Anyone who knows me well - especially anyone who knew me as a little kid - knows I love whales and dolphins to bits. I had whale and dolphin books, posters, Greenpeace membership at age seven, even a cassette of whale calls I would listen to and imitate when I was a little tacker. I was completely cetacean mad. So when I read about this today, my heart absolutely broke. Just look at the little guy! Poor thing . . . and the hardest part? Knowing there's pretty much nothing you can do about it. It's not like finding a baby possum or something and taking it to the wildlife rescue people. You can't just hand-raise a baby Humpback and release it in the wild again. You can't just come up with some whale-formula and make a surrogate mother out of a sock puppet like you can with baby birds. And you know what else does me in?  Knowing how distressed he must be. I can just imagine how his little whaley brain must be thinking and feeling and it really gets to me.

But I probably empathise with animals *way* too much . . . 

Anyway, on another note, I came across a really cool game today which it turns out I really suck at. You watch a bunch of people reading a section of a poem and you have to guess where their accent is from. I always thought I was fairly good with accents, but I only got 28 points and some of them are really tricky. I'm interested to see how everyone else goes.

The flag is really that big.

OK SO SOME JOKER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REALLY FUNNIE TO TELL US THAT BOMBAY WAS SOMEWHERE IN MEXICO CITY. TH0 WE HERE AT BOW2B WERE KINDA BUMMED FOR A BIT WE ARE HAVING A RLLY GR8 TIME HERE!!!!1111

**********POP QUIZ HOTSHOT************

What was the biggest city in the world in 1500?? Well I guess we already gave you a little hint.

That's right, it was Mexico-Tenochitlan, the capital of the Aztec empire, on the same land we are on right now, 19 years before Hernán Cortés and a bunch of other assholes came to fuck everything up.

The Aztec civilization was one of the largest and most advanced in the world, but they unfortunately hadn't developed the crucial technology of being able to destroy human bodies quickly from a distance. In 1500 Western Europe was a joke, and the size and wealth of Aztec civilization even surpassed that of global runner-up, the Celestial Empire in China. Western Europe mainly transformed into the dominant region by stealing all of the shit from here.

Nor were the Aztecs "Barbarian," as is reported by a bunch of d-bags. The sacrifices weren't just done for fun, it was just there was a mystical and religous aspect to their system of capital punishment, usually applied to members of a village who refused to pay taxes.

You should probably really read this book. It basically lays out how a very small amount of Spanish assholes raped human civilization. FUCK SPAIN BRO. They are still all idiot d-bags. Second worst country behind England.

**********IN OTHER NEWS**********

In other news, the Mexican accent in Spanish is so formal, polite and even submissive, kind of like Mexicans.

The Venezuelan accent is super loud, rude, in your face, and 'i dont give a fuck,' kind of like Venezuelans.

It's hard to pin down links between culture or linguistic usage and the actual structure of languages, but within a given language accents are often indicative of what the people are like and what kind of bullshit they're saying.

What are some examples in English????

New York American accent- I am kind of a dick and I think what I'm doing right now is really important.

California American Accent- everything is chill, i am having a pretty good time, and i just had sex/did drugs with someone pretty attractive.

Southern U.S. Accent- I am REAAALLY REALLLLY fucking stupid and I have nothing to do ever, or for the next hour, so I will just fill that hour with this one sentence. It is actually a major accomplishment of modern civilization that I am this supid and live in an industrialized nation-state.

Posh British Accent- I am kind of a dick, lost my empire, am not as smart as continental Europeans, am ugly, but I hold onto some sense of arrogant asshole pride due to some outdated sense of class culture and that I am not as dumb as most Americans.

Irish accent- I am really happy and funny and nice, I kinda talk a lot but it's usually kinda entertaining.

Scottish accent- I am more badass and hardcore than a British person.

Australian accent- poor man's American. Stupid.

Canadian accent- slightly nicer and more chillaxed American. Mix California accent with cold and boringer.

GOT ANY OTHER EXAMPLES, YALLL??????

