As is typical near the end of December, I was frequently bid "Merry Christmas" or "Peace to you and yours" by Christmas cards. I don't know what "peace" is, other than it's something that I think know I want.

***Disclaimer: too long; don't read UNLESS you're a hardcore word nerd (like me). ***

As I often do with formidable abstractions, I looked it up. Why forge new ground when the history of humanity and its capacity for language may reveal an instructive meaning? Maybe I can find something that pieces my notions of "peace" together.

The history of peace is tied strongly to its martial meaning: a cessation or void of war. In fact, there's an uncanny resemblance between the Latin "pax" and "pactum," which often ended a war, the vestiges of which we still use today when we make pacts or agreements. Our word "peace" came to English through Old French and reflects French's Latin heritage: "pax" to "pais" (Old French) to "pes" (Anglo-French) to "peace." In modern French the word is "paix."

What I find curious is how the Anglo-French word completely displaced the Old English word, "frith" (transliterated spelling--the final sound was the older letter "eth," which sometimes I think we should bring back to the English alphabet, but I digress). This is a gross oversimplification; but, in the English language (generally), things that are necessary and essential to life and society preserve their Germanic roots. This category includes things like: water, heart, food, love, kin, friends, sight, help, etc. I would think tha

So...in trying to understand "peace," my question becomes--what does "peace" embrace that "frith" does not? and why? Why trade in a perfectly good word for another one if there's not a difference in the meaning.

One explanation is that there is no difference in meanings--one just became more popular than the other, especially considering that the scribes who accompanied good ol' Guillaume after the Conquest were better versed in French and Latin than in the language of the rude Anglisch. It's easy to see how the Frenchier version prevailed. But, I find this explanation boring and lazy--even if very plausible. So, I continued looking.

Building on my basic understanding (and how I've used it), I reasoned that peace is the absence of conflict--but not all conflict. (Mild) Conflict and tension are what make life interesting. And, in wanting "peace," people aren't looking for boredom. Rather, they're searching for a certain, dependable level of relative comfort where they can build a life. Still, that understanding is so abstract to be almost entirely devoid of meaning. So, to the Web I went!

In the search I came across this Website. There, it points out that "frith" is related to the words for "free" and "friend," those two being related by the idea that a friend is one with whom another has a free association. The gist of "frith," according to that page, is a friendly obligation to certain others (primarily: kin, lords/leaders, gods, and guildmembers). These relationship existed in peace, not because of any wartime obligations. And here, mayhaps an instructive--if exaggerated--distinction can be made: where "peace" denotes an absence of compulsion (as in war), "frith" indicates the presence of obligations. There, "peace" seems like the broader word, while "frith," the stronger...and more telling.

This, ironically, incited a profound battle within me. I recently decided that I only felt "at peace" when I was alone--and not just alone, but on the verge of loneliness--so that I wasn't worried with/about others. And when that grievous twinge of emptiness lighted within me, I remembered all my clamorous experiences with friendship and "otherness," and knew that loneliness alone-ness is the best I can do. The source of the clamor was my inability to navigate the sea of expectations, obligations, and the like that relationships bring--and the unsettling realization that there is neither map nor GPS to aid the journey. (There may be a variety of compasses, but that's a blog for another day!)

Here, there is a need for reconciliation between these peace-pieces. On the one hand, there's the "Latin" sense--the absence of war, strife, and conflict, which is closer to my own sense of "peace." In the other hand rests the Germanic notion of frith--free association without external compulsion. That association, though, I feel robs me of the peace that I want for my life...

Maybe, to live a peaceful life, one merely needs the ability to choose what stressors touch his or her life. In this sense, the hallmark of peace is choice/control. Not subject to the wiles and grapples and powers of an enemy, there is room for security and refuge and solace in the choices you make. Perhaps peace is the simple, internal acceptance of one's external freedom and realizing the ability to flourish there.

"Peace" in that sense isn't helpful if the perpetual source of turmoil comes from within in you--as is the case with me. But, resolution of that dilemma may turn on the difference between being at peace and being at ease...Idk. Id have the time to look it up either.

