tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80791487747807909342024-03-12T18:50:29.043-07:00This Wretched Hive // Of Words and NerderyLisa's Linguistics LogLisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-12685701183910367642012-07-04T16:50:00.002-07:002012-07-04T17:18:52.387-07:00Funology<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i><span class="NoSpacingChar" style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US">*My husband's name has been changed because he thinks this is
all “bunkum”. </span></span></i><br />
<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">My husband,
Jerry*, and I have been arguing for some days now about the appropriate
pronunciation of the word <i>lure</i>, as in <i>fishing lures</i> and <i>lure
the bunny with carrots</i>. He maintains that “lurr” [lɜː(r)] is the
correct form, and I am sure that there is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dipthong">dipthong</a> in there, making it
sound like “looer” [l(j)ʊə(r)]. The vowel sounds in each are what makes the
difference. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In order to
prove my point, I first went to the Source of All Knowledge – the Oxford English
Dictionary. OED agrees with me, and supplies the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Phonetic_Alphabet">IPA</a>
reading you see above. To further prove my point, I consulted the Macmillan
dictionary online, Wiktionary, and even the lowly Merriam-Webster. Furthermore,
I played audio files from at least three English pronunciation websites to cement
my win. (I might be considered a poor winner by these standards; I might be
considered a poor winner by any standards.) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Despite the
abundance of evidence for my case, Jerry refused to give in. I put the vote to
our Facebook friends. Six voted for my pronunciation; none for his. Jerry
remained stubborn; he claims he “doesn’t believe in surveys”, especially when
they don’t go his way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">One of these
Facebook friends even looked it up in her own dictionary and said that <i>lure</i> is pronounced like <i>cure</i>, with the “oo-er” sound in both. That’s
when we hit our breakthrough. Jerry considered this the proving point in <u>his</u>
argument! He went on to say, over and over, “cure [kjʊə(r)], lure [lɜː(r)], cure
[kjʊə(r)], lure [lɜː(r)], cure [kjʊə(r)], lure [lɜː(r)].”<br />
<br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That was when
I realized that our argument was invalid. It wasn’t a <u>pronunciation</u>
argument; it was a <u>phonological </u>argument. Jerry actually believed that
the sounds were identical. So it’s not a problem of speaking, but of listening.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phonology">Phonology</a> is the study of how
the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phonetics">phonetics</a> of a
language are systematized. Along with vocabulary and syntax, every language
(even sign language) has a pattern of phonology that dictates where and when
certain sounds occur. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">To give an
example in English, the written words are as follows: </span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: medium none; font-family: inherit;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cat</span></div>
</td>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: windowtext windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cats</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color windowtext windowtext; border-right: 1pt solid windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Dog</span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Dogs</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The native
speaker knows that by adding the <i>–s</i> to
the end of the word indicates pluralization, changing the meaning of the root
word. The native speaker also knows how to pronounce the words, [kæts] and [dɒgz].
But look closely at the phonetics of the words. Whereas “cats” ends with an
unvoiced alveolar fricative [s], “dogs” ends with a voiced alveolar fricative
[z]. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Why do we
voice the fricative on one word and not the other? The answer is: phonology. By
using phonological problem-solving techniques, we can come to the conclusion
that English speakers voice the plural <i>–s</i>
when it follows a voiced sound, and it is unvoiced after following an unvoiced
sound. (In <i>dogs</i> and <i>cats</i>, the <i>g </i>and the <i>t </i>are voiced
and unvoiced, respectively.) The native speaker knows this intuitively and
actually makes no distinction between the two sounds, having been influenced by
the spelling that they are the same. Nothing could be further from the truth in
a phonetic sense. The sounds are distinct, though they make no difference to
the meaning of the words. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Have a look
at the following word list and try to identify the occurrence of the voiced
pairs of sounds and the unvoiced pairs of sounds. </span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: medium none; font-family: inherit;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Pails</span></div>
</td>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: windowtext windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Rights</span></div>
</td>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: windowtext windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Holidays</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color windowtext windowtext; border-right: 1pt solid windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">DVDs</span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Stinks</span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 159.6pt;" valign="top" width="213"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Books</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Another
example of a phonological system is in the following related words: </span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: medium none; font-family: inherit;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Breaths
[brɛθs]</span></div>
</td>
<td style="-moz-border-bottom-colors: none; -moz-border-image: none; -moz-border-left-colors: none; -moz-border-right-colors: none; -moz-border-top-colors: none; border-color: windowtext windowtext windowtext -moz-use-text-color; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Breathes
