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It is the dawn of my 21st birthday.
Respect the aged, o companions of the river! Respect the aged!
About five months of my twentieth year have already been chronicled here, but on my birthday, as on New Year's Eve, I always think back over what have I accomplished between birthdays: how have I changed between turning twenty and turning twenty-one.
I know Keynote, PowerPoint, iTunes and LaTeX. I know historical linguistics is a sweet wonderful love, and the only interesting thing about syntax is how vehemently I disagree with it. I know that I will never date a coward, nor someone who lacks ambition. I know complex analysis is beautiful yet not for me, and that I probably never would make a topologist. I know how to do the polka turns now. I know that Concolor is stronger than me at aikido. I know how to register at hotels. I know how to order online. I know (sort of) how to code in CHAT. I know what a Frappuccino and bubble tea taste like - and what Lightning smells like. I know that you never ask for anything of those stronger than you: they themselves will offer, and they themselves will give.
I know that my life had been a lot simpler when I thought Modern Talking were women. I know how to burn a CD, and, when I am lucky, a DVD. I know who paid for our robotics kits. I know the location of Cathcart Street. And I know how to blog.
And there are people whom I need to thank for my year:
Shilhak-Inshushinak, for coldhearted editing that turned my novel into a thing of beauty;
Concolor, for all the times I needed a drive - or a sympathetic shoulder to gripe to;
Irene, for fun times and the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and a great many other things I would not have known otherwise;
Lady Mollweide, for wise advice and power backing me;
Professor Jensen, for introducing me to Historical Linguistics;
My entire Reach team and the U of O Trivia Team, for another wonderful year;
The Dark Lord, for giving me the Mac Lab and always, somehow in his deluded way, thinking the best of my use of it;
Amico, Consuelo and Carrie, for somehow always forgiving me my being late;
Taglioni, Luiza, Mara, Magda, Gabrielle, Lizaveta, and the rest of the ensemble who gave me dance advice and never spoke ill of my being unable to follow it;
My aikido instuctors, for teaching an art that gives me hope;
And my family - because I could have had a lot worse.
I had been trying to assemble the pieces of advice I live by: some of them hoarworn homilies, some of them the things I have come up with myself. This is a summary of the words of wisdom that I, so old and wise now that I can actually finally drink in the United States, choose to partake with you in my amazing vaunted cunning wisdom:
Tourmaline's Rulez:
If you can say thank you, do.
If you can say sorry, do.
On a choice between two evils, pick the one you've never tried.
Never wear uncomfortable shoes.
Accept no subsitutes: do not buy cheap jewelry because it looks like the expensive kind you love; do not go out with men just because they look like the man you love; they are not like the real thing and you will pine for the real thing anyway.
Pick a direction and go with it.
Always have a Plan B.
If things are not working out, you're going in the wrong direction; back up and see if you really want this.
Why scream bloody hell when you can quietly speak the ordinary kind?
Art must be done for love; never do art for pride.
I'm not ashamed
To say out loud
That being in love with you
Makes me proud;
I'm not ashamed
To stand and say
That I am in love with you,
Look at me!
If you're happy, don't hold it in; the ones who mind don't matter, and the ones who matter don't mind.
Keep a friendly crocodile in every swamp.
Do not wear running shoes with a skirt; this may not apply to the majority of my male readers, but those of my male readers who may choose to wear a skirt, please don't wear your Nikes with it.
Don't make enemies; the artificial ones are worse than the ones that come naturally.
Breathe with your belly and keep your back straight.
Yell at people and they will yell back; speak softly to them and most of them will feel ashamed of themselves.
Never be embarrassed to do something stupid in front of customer service people or anyone else who deals regularly with the public: chances are, you won't even get into the Book of "idiotic things customers have done"; you've got to be mighty stupid to be remembered at the end of the day.
Never be embarrassed to do something stupid in front of strangers whom, chances are, you will never see again. And people have worse memories and more self-absorption than you may think.
Never be embarrassed to accidentally do something stupid in front of those you love, either; if your motivations were pure, and the people are worth loving, they would not mind.
Pay your debts; it is a good reputation to have.
Do not be afraid to go for the best you can afford.