Do you have peace in your life? How do you know?

I survived the holidays! Now it's 2013, which should be a big year. If everything goes according to plan, I'll graduate (again) and find a (real) job. Then, I have to start being an actual grown up, but I won't graduate until November, so maybe I can defer adulthood until 2014 when I'll take the bar exam. New goal!

But, it's time to embrace 2013 and everything it brings. So...what to embrace...hmmmmmmmmmm.

Whereas 2012 has been an average year in the scheme of my life, and in order to build on that foundation to make 2013 a substantially better year in light of the further grand events already scheduled to occur in the next twelve months, I have resolved:

1. To come up with a five-year plan: where do I want to be in 2018? Basically, I need to understand what I want from life (the hard part) and design a plan to effect it (the less hard part). I'm really good at planning; I'm really bad at determining goals. Much of my life has been about satisfying obligations and meeting others' expectations that I don't know how to set my own goals. Or maybe other people are better at setting my goals than I am, which is why I haven't done it? Mayhaps I need more resolutions.

2. To begin implementing the five-year plan.

3. To be healthier. I should get my eating habits back under control when I have to buy my own groceries. The hard part will be drinking less soda. I know it's bad: it destroys my death, overloads my sodium intake, and leaches calcium from my bones. If I keep drinking soda at current rates: I will be a osteoperosis-riddled, toothless, salty, fifty-year-old man. Then again, if I accept that that is my fate, I can keep enjoying soda now...

4. To understand. There are a lot of things that I thought I would understand at this point in my life. I do not. It's becoming increasingly apparent that others expect me to understand things about life...but then, this may be me subject to myself to external expectations for failure to have my own. Thinking is a bummer. Qu'est-ce que vous en pensez?

Sometimes  I wish the Mayans were right about the end of the world. Then, I wouldn't have to deal with this.

5. To never stop psyching myself up for the early May premiere of the new season of Arrested Development. Now, I don't know whether I'm more pumped about the return of Community in February (after a ten-month hiatus!) or May when the scheduled 14 episodes of Arrested Development get released to Netflix. I'm so giddy I could vomit.

Those are my resolutions/goals/things I'm anticipating for the new year. What are you most looking forward to this year?

...it's always first thought when I realize that my zipper is down. While this is ordinarily awkward enough, the particular circumstances threw things into awkward overdrive.

One of my classes was canceled today because of a family emergency on the professor's end. So, I had a free hour in my schedule that I don't normally get. I decided to run (I walked, actually) to a nearby fast-food place to get lunch. I hadn't eaten yet and I had a double session of my ConLaw class, so eating was probs a good idea to keep me focused.

I placed my order. Another employee said, "You look like....ohm....ohm....that guy on TV, yunno?" She directed the question to the employee taking my order. The response was a natural, I-have-no-idea-what-you-mean expression. Since the first employee never clarified who I was celebrity-looking-like, I must presume that it's NOT flattering...It's whatevs...and only illustrates of the type of awkward that I attract/create in ordinary life.

While I was waiting for my spicy chicken sandwich, I realized a pressure in my lower torso...Yes. It was potty time. I made up my little "food roost" in the dining area, and went to the bathroom. When I got there, I realized the door wouldn't shut. I don't mean that it wouldn't LOCK. I mean it wouldn't CLOSE. Maybe the foundation shifted, but either the door jamb or the door was off level and the top corner of the door just kind of stopped when it hit the top corner of the door jamb.

A lack of privacy complicates bladder voiding.

Anyway, because I can pee standing up, I decided to chance it. There was only one other lady in the restaurant, so I figured I'd be safe. It takes guys on average like 47 seconds to take care of business, so I figured I'd be good. WRONG.

As soon as I got my fly down, another guy walks in...sees me...and STILL proceeds to go for a tissue. "Dude, I gotta get a tissue to blow my nose. It's been running like crazy." So, we were both in there. Together. With a door that doesn't work. So, any number of other strange men could have walked in just started chillin' there too. This should never happen. I repeat: THIS SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN!

