COLUMN: A week of unexpected information
A
week of unexpected information
I am always learning new things, but I would have to say that Thanksgiving 2009 really flooded my cognitive processes with new information. Something I learned about double knots was especially startling and initiated a stark disequilibrium in my straightforward mind.
I am a double knotter. Ever since elementary school I have double knotted my shoelaces, because, duh, it prevents them from coming undone. A double knot in my mind has always equaled unquestionable strength. It is a preventive measure I take so that I do not have to worry about tripping over my feet, which I do enough of already without the added interference of lengthy laces.
Yet, as I was casually sitting on a carpeted floor on a post-Thanksgiving day, my cousin, who may or may not have been attempting to tie my shoes together, pulled a string and undid my double knot as breezily as a walk in the park. I was mucho taken aback.
“How did you do that?” I asked with disbelief. “It was uber-protected with double knottiness.”
After a brief session of instruction, I learned that double knots can indeed be undone if the correct tip is pulled. (In case you are curious, Google has informed me that the tip of a shoelace is called an aglet.) Egads, there goes life as it once was known. What sort of knot am I supposed to trust now? A triple? How ever will I be able to protect my dear aglets?
But don’t you worry, not everything I learned this Thanksgiving break was quite this alarming. A different cousin taught me a neat diversion to do with a dollop of whipped cream. You put a spoonful of the whipped wonder onto the palm of your hand, whack your arm, send the amorphous globule flying into the air and try to catch it in your mouth. When it does not make it into your mouth, it creates a wonderful splattering on your face, or, if you are as unskilled at the task as I am, on your T-shirt. It is an activity that has the potential to amuse for hours.
I am not quite sure how to transition into my next point, or even bring up my next point, but I will try my best. Oh my mercy, it is incredibly embarrassing. I could try to justify it, but I really have no excuse, so here you go. I saw “New Moon” in the theater. Yes, the latest Twilight flick. Do not judge me. Please.
I have not read any of the books, and not because I am anti-Twilight or hate reading, but because I have never felt the desire to read a love story about a 100-year-old vampire – a vegetarian vampire with sparkly skin nonetheless – who constantly struggles to refrain from eating his human love interest.
When my cousins announced that “New Moon” was on the agenda for my visit, I figured that in order to be polite, I ought to prepare myself beforehand by suffering through the first movie. I borrowed the DVD from a former roommate and slipped it into my laptop to watch as I packed.
I found myself strangely addicted. I laughed at parts that were not intended to be laughed at. I mocked characters that were not intended to be mocked. I scoffed situations that were not intended to be scoffed. Yet, despite all of my ridiculing, I kept watching. Some obscurely attractive magical element, which I cannot pin down, drew me in and distracted me with gusto. (This must be why I forgot to pack my socks, cell phone charger and hairbrush. Fortunately, I was able to successfully cope without these items in rather creative ways.)
“Twilight” is not a movie that people openly admit to liking because it is excruciatingly embarrassing to like. It is cheesy, unrealistic and, at times, plain stupid. Yet it is a phenomenon that has invaded our nation. It is not logical to like “Twilight,” but we do. It is not normal to identify with vampires and werewolves, but we do. It is not cool to watch the super-fake special effects of vampire baseball, but we do. It is not mature to agonize over Jacob and Edward, but we do. And we generally do not recommend “Twilight” to others, even if we inexplicably like it ourselves, because we are ashamed to own up. We do not embrace it, but we still enjoy it. Secretly.
It’s weird and disturbing. You may have noticed that I have not directly stated that I like “Twilight.” For obvious reasons. If I said I liked it, especially in such a public forum, it would be like betraying myself and everything I stood for. Instead, I will say that “Twilight” was worth exploring for entertainment’s sake. For the sake of pop culture. For the sake of an obsessive craze. Do not judge me. Please.
What a week.
Melissa Condie is a senior majoring in music education. Her column will appear here weekly. Contact her at m.condie@aggiemail.usu.edu