The first thing you need to know is that I can never spell this word right the first time without looking at the dictionary. I’ve always wondered why something so gender-specific, personal, and so ubiquitous could be so difficult to spell. I have never had any problems spelling ubiquitous, nor pronouncing it. In short, I’ve never had the same problem I have had with the word testosterone with any other problematic long words in the interminable lexicon of the English language ;).
Now, today was a very good day in a way that actually has little to do with the word testosterone, (a word that I have now copied so that I can paste it anywhere in this article where necessary without going back to the dictionary) but with a series of mild coincidences that have again visited me. The day began the exact same way I begin every day: wake up late after getting very little sleep (which comes from staying awake longer than necessary, chatting online, reading, or watching American television), go to my teaching class (where I had the honour today of having a Yoruba professor in the Education Department come over on a courtesy visit), attend my linguistics classes where I never seem to be able to stay through without at least five minutes of struggle with sleep (in a way not related at all to the teacher’s style of teaching but my own sleep deprivation), and grab two boxes of pizza and a medium-sized lemonade at Pizzahut with Chris from class before riding back home.
However, a few minutes before the teaching class, my attention was drawn to one more response to the poll on this blog which had asked readers what they most wanted to read when they come here. I looked up the result of this poll and found an interesting response. A previous user who voted “other” had responded that they wanted to know what my “hopes and dreams from my Edwardsville experience were” while another said s/he wanted “a fusion of the three above,” which I believe referred to the three previous options already given. The last comment today explained what the reader seemed to have always wanted to read on the blog, written in two simple words thus: “his sexcapades.” – and I am sure by “his” s/he meant mine. In case, you’re wondering just like I am, the word sexcapade is not yet a real word in the English dictionary. But, I digress. In most usages, I believe the word means “a report of escapades of sex” (my definition), where escapade itself means “something exciting or adventurous that somebody does or is involved in, especially something showing recklessness or disregard for authority.” (Microsoft Encarta). I have now re-framed the two distinct and interesting requests for, yes, possible future blog topics: “What do I want/wish to do with the experiences I gain from Edwardsville when I return home next year”, and “What are the details of my (I’m sure s/he meant American) sexcapades?” Very interesting indeed. If this were a reality television, this is when the ratings will begin to progressively rise, and in the next few days, this post would be on the top of the Popular Posts List. Let’s wait and see.
My response to the question is the truth in one of the following sentences:
- There are no sexcapades.
- There are no sexcapades worthy of mention.
- There are no sexcapades worthy of mention on this public portal.
Take your pick.
Meanwhile, I will attempt to answer the other questions I’ve received from the poll in a different post. Hopefully, there would be less new questions about sexcapades. Those are already asked and answered, thank goodness. I can say this however, one of the perils of being both a student and Professor in the same institution at once (as I am here, being a Fulbright Scholar) is the impossibility of, the near impossibility of, or the utter danger in being able to change the title and duty caps at will without crossing a delicate line of propriety.
But here is the second coincidence of today: a short faction fragment, a piece that I wrote a few weeks ago on this blog as part of a longer unpublished prose fiction is being featured on the Bookaholic literary blog. Check it out.
I am also falling in love with the new autumn colours on the many campus trees.
It’s just the rustling leaves on the ground – the gentle breeze
Here are photos from the Fall season, or Autumn, as it’s called in Europe. In Nigeria, it’s simply called the Harmattan season, even though it doesn’t start in many parts of Nigeria until later in November.
As excerpted from the list of Yoruba proverbs researched, translated and submitted by students of my foreign language class in their first homework assignments back in August.