Dumbfounded by the sheer absurdity of two grown men occupying the same single-occupancy public bathroom, I "It's just one of those nose-blowing kind of days," I sputtered--my tone was half way between an interrogative suggestion and an apology. I didn't know what to do. Without having relieved myself--and just decided to skip the entire affair.

On reflecting on those earlier instances, I realized that it was from that point (when I failed to "close shop" in the bathroom) until I had made it to the school bathroom that my "barn door" had been "beckoning the livestock home." So...mystery solved I guess.

In eleventh grade, as part of my French class, we had to read Le petit prince by Antoinede Saint-Exupéry. I loved reading it and it has remained one of my favorite books of all time. This is my favorite passage from that book:

"Les grandes personnes aiment les chiffres. Quand vous leur parlez d’un nouvel ami, elles ne vous questionnent jamais sur l’essentiel. Elles ne vous disent jamais : « Quel est le son de sa voix ? Quels sont les jeux qu’il préfère ? Est-ce qu’il collectionne les papillons ? » Elles vous demandent : « Quelle âge a-t-il ? Combien a-t-il de frères ? Combien pèse-t-il ? Combien gagne son père ? Alors seulement elles croient le connaître. Si vous dites aux grandes personnes : « J’ai vu une belle maison en briques roses, avec des géraniums aux fenêtres et des colombes sur le toit… », elles ne parviennent pas à s’imaginer cette maison. Il faut leur dire : « J’ai vu une maison de cent mille francs. » Alors elles s’écrient : « Commec’est joli. »"

After reading that, I promised my 17-year old self that I would never be like "les grandes personnes" from the story. I wanted to grow up and ask the essential questions: the things that actually pull people together. Numbers, "les chiffres" are arbitrary definitions to quantify things that don't derive their value from the number attached to them. They aren't really that important. Alas, I may have broken my promise to myself.

I'm taking two tax classes and another one with a strong tax emphasis. Another class is on international trade law--so it deals with duties and imposts. Most of my world right now deals with numbers and figures--the things that aren't supposed to matter! AHHH!!

Sometimes I feel too wrapped up in "serious things." Frankly, serious things are lame. I understand that they're important...but not THAT important. They're not as important as knowing that if you make your friend laugh really hard he is likely to spritz his pants; or that humid summer days and dust storms set the stage for the best sunsets; or that your sister won't let you see her burp unless she's had a glass of wine; or that your dog loves chasing squirrels but hates the vacuum; or that in the second week of October the big trees in your yard have reached the peak of fall colors.

It's with this mind that I'm about to have to force myself to read about capital gains and losses, carryover, DNI consequences, forms 706, 1040, and 1041, and a whole mess of schedules. As you can imagine, the obstacles to beginning the task are nearly insurmountable...nearly.

Idk...maybs I just don't won't to grow up. Case in point: I just said "maybs"...I'm too old for that $#@!. I'm hoping for an epiphany that will reveal the human dimension to the otherwise perfunctory and soulless process of determining tax liability--and planning around it. For now, I hope it will be enough for me that, in learning all these things, I can help put people at ease so that they are better able to enjoy their loved ones, sunsets, and yards. I hope.

***Disclaimer: this is another dumpy, humanity-is-awful, whiny rant.***

I'm a little baffled/upset/disappointed in myself. NEWS FLASH!

Really, though, I am. I applied for a Spring Break pro-bono opportunity to Corpus Christi (in South Texas) and just found out that I was NOT selected. At the time of the trip I'll be a third-year law student; I speak Spanish; AND I have significant ties to that area...still, they didn't want me. No one ever does. :

Life is poopy at times. I guess the important thing is that I tried. I know that compared to the people here who have real problems this isn't a big deal. Still, I was hoping that this would be an opportunity for me to make a positive change (albeit late) in my law-school career...especially considering that that city is one of the areas where I can see myself enjoying living and working in the future.

