Count

Count: (v) to enumerate

“That doesn’t count.”

A statement often made when people are in the process of a count.

What should we count? What really counts?

Well, you can count on me to try to turn this into something meaningful. Or maybe it’s not meaningful at all, just making “meaningless” a little less painful.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

What should be counted?

I think it may be the central question to the serendipity of the human race. Yet I must be honest with you—every symphony must be willing to go through the process of being a cacophony. In other words, if we’re not willing to deal with the messiness of our lives, we will never be able to straighten things up and narrow our focus.

  1. We certainly should not count offenses. No good discussion ever begins with, “This is the third time this week…”
  2. Counting your blessings is considered to be a virtue but I must admit, when people start including the joy of having their rice dish set up perfectly, I become a little cynical.
  3. It’s never a good idea to count the hours. Everything good happens in the seconds leading up to the minute.
  4. Should we count the number of friends we have? Should we count our enemies? Maybe it would be better to count where they overlap.
  5. In a season in which polls seem to be more important than finding purpose, certain counts become ridiculous.

“Do you believe in God?” asks the pollster. 86% said they do, but when pushed for a description, many decided to plead the Fifth.

What should we count?

  1. I think it’s all right to count the fingers and toes of new-born babies, unless you plan on destroying a nine-digit one.

What else could we count?

  1. I think we could count the number of times we allow ourselves to give a damn about something other than counting the problems, the iniquities, the faults, the sins and the disagreements of others.


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Acciaccatura

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acciaccatura: (n) a grace note performed as quickly as possible before an essential note of a melody, and falling before the beat

I play piano.

I have played it since I was a kid. There were some intervals in my life when I ceased to pound the keys because I thought it was “wussy” or girl-like. But when I realized that chicks LIKE to hear guys play the piano, I reinstated my talent.

Now, when I say I play the piano, by no means am I suggesting that I am great–but rather, have discovered a proficiency which can imitate greatness in the presence of those more forgiving.

One of the things about playing the piano–it demands both hands. If you think about it, there are not a whole lot of things we humans do with two our hands cooperating with each other, and if you’re not aware of it, your right hand and left hand are a lot like feuding brother and sister, who do not see life in the same light.

So occasionally when moving from one chord to another, a dragging finger will linger too long on a note which has absolutely nothing to do with the proposed plan. If you’re lucky, this delinquent digit will not stay long enough to create a discordant sound. But if you’re not … apparently we have a word for it.

Acciaccatura.

Now, I’m sure that some musical snobs would insist that this particular notation in the musical score is purposeful and meaningful. I will not argue with them. But in a pinch, it’s really nice when you’ve accidentally hit a note that was NOT meant to be, but have gotten off of it very quickly–to plead “acciaccatura.”

I think it would be wonderful if all of our mistakes could be spoken away in Italian.

“La-boo-boo.” What do you think of that one?

“Screwaniniuppo.” It definitely sounds better, doesn’t it?

And I, for one, am not going to rail against those who come up with clever phrasing to explain away occasional human flaws and errors. So the next time you hear me play the piano and you perceive a note which might be misplaced, please realize that I have just performed … an acciaccatura.