boyishly
He rehearses his chorus song sweetly and a little goofily.
delighting
He's delighted by the rides he's taken on the subway. He likes observing people's behavior, how they make use of limited space and what they do to pass the time during their commute. As an older man, he hasn't become jaded. He loves to investigate and explore, and the mundane can be fascinating.
garbed
Leafy trees look like they're wearing green ruffled blouses.
memorization
She brings flash cards to the table. Her mouth is pressed to a thin line as she flips them over by her plate. Her food goes largely ignored.
relieving
People often unleash their anger on an easy target, but here she doesn't - she's nice to the waitress, who was nervous about getting blamed for the restaurant's mistake.
secured
It's been a while since I received a bear hug. It lasts long enough for the warmth to settle into my bones, but stops short of making me feel trapped.
sedated
The meal is heavy. The diners sag, and their eyelids flicker against the weight of sleep.
Showing posts with label study. Show all posts
Showing posts with label study. Show all posts
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Monday, October 31, 2016
Week in Seven Words #311
causality
The desk chair that's meant to be sat on, not ridden, breaks. She slides off it with an expression that's part-guilty, part-puzzled. We live in a strange world indeed, where desk chairs just fall apart without warning, she seems to say.
fictive
Watching the Matilda movie from the 1990s, and the only person truly freaking out from Trunchbull is another adult in the room. "Is this... how can this be real? How can she get away with this?" he asks.
lashing
People looking for a purpose and a place find neither, seek someone near them to blame.
likeness
He prefers passive-aggressive insults. Instead of telling me directly what he thinks about my character, mind, and looks, he'll discuss someone I bear a resemblance to and make hostile remarks about the qualities I share with them.
phototropic
In an orange coffee mug, she's growing what looks like a valiant twig. Whatever it is has sprouted a couple of leaves and angled itself towards the window.
scholastically
Pages whirring, books thudding, students sniffling over their assignments.
treasuring
A pink evening glow of laughter and play.
The desk chair that's meant to be sat on, not ridden, breaks. She slides off it with an expression that's part-guilty, part-puzzled. We live in a strange world indeed, where desk chairs just fall apart without warning, she seems to say.
fictive
Watching the Matilda movie from the 1990s, and the only person truly freaking out from Trunchbull is another adult in the room. "Is this... how can this be real? How can she get away with this?" he asks.
lashing
People looking for a purpose and a place find neither, seek someone near them to blame.
likeness
He prefers passive-aggressive insults. Instead of telling me directly what he thinks about my character, mind, and looks, he'll discuss someone I bear a resemblance to and make hostile remarks about the qualities I share with them.
phototropic
In an orange coffee mug, she's growing what looks like a valiant twig. Whatever it is has sprouted a couple of leaves and angled itself towards the window.
scholastically
Pages whirring, books thudding, students sniffling over their assignments.
treasuring
A pink evening glow of laughter and play.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Week in Seven Words #137
confab
Two elderly wheelchair-bound ladies sit side by side in an elevator. One reaches over to the other, clasps her hand, and says, "Your hair is white." A pause, before the other replies, "I haven't been in the sun for so long." They lapse into silence.
danseuses
Little girls in a ballet class, spinning, spinning, stumbling, one of them picking her nose as she twirls.
gastric
He wrinkles his nose at the pink frosting on the cupcakes. I tell him the color doesn't matter because once it's in his stomach it's going to look like the pizza he just ate.
irrelevance
Phone static swallows up most of what he's telling me. The only thing I can make out is his reference to I Love Lucy.
pixieish
She's half-pixie, bangs her head on the table, smiles, clutches my hand, wants a co-conspirator in mischief and song.
sheltering
Do any of them think of this as their safe place? It has a warren of bookshelves and desks, a lounge, a little room with computers, and no windows looking out onto the outside world.
unpredictable
A local train turns express, sweeping me off to a stop I didn't intend to go to.
