Fartastic (and other words we really need)

Fartastic is actually word. It apparently means the relief experienced after a particularly good fart. As useful as that is, I’d like to propose a new definition: the sarcastic fartastic. Similar to the deadpan “fantastic”– when things simply aren’t – this new meaning will go beyond typical irony-inspired sarcasm to capture those moments that are truly fatuous (or even fartous, I mean why stop at one “f” word?...).

We’re highly skilled at conveying what we think by using our bodies and hands … but our main method of communication is still language. Yet it can often feel like we’re constrained by a lack of words. I remember being in awe of my university lecturer who said that the Inuit have many words for “snow” and, despite its significance in our lives, English has very few for “love”. I thought he was the most brilliant and amazing man until I discovered he’d stolen that insight from Margaret Atwood… Uh-huh. Is there a word for that type of disillusionment?...

Plagiarising other people’s ideas aside, there are words in other languages that we simply don’t have in English - words that manage to concisely capture feelings, emotions and occurrences. And while I’m someone who often doesn’t finish sentences let alone find the right word, I still love to discover new words. (Although sometimes I wonder if I’m rediscovering words I’ve already discovered and then forgotten – is there a word for that?…) There are also some seriously bizarre words that have recently been added to the English language. And many more words that haven’t been added, but should be.   

My favourite words we don’t have in English include the German word Verschlimmbesserung, which is a solution or improvement that actually makes things worse... Yep, we’ve all been there. Shemomedjamo, which is Georgian for when you eat something because it’s so delicious even though you’re full. It translates to “I accidentally ate the whole thing.”  And kummerspeck, which translates to “bacon grief”, and means gaining weight from eating to feel better.  

In terms of new words, I have just discovered resistentialism. Initially a “joke word” it nevertheless captures that spiteful nastiness exhibited by inanimate objects. Think computers shutting down randomly, and cords and cables knotting themselves when you’re not looking. Although my new favourite is kakistocracy which means government by the worst people. A fantastically applicable word (and somehow onomatopoeic!).

Then there are the stupid new words. Well, maybe stupid isn’t the right word… And I should say that fartastic is listed as a word only in the “Urban dictionary” and not the Oxford dictionary (which may be the more “official” guide). However, these words have been listed in the Oxford dictionary: MacGyver (as a verb), swole, butthurt and awesomesauce...  I need a word to describe my shock, horror and the tinge of shame I feel that these can actually be words. To MacGyver means to come up with a solution or fix by using what is available. For example, he MacGyvered a mechanism to dissuade his son from sucking his thumb by taping it with duct tape and inserting a nail at the top... Swole just gives me cold shivers and is essentially using the already existing “swollen” incorrectly. Here is an example sentence from the Oxford online dictionary: “her eyes was so swole you couldn’t see what color they was”. I feel the same about butthurt, which refers to an over-the-top feeling of being wronged (maybe I feel butthurt at the inclusion of swole?). And awesomesauce. Really? It’s supposed to reflect how great something is. But having worked with a colleague who regularly used the phrase, and watched the episode of Parks and Recreation where Andy used the term, I can honestly say “that is not a good word people!”

It’s not that I don’t think we need new words - just perhaps not those ones. Instead, here are some words that I do think we could use: Textpectation, that sense of anticipation when waiting for a text; Nonversation, essentially pointless small talk (I probably like this because I’m so bad at it); and unkeyboardinated, when you can’t type without making mistakes. I’m not clever enough to come up with any actual new words, but here is my personal list of what I think we need words for:

1. The regret felt after saying something to your partner that immediately causes a fight.
2. Excessive worry about what your child will do with their life (and they’re not even a teenager)...
3. The obsessive compulsive desire to check Facebook every three seconds.
4. The kids having showers every day but the soap remaining so unused it’s completely dry and cracked.
5. That moment of angst as you watch an object fall (like when you drop your library book/phone in the bath).
6. When you imagine hypothetical scenarios (what might happen) and then get really angry or sad about what you’ve just imagined…
7. When you put your breakfast down and the cat starts to eat it.
8. Your children asking you something then walking off mid-explanation.
9. When you’re in a relationship, the things that automatically become “his” jobs that he fails to notice.
10. When you say something and get ignored, but then someone else says the same thing and they get listened to.

What’s on your list?