Oh well. That's what I get for hoping. My inclination is to tell the program director to shove his wait-list offer up his you-know-where. But, I shall reserve any further correspondence with hum until I'm no longer miffed. That's probably wisest.

Although, a part of me is really curious about who they did pick. As far as I know, I'm only one of a few bilingual students at my school and I'm not sure that they all applied. I guess multilingualism isn't as important an asset as I thought it would be. BOO!

***End rant***

"La musique commence là où s'arrête le pouvoir des mots." --Richard Wagner

In keeping with the theme of my last post, I thought I'd get a sense for how others enjoy music. Some people will dance along with the song, others sing, others, like me, do both--very poorly. I have a pretty rigid--although very broad--framework for "testing" music, and I'm interested to see if anyone else ear-proches music in the same way.

For me, music is all about synthesis. I like how many different sound pieces work together to express a message. The communicative power of a song (or even just a piece without lyrics!) transcends any singular component. For me, the beauty and pull of music lies in the relationships and interplay between all the elements--how they work with, influence, and build on each other.

One of my strongest memories from college is having talked with some other students who were completely caught up in the notion that "the meaning of a song derives from its lyrics." I was flabbergasted. Quite often, the words that a musician puts to a song are incidental to and consequential of the underlying, (usually) preexisting music. The lyrics simply amplify what's already there; they serve to translate abstract swirls of reified impressions into something communicable.

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of music in foreign languages--I've been enjoying the French tracks of Mika's Origin of Love (particulièrementla chanson « Karen, » que j’ai découverte par la page Facebook de @decembriel ), as well as a lot of Brazilian pop (Michel Telo, Gusttavo Lima, etc.). It's not easy for me to understand French sung or spoken...and I don't speak more than three words of Portuguese. BUT! What I like, even if I don't catch the lyrics, is how the voice works with an upbeat melody, the harmonies, and the crescendos...AND even the occasional, well-placed quiet moment.

So, you know, synthesis--like I said at the beginning.

What do you think music achieves as a form of expression that other media don't? What's been "in your ear" lately?

My last few posts have explored the less-pleasant components of human nature: stress, paranoia, shame, guilt, etc. Rather than let you, dear reader, walk (err...click?) away with the sense that everything that happens in my life is woeful, I decided to share a more-positive development in my life.

I recently promised myself  to seize opportunities to do things that I enjoy doing, even if by myself. It is unlikely that I will maintain any kind of friendship for a meaningful period of time. However, I have resolved that I can't let not having friends stand in the way of me living my life. In fact, I think that's probably the biggest lesson I learned while I was in Europe this summer: it's perfectly legitimate (within some restrictions) to do "fun" things alone. The concert that I went to last week was an undertaking in that spirit. Similarly, I've finally started accepting the invitations to a private dance party that I send myself every evening.

It's awesome.

I have a very eclectic taste in music. The genre doesn't matter so much to me as much was what the musicians do with the musical elements they employ. For a dance party, I just need a phat beat and accessible lyrics--"accessible" in the sense that they are easy to learn and that I can sing/mouth while I bust a move.

Lately, my playlist has featured a lot of Latin pop (SURPRISE!) as well as some 80s hits (most notablly, "U Can't Touch This" and "Push It"). I enjoy the variety of sounds, instruments, beats, and rhythms. Plus, it's a pretty good workout...I got a little sweaty last night mastering that lasso move during "Gangnam Style."

The best part about it is that, because I'm the only invitee, I don't have to worry about looking like an idiot--which I absolutely do, but I'm the only one who knows.

The only downside so far that I've experienced is that my "stop, pop, and roll" is hard on my knees. ALSO, I've but some undue stress on my lower back...it made it hard to sleep a couple of nights ago. But, I got through it. And on the bright side, my body roll has never looked better!

How often do you have (private) dance parties? Do you have a trademark move?

« ...Ne fais rien que ton ennemi ne puisse savoir...»

I don't try to hide things here. If I'm not comfortable sharing something; it doesn't get shared--not here, not anywhere. My Xanga isn't a place where I "separate" myself from another presence. I understand people who keep a Xanga for that purpose--at times, I applaud them. But, that's not me. I blog because I want to say something. (Note: I didn't say that "I have something to say"--it's a notable distinction.)