[briːðz]</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Once again we
have the <i>–s </i>in the writing of the
word,<i> </i>but there is a [s]/[z]
discrepancy in the pronunciation. Why, when the words both end in <i>–th</i>? Because there are two ways of
pronouncing <i>th</i>. One is unvoiced, the
[θ] at the beginning of <i>thanks</i> and<i> throw</i>; and the other is voiced, the [ð]
in <i>there</i> and <i>then</i>. Try saying <i>thanks</i>
with the voiced sound. It’s odd, and different, even if it still conveys the
same meaning. (I have a friend who purposely uses this pronunciation to
surprise people.) Well, the phonology of English tells us that whether we use
the voiced or unvoiced sound, the meaning of the word remains the same. Not so
in all languages, because one may exhibit two words which have differing
meanings based on which of these sounds are uttered. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But back to
Jerry, and his assertion that “cure” and “lure” sound the same, even though he
uses different vowel sounds in each. The
orthography of English and his native upbringing have conspired to convince him
that his mouth is making the same movements for both. He could not be more
wrong. What he doesn’t know about his own mouth movements is what makes
phonology fascinating for the linguist. The native speakers have no clue that
they are making different sounds, because the brain filters them according to
meaning and not by the sound. It brings up a question of the nature of reality:
can we trust that our brains are processing the raw sensations correctly? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Jerry does, though, distinguish between <i>rule</i> and <i>lure</i>. "Rule has an oo-sound," he says, instantaneously confounding my argument in its entirety. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">However, in a
sense, Jerry’s original argument is correct. Objectively, he and I are making different
sounds with our mouths, but to any listener, we would both be repeating the
same word. There is no alternate meaning for “l—r” based on our distinct pronunciations,
so we will both still be able to be understood in communication. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In
conclusion: tomayto, tomahto. However it's pronounced, it's the same word. He won’t stop saying <i>lurr </i>and
I won’t stop hating it. He is also now calling me “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64yianfGvzc" target="_blank">Inspector Clouseau</a>”,
because he thinks I "sound like a dog with peanut butter on the roof of its mouth". </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-75308279250769789242011-07-08T22:53:00.000-07:002011-07-08T23:10:17.519-07:00Musical Pictures<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span class="NoSpacingChar" style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US">Gobsmacked, adj. :</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> flabbergasted, astounded; speechless or incoherent with amazement.</span></i><br />
<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">It’s been four weeks since I posted my musings on the nature of my ‘verbal’ thoughts and lack of ‘pictorial’ memory. In discussing this with a friend of mine, she suggested something that left me utterly </span></span>gobsmacked<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">. In fact it has taken me this long to come to terms with just a few of the idea’s ramifications. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">What I learned was simply that when people listen to music, </span></span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US"><i>they see pictures in their heads</i></span></span><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">. Is this true? Are people really going around watching and making up brand-new </span></span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0032455/"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext;">Fantasia</span></i></a><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">s in their heads all the times they listen to music? Consider my mind blown. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">The suggestion was made after I had given a fairly in-depth rant about how London’s best orchestras were lost on me. I’d had the good fortune to see some of the finest musicians in London on a school arts trip in 2003, but within the first movement of each concert I would invariably fall asleep. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">To paraphrase dear Alice, what is the use of a song, without words or lyrics? Well, now I know that is quite easy to relax and let your mind make up its own stories for the music--that is, if you have a visual imagination. I’ve always thought of songs as having their own colors, but any pictures in my head I find directly relate to the story in the lyrics or the actual music video. I don’t get the Fantasia Channel, I guess. So even when I can appreciate the skill that goes into a performance, I can't keep myself awake without lyrics. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">Now this has got me thinking: what does this mean in other areas of my life? Do I see pictures when reading books? Yes. A book tells you exactly what’s happening, and it’s easy to turn that into pictures. But could I do the same with an audio book? No. I have never been able to concentrate on an audio book for more than a few sentences. What about a play—a book without the easy-to-picture narration? Again, yes, I can make pictures out of the scripts of plays. So it seems that there is a visual element to my verbal thoughts. Just as I “see” the words of my thoughts inside my head, I must also “see” the words coming from external sources, if I am to give them pictures and/or concentrate on them. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="NoSpacingChar"><span lang="EN-US">Just how different am I from all these pictorial thinkers? And how many of "us" are there? </span></span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-22216395497345826422011-05-29T19:35:00.001-07:002011-05-29T20:07:37.261-07:00Label-Maker<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/63035058@N02/5773898773/"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5270/5773898773_e2ed0d7a21.jpg" /> </a> <br />
<i>This is my brain—on words. </i><br />
<br />