Yoga farts and other health hazards

I would love to be healthy. I’m not totally unhealthy. But I feel I could do more. And I’m surrounded by the constant message that I should be doing more. TV advertisements, newspapers and magazines, they all seem to be peddling the message that the human race has been diverted down a path lined with fatty and sugary foods with the finish line at the lazy couch of sloth. I made the mistake of buying a sports top and now receive constant emails suggesting I increase the intensity and duration of my workouts. Unfortunately, I find that my attempts at improving my health are either misguided or downright dangerous. Take yoga, for example... 

I love yoga. I love the idea of yoga. I love how I feel after yoga. It’s just that I can’t breathe during yoga. Yoga makes me fart. There. I said it. I got it out of my system (as it were…). There is something dreadfully co-incidental about reaching, stretching and loosening the digestive tract. Some moves are diabolical. I mean who can do the extended hand to toe pose (holding your foot and raising your leg in the air) without causing a back-end blowout?

I always found that once a bottom burp was brewing, it required enormous concentration not to let it leak. There you are with feet, arms and arse all in the air at different times trying to breathe, pose and ultimately relax. It’s a highly disciplined body that can add “hold in fart” to that mix. Yet while I would leave my yoga class slightly bent over and with terrible tummy trauma, other people wouldn’t, if you know what I mean… And the only thing worse that your own excruciatingly awful fragrance being let lose during yoga, is somebody else’s.

Being active and heathy is often harder than it seems. There’s the lack of time and general daily exhaustion that can limit healthy endeavours. And then there are those dreadful scenarios: the things that go horribly bad when we’re trying to be good. For example, combining high fibre drinks with a Zumba class is just asking for trouble… And as an accident as well as fart-prone person, I have to be doubly careful. I used to love skipping, but gave up because of the number of times I hit myself in the face with the rope. I also tried a couple of energetic aerobics classes (sorry, Bodystep) and discovered I was insanely uncoordinated and couldn’t follow instructions. And I don’t go jogging in public for everyone’s benefit…

However, what maybe even worse than flailing limbs, bruises and the noxious fumes caused by rectal turbulence, are the “heathy” things we do and later discover they’re not. Raw eggs anyone? That Rocky inspired health craze of the 1980s. Although watch out for the salmonella… And there are some incredible fad diets: eating only carrots, the grapefruit diet and uh, eating clay... Yummo.

The other day, in an attempt to improve myself, I watched a documentary on sugar. It confirmed a lot of what I already knew, such as the prevalence of ridiculously ironic products like “health drinks”. But I was disturbed to discover that there are high levels of sugar in foods we’re told are healthy – especially those described “low-fat”. Sigh. The documentary left me a bit confused about what was healthy to eat. Certainly not all the “health foods”... But fat seemed to come out the winner. So it IS ok if I always eat chips for lunch?... Is salt ok now too?

Attempting to be healthy has never seemed so vexed or fraught. With conflicting advice peppered with our own anxieties, approaches and varying tendencies to cut the cheese… All up, I think my favourite epic health fail comes from my grandmother. She always seemed to be balancing her love of food with the latest advice on why not to eat it. And once (with the help of her sister) ate an entire tin of sweetened condensed milk in an attempt to prevent further sugary cravings. Um… yeah, nice try grandma… 

All in all, when working out how to be healthy, I find myself drawn to the research that says coffee, chocolate and alcohol are all good for you... But ultimately I think I’ll follow the advice on a poster my sister once had: “I’ve read so much about the dangers of smoking, drinking and overeating that I’ve decided to give up reading”… Probably the safest choice.

Why bad luck loves deadlines

There’s an unexpected and urgent deadline. You’re thinking well that might be tight. But with effort and determination you’re sure you can do it. You take some deep breaths. Focus. You can complete 5 hours of work in 2. You’ll work hard, yet remain calm and composed. But that’s not what happens. That’s never what happens.

If it was just a matter of dealing with the deadline there wouldn’t be a problem. Sure you’d be a bit frantic and stressed, but it would be manageable. You wouldn’t suffer heart palpitations or good old fashioned rage. The thing is, you’re never dealing with just the deadline. It’s the random bad luck that comes with the deadline that causes the biggest problems. It seems inevitable that as soon as your stress levels rise everything turns to custard. Loathsome lumpy custard. When I was a child my mum made (white) vanilla custard and my brother said it looked like pus-tard. That’s about sums it up.