THX A LOT!!!!!!111

Here is the abstract from the SBL program book...

It is not insignificant that 42% of published New Testament papyri are from Oxyrhynchus, Egypt. Furthermore, of the fifty-eight NT papyri dated to the first half of the fourth century or earlier, Oxyrhynchus contributes to nearly 60% of the material, i.e. thirty four fragmentary papyri. Given Oxyrhynchus’ prominence, prosperity and significant Christian influence this is somewhat understandable, even if it is equally as baffling as to why so much literature, both biblical and otherwise was ‘thrown out’ en masse, only to be found centuries later by two Oxford graduates, B. P. Grenfell and A. S. Hunt of Queen’s College. The primary research that will be undertaken in this study concerns an assessment of a previously unknown New Testament papyrus fragment of the epistle of James from Oxyrhynchus (inventory number 51 4B.18/c [1-4]b). The significance of this study is to offer original and focused research into the history of the textual tradition of the New Testament. Discussion of the fragment will be divided into three sections. Firstly, an extended introduction which will note, among other things, the paleographic points of interest - roll/codex, recto/verso, date, lines/width/height of columns, estimated length of roll and significant reading marks (accents, breathings, quantity marks, punctuation). Secondly, an edited Greek text, both diplomatic and transcriptional (with a short description of how multi-spectral imaging aided in this process, and finally, a section devoted to issues which require further treatment, including exegetical comment, notable paleographic details and collation with other extant manuscripts. Images of the papyri will be included in the presentation.

Anyways, all this to say, I have decided to change the name of the Overflow Lounge. A number of people I have spoken to have given me strange looks when I have told them the name of my new office is 'Overflow'. In North America the word 'Overflow' means a room where people go whenever there isn't enough room in a main meeting room. It means that in Britain too, but we would also think about water overflowing etc before the extra room concept.

Sooooo, I have been thinking about another name. After much brain belching, I have decided on "The Hub".

A hub is the centre of a wheel or as the dictionary puts it " a center of activity or interest; a focal point." I like the meaning. I think it fits what we are trying to achieve in my new office area... The Hub it is.

I realize that people will disagree, screw up their noses like they have smelt something nasty on the bottom of their shoe and say "The Hub? Really? Why?". Well, if somebody comes up with something better - I'm all for it. For now... it's the hub.

So there. :)

"Cancer is a grumpy, secretive, passive-aggressive grudge hoarder, with bipolar mood swings and a positive genius for pointless worrying. You are grumpy, moody, wingy, snappy, graceless, gloomy, grudge-encrusted, devious and fretful. You distrust life and have no faith in the future. To build immunity against fate's random cruelty, you look for homeopathic doses of gloom wherever you scuttle. You well up over anything lonely and hopeless. You love to whine about everything and everyone and are shameless addicted to other's misfortune.

"You remember everything nasty anybody ever said about you. You never give away your own emotional secrets. People think you are shy and diffident and you work hard to promote that illusion, but in reality, you are afraid people might use your secrets against you. You don't do confrontation; sniping and preemptive defense are your preferred attack modes. Only a very lost cause or a slight to a family member's honor will get a Cancer to fight.

"You can only really relate to someone if you feel needed. You can make lovers and friends feel permanently guilty without them ever knowing why. What you like best is attaching yourself to someone who has made it clear that they are unavailable long-term and then pining when they leave you. Crabs of all genders suffer from the Mistress Syndrome. You play hard to get with sex. Your lovers are blinded by lust so they keep trying to get through your impenetrable barrier. You know that deferred gratification is the key to keeping people hanging on. When you do finally let someone have their way with you, you lay in a frenzy of passion-slaying worry...will the bed creak? Will I still love you tomorrow? Have I put the cat out? You never give up on ex-lovers. You also never dump in a relationship. You make yourself even grumpier, moodier and more depressed than usual so that they want to leave you. Ex-lovers have to emigrate, marry someone else and die before you will accept that it is over.

