Heartbreak

It seems true that a little heartbreak every now and then does one some measure of good, making one feel more alive &c... but tearing one's heart out and dashing it repeatedly against the same brick wall to the point where one ends up feeling sorry for the wall for having to suffer the repeated impact of a flung bloody internal organ doesn't appear to be at all constructive. Why do it? Especially since after not too long, you are forced to recognize that the sucker is unbreakable anyway (the heart, not the wall)...
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network

I hope to get the colours right, professor Fenollosa.

I started teaching myself a language recently. It wasn't my first choice, the teaching myself part... but there are no universities or colleges (or highschools, even) in Tofino... so all available courses would have been by correspondence or online, most of which are the "learn to speak whatever in however short a time! you'll be conversing with confidence and ease! woohoo!" type. I wasn't interested in speaking another language-- I speak enough of them-- I want to KNOW it. So I found a super reputable institution (known as _the_ authority on the language, sanctioned by the government, &c) and paid 525 euros for a correspondence course. After the first day, I had to (HAD to) refund it because it was TOTAL GARBAGE... worse than the "Teach Yourself" series available off the shelf at Chapters for $25.

SO as soon as I could, I went to the UBC bookstore (a six hour trip, each way) and bought the first year textbook package for the course that I could not take. I also picked up a couple of intermediate grammar books. Since I'm cocky and full of myself, I started with the intermediate grammar books instead of the introductory textbook package. I finished the first half of one book, and felt that I had made great progress with the language. I had learnt so much! Tense, aspect, mood, voice, conjugation, word order, separable verbs, inseparable verbs... all off it! Yay!

Then I realized that I knew nothing about nouns.

Ooops.

Well, such things are bound to happen when learning in a vacuum.

The knowability of the Ding... picking up where facebook notes left off...

Or rather, where I left off.

Facebook notes were fun. Facebook was not. It did, however, get me over the I-have-nothing-to-say-so-I-should-say-nothing thing. I've learnt that people love wasting time... and that I really was just providing a much sought after time-wasting tool. Being quite done with facebook... I now welcome you to my new blog: Ding-In-Itself... may this make your post-afternoon-coffee-break period of unproductivity a little less intolerable.

Since I've spent the entire afternoon congratulating myself for coming up with so clever a name as "Ding-In-Itself"... I'm going to make this the subject of my first post. (Yes, I totally admit it... since I thought of "Ding-In-Itself" this afternoon, I have been insufferably self-satisfied.)
I actually have very little to say about "Ding-In-Itself" aside from... ain't it clever? Wooohoo! I came up with that... ain't it clever?!?!

Okay. That's all I have for you today... silliness and self-congratulation. Mostly self-congratulation.