Two elderly wheelchair-bound ladies sit side by side in an elevator. One reaches over to the other, clasps her hand, and says, "Your hair is white." A pause, before the other replies, "I haven't been in the sun for so long." They lapse into silence.
danseuses
Little girls in a ballet class, spinning, spinning, stumbling, one of them picking her nose as she twirls.
gastric
He wrinkles his nose at the pink frosting on the cupcakes. I tell him the color doesn't matter because once it's in his stomach it's going to look like the pizza he just ate.
irrelevance
Phone static swallows up most of what he's telling me. The only thing I can make out is his reference to I Love Lucy.
pixieish
She's half-pixie, bangs her head on the table, smiles, clutches my hand, wants a co-conspirator in mischief and song.
sheltering
Do any of them think of this as their safe place? It has a warren of bookshelves and desks, a lounge, a little room with computers, and no windows looking out onto the outside world.
unpredictable
A local train turns express, sweeping me off to a stop I didn't intend to go to.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Week in Seven Words #63
accretion
Words are deposited like sediment on the page, pebbles and boulders and fine silt.
click
When I find myself slowing down on the keys, not typing with the speed and spirit I need, I watch a few minutes of Eleanor Powell tap-dancing – her brilliance, rapidity, rhythm, innovation, and ever-present smile get my fingers moving.
fan
Papers and books fan out from my desk, like trees flattened by the impact of an asteroid.
husk
Single-minded and unsocial, most of my thoughts caught up in work.
irritants
At the library they unpack their lunches from rustling brown bags. From each rustling brown bag they produce rattling bags of chips and sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. They crunch on the chips while peeling away the aluminum foil and taking long slurps from bottles of neon-colored liquid. They whisper loudly and wetly at each other. Their chairs squeak.
rehashing
It seems like when we meet we discuss the same things over and over. They don't make any more sense the third time around than they did the second and first.
trim
In preparation for Passover, she helps me tidy and vacuum, stock up on food, tweak the books and papers into piles.
Words are deposited like sediment on the page, pebbles and boulders and fine silt.
click
When I find myself slowing down on the keys, not typing with the speed and spirit I need, I watch a few minutes of Eleanor Powell tap-dancing – her brilliance, rapidity, rhythm, innovation, and ever-present smile get my fingers moving.
fan
Papers and books fan out from my desk, like trees flattened by the impact of an asteroid.
husk
Single-minded and unsocial, most of my thoughts caught up in work.
irritants
At the library they unpack their lunches from rustling brown bags. From each rustling brown bag they produce rattling bags of chips and sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. They crunch on the chips while peeling away the aluminum foil and taking long slurps from bottles of neon-colored liquid. They whisper loudly and wetly at each other. Their chairs squeak.
rehashing
It seems like when we meet we discuss the same things over and over. They don't make any more sense the third time around than they did the second and first.
trim
In preparation for Passover, she helps me tidy and vacuum, stock up on food, tweak the books and papers into piles.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Week in Seven Words #61
cinematic
I'm loaded down with work. In response, I start considering all the movies I'd like to watch.
disdainful
The weather is a slap to our face, spring giving us a cold shoulder.
ether
What happens to the emails I send that don't arrive? I see them dissolving at high speed, the words turning into a sparkling dust.
grungy
It's possible for the brain to feel grungy, like it's been sitting in a bucket of mop water.
imprisoned
Peeping out from the tortured syntax and the litter of logical fallacies is a glimmer of truth.
mollify
I don't know what it is about a spoonful of whole milk vanilla yogurt - a bit of peace and calm in every corner of your mouth.
protoplasm
The sentences look as if they're trying to cohere into paragraphs but can't. They're too spattered. Sort of like a jellyfish trying to walk on land, it won't happen. There's a ways to go yet, in their evolution as solid structured papers.
I'm loaded down with work. In response, I start considering all the movies I'd like to watch.
disdainful
The weather is a slap to our face, spring giving us a cold shoulder.
ether
What happens to the emails I send that don't arrive? I see them dissolving at high speed, the words turning into a sparkling dust.
grungy
It's possible for the brain to feel grungy, like it's been sitting in a bucket of mop water.
imprisoned
Peeping out from the tortured syntax and the litter of logical fallacies is a glimmer of truth.
mollify
I don't know what it is about a spoonful of whole milk vanilla yogurt - a bit of peace and calm in every corner of your mouth.