"Bosses like you because you work hard. You work harder and longer than anyone else because then you can feel hard done by and can bewail your sorry lot in life. You also like a job for which you are overqualified so that you can feel superior and tell everybody else what to do.

"Your home is full of stuff. You keep everything. Clutter is your forte. You often share your home with the destitute, misfits and refugees, not because you particularly care for them, but because you simply don't notice them hanging around amidst all your stuff."

Sound familiar?
Yeah, I happen to be a Cancer. I basically come in three modes: Whine, Complain, and Bitch. The part about sex makes me laugh seriously hard. Like, when [glass] and I were hooking up, I couldn't ever get lost in the moment; I'd always freak out that my stomach was making funny noises or that his siblings would walk in on us. And I was always so scared to kiss with my eyes closed. Like, you're not supposed to kiss with your eyes open, right? Because the best things in life can't be seen? I guess that doesn't apply for me, or it comes with some practice [albeit confidence].

On a lighter note, today was really chilly and rainy and nice. I dislike immense heat, which has been present for the past three days, so today was a nice break [and harbinger of autumn]. You won't believe, but guess who I saw on 23rd today, 12ish? [psycho]. I know, I know, I've been badmouthing that kid like constantly on this blog, but when I saw him I couldn't help but go, "[psycho]!" He was like, "Hey, Stitch." We were both in a hurry, so we didn't make small talk; he was on the other side of the street anyway. He had on his jacket from 7th grade [what, does this kid's fashion hunch desensitize when he isn't constantly in the presence of the AA?] and a pretty retarded nylon backpack. Personally, I thought he seemed to be running away from something. Haahaha monsters?

I know I'm probably overthinking this, but I was really surprised that [psycho] said "Hey" back to me.  I mean, [apple]'s of middling prestige, and even he doesn't bother saying hi.  Well, whatever.  Probably because it was sort of a rainy day, nobody our age was around, blah blah blah.

Math class gave me a headache; we were all tired and everything and in the end we talked about matrices.  They are by far my least favorite thing ever, besides heat and not being able to have coffee.  In the end, it turned out that he wrote the equation wrong, so we were getting all this shit like -35/11.

Herr HS [in heavily accented English]: I was going over the matrix, and then I realized...
[Goes over to the board and erases a negative sign]
Herr HS: I think to myself, "SHIIIT!!" [This is a direct connection to when A, [pencil]'s exchange student and I were walking down to Phys Ed and I asked him about swearing. He was like, "Well, we use the kinds of curse words you use, like fuck and shit and..."]
AB and I: Ha, ha, ha. Ehmygawd. I just did like the first twenty thousand steps and now it's all screwed up. Well, class is almost over so I might as well just not start the very new equation.

I love Advanced Algebra.  It gives me material to blog about.  Hopefully my teacher doesn't find my blog.  Maybe he still does Google in German; that might give me a little leeway.  I think one of the counselors at Cybercamp already found SBW, though; sucks for him.

As the weeks progressed, we were down to a consistent and committed group of four students- all fathers- who despite being at various ability levels all made a good effort to speak and understand.  We talked a lot about the differences between American and Spanish culture, and laughed about the idiosyncrasies of English.  Having studied British English in school, they made fun of my American accent and I learned to use my fake British accent as a tool for helping them understand what I was saying.  “WahdR” I’d say, only to get a blank stare.  I know they know this word, I’d think, so I’d try again only slower.. “WaaahdR.”  Nothing.  Then, in my best British accent “Wah-tuh”   “Aaah!” Finally, the light of recognition crossed their faces.  I knew they knew the word water!

Needless to say, discussing preferences and opinions on every subject under the sun week after week, we became close and had our own personal jokes.  We especially loved teasing Rafa (short for Rafael) about his love of Madonna and Enya- a fact that was discovered when we decided to listen to songs and use them as the basis for the lesson.  One of the Pacos (there were two) had a more advanced level of English after having lived in Boston, and was especially helpful in facilitating the conversation and helping the other less-advanced students understand.  Nevertheless, nearly every class there’d be something that even Paco couldn’t help me convey, so they’d laugh with me and at me as I did crazy charades and reenactments to get them to understand.