Do not be afraid to say you did not understand this.
Respect the aged, o companions of the river! Respect the aged!
About five months of my twentieth year have already been chronicled here, but on my birthday, as on New Year's Eve, I always think back over what have I accomplished between birthdays: how have I changed between turning twenty and turning twenty-one.
I know Keynote, PowerPoint, iTunes and LaTeX. I know historical linguistics is a sweet wonderful love, and the only interesting thing about syntax is how vehemently I disagree with it. I know that I will never date a coward, nor someone who lacks ambition. I know complex analysis is beautiful yet not for me, and that I probably never would make a topologist. I know how to do the polka turns now. I know that Concolor is stronger than me at aikido. I know how to register at hotels. I know how to order online. I know (sort of) how to code in CHAT. I know what a Frappuccino and bubble tea taste like - and what Lightning smells like. I know that you never ask for anything of those stronger than you: they themselves will offer, and they themselves will give.
I know that my life had been a lot simpler when I thought Modern Talking were women. I know how to burn a CD, and, when I am lucky, a DVD. I know who paid for our robotics kits. I know the location of Cathcart Street. And I know how to blog.
And there are people whom I need to thank for my year:
Shilhak-Inshushinak, for coldhearted editing that turned my novel into a thing of beauty;
Concolor, for all the times I needed a drive - or a sympathetic shoulder to gripe to;
Irene, for fun times and the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and a great many other things I would not have known otherwise;
Lady Mollweide, for wise advice and power backing me;
Professor Jensen, for introducing me to Historical Linguistics;
My entire Reach team and the U of O Trivia Team, for another wonderful year;
The Dark Lord, for giving me the Mac Lab and always, somehow in his deluded way, thinking the best of my use of it;
Amico, Consuelo and Carrie, for somehow always forgiving me my being late;
Taglioni, Luiza, Mara, Magda, Gabrielle, Lizaveta, and the rest of the ensemble who gave me dance advice and never spoke ill of my being unable to follow it;
My aikido instuctors, for teaching an art that gives me hope;
And my family - because I could have had a lot worse.
I had been trying to assemble the pieces of advice I live by: some of them hoarworn homilies, some of them the things I have come up with myself. This is a summary of the words of wisdom that I, so old and wise now that I can actually finally drink in the United States, choose to partake with you in my amazing vaunted cunning wisdom:
Tourmaline's Rulez:
If you can say thank you, do.
If you can say sorry, do.
On a choice between two evils, pick the one you've never tried.
Never wear uncomfortable shoes.
Accept no subsitutes: do not buy cheap jewelry because it looks like the expensive kind you love; do not go out with men just because they look like the man you love; they are not like the real thing and you will pine for the real thing anyway.
Pick a direction and go with it.
Always have a Plan B.
If things are not working out, you're going in the wrong direction; back up and see if you really want this.
Why scream bloody hell when you can quietly speak the ordinary kind?
Art must be done for love; never do art for pride.
I'm not ashamed
To say out loud
That being in love with you
Makes me proud;
I'm not ashamed
To stand and say
That I am in love with you,
Look at me!
If you're happy, don't hold it in; the ones who mind don't matter, and the ones who matter don't mind.
Keep a friendly crocodile in every swamp.
Do not wear running shoes with a skirt; this may not apply to the majority of my male readers, but those of my male readers who may choose to wear a skirt, please don't wear your Nikes with it.
Don't make enemies; the artificial ones are worse than the ones that come naturally.
Breathe with your belly and keep your back straight.
Yell at people and they will yell back; speak softly to them and most of them will feel ashamed of themselves.
Never be embarrassed to do something stupid in front of customer service people or anyone else who deals regularly with the public: chances are, you won't even get into the Book of "idiotic things customers have done"; you've got to be mighty stupid to be remembered at the end of the day.
Never be embarrassed to do something stupid in front of strangers whom, chances are, you will never see again. And people have worse memories and more self-absorption than you may think.
Never be embarrassed to accidentally do something stupid in front of those you love, either; if your motivations were pure, and the people are worth loving, they would not mind.
Pay your debts; it is a good reputation to have.
Do not be afraid to go for the best you can afford.
Do not be afraid to say you did not understand this.
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