Joy in Puns

That’s right. I said it. I love puns. Fight me.

I heard a fantastic pun this weekend during a story. A friend and her husband were at another Renaissance festival, holding beers, and he knocked hers out of her hand. Then said this beautiful line: “It’s not my fault you can’t hold your beer.”

I laughed a lot, guys.

Being the only person laughing at a pun also brings me joy. Mostly because when the other people aren’t laughing, they’re usually groaning. That’s half the fun of puns in the US: they bring pain to the vast majority of people. The more exaggerated the outrage over the joke, the more hilarious it is.

A favorite comic artist of mine, Mookie (writer of current webcomic Star Power, and writer and illustrator of completed webcomic Dominic Deegan), knew this just as much as I did. Many of his main characters enjoyed telling puns, but then would turn around and give the audience an “oh brother” look when another character would tell one. Because the element of a character not enjoying a pun was just as much fun as the pun itself, or more. Or there would be pun-tastic exchanges between characters, the best of which were when title character Dominic and his wife would flirt with puns. It was beautiful.

That’s one reason I enjoy British media so much. The British love puns, too. I’ve recently gotten into The Great British Baking Show, and the hosts Mel and Sue are wonderful about inserting puns into their announcements. The fact that they’re so prolific with them made it hysterical when they began one episode by stating they had been banned from punning off the word “buns” that week because it would be coming up all episode long and the possibilities were endless. The tortured looks on their faces when they had a great opportunity but had to let it pass due to the ban were as much fun as any joke would’ve been.

During one episode, they were making picnic pies, two contestants were modeling their pies after picnic baskets, and Sue gave this announcement with an enormous grin: “Half an hour left, bakers. Don’t let the time crunch hamper your progress.” She then paused, swung her arms awkwardly, and added, “I’ll just be out back,” in an acknowledgement of how bad that pun was.

A close friend of mine likes to share puns with me because she knows I like them. She does not. Any sharing of puns in the other direction involves accusations of being a bad person who should feel bad. I do not.

I am, however, not spectacular at puns myself, hence the lack of them in the sentences I wrote myself for this pun. I’m a write amateur at them. (See, that’s not very good, but it still makes me smile.) I think admiring the skill others have which I do not adds to my enjoyment.

Do you like puns? What are some that you’ve heard that you’ve particularly enjoyed?

Or do you hate them? Why are puns so terrible?

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Joy in Kimono

During the three years I lived in Japan, I studied tea ceremony. In the process, I started collecting two things: tea ceremony tools and kimono.

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The first time I wore a kimono, busting with happiness because I figured it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Wrong~

I actually have a good collection of them now, many of which were gifts. I spent a year or so with only one:

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Photo of a physical photo. One day I’ll have a good digital picture of this kimono.

I went to Kyoto on my first spring break in Japan, and stumbled on a flea market. Without having the first clue what I was doing, I bought that kimono, that obi (the blue belt), and the nagajihan (the under robe, that little bit of red you see in the sleeve), all while only intending to buy a fan. Which the shopkeepers then gave to me for free because they didn’t know I was intending to buy it all along.

Because I had no idea how to put on this beautiful piece of clothing, and my first attempt at putting on a yukata (festival garb, much simpler than the clothing I’d just bought) via internet instruction didn’t go well, I brought it to my tea ceremony teacher and asked, eloquently, for help.

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“So, Sensei, I kind of impulse-bought this last week, but I have no clue how to put it on. Help?” 

While no dictionary or phrase book will list “help” under translations for “yoroshiku” or any of its variants, that phrase truly doesn’t get enough credit for its versatility in translations much of the time.

Both of us knew I meant “help.”

So, alongside learning tea ceremony, I learned how to put on and function in a kimono. How to walk naturally when your feet only make it a foot and a half apart, how to avoid knocking things over with the sleeves, but those were only the obvious ones. How to stand elegantly, particularly how to place your feet (with your toes pointed in, and one foot slightly behind the other). How to store small items in your sleeves (women insert things in their sleeves from the side closest to their body, men insert them on the side closest to their hand, clean items go in the right sleeve, dirty items in the left sleeve). How to sit so you didn’t end up tripping over your own kimono when you stand up (mostly practice, but also make sure to keep a fist-sized gap between your knees when sitting down, so your legs can move).