For our last class, I suggested meeting at a café near my house instead of at the school.  We sat outside and drank our coffees or beers, and since we didn’t have a blackboard to write down the troubling words like we normally did, I wrote them in my notebook instead.  I can’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I still have the list that makes me chuckle when I read it.  I can only imagine what lead us to each seemingly random word: due, declarations, deadline, sneeze, earthquakes, heavy sleeper, shark, flat, held-back, horror, thriller, scary movies, plumber.

They gave me a necklace as a going away present.  It is a little olive with two leaves on a delicate gold chain.  It is the perfect memento of my town (Jaen), “Olive Oil Capital of the World”, and also the best gift they could have given me.  Everytime I wear it, I think about how much their English improved and feel pride knowing that they could order a glass of water with confidence, (albeit said with an amusing Tony Blair/Antonio Banderas/John Wayne twist!)

The Great Accent Normalization Drama (or GA... err, maybe lets not) is something that affects many upwardly mobile English speaking Indians. While not directly related to - and the subject of many less PhD linguistics theses than - the topic of Grammar in Indian English, our subject is beginning to grow as globalization and the cultural invasion of the west spread throughout our land. It is the dilemma of the change in our dear, treasured Indian accents with the influence of Hollywood and the growth in people travelling abroad, especially on all manner of B, F, H, L and Schengen visas. [We may safely ignore the children of Indian immigrants born and/or brought up in western countries. ABCDs and Londonstanis and other such peoples do not count toward this particular study.]

The disclaimer first: All in good fun. I am all for people going abroad. I am all for Indians speaking English. I am all for foreign accents. I am all for the Indian accent. I am absolutely all for people mixing the last two, often to hilarious effect. In fact, my interest in and love of all of the above is exactly what this article is all about.

Now, some history. Before we got the colonial hangover, we had the colonial party, which was replete with many acts of merriment for the gatecrashing colonist guests (the Brits) getting all drunk and having all sorts of fun with the terrified sober colonialised hosts (us). Some of those fun and games actually gave the poor sober sods in the room the courage to demand a peg or two for themselves. And in the end, we demanded control of our house and wound up kicking the unruly uninvited guests out just before midnight (something about a tryst with destiny). And we got stuck with a nasty hangover that hasn't left us for sixty-odd years.

Anyway, one of those nice little drinking games was insisting that we learn their language. So we went on to learn the Queen's tongue and twist it for her in our own ways. And thus Indian English was born, and eventually, so were its equally amusing love children Hinglish, Kinglish, Telgish, Tanglish, Minglish, Bonglish, among others (oh, Wikipedia, I bow to thee).

So, in endeavouring to study Received Pronunciation and other such endearing colonial artifacts, Indians have ended up perfecting what are arguably among the most colourful usages of the language in the world today. And I must admit, I love hearing Indian English. The various usages and accents that vary along the length and breadth of the country according to local language, economy and education level are quite fascinating.

And now we are at the next logical stage in the evolution of the language. We are going global. Or rather, we have been for some time now, much to the confusion and amusement of many a paleskin, with reactions varying from funny to benign to annoying; from caricatures such as The Simpsons' Apu Nahasapeemapetilon to being the receiving end of call-center jokes to the kind of racial paranoia the west has perfected over the centuries. But any which way you look at it, the global Indian accent is here.

Most Indians have their first encounter with it when they meet a colleague or family member back from a trip overseas, especially one from the softweyar industry. The formerly hair-oil, Bata sandal and buttoned-long-sleeved-shirt and terrycotton-pants-from-Sapna-tailors wearing Arvind Kalyanasundaram now shows up in the office with Nikes and Wranglers and introduces himself with, 'Hi, I'm Arrr-vind. Call me Vinny.' with an accent that simultaneously recalls the last Brad Pitt movie he saw, and his IIIrd standard Social Studies teacher from Little Flower LP school. Vinny's friends are impressed, and can't wait to go abroad themselves to take their obligatory Statue of Liberty/Big Ben photos and get hammered on foreign daru and amalgamate their own accent with that of the local populace.