While I was in middle school, I attended an after-school lecture regarding sex in the media. I would learn why beer and cigarette ads showed copious amounts of female skin. It was the first time that I had heard that axiom, “sex sells”, yet I don’t recall being surprised. <br />
<br />
No, I was reeling from a bigger shock: that I was fundamentally unlike my peers. <br />
<br />
In order to introduce his topic, the speaker asked the hundred of us to close our eyes and see what happened when he said a word. We closed our eyes, and he said the word “chair”. After a moment’s pause, we opened our eyes again. <br />
<br />
“How many people saw the word ‘chair’ spelled out in their mind?” the speaker asked. I raised my hand high. “I see, okay, a few of you. Okay, thanks. Now, how many people saw the picture of a chair in their mind’s eye?” <br />
<br />
Ninety-five hands shot into the air. <br />
<br />
The speaker went on, connecting this illustration to the way advertising puts images into the mind, selling sex to sell products and yadda, yadda. <br />
<br />
But I couldn’t concentrate on that. Until that moment, I’d thought that everyone sees words in their mind. I was shocked by the idea that people see pictures in their mind. <br />
<br />
I mean, sure, if you ask me to picture something, I will. But as for the inner monologue, don’t people read it off the inside of their skulls? <br />
<br />
My inner monologue, as far back as I can remember, has been like a ticker-tape rolling through my mind. As a youngster, I imagined my words as white letters embossed on black <a href="http://www.amazon.com/DYMO-Organizer-Xpress-Pro-Line/dp/B004E2RQO8/ref=sr_1_19?s=office-products&ie=UTF8&qid=1306721779&sr=1-19">Dymo-style labels</a>. One of my favorite games was to see how many of these tickers I could get going at once. I’d start thinking about something, then I’d start thinking about thinking it, then thinking about thinking about thinking about it, and so on. Little strips of thought would begin to build up, one in front of the other, and they would all keep going as my thoughts became more and more abstracted. <br />
<br />
Of course, there was a time before I could read, but I can’t remember what came before—whether I would see images or words or something else in my head while I thought. <br />
<br />
So, how many people think in pictures? How many in words? How many people think in pictures of words? What does it say about who we are and how we learn? And, how does this affect our theories of language?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-1150763419941000232011-05-24T23:00:00.000-07:002011-05-26T13:12:47.439-07:00The Etymology of 'Woman'<i>This is by far my favorite story about English.</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Although the majority of English words are loaned, borrowed, or stolen from other languages, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i> has no cognates in contemporary or historic foreign languages, making it one of few exclusively English words. The word is derived from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wyfman</i>, the combination of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wyf</i> [wife] and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i>. Following is an examination of the word’s history, and a brief glance at its possible future. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wyf </i>is a cognate of several languages, including Old French (OF) and Old Saxon (OS). In the Early Old English (eOE), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wyf</i> was used to describe a member of the female gender, unlike our contemporary use of the word, meaning ‘a married woman’ and correlating to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">husband</i>. “Alduuif” makes an appearance in one of the oldest English texts, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Corpus Glossary</i>, in around the year 725, then “wiifa” we see in 900 and “uif” in 950. By 1175 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wife</i> began to be used to denote a married female, and the two meanings coexisted until the late 16<sup>th</sup> century when a new meaning emerged: that of the marketer or saleswoman. In 1635, we see “Oyster wives, herb wives, tripe wives”, the structure of which we recognize in the words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ale-wife</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fishwife</i>, with the connotation of a lower class woman. From this point on, the sense of ‘adult human female’ in the word wife is completely replaced by ‘lower class marketer’ and ‘female spouse’. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">While the sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wife</i> was changing, there arose a need for a word to take up the mantle of ‘adult human female’. Meanwhile, there was a need in ME for a word meaning ‘adult human male’. The words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wapman</i>, meaning ‘male’ and ‘males’ respectively, had become entirely obsolete by the 13<sup>th</sup> century. The only word left to mean ‘adult human male’ was the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i>, which had until then been used irrespective of sex to mean simply, ‘human’. Both problems were temporarily solved by the combination of the words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wife</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wifman</i>, literally meaning ‘female human’. The earliest usage of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wifmon</i> occurs by 893, and by 1225 we see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wummon </i>appear, indicating the shift in the first vowel sound from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wi</i> to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wu</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">By 1400, the singular <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i> and plural <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">women</i> were established, and these became the usual spellings. The suffix <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">–en</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">was a common suffix used for pluralization, such as is found in the modern <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oxen</i>, but also bears a similarity to the suffix –<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">en</i> used for feminization, which survives singularly in the modern word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vixen</i>, meaning ‘female fox’. Also, it is interesting to note that although the spelling of the second vowel changes between the singular and plural forms, the pronunciation does not. Instead, it is the first vowel sound that changes, from the singular: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wu-,</i> to the plural: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wi-</i>. The Oxford English Dictionary suggests that this may be due to the “associative influence of pairs like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">foot</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feet</i>” (“woman, n.” etymology). