English, from the Creole tongues to the British Isle, is a gluttonous language. It gulps down foreign words, gains weight, lumbers around the planet, and often forgets to listen to reason. It’s also a flexible, rather affable language that loves nothing more than playing pranks on foreigners and native speakers alike. It’s been around for centuries and will probably be here for quite a while longer.
Bill Bryson, author of my summer book The Mother Tongue: English And How It Got That Way, was not shy when it came to language. In fact, he was delighted with it to a degree that rivaled Ms. Erdrich’s skunk obsession. And it showed. Every page brought me a laugh, whether Bryson was delving into the Anglo-Saxon mind or the so-called ‘grammar’ of English (most of which, as you’ve probably guessed, are mere suggestions, thus rendering English classes bunk. Sorry, Mr. Kunkle!) Whether you’re looking into the linguistic field or just wondering where swearing came from, I highly recommend this book. Spelling is addressed (or maybe ‘addrest’, depending on what century you’re from), foreign languages and their contribution to English, where wordplay came from, and even the merry-go-round of word meanings.
Racism and the oppression of free speech were also examined. Yes, English is highly expressive. Yes, we use words in ways that other languages cannot. And, yeah, it’s everywhere. However, except with that last affirmation, every language could view itself that way. While it may be cumbersome, there’s no reason for there to be any animosity just because Johnny says ‘cat’ and Pedro says, ‘gatto’. It’s one thing to be proud of your native tongue, another completely to open a firing squad because people feel the same way about their own.
Right now, I’m leaning toward lingustics where college is concerned. This book helped greatly. If I were to only remember one thing from this book, it would be this: Language is about expressing oneself, not suppressing. It’s for communicating and bringing people together. Let’s not freak out about it, shall we?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
A Response to The Prevailing Opinion of a Sexual Character Discussed
I was excited to realize that The Prevailing Opinion of a Sexual Character Discussed was Mary Wollstonecraft’s work; I look up to her greatly, though that did not always make it easier to read. My dictionary and I bonded through several attempts to traverse this article. My note cards were nearly expunged by all the new words, but it was worth it.
Her language was beautiful! I admit it was immensely difficult to comprehend her all the time, but eventually (especially near the end) I got lost in Wollstonecraft’s prose. It was funny though. Wollstonecraft was rallying for equality, claiming that women weren’t getting the education they needed, and she used words like, “punctilious”, “effusions”, and “criterion”. Wonderful. I admire her for her extensive vocabulary.
She also knew how to make a point. Wollstonecraft must have had several hand cramps by the time she finished, but all her words were there with reason. She was also never rude when she stuck up for her beliefs. She just backed them up with English any teacher would be proud of. I’d like to see what the response was to her Vindication of the Rights of Woman.
When she spoke of women and armies, I was struck by the similarities (not to mention her writing). “The consequence is natural; satisfied with common nature, they become prey to prejudices, and taking all their opinions on credit, they blindly submit to authority.” Living with your own reasons and views was something I wholeheartedly agreed on with Wollstonecraft. It’s fine to consult with one another, but experience will be far more beneficial than losing oneself to didactic sermons. After all, if people become educated and gain their own values then “there will be an end to blind obedience” and a drop in dotards. Hopefully.
Wollstonecraft continuously came back to the battle of the sexes. Men would rant on and on how women were inferior, silly little things not fit for education that “should never… feel [themselves] independent”. (Well, of course women of the time appeared “inferior”. How can someone exercise superiority or equality when they’re locked away from a fair education and treated as children?) Dr. Gregory’s idea that a girl should act like a doll, docile and pretty to look at, but without her own movement or thought, was irritating. It was like these men were afraid. If women are forever inferior, why not let them in a classroom?
However, Wollstonecraft was woman enough to point something else out. Some women take advantage of this lack of independence. With beauty and faux-frailty, women sometimes attempt to “reign over” the opposite sex. Neither side is completely fault free.
While I respect and even look up to Wollstonecraft, there was one issue I disagree with in this article—love. It felt like she held it in soft disdain. (Maybe I misunderstood?) Her explaining that lonely mothers make better mothers saddened me. I believe that a happy marriage where husband and wife work together and love each other is more efficient than Wollstonecraft’s idea. Friendship is essential to a long, happy marriage, but that doesn’t mean that love has to be equated out of the mix.