So here's how it might happen. Giriprasad Sharma graduates, with distinction of course, from MIT (Mirzapur Institute of Technology). And like the many boys and girls who take the cicuituous route to a H1B, the F1, he writes his GRE/GMAT/TOEFL and lands in Hinterland University, Amreeka. In his first steps in the strange land, he finds that the people around him understand his language but say it differently. And in his day-to-day interactions with the 'foreigners', he notices their manner of speaking and tries (many times subconsciously) to imitate them. There are many pusposes this serves:
1. Makes himself more understandable to those around him.
2. Makes himself appear 'cool' to (hopefully) the locals and (definitely) himself.
3. He now sounds like the rest of the desis who are speaking the same way.

But the change is hard, and our friend Gary (he has settled on this moniker after testing G-Pras and GPS. Apparently generic rapper names and electronic navigation equipment are not his thing) now is in a place between the comforting, lilting tones of his original accent and the brash, cool sounds of his intended accent; a place we call 'the Zone'. Gary will often not even notice himself slipping into the Zone in the presence of one who is of a different accent. This subconscious switch turns on the Pseudo-Random Accent Generator (PRAG) in his head and enhances his ability to have a conversation that is usually less comprehensible than his usual accent, especially while taking his first steps. Over time Gary learns more and more of the nuances of his adopted accent and learns to communicate fluently enough, but is left with vestiges of his original accent that pop up often.

As any self-respecting Gary or Vinny, such as myself, can tell you, 'We do not do it on purpose or to be cool. We do it to make sure the person across the counter at the Dunkin Donuts knows we are ordering a bagel with cream cheese and not calling his mother fat. And we do not use it on other Indians.' A very pragmatic lot, are we not? But the accented 'one chicken wrape with diet cock, please' can usually also sound very out of place sometimes. By which I mean anytime another human is within earshot.

When you consider the effects our homegrown grammar can have when added to this already deliricious mix, the results can be downright howlarious. Like our spiritual leader Jambu who loudly attempted to admonish a friend while simultaneously trying to catch the ear of some white girls nearby with 'What the problem is with you?' Or Pendejo who believes himself to be India's latin lover and turns on his PRAG whenever a different skin colour is detected within 5 yards of him, often leaving both Indians and non-Indians totally in the dust of incomprehensibility with his AmeLatIndian English and his supercharged 'daymm'. Or Golu who makes full use of his TA (Timepass Assistant) position to explain to a nice gori in his class that 'Ekchwally, your prroject is not giving the proper rrresult'. And many others like them, too many to remember yet too precious to go totally unmentioned, who are doing their best to improve cultural ties between India and the world. Starting with mangling the world's accents.

We must not be afraid or ashamed of changing in such a way. As the world becomes a smaller and smaller place, I believe we of the overseas public have a duty to be India's ambassadors to the world. We must ingratiate ourselves with their cultures while introducing them to ours. We pick up a bit of their accent and language. They pick up some of ours (yes, it has happened, and its going to happen even more). We all learn from and appreciate each other. And together in peace and harmony, we will all order a nice refreshing 'diet cock'.

PS: My history may be a bit off. I vaguely remember paying attention in history class back in school, but I don't really remember the specifics. Also, all characters, places and incidents are purely fictional. Including me. Plus, for some real fun, look here.

Ho explicaven els de Palabras Textuales:

—Tienes que eliminar todos los acentos de todos los textos de nuestra web. Sólo así podremos aparecer los primeros en Google.
—No, eso no tiene que ver con el posicionamiento. Además, parecerá que en esta empresa sólo trabajan analfabetos.
—Bueno, tú quita todos los acentos y pon un mensaje a pie de página que diga que esta web está optimizada para Google y que perdonen las molestias si encuentran alguna falta de ortografía.