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The phrases “woe man” and “wee men”, convincing homonyms though they might be, are neither synonyms nor sources for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">women</i>. They are simply the result of happy coincidence, and have been used as puns, commonly in the Early Modern period. This usage could be humorous or serious. For example, in 1534, Sir Thomas More writes in his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Dialogue of Comforte Against Tribulation</i>, “Man himselfe borne of a woman, is in deede a wo man, that is, ful of wo and miserie” (“woman, n.” 1k). Richard Flecknoe is quoted in the OED with “Say of Woman worst ye can, What prolongs their woe, but man?” in 1653 (Ibid). These puns are not exclusive to the 16<sup>th</sup> and 17<sup>th</sup> centuries, for surely they are made today, but it is interesting to note that they were the most prolific at the time of the English tract-writing controversy known as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Querelle de la Rose</i>. During this time, the virtues and vices of the female gender were being argued, with women writers emerging to argue for the first time on behalf of their own sex. It was surely a time for upsetting the genders’ status quo. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Currently, in the late 20<sup>th</sup> and early 21<sup>st</sup> century, we are in the midst of another shift in the ongoing history of the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i>, especially as it relates to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man.</i> This shift is due in large part to the growing awareness of feminism, which has its roots in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Querelle</i>. The usage of the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man </i>to indicate humanity is being protested, especially in the compound words such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chairman</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">policeman</i>, in which the –<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> is becoming obsolete and is being replaced by –<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">person</i>. Because of the feminist movement and the shift in meaning in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> from ‘human’ to ‘male’ growing ever stronger, we are in need of gender-neutral words for mankind. (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Human</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mankind</i>, for example, both employ the root word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i>.) We can connect this gap in our language back to the 13<sup>th</sup> century when, rather than using a new word for ‘male human’ when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were</i> became obsolete, we simply added to the established gender-neutral <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> to create <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i>, thereby leaving <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> to indicate maleness by default. A better fix would have been to add something to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> to indicate maleness as well as adding <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wyf</i> to indicate femaleness. However, language is never created by design, but by evolution and adaptation. We may yet see a prefix added to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> to indicate maleness, or we may see something entirely new arise to fit the meaning we need. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">In addition to protesting the compound words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chairman</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">policeman</i>, some feminists have removed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> from the very word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">woman</i>. ‘Womyn’ is a new alteration of the plural <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">women</i>, replacing –<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">men</i> with the nonce suffix <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">–myn,</i> appearing for the first time in 1975. Currently it is only used by feminist groups, but 100 years from now may be a foundation for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">menmyn</i>, replacing the etymological<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> wyf</i> with the current <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> to mean ‘adult male human’, while <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man</i> reverts back to its original genderless state. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Works Consulted or Cited </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“man, <i>n.</i></span><sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">1</span></sup><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">(and<i> int.</i>)” <u>OED Online</u>. June 2003. Oxford University Press. 31 January 2009 <http://dictionary.oed.com.proxy.lib.sfu.ca/cgi/entry/00300790></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “wife, n.” <u>The Oxford English Dictionary</u>. 2nd ed. 1989. <u>OED Online</u>. Oxford University Press. 31 January 2009 <http://dictionary.oed.com.proxy.lib.sfu.ca/cgi/entry/50285384></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “woman, n.”<u> The Oxford English Dictionary</u>. 2nd ed. 1989. <u>OED Online</u>. Oxford University Press. 31 January 2009 <http://dictionary.oed.com.proxy.lib.sfu.ca/cgi/entry/50286733></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “womyn, n.” <u>OED Online</u>. June 2003. Oxford University Press. 