To Make Us All Think

Any Thoughts?

The Story I Promised You

Okay, so my username for lots and lots of different online accounts I've had over the past few years has been "Bellezza Impavida," sometimes without a space, sometimes with an underscore instead of a space, whatevs. This is the basic outline. What in the world does that mean, you ask? Actually, you probably don't because if you ever do read this then you've probably known me long enough that you don't need to ask. But I'll still explain for those who don't know.

The language is Italian. The meaning is "Fearless Beauty." It came to me at a time when I needed to make up a username and I wanted something in Italian that had something to do with having the courage to be oneself in all one's beauty and being exactly what God made one to be (I had just finished reading Captivating). After entering a few different phrases meaning roughly the same thing into a translator, I came out with Bellezza Impavida - fearless beauty.

I still love this phrase and would like to have it tattooed on me someday, though maybe in Greek. I'm not sure yet. But a lot has changed since creating this name and, truth be told, I feel a lot farther from fearless nowadays than I was back then, to the point where calling myself "fearless beauty" - even as my own personal reminder - just seems really fake. So I decided to be a bit more honest. I switched to French for my blogspot title because a) I think it sounds better than using "Bella" and b) if I'm going to be accidentally associated with any fictional character, I'd much rather it be my favorite Disney princess of all time than some devoid-of-personality child who's willing to cheat death just so she can hallucinate her ex's voice.

I almost ranted there for a second. Tee hee.

So there you have it - a better understanding of my title choice plus a smidge of Twilight hatin' to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

The Heebie-de-be-Jeebies

Spoken in a way to imitate King Julian of the Lemurs.


There's this guy in the workroom close by right now who creeps me out. He's fixing our folding machine as I type - not that that really has any bearing on anything, but I thought I'd throw it out there free of charge.

Anyway, middle-aged tech-mechanic guy just seems a little creepy to me. Betty agreed that he was different but kinda laughed at me a little when I used the word "creepy." Not so much a making-fun-of-me laugh, but just one of those oh-Erica-you're-funny laughs (I get those from her a lot). Admittedly, I couldn't figure out why he creeped me out, and it was frustrating to me, but then I remembered something:

He winked at me.

I know that doesn't sound like a big deal out of context, but I mean, when he first walked in, before he spoke or anything, he just winked at me.

Do winking strangers bother anyone else? Perhaps it's because a wink - at least in my own subconscious (and perhaps those of other people) - is supposed to carry a significance; a specific message, if you will. A stranger cannot wink to share an inside joke or prearranged signal because he is a stranger and shares no inside joke or prearranged anything with me. So just what exactly is it he's trying to say? HMMMMMMMM?

I think all this goes through my subconscious in about .3 seconds when a stranger winks at me.

Inner Workings

So it turns out I lied. I don't feel like getting into the depth of explaining my blog title, and yet I do feel like blogging, thus the subject matter will be something other than what I previously led you the reader to believe.

I took apart an old and broken watch of mine hoping there would be gears in there big enough for use in the craftsy area. Alas, today's watches just don't have what I need. I think there's a tiny circle of metal somewhere on my (fake) hardwood floor still because I simply cannot find it. Sadly this will mean hunting down watches hopefully old enough (and cheap enough) to get real gears out of them. I'm hoping to circumvent ebay if at all possible. I know it's got a whole crackton of exactly what I need, but still. It's complicated. Plus I just kinda like flea markets.

I will say though...I'm visiting my hardcore packrat of a darling grandmother for Thanksgiving, so there's no telling what sort of treasures I might find now that I care. If I have time to look, that is. Here's hopin'.

What's everyone else doing for Thanksgiving?

The All-Important Introductory Post

Yeah...I did it. I held back for soooooo long, but I finally joined blogspot.

However.

Now I feel a slightly stronger obligation to write deeper, more intellectual, or all-around better stuff. At any rate, something less like a diary (here's to the decline of emotasticality) and more like a blog. Maybe this is just my weirdness kicking in, but still. Can I really keep up such a publication (a term I use loosely)? We shall see.

With all that said, I haven't a single blogsome inspiration.

Twilight? No, everbody and their cradle-robbing mom is going on about them, mostly in one of the polar-opposite "squee" or "rant" fashions. Let's lay off.

Obama? Would that I were politically savvy enough to concoct anything worthy of blogspot. I'm just not ready for that can of worms. I'd be better prepared for the Twilight worm-can, sadly...very sadly. Let's just cross off Sarah Palin and her grandbaby-daddy, Oprah Winfrey, economic peril and the entire Middle East while we're at it (disclaimer: I speak only of America's current political relations/struggles with the Middle East and have nothing against the region. Were I referring to culture, I would be glad to discuss the Middle East.).

An odd thing I've noticed about myself is that, while there are all these gripping drama series on TV these days (every time I call my family, there's a 95% chance someone is watching NCIS), and while I do myself enjoy them, I will almost always ditch these crime-fighting/life-saving epics in favor of the meandering antics of Anthony Bourdain or Andrew Zimmern. Yes, I loves me some quirky travel documentary shows. Mainly these two, though. Nobody else on Travel Channel is really worth it, but these guys are my favorites and I fangirl them.

But then, I was always more taken with the idea of foreign cultures than the majority of my peers (a tragic obsession for a rural midwest girl to harbor, by the way). In third grade when the teacher let the class create its own collective spelling list, I was the kid who opened her social studies book to the world map on the back inside cover and tried to get Mozambique approved as a spelling word (they shot me down on that one, but I think Madagascar went through okay).

No, I was not a popular kid growing up.



Next time on A Semi-Fearless Belle, the story behind the site name and who knows what else.