After a while, I finally started collecting more. Some of them, I bought myself:

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I still brag about getting this for 5000 yen (~$50), marked down 90% from its actual list price.

Many of them, I got from my host family back when I studied abroad. I went kimono shopping while visiting them one year, and while gushing about the kimono I’d bought, my host mother asked if I wanted their kimono.

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Actual photo of Lucia in that moment.

None of them knew how to wear them, she said, or had any interest in them, even. They had them sitting in storage, taking up space.

I thought she was kidding.

Spoiler: she was not kidding.

I got three boxes of kimono and kimono-related clothing that I had to ship home because it wouldn’t fit in my luggage back to Shimane. The fact that I’d also bought several on my own, even after she gave me all of those is not evidence that I have a problem.

No, the evidence that I have a problem came when Sensei, helping me sort through them and telling me about them, mentioned that I have so many, and my response wasn’t, “you’re totally right, I do,” it was, “man, and I still want more.”

Her response, after laughing, was to offer to give me some of hers that she didn’t need anymore.

And she fucking did.

I still haven’t had an opportunity to wear most of the kimono I have. I might be approaching about half of them having been worn at least once.

Quite aside from all the amazing things that happened to me to lead to having this collection of happiness, the items themselves inspire joy. Whenever going through my kimono, I can’t help but smile. I admire even the ones I’ve seen a hundred times, like that gold one I bought first, every time I pull them out. Most of them feel positively amazing to the touch. The one with maple-leaves in particular is pettable in the extreme.

Here are a few other favorites of mine:

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Gift from Sensei, a dancing kimono, and it feels like water woven into fabric. 

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Another gift from Sensei, one of the fanciest kimono I have. I have another of this type as well, but the phoenix on here takes my breath away.

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Gift from Host Mom, this one’s made of wool, and I simply love the colors on it. 

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For some reason a tiny picture, but these I purchased myself, gorgeous blue hakama. 

 

What do you collect that brings you joy?

What Kind of Blog is This?

I’ve struggled with this blog for a while. Trying to find a topic I can write about regularly that I had anything real to say about. I have plenty of opinions, but I’m not much of an expert on really anything. Amateur at everything I like.

It’s supposed to be my “author” blog, but I’m not an author yet. Plus, I’d honestly much rather people learn about writing from those who know a lot more about it than I do.

In thinking about what people might want to read, I thought the best option would be something interactive. It would help me get to know my audience, too, and provide more topics to discuss on the blog. I’m a critical person, so I could try critiquing old favorites of mine, or new hits, or latest releases, or or or. The idea being to bond with my audience over tearing something apart for its flaws.

But my whole country is tearing itself apart over its flaws right now. People arguing we don’t have flaws, people arguing what our flaws are, how to deal with them, how they’re being dealt with. I saw a Daily Show with Trevor Noah episode where they were talking about post-election recovery, and one of the men they interviewed ripped my heart out. He cried on camera about how awful everyone is to each other right now. Friends and family, tearing each other and themselves apart over differences in opinion.* He hugged someone from the opposing party, and possibly dribbled snot on the guy’s jacket.

This hatred and shit-flinging has been getting under my skin for a while now, as I’m sure it has most of the country and whatever parts of the world are watching it consistently.

I’m not turning this into a political blog. To the contrary, I’m turning it into a positivity blog. Things that make me happy, make me laugh, improved my day or my life. I could use more of that myself. I should spend more of my time being grateful and laughing than I do complaining and frowning.

I’m not sure yet how frequent it will be. Hopefully, I can turn it into a daily thing, but it’ll have to become a routine so I remember first.

 

*I’m not minimizing these issues. However, not all of them are as serious as others are. Yet all of them are causing these arguments. I’m not taking a political stance here, either. I’m calling people’s political stances opinions. That’s all.