Nadir

Nadir [noun] (nay dihr)(nay duhr)

1. Lowest Point

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In an attempt to make room for a few new additions, I decided to reorganize/confront my entire library this week.  I was grabbing for a just-out-of-my-reach Tamora Pierce novel while preventing a tsunami of literature from tumbling off the shelf when I realized I had reached the nadir of my bibliophilism.  Up to my knees in memoirs, sci-fi, and textbooks, I saw just how many books were laid out before me, and I thought, “Geeze.  That’s a lot of books.  But … I can’t think of getting rid of a single one of them.  Well, maybe that one.”    

And I’ll admit it: I wanted more.  I had a list of books in my iPhone that begged for perusal at my local shop.  Did I need to go on Addicted?  Perhaps Hoarders?  Or maybe even Celebrity Rehab (okay, this was a long shot)?  Was there anyone else out there who felt like his or her library was more than just a collection of papers, but a collage of his or her self? 

Thankfully, there was.  Enter Forever Young Adult, stage right.  This post asked the question, “What does your shelf say about you?” and I think I’m ready to answer.

The Library in all of it's Glory (Yes, with a capitol G)

1.   I will never, ever own an eReader.  I love real, honest-to-goodness books, with book fragrances! Books are meant to be held; pages are meant to be turned.  Plus, I like to live dangerously.  Where’s the risk of losing your place or receiving a paper cut with an eReader?  Live on the edge, say I!

Shelf 1

2.   I buy books I plan to read and read often.  I may have started my bookworm life as a library rat (thank you elementary school library!), but I am now a hoarder of preferred literature.  See double stuffed Shelf 1 – which I love!  Double stuffed is really just another way to say, “I want you to be happy, books. Please, frolic merrily with your ilk on this shelf.”

Shelf 2

3.   I believe that books are meant to be shared.  Odd, considering the previous bullet, I know.  I have books missing from my shelf that are currently in the hands of those I am trying to educate on the wonder and miracle that is *Insert Name Here – like Hunger Games or anything by Mary Roach.*  I worship at the altar of these books and proudly sing their praises in public.  See something you like?  Let me know. [Note: I have been burned a number of times.  A book ingested by canines, a book finding a watery grave, a book chopped by a not-so-amiable lawnmower… Been there, done that.  However, I suppose I still believe that people are intrinsically good (Take that, Hobbes!) and continue to lend to those with a literary lust in their eyes.]

Shelf 3

4.   I am, and always will be, a lover of science fiction/fantasy. Shelves 1-3 are proof of this statement – Anne McCaffrey, Tamora Piece, Harry Potter (Hardcover – 1-3 received this year for Christmas, 5 & 6 preordered months in advance, and 4 & 7 picked up at two ubber-hip midnight releases at a local shop.], Stephanie Meyer (Twilight is the best cotton candy a girl could ask for!  Though, my preference lies with The Host.), Holly Black, (Team Unicorn.) Cassandra Clare, Sara Rees Brennan (BTW – Not only an excellent crafter of dialogue, character, and demonology that is – dare I say it? – logical, but the Best. Blogger. Ever.), The Hunger Games, Killer Unicorn Series, and my Jane-Austen-Meets-Zombies-And-Sea-Monsters duet.  These books say, “Hey, I get reality.  Really, I do.  I do not, however, choose to spend all of my time there.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a clockwork army to catch up with.”

5.   I bow before wit in any form.  Alan Alda, Mary Roach, and Christopher Moore make my brain and funny bone(s) happy.   If you do nothing else this week, I recommend picking up Mary Roach’s Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. A lively read (pun intended). 

Shelf 4

6.   I went to college.  You know this because Shelf 4 consists of books that A) I cherish from favorite courses, or B) I really, really wanted to sell back but the promise of $5 for a $150 book just didn’t sound that appealing.  This shelf also alludes to my chosen profession, which may or may not say something about me.