Picture this. Me, this morning, I find out about a surprise deadline. I thought, well it’s going to be tough but I think I can make it. I was full of optimism and determination. I leapt out of bed, making a beeline for my home-office, and immediately stood in cat vomit. I stood still for a moment, trying to locate my inner calm. I then discovered more piles. I decided to temporarily ignore the vomit and just get on with my work. The cats won’t stop me I heroically thought as I tripped over the smaller one.

I (eventually) made it into my home-office and connected various cables. I have a large monitor, a tiny monitor and crap eyes. The big monitor wasn’t working. It was just all red. I’m used to the blue screen of death. And even the grey screen of indifference. But what’s this? The red screen of up-your-nose-with-a-rubber-hose? Typical. I felt a rush of stress, anger and had a brief tantrum. Then I persevered and continued with my job that involves serious attention to detail while squinting earnestly at a tiny screen. On the upside, I only experienced two random problems. And if it wasn’t them, it would have been some other random events attempting to derail my determination to complete a job.

What is it about deadlines that makes bad luck flock to them like seagulls to fish and chips? Last time I had a deadline I lost access to the internet right at the crucial moment. I used to have a theory that computers could sense increasing stress levels and start behaving badly. Sounds crazy, but it’s really common to have a computer crash or to lose your files while frantically working to a deadline.  

Sometimes the act of being stressed creates the extra problems we experience. Like when you’re running late so you rush then trip. The self-inflicted variety also applies to bad luck experienced when hungover. One time, many moons ago, when my partner was hungover to the point of still being completely off his trolley, he thought he’d go to work and well, work it off. To feel a bit more normal and awake, he made himself a good strong cup of coffee. He sat down to drink it and promptly poured it on his crotch. He then bent over and whacked his head on the table. If that wasn’t punishment enough, he managed to drop the mug on the floor so crawled under the table to retrieve it. While trying to stand, he banged his head again, finally stood up, caught his shirt on the table and ripped the pocket clean off. He took it as a sign and went home...

But what about when you haven’t inadvertently brought the bad luck upon yourself? Why, with good will and honest intentions, is it always just lurking in the background waiting for deadline stress to occur? Murphy’s Law is often used to explain such bad luck: what can go wrong will go wrong. I can see that this inevitable law of life certainly does have some explanatory power. An awful example happened to a friend of mine on her night out. She was all dolled up and looking glamorous, feeling really excited but also slightly stressed that she might bump into her ex. She made a stylish exit from the taxi, stood in front of the nightclub, glanced around spying her ex and wham, the taxi drove off with her dress caught in the door. She was left standing outside the nightclub in a dress ripped in half and her underwear showing. Yep. Definitely Murphy’s Law.  

I’m wondering though, whether there has to be an ironic connection linking events for them to qualify as Murphy’s Law: embarrassing disaster in front of an ex-partner or rain at a picnic, for example. Otherwise it can all get a bit random. If Aliens land and take over the world will we just shrug and say that’s just Murphy’s Law?…  Maybe there are other forces ensuring that everything works completely fine until there is a looming and unexpected deadline. There could be an extra law for deadlines of course. But I actually tend to think that the only possible, feasible and realistic explanation is that we’re all characters is a funny novel. Everything happens for comedic effect. And someone somewhere is laughing. 

Short-changed: Are upgrades aging our brains?

We love to hate change. The thought of change instils fear and loathing. Although, equally, most of us have long lists of ideas to improve our lives, workplaces and wardrobes. We’re faced with change and choices every day of our lives. But is all of it necessary? Is all of it good? There is an abundance of help on managing change. Cutting some of the preppy advice and jargon, the key issues are control, necessity and dealing with difference. The same core issues apply to software upgrades. My main question today is why, Microsoft, why?

Windows 10, the computer operating system, is here. So let’s start celebrating. 67 million people have installed Windows 10 . And now me (on my Surface). But I realise I’m going against mainstream opinion here, including the views of my techy partner, when I scream what have you done to my life Microsoft?! 

There’s a clear division in our household. My partner has been counting down to Windows 10 for weeks. He loves technology and new gadgets and couldn’t wait for the upgrade. I wasn’t opposed to it, but to say I was even vaguely intrigued would be to grossly exaggerate my level of interest. That might be part of the problem of course. Research into age and technology acceptance shows that our level of perceived interest in technology has an impact on how we accept (or reject) it. They highlight that the “young at heart” are more likely to adopt, use and enjoy technology. Clearly, as the research shows, I’m an old fart.  