(Empresa de tecnologías para Internet, gerente de la compañía a responsable de comunicación)

Less than a week left in Gozo after a simultaneously ridiculous yet ultimately relaxing weekend. Saturday night nearly the whole group headed off to the relatively small town of San Lawrenz for their festa. Besides being a regular festa, the town was also celebrating their 1,750th anniversary so it was a big event. While the fireworks did not surpass the ones from Qala the week before, they were still quite impressive. Somehow nearly our entire group at the end of the pinwheely-fireworks (I have no clue of the technical name for those) wound up not only RIGHT next to these sparking monstrosities, but also in the direction of the wind, which pushed smoke right into our faces. It was rather absurd.

Earlier before that though there was a fun encounter with a large group of Italians. I'm still not sure why exactly they were here - as only two of them out of a huge group [note my new facebook profile picture] could speak English. Yet at the festa they were dancing around, playing clapping games, and having a great time. So one of the girls started waving at me and Amy to come into their group and join the dancing. So we agreed and ended up dancing with this group for a good thirty minutes or so. In fact the only reason I knew they were Italian and not Maltese were a select few of the words they used and the fact that most of them did not know English. As a former British colony, (and because of the nature of English being he second official language) nearly everyone young in Malta knows English. Still it was a ton of fun.

Every time I spoke to anyone young around Gozo so far, especially about my topic (consumerism, the mall, youths, etc) the conversation would somehow end up with them telling me about the number one nightclub of the island, La Grotta. So I had wanted to go for a while to check it out and after the festa we finally did. Sean, Amy, Vicki, Laura, and I at around 1 or 2 am (I have little concept of time from that night) headed to the club. It was a really cool place - outdoors along the cliffs - blasting the best Eurodance has to offer. While I sadly did not hear any Eric Prydz [CALL ON MEEEEEEE] or Basshunter, they still played a ton of good music. And boy did I spend a ton there, as I blew almost 40 euros. Ouch - my wallet! Somehow we made it back up to Xlendi at 5am, when I quickly passed out until Sunday afternoon.

Yesterday we just hang around the bay and rented a catamaran with a slide on the back. Much fun [and pain actually thanks to brutal falls and Jessica's jellyfish sting) was had by all. Today I just hung around again today. In the morning I went to Mario's demonstration on food preservation in Meditaranean where I learned how to make sun dried tomatoes (a big food here) as well as several other foods.

Also a few days ago a visual anthropologist came into speak who showed his poor excuse for a film about festas and "biker culture." We all sort of gave the guy a hard time and agreed that in the end he was a plain douche bag. Especially funny was his line about how he did not want to join a biker gang because they were misogynistic - yet he preceded to tell Marjan, "wow! you are more than just a  pretty face!" So apparently his wife, this Italian lady, last year did some sort of feasibility report or impact assessment about Arkadia, so I spent a good while trying to sleuth that down online with sadly no results. Apparently it wasn't even published anywhere. But I did at least find some good information about Tigrija Palazz, the shopping center adjacent to the bus terminal in Victoria. I think a lot of my final paper will be contrasting these two social spaces. And I must get cracking on that. We have until the end of September to submit our papers, yet with Fiji approaching I can't really afford to put any extra work off. Especially because I have assignments for Fiji to do already. Those six days home are going to be very busy. Freakers.

Oh, and as of recently I cannot stop poorly imitating a Gozitan accent. Which made me frequently use not only the "proper" pronunciation of "Gozo," but also newly made up rhymes of [these all should rhyme with Gozo - pronounced in "Malteseish" as Go-dzo) Nozo, So-so, and my personal favorite, Isupposeso, And everything must be said in a questioning tone. I realize I sound like a fool so I'm going to stop. I have Sean to thank for this as he constantly encourages this stupidity, lol. But I'm sure I will continue to speak in this funny accent when I return home. Be prepared.