Most of the people who stop by and read are fellow Xangans--my Xangamigos, as I often call them. They are active participants in the Xangasphere and make valuable contributions to what's happening not only to my site, but also all over teh Xangas.

Occasionally I see a searcher-transient--someone who stops in after getting linked from the Google. These interlopers leave almost always disappointed, I must gather. I'm a frantic tag-enterer; I want a strong connection between and among posts. I apologize if this upsets one's Internet searches. Sorry guys.

Still other times, someone I know IRL will stop by...often at my invitation. When I post something of potential interest to the people I know IRL, I usually post the Xanga link to my Facebook wall. That way, when a FB friend feels the inclination, he or she can stop on in. This happens very rarely. "facebook.com" is almost never a referrer when I peruse my footprints. So, I can't always tell that these people have visited. Other times, though, based on the time of day and the browser he or she used, I can make out who precisely it is who has visited.

I like having people over on my virtual site. But, this is only the general rule. What bothers me is that I believe (and I can't be 100% sure) that there is a group of people--and many of them don't know each other--who visit my blog to gather "ammunition" of sorts. I think it is their intention just to keep tabs on what I'm doing...and then wait...just sitting on that information...like they're waiting for something incriminating.

It is a real possibility that I'm paranoid. But, of those weapon-gathering spies who I think visit my site, we never talk about what I've posted. Ever. So, I'm a little confused about what it all means. On the one hand, I don't want to post something that will only be harmful. But, on the other hand, I don't want to hide anything either.

How do you handle people you know IRL visiting your site?

I'm supposed to be reading about international trade law, but I feel like this is a much-healthier endeavor.

I had a terrible weekend. It started out well enough; some of my closest family friends threw a thirtieth anniversary party for their parents. After I helped them set up, I took advantage of the opportunity to get completely sloshed. COMPLETELY. For me, the evening ended when I blacked out, refused to go to bed, tried to drive home (90 miles away, mind you!), was refused keys, tried to run instead (still 90 miles!), and was eventually wrangled into the car after a physical altercation. That led to a nasty diatribe punctuated with moments of incoherent, caustic conversation. I said things that I can't unsay (even though some were wholly fabricated). I may have done some serious damage to my relationship with several family members.

After the sharpest part of shame wore off a few days later, reflection on the "event" leaves me thinking about encouragement.

If you've spent any time reading my blog, you will quickly discover that I love words and the human capacity to express them. I am a self-professed word nerd who loves all aspects of language. For me, words are people too--they will endure long beyond any one of us; and they have the power to shape people's lives as much as any person. Their influence is far and wide. Each utterance is a further contribution to its rich experience with humanity. With this in my mind, I love researching etymologies: they're like little biographies. They tell me something about who a word is, why it is, who are its siblings, parents, children. I get a sense of who a word is over time, how it has grown and changed and adapted itself to fit different mouths over the years--sometimes centuries and millennia! So, when I contemplate a concept, I run first to collect its story from wherever I can.

The history of encouragement is long one. It traces its history in this form back to the 1560s, but its earlier cohorts have roots in the "English" of the 1300s. Since then, it has been made to fit a variety of grammatical forms, with the consequent semantic "squish" to fit therein. The structural affixes are somewhat perfunctory: "-ment" forms a noun from the act of "encouraging"; "en-" forms a verb to describe what one does in placing "courage" into a person. It is this "courage" that is at the heart () of encouragement.

"Courage" came to English, like many words, through French at the early part of the last millennium. And, as most French words, it has its root in Latin--that ancient language that built an empire and whose intellectual tradition is still shaping the world today. In Latin, the form was "cor." Today, you see courage's cousins in "cardiac," the Spanish word "corazon," and the French "coeur." In all these iterations, the image conveyed is that of the heart.