I’m not adverse to change generally speaking. And for a big chunk of my life I thought of myself as a “change junkie”: moving city and job regularly just to keep life interesting. And while not a follower of technological change, I certainly appreciate advancements. I love the amazingly clear images of flatscreen TVs. I also enjoy the convenience of having a phone that takes high quality photos and can access the internet, email and, oh yes, make phone calls (if anyone does that anymore). I also love my Surface. For me, being able to swap between keyboard, mouse and touch screen is the optimum way to navigate everything I’m trying to do at once.

So why don’t I like software upgrades? Why am I so against the tide of public opinion? The reviews for Windows 10 are overwhelmingly positive. The top tech reviewers say: “Windows 10 delivers a refined, vastly improved vision for the future of computing”, “pleasant to use”, and the gushing “Windows 10 is wonderful”.  And of course my partner thinks it’s great. I’m surrounded by hideous enthusiasm. I feel like a boring old curmudgeon; a grumpy old man just like my dad yelling “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” when someone tries to explain the functionality of his new phone.  

Maybe it’s something to do with control, or the perceived lack of it. I didn’t think the previous version was perfect. But to be honest, I got used to it. And none of the changes that have been made with this new version have anything to do with improving what I do. I note (with slightly raised eyebrows) that the reviews describe the amazing “fresh features” as the new name for Explorer (it’s now called “Edge”…) a voice-controlled “virtual assistant” and, wait for it, “the ability to stream real-time games to your desktop from an Xbox One in another room”. Oh, wow, that will be really handy in no situation ever! Yep. I’m feeling old again.    

So I have absolutely no control over the change (although I would uninstall it if I knew how …) and a limited appreciation of why it was necessary. Everything I once did automatically on a daily, hourly and in fact pretty much constant basis, has changed. Where icons are placed has shifted and how I navigate between applications is fundamentally different. And exasperatingly, the colour of icons are different AND the icons themselves have changed. This is big news for people like me, because colours matter and I’ve been programmed to identify apps quickly, without much thought, based on colour and image. Ultimately, the upshot is that I have to relearn the basics!

One of the most frustrating issues is that what didn’t work before still doesn’t work. Bluetooth switching off, for example. But to fix the problems I now have a different dance of swipe, click, swipe to fathom. It feels like pointless busywork. And all of this endless re-learning of the basics is making me feel like my brain is being zapped of vital energy and power - my brain is growing older.

I should say that pointless change aging my brain is the perception of feeling “old and tired”, rather than suggesting that being “old” equals being technologically deficient. Everyone has stories of writing step-by-step instructions for the new mobile or video recorder for that older relative… But, while it might be broadly true that the older we get the more resistant to change we become, it’s actually more complicated than simple cause and effect. For example, some research shows that being open to new experiences declines during mid-life, but increases again once we reach our 60s. The reasoning is that with fewer responsibilities (raising children, paying mortgages) comes a greater appreciation of what’s new and different. 

This lack of control and sense of unnecessary change is impacting on my ability to deal with difference. It’s like I’ve just moved house and every simple thing I try to do, like grab a knife out of a kitchen drawer, takes me longer than it should. I find myself endlessly reaching for the wrong spot – the place where it used to be. And it’s not like I can think “well, at least I’m in a new house” because, quite frankly, I preferred the old one. The short and polite statement here is that I’m not dealing with it very well... Possibly because I feel that Microsoft have added an extra cognitive burden to my day.  

“Cognitive load” is the idea that if tasks are difficult, planned badly or not intuitive, the mental effort (working memory) required to undertake the task can become more onerous than the task itself. In short, if cognitive load is high you’ll waste valuable brain power on pointless actions – which in turn has an impact on comprehension, problem solving and levels of analysis. Research also confirms that mental fatigue can be caused by daily events of cognitive overload, possibly even progressing to worse conditions. Hrrumph.   

Messing with the basics means what had become automatic unthinking actions now require as much brain power as what I actually need to think about. The grumpy old person in me says it’s giving me headaches, I’m becoming crotchety and my brain is starting to melt. I’ll probably get used to the new version. But at this point in time, while the Windows 10 upgrade might have been free, I feel I’ve been short-changed...

Living inside outside upside down

I don’t intentionally live my life inside outside upside down. It just seems to happen. A lot. I’m insanely clumsy. I frequently do the opposite of what I’m trying to achieve. I get words round the wrong way. And I blurt out the wrong thing. To the wrong person. A lot.  