protoplasm
The sentences look as if they're trying to cohere into paragraphs but can't. They're too spattered. Sort of like a jellyfish trying to walk on land, it won't happen. There's a ways to go yet, in their evolution as solid structured papers.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Week in Seven Words #60
inferences
It's not uncommon for them to arrive at the correct answer through incorrect reasoning. And some of them say as little as possible, wisely concealing their ignorance.
peripheral
It can be good to sit at the end of a table, with one or two people around you to talk to. It's less noisy, with less competition over who will speak next. There's also no need to go along with the main topics of conversation.
spool
I speak quickly, my voice tugged out of me by the hands of the clock.
sprinkler
Small blue cellophane bags full of goodies - hamentaschen, peppermint patties, apples, oranges, chocolates in foil - sprinkled among people I know.
submerse
Just one tip of the tri-cornered hamentaschen dipped in a cup of almond milk.
trigger
There's a bowl of candy at the center of the table. I like how, shortly after one person reaches for a piece, a few others follow suit and take candy as well. That first person seems to give them permission, to show them that it's acceptable to take seconds or even thirds.
whet
Listening to the words of the text I want to know more, to understand the language, the people, the deeper meaning.
It's not uncommon for them to arrive at the correct answer through incorrect reasoning. And some of them say as little as possible, wisely concealing their ignorance.
peripheral
It can be good to sit at the end of a table, with one or two people around you to talk to. It's less noisy, with less competition over who will speak next. There's also no need to go along with the main topics of conversation.
spool
I speak quickly, my voice tugged out of me by the hands of the clock.
sprinkler
Small blue cellophane bags full of goodies - hamentaschen, peppermint patties, apples, oranges, chocolates in foil - sprinkled among people I know.
submerse
Just one tip of the tri-cornered hamentaschen dipped in a cup of almond milk.
trigger
There's a bowl of candy at the center of the table. I like how, shortly after one person reaches for a piece, a few others follow suit and take candy as well. That first person seems to give them permission, to show them that it's acceptable to take seconds or even thirds.
whet
Listening to the words of the text I want to know more, to understand the language, the people, the deeper meaning.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Week in Seven Words #52
ambuscade
I feel a little unwell at the beginning of the week, but it passes, and I let down my guard. As it turns out, the microscopic fiends that made a scouting mission through my innards have retreated only to regroup, bring in reinforcements, and launch a surprise attack.
bracing
The outside world is crunchy. The streets crackle with ice, the snow on the curb crumbles to a fine powder on the sidewalk. The air has a clean healthy bite to it.
moment
When I get to the room, no one is there. I'm glad I decide to stay. Had I chosen to leave right then and there, instead of bobbing around by the door in a state of indetermination, I would have missed out on an interesting hour of learning.
pomaceous
Apple juice, plain and sweet, waiting in a glass bottle at the bottom of the grocery bag.
stilts
I'm running a fever and need to walk across the room. My head is somewhere near the ceiling, and I'm not sure if my feet are touching the ground.
stupor
T.V. is suddenly interesting. My patience for commercials seems limitless. Look at that shiny clean pan, that washer and dryer set, that lovely meteorologist swooping around in front of a map with low frozen numbers on it. As long as I don't have to peel myself off the couch and fall back into bed I'm good. Just let me stay here for a while.
sustaining
I'm so thankful she's here. She makes a weak tea that I can keep down. She goes out into the slippery unplowed world to get some necessities from the convenience store. She tells me I'm certifiably insane for thinking that I can go to class in my condition. She makes excellent plain white rice and chicken broth. When I'm at my lowest point she's there.
I feel a little unwell at the beginning of the week, but it passes, and I let down my guard. As it turns out, the microscopic fiends that made a scouting mission through my innards have retreated only to regroup, bring in reinforcements, and launch a surprise attack.
bracing
The outside world is crunchy. The streets crackle with ice, the snow on the curb crumbles to a fine powder on the sidewalk. The air has a clean healthy bite to it.
moment
When I get to the room, no one is there. I'm glad I decide to stay. Had I chosen to leave right then and there, instead of bobbing around by the door in a state of indetermination, I would have missed out on an interesting hour of learning.
pomaceous
Apple juice, plain and sweet, waiting in a glass bottle at the bottom of the grocery bag.
stilts
I'm running a fever and need to walk across the room. My head is somewhere near the ceiling, and I'm not sure if my feet are touching the ground.