What really gets me excited is when there's information that takes us back further! Apparently, the Greek word kardia preceded its Latin counterpart. But the story doesn't end there--even before the Greeks had it, it is though to be part of the reconstructed ProtoIndoEuropean Language as /kerd/, which even harkens a little to our English pronunciation. From those early beginnings, this idea of a "heart" or "middle" has descended through the linguistic heritage of man in often little-varied form. In fact, I encourage you to look up the extraordinary phonetic similarity of this semantic nugget across a group of incredibly diverse languages.

People have always associated the heart with one's internal dealings. Early on, the heart was the descriptor of all such inner workings: thoughts, principles, values, affections, hatreds, passions, lustiness, temperament, attitude, pride, convictions, and motivations. Historically, then, "courage" was the very seat of what made an individual who he is. As human knowledge grew, we reassigned many of these characteristics to the brain; we began to understand our "essential selves" as a dynamic between our heart and mind. We now consider our thoughts, plans, experiences, and some feelings as brain matters. Nonetheless, we attribute our stronger, profounder impulses someplace deeper in us--in our heart. There, they are the source and substance of human courage.

And it is this courage--this depth of human essence--where our contemporary understanding begins. Courage is among the most virtuous of human attributes. The people who have courage are admired; those who demonstrate it are heroes. The reason is simple: courage lies where the nobility of humanity overcomes its meaner characteristics. Courage celebrates human triumph and the good that can be!

But what about "encouragement"? In drumming up a meaning of courage, did we lose the beat of encouragement? I think not. The meaning of encouragement depends on what courage is. Without understanding "courage," how can we "encourage"? How do we know when we've accomplished that act of instilling courage in others? Despite a dynamic story that very really spans the course of human history, there is a guarded immutability in the message--one that holds fast with all the permanence of Latin.

At the core of encouragement, this idea perseveres: within a person lies a source of strength that others can ignite.

So, eight paragraphs, five languages, and one history lesson later: encouragement is about getting inside and lifting up. The challenge I see is getting in there. For me, I'm so closed off and walled up that it's unlikely that I can be encouraged, which is probably a dangerous position. I think I'll have to wrestle with that issue in another blog on another day.

How do you encourage others? What's the most encouraging thing you've ever done? What's the most encouraging thing someone has done for you?

***DISCLAIMER: What follows is in the nature of a whiney, self-destructive rant. If you care about how what you read impacts your own personal wellness, I encourage you not to continue.***

It's the time of year when I must begin purchasing gifts for my family members. Since I have a large family, that means I must purchase many gifts. Each gift must be special, personal, and Christmas-worthy. They have to be neatly wrapped and placed under the tree. Naturally, there is a real amount of stress that follows...And it will only get worse as the family grows and my siblings start marrying/procreating. UGH!

There is some limit to this stress if I assume that I need only get presents for my family. For this purpose, it is lucky that I have no friends so I don't need to buy them anything. But what about the other people in my life? Should I get the bus driver I see everyday a present? What about the postman? There are people who provide valuable services who probably deserve a token of my appreciation...but then if they do, then what form does that token take? It's enough to make your head spin...

On top of that, there are other parties, duties, and social obligations that get implicated around the end of the year. On the upside, I think I've just about been able to work up a good excuse not to go to any holiday parties. So, hopefully I can skip those this year.

Then...there's the guilt. I have a LOT to be thankful for, and my future (to the extent I won't destroy it) is brighter than most people's. However, I would give it all up in a minute if I could be assured that I would never have to experience all the guilt that comes with it. (Then of course, one must wonder "Wouldn't you feel guilty about having done nothing with your rich source of resources before giving them for the selfish purpose of being able to live with yourself?" The answer is probably "yes, I probably would still feel guilty." And alas, I would lose at life again!) No one's been able to tell me how much giving/generosity is acceptable/appropriate/optimal...and my own efforts at generosity have not been instructive...even if objectively "generous." Knowing that these awful feelings are looming only compounds the stress.

I think the best Christmas present I could ever receive would be absolution of the need to participate in Christmas. But what are the chances of that? That sounds like something that only Santa could do...