![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Progress...
Nov. 21st, 2015 10:55 pmI completed 2,000 words yesterda, 1,800 words today, and have 1,600 words left for tomorrow. I perceive a pattern.
But then there will follow the process of "disambiguating" my translation, which will probably eat up quite a bit of time, but I fully expect to turn in the work on time.
The pressure is not off, however, as I have a second assignment due on the same day (albeit by COB) and some work to perform before it's ready to be sent.
* * * Not long ago, I ran across the double-edge safety razor and shaving brush that my stepdad gave me on my birthday in... I honestly forget the year. I recall using the brush a couple of times, but soon started using shaving foam out of a can, which remained the status quo up until I joined the Marines.
If you didn't know this before, the Marines are big on personal hygiene and grooming, and having recruits become proficient and efficient in these areas is one of the goals of boot camp. Among the hygiene items handed out during the first couple of days on Parris Island was a can of something called Edge, a shaving gel that came out of the can looking like a cross between lubricant and toothpaste. When rubbed on one's face, it actually did a pretty good job of helping one get a good, close shave.
I used Edge on and off for the next several decades—such is the power of inertia, though most of the time, as my facial hair is not "formidable," I actually shaved while I took a shower, without the aid of any gel or cream.
The pricing of safety razors has skyrocketed over the past decade or so, aided by the sneaky marketing tactic of making sure that the cartridges for a particular razor handle not fit any other handle, even from the same manufacturer. Lose the handle, and you may as well toss the remaining cartridges (though as certain manufacturers began to sell cartridges with five—count 'em—five razor strips on them, the physical size of the cartridge head made holding it in one's fingers, without benefit of handle, a workable method of scraping off the stubble).
Disposable razors are, of course, an alternative. Frankly, I've found that they do not remain sharp for very long—which I think is a feature, from the manufacturer's perspective. And the cheaper ones sometime fail to last through a second use.
So back in June or so, I ordered some Proraso shaving cream soap and some Wilkinson Sword double-edge razors from Amazon (for less than the cost of a package of disposable razors, I might add) and I've been actually enjoying my time with the brush, the soap, and the razor, even deliberately foregoing the old "shave while in the shower" method.
The other night, while watching a rerun of David Craig playing James Bond in Skyfall, I could not help but notice his use of a shaving brush, etc. in one of the hero's tame bedroom scenes, and my thoughts went back to an episode from my childhood.
Like most people today, I do not remember a time when there was no television. That said, our family did not get a color television until I was in high school, and actually appearing on television—well, that was a rarity (though it happened to one of my classmates, who managed to appear on a Saturday show called Wonderama, making him an instant schoolyard celebrity).
Television then was, as now, a medium for delivering advertising to viewers. That said, my parents—and my mother especially—were not the kind of people to be swayed by the smooth-tongued wizards of the air. A case in point was when I spied a jar of "Bosco" chocolate syrup—a product touted by "Officer Joe" during an after-school kids show in Channel 11, if memory serves—on a store shelf and asked my mom to buy it.
She said no a number of times, but eventually—I forget the circumstances—relented, and I clearly remember how, the next day, I took my position in front of the television, tuned in "Officer Joe," and ran my fingers over the physical "Bosco" jar I had taken from the kitchen while a teaspoon of the stuff was stirred into a glass of milk on the screen during the commercial.
Why did my thoughts go back to that memory of the chocolate syrup jar? At first, I thought the two "incidents" were quite different, but the more I think of it, the more I think both serve to reinforce the sense of belonging that media tends to encourage. The major difference, as far as I could see, is that no specific product placement was involved in the Bond film (or if there was such placement, it was wa-a-ay too subtle for me to detect.)
Time to get ready for some "rack drill."
Cheers...
But then there will follow the process of "disambiguating" my translation, which will probably eat up quite a bit of time, but I fully expect to turn in the work on time.
The pressure is not off, however, as I have a second assignment due on the same day (albeit by COB) and some work to perform before it's ready to be sent.
If you didn't know this before, the Marines are big on personal hygiene and grooming, and having recruits become proficient and efficient in these areas is one of the goals of boot camp. Among the hygiene items handed out during the first couple of days on Parris Island was a can of something called Edge, a shaving gel that came out of the can looking like a cross between lubricant and toothpaste. When rubbed on one's face, it actually did a pretty good job of helping one get a good, close shave.
I used Edge on and off for the next several decades—such is the power of inertia, though most of the time, as my facial hair is not "formidable," I actually shaved while I took a shower, without the aid of any gel or cream.
The pricing of safety razors has skyrocketed over the past decade or so, aided by the sneaky marketing tactic of making sure that the cartridges for a particular razor handle not fit any other handle, even from the same manufacturer. Lose the handle, and you may as well toss the remaining cartridges (though as certain manufacturers began to sell cartridges with five—count 'em—five razor strips on them, the physical size of the cartridge head made holding it in one's fingers, without benefit of handle, a workable method of scraping off the stubble).
Disposable razors are, of course, an alternative. Frankly, I've found that they do not remain sharp for very long—which I think is a feature, from the manufacturer's perspective. And the cheaper ones sometime fail to last through a second use.
So back in June or so, I ordered some Proraso shaving cream soap and some Wilkinson Sword double-edge razors from Amazon (for less than the cost of a package of disposable razors, I might add) and I've been actually enjoying my time with the brush, the soap, and the razor, even deliberately foregoing the old "shave while in the shower" method.
The other night, while watching a rerun of David Craig playing James Bond in Skyfall, I could not help but notice his use of a shaving brush, etc. in one of the hero's tame bedroom scenes, and my thoughts went back to an episode from my childhood.
Like most people today, I do not remember a time when there was no television. That said, our family did not get a color television until I was in high school, and actually appearing on television—well, that was a rarity (though it happened to one of my classmates, who managed to appear on a Saturday show called Wonderama, making him an instant schoolyard celebrity).
Television then was, as now, a medium for delivering advertising to viewers. That said, my parents—and my mother especially—were not the kind of people to be swayed by the smooth-tongued wizards of the air. A case in point was when I spied a jar of "Bosco" chocolate syrup—a product touted by "Officer Joe" during an after-school kids show in Channel 11, if memory serves—on a store shelf and asked my mom to buy it.
She said no a number of times, but eventually—I forget the circumstances—relented, and I clearly remember how, the next day, I took my position in front of the television, tuned in "Officer Joe," and ran my fingers over the physical "Bosco" jar I had taken from the kitchen while a teaspoon of the stuff was stirred into a glass of milk on the screen during the commercial.
Why did my thoughts go back to that memory of the chocolate syrup jar? At first, I thought the two "incidents" were quite different, but the more I think of it, the more I think both serve to reinforce the sense of belonging that media tends to encourage. The major difference, as far as I could see, is that no specific product placement was involved in the Bond film (or if there was such placement, it was wa-a-ay too subtle for me to detect.)
Time to get ready for some "rack drill."
Cheers...