7.   Finally, I am a bit of a liar.  You see, this isn’t my only bookshelf.  I have volumes on three other shelves around my abode.  Now, the contents are not quite as telling as that shown above, but I still cherish each cookbook, classic novel, and coffee table tome.  Because, you must admit: There is nothing as splendid as a good book no matter where it is housed.

Thanks for pulling me out of my nadir, FYA! Oh, and a special thanks to my library, whom without this post would have never occurred.

Aggrandize

Aggrandize [adj] (uh gran dahyz)

1. To make greater, to increase, thus, to exaggerate.

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Barnum and Bailey may claim to have, "The Greatest Show On Earth," but I have to think they're aggrandizing more than just a little.  Tigers, tightrope walkers, and clowns are all well and good, but does their synergy compel you to travel across the country, sit 4-rows from the back wall on the farthest tier, and then scream/dance/bond with random strangers once the curtain rises?

If you answered, "Yes," to that question, well ... good for you!  Have fun with those clowns and sticky seats!

In my case, I just witnessed The Greatest Show On Earth, and it was put on by Michael Bublé.  

No - stop that!  Stop making that face!  The only reason you're doing that is because you're sick of hearing your loved ones swoon over this crooner, but let me tell you: He is the Best Living Entertainer and you will love him.  The boy sings, jokes, and swears - how could you not embrace that?

I'll be honest: My expectations were high going in to this concert - "Everyone says he's amazing.  He must be amazing.  Please let him be amazing!"  Nonetheless, I was still blown away by this performer's energy, pizazz, and personality.  This was, hands down, the best concert I have ever attended.  Bublé is not only an exceptional singer - because, really, the boy can sing -, but he truly enjoys performing and connecting with the audience.  My seat was on the back wall of the Verizon Center but I felt like I was in the front row, with only a bodyguard and a guardrail between me and the pure, unadulterated musical bliss.

And I'm not even aggrandizing. 

Impervious

Impervious [adj] (ihm purh vee uhs)

1. Impossible to penetrate
2. Incapable of being affected

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My memory is far from impervious, but there are certain things that seem to stand the test of time.  Specific events become ingrained in the mind -  they evolve into more than just a passing thought and become a building block of personality and whim.  Like one afternoon in the third grade. 

It was most definitely a Friday.  The herd that was my third grade class was bouncing off the walls.  Pencils, paper airplanes, and multicolored erasers flew through the air to a chorus of high-pitched giggles. Unlike the moody teenagers we all would become in a few short years (lucky us), our excitement was not due to the close proximity of the weekend (ah, almost within our grasp!), but rather because our teachers had gathered us with the promise of something "fun" to do.  Insert montage of glee here.

With a flourish only known to one who has 50 pairs of doe-like eyes focused on them, a teacher emerged from the A/V room with a TV and VHS player in hand (or, you know, cart).  She put in a tape, pressed play, and welcomed 90-minutes of calm into her afternoon.  And an introduction to Ireland into mine. 

Through The Secret of Roan Inish, I traveled to the shores of Ireland.  I felt the pebbles of the beach massage (and prick) my feet, the wind chap my face, and the salt of the sea crust my hair.  I let the native brogue saturate my ears, the music lift my feet in rhythm, and the weight of the land's myths and legends imprint my soul.

Now, after almost two decades, the wee lass that once sat transfixed by a film on a Friday afternoon will actually set foot on the Emerald Isle.  Thanks to Champlain College's Office of International Education, I'll join my fellow alumni to Discover Ireland for 10-days next summer.  With a jam-packed itinerary, there are few stones left unturned  - from the must-see sights, to Irish pubs and dance, to Champlain's Dublin campus, and even Northern Ireland.  Maybe I'll even see a selkie (or, you know, jump into the sea and go in search of a few). I'm sure it will be a whirlwind - but the kind that will leave you breathless with the marvels you've seen.

Next year, I'll finally meet the real land of Roan Inish and that's something I'm not likely to forget.

