I've always loved this word. It just rolls off the tongue. And it sounds so sophisticated. As far as first impressions go it may be a little strong. I mean - you're a dork weed if you actually use the word verisimilitude. Its pretentious. One smart dork I guess though.
How would you use the word? I think I could fit in it somewhere with tooth-whitener: "Despite the daily intake of black coffee and staggering amounts of red wine, the tooth whitening treatments gave verisimlitude to the fluorscently white smile of the beautiful woman". I don't know. I'm still a little unsure. And my grammer sucks. Cool word though.
There are many things in this word that give the appearance of being true or real. J.D. knew it all along.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
natural progression
Eventually I did a triathlon.
A few of them. A long time ago now it seems. Some people have a fear of the swim. Which is the good part for me - a boost in the beginning, a little self-talk, supporting the thought that I know I can actually do this. I jumped off a ferry into the great San Francisco bay last year and swam like a fishing minnow - you know, like those crowded tight in a minnow bucket. One of those yellow ones on the bottom and white on top, with the air holes. My dad and I used to fish, a long time ago now it seems. Swam like a minnow destined for a bicycle in San Francisco. What a trip. I'd like to do that one again someday.
It all started at Northampton Village. I lived there with my mom and my sisters. They lived there for a while I think anyway. Off Harcourt Road in Indianapolis. We moved all over that apartment complex for some reason. Still all the doors were hollow I remember with cheap shiny brass hardware regardless of which unit we landed in. Fairly generic kitchens. Apartment living sucks. The only thing I really found appealing about apartment decor was the large sliding glass door with access to the small patio area.
It was from this door that I would exit in the morning with my Incredible Hulk towel around my neck. Saddle-up on my Free Spirit 10-speed and ride to the pool. I spent all day at the pool. Every day, all day.
Occasionally the group would disperse for a round of Cops and Robbers, a game played while pedalling and shooting plastic Kmart guns at one another. I remember once I annihilated an entire group of the older kids because my position in the trees was so good (oh yeah - occasionally we'd hop off the bikes and set-up an ambush!). The game was fairly subjective. Usually the person that could make a machine gun sound with their mouth the fastest and the loudest was the victor. I kicked some ass in those days.
The pool was an apartment pool. Oval. Not a kidney shape thank God. My stroke would probably list one way or the other if that had been the case. It had good depth in the deep end. I rarely used the diving board. Once at the end of the summer the life guards coordinated a series of events. Things like: who can hold their breathe the longest. Who can swim the farthest under water. Who can host the best tea party in the deep end. And - who has the biggest splash off the board. I don't remember participating in the tea party? Foreshadowing perhaps. But I do remember losing at the big splash off the board contest. I cried like a frustrated little 6-year old that usually did pretty well in the water. Just like the Finn Brooks of today (he comes by it naturally). In hindsight - I did have to channel future losses in the pool to a more Zen like understanding of competition. Swimming became more of a meditation, a self induced test, searching for the nirvana of a rhythm of water, pain, breathing, and efficiency. Eventually, what place I got didn't matter much to me.
How do you become 'good' at something? Practice. Time. You have to want to be good at it. No - you don't have to really want it. You may not even realize your becoming good. I became a good swimmer trying to show off, even as a little boy, for the high school female life guards. They pushed me more than anyone. Woman can do that to you, you know. I was going to win the 'Who can swim the farthest under water' contest or pass out in the deep end trying.
A few of them. A long time ago now it seems. Some people have a fear of the swim. Which is the good part for me - a boost in the beginning, a little self-talk, supporting the thought that I know I can actually do this. I jumped off a ferry into the great San Francisco bay last year and swam like a fishing minnow - you know, like those crowded tight in a minnow bucket. One of those yellow ones on the bottom and white on top, with the air holes. My dad and I used to fish, a long time ago now it seems. Swam like a minnow destined for a bicycle in San Francisco. What a trip. I'd like to do that one again someday.
It all started at Northampton Village. I lived there with my mom and my sisters. They lived there for a while I think anyway. Off Harcourt Road in Indianapolis. We moved all over that apartment complex for some reason. Still all the doors were hollow I remember with cheap shiny brass hardware regardless of which unit we landed in. Fairly generic kitchens. Apartment living sucks. The only thing I really found appealing about apartment decor was the large sliding glass door with access to the small patio area.
It was from this door that I would exit in the morning with my Incredible Hulk towel around my neck. Saddle-up on my Free Spirit 10-speed and ride to the pool. I spent all day at the pool. Every day, all day.
Occasionally the group would disperse for a round of Cops and Robbers, a game played while pedalling and shooting plastic Kmart guns at one another. I remember once I annihilated an entire group of the older kids because my position in the trees was so good (oh yeah - occasionally we'd hop off the bikes and set-up an ambush!). The game was fairly subjective. Usually the person that could make a machine gun sound with their mouth the fastest and the loudest was the victor. I kicked some ass in those days.
The pool was an apartment pool. Oval. Not a kidney shape thank God. My stroke would probably list one way or the other if that had been the case. It had good depth in the deep end. I rarely used the diving board. Once at the end of the summer the life guards coordinated a series of events. Things like: who can hold their breathe the longest. Who can swim the farthest under water. Who can host the best tea party in the deep end. And - who has the biggest splash off the board. I don't remember participating in the tea party? Foreshadowing perhaps. But I do remember losing at the big splash off the board contest. I cried like a frustrated little 6-year old that usually did pretty well in the water. Just like the Finn Brooks of today (he comes by it naturally). In hindsight - I did have to channel future losses in the pool to a more Zen like understanding of competition. Swimming became more of a meditation, a self induced test, searching for the nirvana of a rhythm of water, pain, breathing, and efficiency. Eventually, what place I got didn't matter much to me.
How do you become 'good' at something? Practice. Time. You have to want to be good at it. No - you don't have to really want it. You may not even realize your becoming good. I became a good swimmer trying to show off, even as a little boy, for the high school female life guards. They pushed me more than anyone. Woman can do that to you, you know. I was going to win the 'Who can swim the farthest under water' contest or pass out in the deep end trying.
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