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Family ties

25 Jul

Here in the States, the middle name is just that—a name wedged between your given and your family name. It could be a place where important family or friends are memorialized. It could be the seeds of a secondary character trait. But for the most part, to know someone’s middle name merely shows how close you are to that person.

I was reading a piece of Avengers fan fic (don’t judge) when I came across this line:

Loki shook his head, “Midgardians are so unusual. The very idea of surnames…patronymics simply make more sense. You are always your father’s daughter, but you may not always be your husband’s wife. Something as intrinsic as a name should not change.” Loki’s face became oddly vacant, “It is your identity.”

I had to close my laptop as I was slapped with one of those rare a-ha moments. I’d never considered the purpose of a patronymic before, but that made complete sense. And it made sense why it would be found in Russian culture and not in American.

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An American, Australian and Englishman walk onto a Russian late-night talk show

19 Jul

It’s been a ling time since I’ve done just a mini-blog. I feel like I’m copping out here, especially since last week’s post was so well-regarded on Facebook.

But! This is in lieu of a longer piece I have planned for next week, not just because I got lazy/didn’t have anything to write about. We’re going to talk about ~families~.

Sorry about the late post (again). I was quite sick yesterday and was sleeping it off for most of the day.

And now on to the world’s most [h]awkward interview ever.

Would you consider Ivan Urgant to be more like Craig Ferguson, Jay Leno, Jimmy Fallon or David Letterman? I feel like he’s a bit more straight-laced than Ferguson.

People forgotten to the pages of history

11 Jul

The other day, between one of my many emotional breakdowns via Dreamweaver, I went looking through my external hard drive, just to reminisce through the Good Ole Days. 2009. Good times.
Before I moved to DC, I called Waipio Gentry, Hawaii home. Waipio is a suburb of Waipahu, which is one of Honolulu’s many, many branches. All of Leeward Oahu is Honolulu, and I won’t be convinced otherwise. And I suppose I should knock this out-of-the-way too: no, I don’t hula; no, I don’t speak Hawaiian; no, I didn’t go to the beach every day–I actually really don’t like the beach; no, I did not ride my pet sea turtle to school every day; yes, I did go to school.

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