If you're feeling kind of lost right now, the Vulcan Salute is a hand sign originating from an alien species, "Vulcan", in a series called "Star Trek".
It's pretty simple to do in theory. Simply hold out your hand as if to indicate "stop", press your pinky to your ring finger and your index finger to your middle finger without compromising the space between your ring and middle fingers. Try it if you're feeling particularly smug about the dexterity in your hand. Heck, try it with your feet even (I can't do that, by the way, but then again my toes can barely separate from each other).
...it seems that I am a pretty rare type of human. Some people can do it after intense practice, others find it impossible for them if they try anything short of tying the appropriate fingers together. I think the general consensus is that it is not impossible, but highly improbable that anyone should be able to successfully demonstrate the Vulcan Salute on their first try.
Well, I live to defy.
Anyway, this was brought up by my recently renewed interest in Star Trek. I loved (and still love) the series, although I must admit that the special effects when the series was first aired in the 1960s were that close to making me tear my eyes out from their...lack of sophistication. I can't really imagine how that particular season managed to win "best effects" at some awards ceremony.
Then again, 1960s. The people then probably had rather...ah, low expectations of their special effects specialists. I'd imagine that technology advancements gave our modern TV films their much deserved advantage in "wow" and realism factor.
As odd as it is for me to open my first post in half a year with my opinions about the Vulcan Salute, I find it oddly suitable. At least, suitable when I'm trying to convince myself that I'm indeed set apart -- in some marginally enviable way. I can't fathom anybody getting jealous over my eyebrows.
I am human, after all, I like to have something that is (even just minutely) sought after. Like my ability to do the Vulcan Salute first time trying. I didn't actually realise that it could be so hard for others to do it. I just did it, went on my merry way, and forgot all about it until I read up in a Star Trek article on-line that the Vulcan Salute was so difficult to do on the spot that many actors had to arrange their hands before being filmed. I...thought it was funny.
What? Can't I find something like that funny to boost my ego? It's pretty bruised right now, you know. I've been reading quite a number of fantastically written fan fictions and I'm wondering if I'll ever reach that level of skill in my writing. I mean, I'm fairly certain that I am above average but I am not completely certain. It would be nice to have proof.
And now you must be wondering why I'm being envious of writing skills instead of artistic prowess. I must admit that I enter a lull stage during the holidays. I don't tend to draw quite as much when I'm sitting in front of a computer and have an entire world (of fan fictions) to explore out there via the Internet. I'm just a little fickle-minded about my interests like that. I haven't painted anything digitally in months. I'm kinda itching to do something, but I don't know what, and I don't know if my abilities will be able to help me carry it through to completion. I tend to abandon projects halfway if I do not have adequate motivation to sustain my interest.
No, wanting to paint for the sake of painting is not interest enough. I should probably have something like...a project to finish to make me rush to finish something. I need a healthy dose of urgency to get anything done, I guess. I don't like pressure, but sometimes I think I need it.
Well, I do have a book cover to paint, but I'm not quite sure when my commissioner needs it done by...
If anyone wishes for an update about my trip to the US (specifically the states of California and Nevada), you'll have to ask me personally. I haven't typed a ridiculously long blog post in ages and my fingers need time to break in to the habit again. Ugh, my knuckles are kind of punishing me right now.
You'll have to pardon me if I come across as easy to set off when we next meet. I've been experiencing a series of unfortunate events lately, the least of which include a cut that had me freaked out because it caused the flesh within one centimetre of it to swell for half an hour before subsiding. The cut is only about .3 centimetres long, for goodness' sake! You know what else? I got it while changing bedsheets. I don't know how I accomplished that, and honestly, I don't want to know. I must be the first person to get what looks like a paper cut while pulling sheets over beds. Fantastic.
Besides, my flesh has never really swelled around any cuts before so this one had me really afraid. I thought it was infected with some fast-acting bacteria. For those thirty minutes I contemplated that I might die.
Oh, I also contemplated my own death on an aeroplane on the way to the States. There was this one point during the flight when the turbulence managed to upset my cup and in-flight meal. It also managed to upset my heart rhythm, which was admittedly much more terrifying that overturned food. I really couldn't find the mind to think about food when I was facing the very real possibility of dying before my holiday began (the "before my holiday began" part wasn't what was bothering me, just for the record -- it was the dying part).
There, you have my mind in a nutshell. My day is so boring I can't even begin to express how...utterly uneventful it is.
Perhaps I should blog more often about my internal monologues. Seems fun, somehow, and it will mean the promise of more frequent updates. I don't tend to feel like updating about my day because, now that I think about it, it's pretty personal, and I devolve into hideously long rants without further prompt whenever I recount anything. The last thing we all need is a ten-mile long blog post.