I also decided, with some help from Sara my photography teacher, that my first film will be a timeline of Brian's chair breakage. It will begin with a baby in a highchair that collapses and end with an old man in a wheelchair that's wheels somehow fall off and send him flying into his grave. Then a sad clown appears. and the script text "El Fin." I'm going to win an Oscar. Speaking of films I was tellign Sean that if I ever make a film, the villain will instantly be Maltese with my horrible imitaiton of their accent, although somehow it always ends up sounding Russianish. His name I decided would be Carmello San Evildino. And then people will ask me what the hell I have against the Maltese. I will not have a good answer. BUT ANYWAY!

Today and yesterday have also been a bit cooler with a nice breeze! And according to Mario there may even be some RAIN this week. CRAZAY! I may try to upload some more photos later or tomorrow too.

My plan for tomorrow includes going to Tigrija Palazz, a shop where I got a shirt the other day to talk to the lady who worked there, and also to Sean's lecture. Should be a full day.

I love accents.  I think it is so much fun to hear the different ways people pronounce words.

So, first off, we have the What Kind of American English Do You Speak quiz. Here are my results...

Your Linguistic Profile:

75% General American English       10% Upper Midwestern 5% Dixie 5% Yankee 0% Midwestern

However, according to another site, this is my American accent:

Another site I found to be very interesting in the Speech Accent Archive. On it, people from around the world record themselves saying

Please call Stella.  Ask her to bring these things with her from the store:  Six spoons of fresh snow peas, five thick slabs of blue cheese, and maybe a snack for her brother Bob.  We also need a small plastic snake and a big toy frog for the kids.  She can scoop these things into three red bags, and we will go meet her Wednesday at the train station.

And then answer questions such as 

Then, you can go and listen to any of the recordings, such as this one from Italy.

Aside from Tom Friedman there are other people out there who think the world is flat.

You kind of wish it was true, so that one can tell annoying people, including Tom Friedman, that you hope they fall off the face of the earth. And you know, it would be fun if a conspiracy turned out to be true, cos that Jewish one didn't really work out, and nor did that other Jewish one, and we could all really use a pick-me-up on the one year anniversary of the credit crunch!!!!!

Happy birthday, Subprime, hope your birthday is not subprime.*

* Also known as the 'sublime' crisis in some East Asian vernaculars.

1 - Bad posture can have painful results.On Monday, I woke up and my neck was very cross with me. The muscles in the right hand side of it were tight and angry, meaning that I could not fully turn my head to the left, and would get twinges of sharp pain when moving suddenly or when lying down. This was probably Officer Krupke's responsibility, as it was noted in Sunday's rehearsal that my Krupke posture was not going to do my back and neck any favours due to the way I was holding my shoulders. Or alternatively, I may have jarred the muscles when rehearsing the scene where Krupke falls over one of the Jets. Either way, a change of Krupke posture and some appropriate gentle stretching exercises gradually righted the problem. My advice - be careful, bad posture hurts!

2 - I cannot do an Irish accent. I really can't. Monday evening was the first script read-through of Titanic, and one of the people that was missing was the young chap who plays Jim Farrell, third class passenger on the voyage. I was asked to read in for him and although his first line was delivered in a passably Irish manner, things simply went downhill from there until you'd have been hard-pressed to tell that the poor chap was human, let alone Irish. On the positive side, it did cause minor amusement to my fellow cast members, which was increased at the nadir of my accent attempts, when a particularly atrocious sound gave me a case of the giggles and caused me to go bright red as I struggled for air. I shall stick to the various English, Scots and American accents that I actually can do in future.

3 - The sense of smell can be numbed. On Tuesday, I helped at a family fun day organised by the local churches, where I spent the best part of four hours either serving or cooking sausages which were handed out free to grateful members of the public. I love sausages, but being part of the cooking and serving of several thousand sausages may have curbed my enthusiasm slightly. After only half an hour or so, I realised that I could no longer smell the sausages that were merrily cooking on the BBQ. My nose must have had enough and simply given up.