stupor
T.V. is suddenly interesting. My patience for commercials seems limitless. Look at that shiny clean pan, that washer and dryer set, that lovely meteorologist swooping around in front of a map with low frozen numbers on it. As long as I don't have to peel myself off the couch and fall back into bed I'm good. Just let me stay here for a while.
sustaining
I'm so thankful she's here. She makes a weak tea that I can keep down. She goes out into the slippery unplowed world to get some necessities from the convenience store. She tells me I'm certifiably insane for thinking that I can go to class in my condition. She makes excellent plain white rice and chicken broth. When I'm at my lowest point she's there.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Week in Seven Words #47
crumple
My eyelids giving up.
finger food
One lady declares that they're the best, all those tiny treats to pluck from the trays and pop into her mouth. She makes a slow appreciative circle round the table, her fingers dancing over chips, crackers, guacamole, and beans, gingerbread, olives, grapes and cheese, puffy cakes and chunks of chocolate.
pneumaticity
Hollow-boned, flying through the night. Can't figure out when to stop and for how long.
proctoring
It's nice to see the relief on their faces when the exam is over; they know that no matter how they did they get to go home now and reacquaint themselves with a full night's sleep. (A full night and an extra half-day, more like.)
subsequent
When I think too far ahead I tense up. Plans are precarious, people change. Sometimes I wonder how anything can be planned.
tugged
Five minutes before joining the conversation, I tell myself that I'm going to work on my papers and not socialize.
valve
In the tiny office they sit on the floor, backs to the wall, laptops and notebooks open on their legs, and everything seems confusing, everything, so I crack a joke now and then and some of the pressure lets up.
My eyelids giving up.
finger food
One lady declares that they're the best, all those tiny treats to pluck from the trays and pop into her mouth. She makes a slow appreciative circle round the table, her fingers dancing over chips, crackers, guacamole, and beans, gingerbread, olives, grapes and cheese, puffy cakes and chunks of chocolate.
pneumaticity
Hollow-boned, flying through the night. Can't figure out when to stop and for how long.
proctoring
It's nice to see the relief on their faces when the exam is over; they know that no matter how they did they get to go home now and reacquaint themselves with a full night's sleep. (A full night and an extra half-day, more like.)
subsequent
When I think too far ahead I tense up. Plans are precarious, people change. Sometimes I wonder how anything can be planned.
tugged
Five minutes before joining the conversation, I tell myself that I'm going to work on my papers and not socialize.
valve
In the tiny office they sit on the floor, backs to the wall, laptops and notebooks open on their legs, and everything seems confusing, everything, so I crack a joke now and then and some of the pressure lets up.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Week in Seven Words #46
bespectacled
She tells me about her new glasses, what they look like, how she realized at school with the blackboard and clock getting fuzzier and fuzzier that she'd need them. Her words remind me of when I put on my own first pair of glasses, the summer before fifth grade. How I slid them up my nose in the optician's shop, and the little squares on the shop's screen door leapt out sharply, along with the trees beyond and the license plates on the cars parked by the curb.
cerise
The clouds are a powdery pink, and the glass walls of the building blush in the sunset.
commiseration
They're overworked, I'm overworked. We'll muddle through this together.
enigma
A wooden stairwell, carpeted, the air thick with potpurri and the banisters twined in holly. On the wall above the first landing a mirror hangs too high for people to see their reflection. In some places it's spotted a moldy black. I wonder, if I were to drag over a stepladder, what I'd see in its surface.
finals
Students, pale and sniffly from stress and lack of sleep.
lair
For a few hours each week I need to use an office in their building. The office they give me doesn't open at first to any keys; who knows what’s happened, I’m told, and who was the last person to have set foot in it - maybe the lock was changed. An aura of mystery builds around the room, until at last I’m given a key that works. The lock clicks, I find a small dark room, no window, no visible light switch, a desk rearing up with its legs sticking out like a creature making a last desperate defense of its lair. An empty thermos and a granola bar sit on the other desk. From the floor a phone occasionally purrs; its blinking red light hints at messages that may never be heard by human ears.
lull
People-watching from a library window. The first reckless forerunners of snow spin through the air.