31 January 2009 <http://dictionary.oed.com.proxy.lib.sfu.ca/cgi/entry/20010437></span></span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-14363991894444734212011-05-21T12:12:00.000-07:002011-05-21T19:03:45.487-07:00So, part 2: with verbs or not<i>I'm so not into adding 'so' to verbs. </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">The OED online has two more new entries for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> as of 2005, in addition to the adjectival intensifier in my last post. In one, the word is used with verbs, and in the other, the word is used with negatives. I smile to myself to think that both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clueless</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i> (the series) get credit in the OED in the entry for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so modifying a verb</i>. “Oh thank you, Josh, I <i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">so</span></i> need lessons from you on how to be cool,” Cher says, “Tell me that part about Kenny G again…?” Interestingly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends</i> is not cited in the OED at all under “so”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The other two citations in the OED for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> as a verb modifier make it clear that the usage is merely slang, no more—nothing even resembling standard, formal, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>English. Therefore, it should sound strange when we stumble across it in print. Which is exactly what happens: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal">“Silas shakes his head, and his eyes fill with pain, pity, love; he so wants to be able to tell her that he’s not the Potential.” – Sisters Red by Jackson Pearce, page 301 </div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Although this is a Young Adult novel, the usage seems forced here. In 256 uses of the word “so” in the book, it is never paired with a verb until right at the end. Call me nitpicky, but it is an abrupt change of style. And there are many other ways of intensifying the verb “want” that do not sound so out-of-place. (I’m not sure, but I think an editor’s job is to catch stuff like that.) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tagliamonte’s description of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so with a negative</i> is “Gen-X so”, and quite apt. Examples include “That’s so not cool,” or “That’s so not what I meant.” If memory serves, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends </i>was quite the proponent of this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>. But wait—the data says otherwise. Tagliamonte noted only six times in the entire series that this type of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> was used. I’m so surprised! As a Gen-X hanger-on, I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> guilty of using this term to excess. But I would <i>so</i> never write like that! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Works Cited</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoBibliography"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pearce, Jackson. <u>Sisters Red.</u> New York: Hachette Book Group, 2010.</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">so, adv. and conj. Oxford English Dictionary, Second edition, 1989; online version March 2011. <http://www.oed.com.proxy.lib.sfu.ca/Entry/183635>; accessed 19 May 2011. </span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoBibliography"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Tagliamonte, Sali A. and Chris Roberts. "So weird; so cool; so innovative: The use of intensifiers in the television series Friends." <u>American Speech</u> 80.3 (n.d.): 280-300.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-63527959160108722552011-05-19T22:11:00.000-07:002011-05-19T22:11:16.780-07:00So, part 1: with adjectives<div class="MsoNormal"><i>I miss </i>Friends<i> so much; it was so funny and so true. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While reading an interesting journal article about adjectival intensifiers in the TV show <i>Friends</i> by Sali Tagliamonte and Chris Roberts, I learned two things: one, I would be totally willing to work as a linguistic researcher and/or data compiler; and two, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends</i> is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> to be blamed for the usage of the word ‘so’ as adjectival intensifier. It’s only to blame for making some of us aware of it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tagliamonte and Roberts went straight to the source for the history of the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>, the OED 2<sup>nd</sup> Edition. Their reading of the entry is that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>, used as an intensifier, dates back to Beowulf; however, the OED online only admits <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> specifically as an intensifier as early as 1923. Either case pre-dates <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends</i> definitively. Tagliamonte and Roberts’ claims are that intensifier use is based on trend and popularity (like slang, unlike other parts of speech) and that, even in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends</i>, the word<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>follows strict usage rules for intensifiers coming into popularity. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Apparently, there are rules about how intensifiers act when they are coming into or going out of popularity. The process is called “delexicalization” and follows these stages of broadening usage: </div><ol><li>Lexical word </li>
<li>Used for occasional emphasis </li>
<li>Used more frequently </li>