4 - An empty glove is not a good thing to be.The wonderful Archbishop of York was a part of Tuesday's event and gave a great message about what it means to be a Christian. He compared life without God to being a glove without a hand in it - floppy and directionless. But being filled by God is like a glove is like a glove being filled by a hand, now able to wave, shake hands, bake a cake or do the hand jive (OK, so the Archbishop didn't actually mention doing the hand jive, but you get the idea). He was speaking of Jesus' statement that He came so that we could have life in all its fullness, not just a little bit of life, but an awful lot of Life. It was a clear, direct and inspirational message.

5 - One of my defining qualities is agelessness. It tends to be said that I look younger than I am, and I thought the cast of West Side Story were going to prove this when one of them guessed my age as 24. Unfortunately, yesterday, one of them (who is 13 but has the cheek to look at least 16) decided to guess my age and came up with the figure of 35. Yikes. I'm 29, and will turn 30 the day before the curtain rises for our production of Titanic. There's nothing wrong with being 35, but really... However, to a 13-year-old, surely anything past about 21 is 'ancient'.

6 - I'm a big softie. I don't cry at films or books, and the only things I've seen in the theatre that I recall making my cry are Cabaret and Blood Brothers (though Parade and Billy Elliotmust both have been close to bringing on the waterworks). However, on Friday, we reached the final scene of West Side Story in a run-through, and there I was with tears trickling down my cheeks, so that I had to nip outside and dry my eyes before we set the bows. The last couple of scenes are deeply emotional for my more serious character, Doc, but even so... I don't normally get deeply invested in my characters and this was a run-through in a hot room in a school, with very few costumes, with a few stops and starts and with only plastic chairs as the set, so I don't know why it got to me. It did, though, so the only conclusion must be that I'm a big softie. I'm hoping that I get over this by the time we open on Wednesday, but who knows. Perhaps I'll be a blubbering mess all week.

So there we have it. Six things that I've discovered this week. What's your 'something new' for the day?

Being a lowly peon in the massive hierarchy at work, I rarely see the people in the higher levels of management but there is one very cute guy that I used to see when I was first hired. I'm not exactly sure what it is he does but he is usually dressed in business attire so I assume its something important. Anyways, I haven't seen him in a while but got to see him today at work and he was just as cute as before although if he wasn't in his business attire and just in his everyday clothes, I imagine him to look like a dumb jock type. I only saw him for a couple of seconds but it was enough to make my imagination wander.

Later on that day, I was working in a different area and during a slow period this guy working in the same area started a conversation with me. He was a friendly, sociable guy and he, too, was pretty good looking. We talked for a while about several different things and the more he talked, the more attractive he got. He had an accent from somewhere in South America that made him all the more hot. I asked him a lot of questions about himself so that he would just keep talking in his accent. So hot! I hope I get to work with him again.

I am loving my job more and more everyday.

PS. Here's what turned me on today courtesy of ADrabBoizBreakfast.com.

In case you weren't quite sure...

1. Finding $10 in your winter coat you forgot you had.

2. Colouring with crayons. Alone.

3. Realising the full potential of a set of headphones and the volume control.

4. A box of Krusteaz Lemon Bars...oh sweet heaven, I love these things. They need to start selling them in Scotland! If you don't like lemon bars, you don't love the baby Jesus!

5. Discovering your laundry hamper does have a bottom to it. The others probably do too...

6. Buying super-sweet toys.

7. Walking into an optometrist's office with +7.5 and +6.5 lenses and walking out with +4.5 and +5.0. It's a medical miracle ladies and gentlemen! There's no reason for it, and the only thing I can think of is having Cameron may have caused it. At this rate, if I have two more, I could be 20/20 in say, 6 years. Bonza!

8. Watching a beatbox championship on youtube.

9. Listening to a child's hearty laugh.

10. Finishing a bloody list.

11. Getting a package in the mail.

12. Saving money because people like your accent. The most I've ever saved? Over $300. Don't hate.

13. Me time. Any kind of me time.