I’m the queen of banging into things. Doorways, tables, people. My peripheral vision is dreadful. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with my whiskers. And yes I do need glasses. I’m usually wearing them at the time. I also accidentally throw objects. I’ll pick something up and rather than hold it in my hand, like any normal person, I’ll let it go mid-swing. I’ll even accidentally bat things away while trying to pick them up. And when I’m reaching into a drawer, I’ll bash my unsuspecting fingers into the side or other objects. I find yelling and swearing helps…

I’m also very good at being distracted. I have this incredible capacity to be going through the motions while thinking about something else entirely. But unlike most people who can do this quite convincingly, I stuff it up completely. I have been known to make myself a cup of tea and a cup of coffee at the same time (I wanted coffee). If I’m carrying two things, recycling and rubbish for example, I will absolutely put the wrong one in each bin. Even if I try and control my natural urges (to be completely backwards) by doing one thing at a time, I’ll still get it wrong. I’ll carry an armload of washing past the laundry and into the lounge, where I will inevitably stand blinking uncertainly for a few seconds trying to remember who I am and what I’m doing, wait for the moment of enlightenment then walk back through the house the way I just came... 

Being clumsy and distracted is apparently something you can fix. It’s considered by some as the sign of a sluggish brain. (Great.) Clumsiness and distraction are also exacerbated by stress. That’s likely in my case. I find if there’s constant low level worry in my mind, or if something big is actively bothering me, I’ll be worse than usual (and usual is bad enough). Also, unlike those who love being the centre of attention and who seriously adore the limelight, I’m far more likely to stumble over my words or even tumble down the stairs if I think anyone is looking my way. Apparently, you’re also more likely to be clumsy if you’re attempting to do too many things at once or too quickly. Again, that’s me. Developing a more mindful approach, improving memory and speeding up the brain’s reaction is apparently the key here. So maybe there is hope for the habitual daydreamer, the permanently pre-occupied and those suffering “chronic inattentiveness”.

Although I was slightly disheartened to also learn that physical clumsiness is connected with overall mental clumsiness, including what you say. In a questionnaire designed to determine the level of individual “cognitive failure” (aka clumsiness) was this question: “Do you say something and realize afterwards that it might be taken as insulting?” Well in my case that’s an absolute yes. Although it’s more like to be did you say something and realise as the words were coming out your mouth that it might be taken as insulting…

Blurting out unwelcome truths has become an unfortunate way of life. I once told a proud new mother that her designer, expensive and very impressive pram looked like a tent. I actually intended to pay her a compliment. I didn’t. On another occasion I managed to offensively tell my Japanese friend that our children playing in the park looked like Kamikaze pilots... I never EVER refer to Kamikaze pilots. Why brain, WHY?...

Ultimately, despite my many and obvious failings, I’d like to think of myself as the stylishly eccentric type. Odd but “in a good way” - managing to be off-beat and off-centre with style and panache. I’d like to think that but I’d be wotally tong. Another topsy turvey trait. Getting words the wrong way round. Transposing letters is called a Spoonerism (you can transpose the first letter or even parts of the sounds). It’s named after William Archibald Spooner. And no we don’t name people like we used to…  And if you’re wondering, like me, how on earth someone gets the surname Spooner… it comes from manufacturing or using curved roof tiles, but I gridess…

Spoonerisms can be insightful and witty. Bet you can’t say knucking fackered without snickering… but mine are usually silly and make me sound drunk, at 2 in the afternoon. I’ve always been verbally challenged. Possibly my brain’s tendency to race and my tongue’s inability to keep up. As a child I remember excitedly announcing to my friend that we were having mippie and charmite sandwiches for lunch. And on one dreadful occasion at work I accidentally referred to colleagues and Blowass and Lulia. Although that was possibly Freudian as well…

On a positive note, living inside outside and upside down is catching. And observing clumsiness in others is funny... I wasn’t the one in our house who tipped their entire plate of Bolognese into the onion bowl while reaching for the salt.  And once when my partner was trying to show empathy to one of his friends it all went its tup: everything he said came out wrong. The ultimate moment of triumph (as it wasn’t) was at the end of the call when he said “well I hope it all goes bad for you… I mean well, WELL for you…” a situation probably not helped by me lolling about with raughter as I cistened to the lall.