She tells me about her new glasses, what they look like, how she realized at school with the blackboard and clock getting fuzzier and fuzzier that she'd need them. Her words remind me of when I put on my own first pair of glasses, the summer before fifth grade. How I slid them up my nose in the optician's shop, and the little squares on the shop's screen door leapt out sharply, along with the trees beyond and the license plates on the cars parked by the curb.
cerise
The clouds are a powdery pink, and the glass walls of the building blush in the sunset.
commiseration
They're overworked, I'm overworked. We'll muddle through this together.
enigma
A wooden stairwell, carpeted, the air thick with potpurri and the banisters twined in holly. On the wall above the first landing a mirror hangs too high for people to see their reflection. In some places it's spotted a moldy black. I wonder, if I were to drag over a stepladder, what I'd see in its surface.
finals
Students, pale and sniffly from stress and lack of sleep.
lair
For a few hours each week I need to use an office in their building. The office they give me doesn't open at first to any keys; who knows what’s happened, I’m told, and who was the last person to have set foot in it - maybe the lock was changed. An aura of mystery builds around the room, until at last I’m given a key that works. The lock clicks, I find a small dark room, no window, no visible light switch, a desk rearing up with its legs sticking out like a creature making a last desperate defense of its lair. An empty thermos and a granola bar sit on the other desk. From the floor a phone occasionally purrs; its blinking red light hints at messages that may never be heard by human ears.
lull
People-watching from a library window. The first reckless forerunners of snow spin through the air.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Week in Seven Words #39
bullion
Golden bars of sunlight on deep green grass.
cachinnate
When I learn with her, and we're sitting with our books in front of us, we tend to laugh, sometimes a lot. It seems that the laughter is what I remember the most afterwards.
groundwork
Infants are often thought of as amoral; they might squirm, smile, cry, babble, explore, but making a judgment about another person's actions might seem to be beyond their capacities. As it turns out, there's evidence that infants younger than a year do show preferences for people (and characters) who are helpful and kind to another person over those who hinder and thwart; from what I recall they also prefer people who remain neutrally uninvolved to those who actively undermine another person's efforts (and prefer those who actively help to those who remain uninvolved). Rudiments of morality, good deeds and a sense of justice are there, even before they can speak.
regard
He speaks quite eloquently about love. Not love in the sense of falling head over heels, or getting swept away, or any other conception of love that involves losing one's mind or will to passions that are beyond personal control. He speaks about love as a choice and commitment, as something that deepens and grows throughout life, that glows inside of a healthy self and spreads outwards in ever-widening circles.
stalwart
A son of one of the Bielsky brothers talks about his father's and uncles' experiences leading a Jewish partisan group against Nazis and Nazi collaborators in Eastern Europe and saving over 1200 Jews (young, old, healthy, sick, men, women, and children). Several thoughts come out of the talk - the human spirit and human courage are amazing; heroes are flesh-and-blood imperfect people; and what's it like to live with this family legacy, to be the son and nephew of people who did things like that? (From this speaker I sense deep pride but also, especially when he was younger, a need to prove that he too has guts and can live up to the family name.)
unmotivated
Friday afternoon. People's primary concern seems to be whether there's any coffee or cookies left.
waxy
Yellow leaves on slicked pavement.
Golden bars of sunlight on deep green grass.
cachinnate
When I learn with her, and we're sitting with our books in front of us, we tend to laugh, sometimes a lot. It seems that the laughter is what I remember the most afterwards.
groundwork
Infants are often thought of as amoral; they might squirm, smile, cry, babble, explore, but making a judgment about another person's actions might seem to be beyond their capacities. As it turns out, there's evidence that infants younger than a year do show preferences for people (and characters) who are helpful and kind to another person over those who hinder and thwart; from what I recall they also prefer people who remain neutrally uninvolved to those who actively undermine another person's efforts (and prefer those who actively help to those who remain uninvolved). Rudiments of morality, good deeds and a sense of justice are there, even before they can speak.
regard
He speaks quite eloquently about love. Not love in the sense of falling head over heels, or getting swept away, or any other conception of love that involves losing one's mind or will to passions that are beyond personal control. He speaks about love as a choice and commitment, as something that deepens and grows throughout life, that glows inside of a healthy self and spreads outwards in ever-widening circles.
