to communicate - perhaps thoughts are actionally based.

More research needs to be done on this.

On an unrelated note, an ant next to me was carrying a fellow ant, which was dead, on his back whilst trying to find his anthill. In which language do animals and insects think?

Nelson Mandela

Here's a nice Nelson Mandela quote for you to ponder:

Without language, one cannot talk to people and understand them; one cannot share their hopes and aspirations, grasp their history, appreciate their poetry or savor their songs.