Enervate

Enervate [verb] (ehn uhr vayt)

1. To reduce in strength.

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When it appears that all in world is set to enervate you, you need to reset the world.

Or, you know, reset a smaller version.  Ah, the cathartic value of Monopoly.  

Inexorable

Inexorable [adj] (inh ehk suhr uh buhl)

1. Inflexible
2. Unyielding

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I don't believe many pride themselves on being inexorable.  It's doubtful that there's a single human being in the world who wakes up daily thinking, "Gosh, how completely proud I am of my inability to be flexible.  How I would so enjoy a slice of wheat toast with huckleberry jam."  I would even find it hard to believe that during a busy afternoon one may think, "Ah, I have stuck to my guns once again.  How glorious is the invention that is me.  Oh, is that a penny?"   

My point - the act of bullishness is not a trait one actively cherishes.   

Sure, we may find pleasure in getting our way by remaining unyielding in our position. We may enjoy the fruits of such steadfastness from time to time.  But everyday?  No.  To remain inflexible from dusk to dawn from birth to death is to fight against the universe.  And that's one battle you're destined to lose.

 Chicken crossing the road...at a chicken crossing.  Ironic and educational.

Perhaps it's my millennial spirit getting in the way, but the thought of working against the flow, the universe as a whole, is unsavory.  I want to adapt, to toggle between one opinion and the next before making a decision befitting of the situation.  Like the chicken who crossed the road, I just want to get to the other side - if someone has a better way to do that, why chafe against it?  Why not contribute to that method and help with improvement?  

When I wake up tomorrow morning, I plan to embrace flexibility, to banish the unyielding and judge each situation with an open mind.  And I hope that plan is fairly inexorable.

Penury

Penury [noun] (pehn yuh ree)

1. An oppressive lack of resources (as money)
2. Severe poverty

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"You know, if this keeps up we're only a hop, skip, and a jump from penury."

"Doubtful."

"We can't sustain this sort of...extravagance.  Changes need to be made."

"Fine, fine."

"Don't just brush this aside."

 

"I'm not.  Here, put this in the cart."

 

"You're changing the - Hey, put that back - that's...gosh, that's $10 a pound?!"

 

"It's local."

"Than it should be cheaper. Less airfare to get it here and all of that."

"Airfare? I'd hate to be on that plane - I hear livestock always drive for the mini-bar.  Grab that bag, please?  The organic one?"

"You get my point though - this is all well and good but it's not cheap. We can't keep buying like this. It's just not sustainable."

"Uh-huh.  Cheese?"

"And for that matter -- huh?"

"Cheese.  You know, for that whine you have going?"

"....how much is it?"

Encomium

Encomium [noun] (ehn koh me uhm)

1. Warm praise

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I can show nothing but encomium for the food vendors at the fair.  Through rain, wind, heat, and snow (hey, it is Vermont), they stand in their aluminum and neon booths, smelling slightly of fried food and onion, ready and waiting to serve.

 

Hamburgers, fries, ice cream, pie, corn dogs, kettle corn, giant eclairs - they offer their specialties with a smile, but what they really serve-up are memories.   To this day, my recollections of the fair are slathered with smells, tastes, and "Mmms."  The ice cream from the UVM Dairy Barn.  The chili cheese pie at Dizzy Donuts (Note: I was disheartened to find that this delectable bowl of chili lined with a tortilla chip crust is no longer available.  Please bow your head in a moment of silence.)  The fresh apple pie from Allenholm Farm.  The maple bread from the Maple Shed.  And, of course, the warm, crunchy fried bread dough...

Please note the "Maple Iceing" (sic) that I found and enjoyed last night.

All of these food vendors create happy, food-saturated memories that tie into the greater joys of my annual childhood trip the the fair.  Of course, memories are often more joyful than the reality of today - say, for instance, the general increase of commercialism eating away at the agricultural merit of the fair - but the entire institution still holds a warm place in my heart.  

 

And my taste buds.