stalwart
A son of one of the Bielsky brothers talks about his father's and uncles' experiences leading a Jewish partisan group against Nazis and Nazi collaborators in Eastern Europe and saving over 1200 Jews (young, old, healthy, sick, men, women, and children). Several thoughts come out of the talk - the human spirit and human courage are amazing; heroes are flesh-and-blood imperfect people; and what's it like to live with this family legacy, to be the son and nephew of people who did things like that? (From this speaker I sense deep pride but also, especially when he was younger, a need to prove that he too has guts and can live up to the family name.)
unmotivated
Friday afternoon. People's primary concern seems to be whether there's any coffee or cookies left.
waxy
Yellow leaves on slicked pavement.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Week in Seven Words #10
bombinate
I've never found the sound of bees pleasant or cheerful. I wish they could stay silent as they descend on the daffodils or poke around window frames and doors. One bee I spot is especially bold. It hovers right over the center of a footpath. People duck to either side to avoid walking into it; one young man on a skateboard makes a last-minute swerve that nearly lands him in the mulch.
cloying
Petals, fallen from the trees and crushed underfoot, are slippery on the pavement. They release a smell of sticky sweetish rot.
confidence
I'm touched that he'd turn to me for advice on a personal matter. But even as I do my best to talk out the situation with him and discuss different options, I'm nagged by the feeling that my words aren't enough. I wish there were more time to consider the issue properly.
constriction
Music moves him deeply; it always has, and it still does. When I sing to him on the phone, it's as if I'm singing with him, because his intense yearning to sing is audible; sometimes I think I can hear his voice as it used to be, accompanying mine.
immerse
I'm content when I settle into the present moment - as when I walk in the warm sun and cold wind with a man who sees things quite well, even though his eyes don't show him anything. When I'm clustered with good friends on armchairs, and I focus only on their talk and laughter, and for the moment there are no worries.
possibilities
Her small circular Spiderman cushion doesn't remain a cushion for long. It transforms into many things - primarily a shield to go with her imaginary sword, but also a hat worn at a tilt on her head. It also changes into a bird's nest cradling a clutch of eggs, and at one point takes the shape of a shallow flower pot that she carries proudly at her elbow. When she's faced with a large crack in the sidewalk, the cushion becomes a handy bridge that saves her toes from plummeting.
punchy
The delight of studying something serious and complex when it's past two in the morning; we're making our points with arm-waving, loud proclamations, and giggle-yawns. Somehow everything sounds extraordinarily sensible and clear.
I've never found the sound of bees pleasant or cheerful. I wish they could stay silent as they descend on the daffodils or poke around window frames and doors. One bee I spot is especially bold. It hovers right over the center of a footpath. People duck to either side to avoid walking into it; one young man on a skateboard makes a last-minute swerve that nearly lands him in the mulch.
cloying
Petals, fallen from the trees and crushed underfoot, are slippery on the pavement. They release a smell of sticky sweetish rot.
confidence
I'm touched that he'd turn to me for advice on a personal matter. But even as I do my best to talk out the situation with him and discuss different options, I'm nagged by the feeling that my words aren't enough. I wish there were more time to consider the issue properly.
constriction
Music moves him deeply; it always has, and it still does. When I sing to him on the phone, it's as if I'm singing with him, because his intense yearning to sing is audible; sometimes I think I can hear his voice as it used to be, accompanying mine.
immerse
I'm content when I settle into the present moment - as when I walk in the warm sun and cold wind with a man who sees things quite well, even though his eyes don't show him anything. When I'm clustered with good friends on armchairs, and I focus only on their talk and laughter, and for the moment there are no worries.
possibilities
Her small circular Spiderman cushion doesn't remain a cushion for long. It transforms into many things - primarily a shield to go with her imaginary sword, but also a hat worn at a tilt on her head. It also changes into a bird's nest cradling a clutch of eggs, and at one point takes the shape of a shallow flower pot that she carries proudly at her elbow. When she's faced with a large crack in the sidewalk, the cushion becomes a handy bridge that saves her toes from plummeting.
punchy
The delight of studying something serious and complex when it's past two in the morning; we're making our points with arm-waving, loud proclamations, and giggle-yawns. Somehow everything sounds extraordinarily sensible and clear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)