<li>Used with wider and wider range of words. </li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile, the original meaning of the word is gradually lost. (Psst, quick, define “very”!) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends </i>data, the word first only applies with certain other words, as in “so dated” or “so old” but all other adjectives go with the other intensifiers such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i>. Later in the series and in real life, the word is applied with more diverse adjectives. Another “rule” is that females tend to use new intensifiers more than males, and again, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends </i>data are in line with this theory. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friends</i> ended in the spring of 2004. In the seven years since, how has the word been used? Is it still on the rise? Has it yet settled into the vernacular? “Intensifier use has long been associated with colloquial and nonstandard usage”, writes Tagliamonte. So we wouldn’t see the usage of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> as intensifier from a major publications such as newspapers or literature… would we? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I want to make it clear that I'm mostly summarizing and commenting on the journal article, the full citation of which follows: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tagliamonte, Sali A. and Chris Roberts. "So weird; so cool; so innovative: The use of intensifiers in the television series Friends." <u>American Speech</u> 80.3 (n.d.): 280-300.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-51385455168745717942011-05-16T00:19:00.000-07:002011-05-16T00:23:21.571-07:00Baby's Growth Chart<i>When does linguistic ability develop?</i> <br />
<br />
One can easily look up information on when the heart, lungs, or fingernails develop in the fetus. We can tell when a baby takes his or her first breath. So why can we never pinpoint when the linguistic centers of the brain activate? <br />
<br />
If my reading of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Language-Chomskys-Classic-Responsibility-Reflections/dp/1565844750/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1305528936&sr=1-1">Language and Responsibility</a> is competent, Noam Chomsky argued in 1979 for recognition of linguistic ability as a function of the physical body no different from growing hair, teeth, or soft tissue. A fabulous idea, I think, if a bit hard to chew.<br />
<br />
Chomsky's idea of a "universal grammar" means that underlying (physical?) structures in the human brain are receptive to linguistic acquisition. That also means that these receptors can turn on and off--like blood clotting, like fingernails always growing, like bones that reach a certain size and then stop growing--in ways we don't understand. <br />
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So, when do babies begin to understand language? When they begin to think in pictures? When they begin to understand relational concepts such as "in" and "upon"? When they begin to babble? Is the first word also the first step in the linguistic process? Or is it one of the last?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-34298601486321625902011-05-11T13:41:00.000-07:002011-05-16T00:33:03.305-07:00School Hard<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I can't remember a time when I didn't want to go to school. </i></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I heard it before I saw it, but I didn’t know what it was. Its large engine revved as it geared down to stop at the bottom of the hill. Then, there it was at the corner by my house. I saw it in all its glory: a big, yellow school bus. It might as well have been the ice-cream truck for all the awe it inspired in this four-year-old girl. I knew the older kids went to school, and their bus stop was there at the corner, but I had never actually seen it before. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Now I was suddenly confronted with its bigness, its yellowness, and its meaningfulness. This huge bus was the key to getting to school. I stood stock-still for a moment, pondering this magical capability. I would only need to catch this bus to get to school. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The oversize engine started up again and the vehicle turned the corner, heading away from our cul-de-sac. I dropped the toy I’d been playing with. I didn’t have any more time to think—I needed to follow that bus! I ran and ran as fast as I could, waving to the kids looking out at me from the back seat. They waved back, laughing and encouraging me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I hadn’t gotten very far, though, when I realized what I’d forgotten: all school kids need a lunch! I’d seen the older kids waving their pails, their brown bags around on their way out in the mornings. How could I go to school now, without one? I turned around and ran back to the house, sweating and worried that the bus might get away while my back was turned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Mom! Mom! Come quick!” I yelled all the way from the front door to the kitchen, where she was spooning banana into my baby brother’s mouth. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The spoon fell from her hand with a clatter as she rushed over to me, taking in my erratic and disheveled look. “What’s wrong, Lisa?” She asked, already looking me over for blood and feeling my limbs for broken bones. “What happened?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It took a few tries to make myself understood. I was too excited to speak, too tongue-tied to make sense. When my mom finally figured out what I needed and why, she laughed. I didn’t understand. Why would she laugh? Obviously this was of utmost importance! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Mom, hurry! The bus is getting away!” I jumped up and down and tugged on her clothes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Aw, honey, the bus is probably long gone by now.” She reached around and hugged me tight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“But then how will I get to school?” I cried. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“You can’t go to school until you’re old enough. You can go to school when you’re five. You’re only four now, next year you’ll be five. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I started to cry, there, in her arms. I had been so close to catching that bus... if only I’d been faster, had had that packed lunch. The future seemed too far away, and I was just itching to get to go to school. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My mom just hugged me and held me, her heart breaking. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to tell me I was too young for school. I’d been begging to go since I was three. She didn’t want to disappoint me any longer. And yet she had no idea how hard it would be to tell me, when I woke up on my fifth birthday in April that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> couldn’t go to school for another five months. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When the day finally came that I was allowed to go to school—my first day of kindergarten—my mom actually wanted to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">drive</i> me. That was okay and all, but the best part of starting school, the most victorious part of finally being five (and a half), was the second day of school when I actually got to ride the school bus. It was the fulfillment of a nearly lifelong dream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-90742505070326554742011-05-10T14:19:00.001-07:002011-05-11T13:48:30.658-07:00For which I will never forgive myself<div class="MsoSubtitle"><i>I once passed on a free set of the Oxford English Dictionary. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In 2005, I was living and teaching in Japan. My high school library was doing some “spring cleaning” and decided to get rid of the complete set of the Oxford English Dictionary—all 20 volumes and supplements—and offered them to me. Free of charge. The librarian even wheeled them all across the school to my office. But at the last minute, I said no. <br />
<br />
Why did I do it? I figured it would cost several hundred dollars to ship them back to the States—money I didn’t have. I was already spending a hundred dollars to ship other books I bought over the course of the year. And I didn’t have access to a car—I could hardly have walked them all to the post office anyway. <br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I knew I’d regret it. I knew I’d mentally kick myself for the rest of my life. The OED still waits on my Amazon Wish-List, taunting me with its $995 price tag. <br />
<br />
Incidentally, I have been able to afford interesting books about the OED, including <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Meaning-Everything-Oxford-English-Dictionary/dp/019517500X/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1305061980&sr=8-8">The Meaning of Everything</a> by Simon Winchester, which I highly recommend. </span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-37601245501181516792011-05-10T00:55:00.000-07:002011-05-16T00:33:38.351-07:00Reading and Writing<div class="MsoSubtitle"><i>The power of written record </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Words will last much longer than persons.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><blockquote><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span>“<i>So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this [poem], and this gives life to thee.</i>”<i> </i>– Shakespeare, Sonnet 18</blockquote><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Every memory, every thought must be saved.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Where do all those forgotten moments go?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Who will testify to our lives?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One must make a lasting record: I was here. I felt, I thought, I was. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ideas, feelings, discoveries, experiences and beliefs must be shared.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ideas and discoveries must be passed down to the next generation(s).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Writing is an exploration of the human condition; the human comedy.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><blockquote><i>"All of art and science depend on questioning what seems to be in light of what is."</i> - Michael Burgess, <i>More Letters to Uncle Mike</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Reading is transformative. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Through narrative, each man may live hundreds of lifetimes: first as a reader, then as a writer.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Through written record is man’s only chance of ultimate knowledge.</span><br />
<blockquote>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair</i>!” – Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Ozymandias”<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" title=""></a></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""></a></blockquote></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;"><div class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span></a></div></div></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8079148774780790934.post-29185465813793102762011-05-09T15:17:00.000-07:002011-05-10T01:41:19.676-07:00Linguistics & Semiotics<div class="MsoSubtitle"><i>The power of words </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They call me <a href="http://simpsons.wikia.com/wiki/Linguo">Linguo</a>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am a word-hoarder: a vocabularian and etymologist. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I suffer frequently from onomatomania—but I like it. </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">[1]</span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">English is a most excellent language because of its elasticity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I love portmanteau words, and to verb nouns. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I believe that a thesaurus should be drawn with Venn diagrams, not lists. </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Almost no words can singularly express any singular ideas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The larger the vocabulary, the more accurately ideas can be expressed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Learning more languages—verbal and non-verbal—increases the ability to express oneself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Grammar and punctuation serve to elucidate and clarify these ideas. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The ideas are in our heads waiting to be put to words. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Without words these ideas cannot escape, cannot serve us or our community. </span></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" /><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> Vexation at having difficulty in finding the right word</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8079148774780790934#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""></a><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div></div></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10651578861509109275noreply@blogger.com0