Mary Wollstonecraft is a hero of mine. In history class last year, I read about her in our French Revolution unit. Her Vindication of the Rights of Woman left me wanting to shout and jump up and down. Someone got it. Her egalitarian views and her knowledge that anyone, regardless of gender, can be strong and brilliant and passionate were inspiring. I am growing up in a patriarchal society where I may not earn as much money as some dude doing the same job as I and where some girls may never read or speak for themselves simply for being female. But times are changing. I think Wollstonecraft would smile at all the women working, supporting husbands and children and contributing to the world.
Her language was beautiful! I admit it was immensely difficult to comprehend her all the time, but eventually (especially near the end) I got lost in Wollstonecraft’s prose. It was funny though. Wollstonecraft was rallying for equality, claiming that women weren’t getting the education they needed, and she used words like, “punctilious”, “effusions”, and “criterion”. Wonderful. I admire her for her extensive vocabulary.
She also knew how to make a point. Wollstonecraft must have had several hand cramps by the time she finished, but all her words were there with reason. She was also never rude when she stuck up for her beliefs. She just backed them up with English any teacher would be proud of. I’d like to see what the response was to her Vindication of the Rights of Woman.
When she spoke of women and armies, I was struck by the similarities (not to mention her writing). “The consequence is natural; satisfied with common nature, they become prey to prejudices, and taking all their opinions on credit, they blindly submit to authority.” Living with your own reasons and views was something I wholeheartedly agreed on with Wollstonecraft. It’s fine to consult with one another, but experience will be far more beneficial than losing oneself to didactic sermons. After all, if people become educated and gain their own values then “there will be an end to blind obedience” and a drop in dotards. Hopefully.
Wollstonecraft continuously came back to the battle of the sexes. Men would rant on and on how women were inferior, silly little things not fit for education that “should never… feel [themselves] independent”. (Well, of course women of the time appeared “inferior”. How can someone exercise superiority or equality when they’re locked away from a fair education and treated as children?) Dr. Gregory’s idea that a girl should act like a doll, docile and pretty to look at, but without her own movement or thought, was irritating. It was like these men were afraid. If women are forever inferior, why not let them in a classroom?
However, Wollstonecraft was woman enough to point something else out. Some women take advantage of this lack of independence. With beauty and faux-frailty, women sometimes attempt to “reign over” the opposite sex. Neither side is completely fault free.
While I respect and even look up to Wollstonecraft, there was one issue I disagree with in this article—love. It felt like she held it in soft disdain. (Maybe I misunderstood?) Her explaining that lonely mothers make better mothers saddened me. I believe that a happy marriage where husband and wife work together and love each other is more efficient than Wollstonecraft’s idea. Friendship is essential to a long, happy marriage, but that doesn’t mean that love has to be equated out of the mix.
Mary Wollstonecraft is a hero of mine. In history class last year, I read about her in our French Revolution unit. Her Vindication of the Rights of Woman left me wanting to shout and jump up and down. Someone got it. Her egalitarian views and her knowledge that anyone, regardless of gender, can be strong and brilliant and passionate were inspiring. I am growing up in a patriarchal society where I may not earn as much money as some dude doing the same job as I and where some girls may never read or speak for themselves simply for being female. But times are changing. I think Wollstonecraft would smile at all the women working, supporting husbands and children and contributing to the world.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Response to "Skunk Dreams"
I did not expect a story about a skunk to encompass metaphysical and controversial subjects. So when Erdrich posed her many questions with few answers, I was more than surprised. By the end of the article, I was just short of sure that Erdrich had an unhealthy obsession with a certain black and white mammal and that my brain was incapable of processing all of my questions. Regardless if Skunk Dreams is based entirely on Erdrich’s life, or if she fictionalized it, it was still a powerful read.
There were many striking lines in Skunk Dreams. The first that made me stop and think (beyond, “why is she sleeping in a football field?”) was, “We don’t know about the dreams of any other biota, and even much about our own.” I love topics like this that give readers a quick taste of thought. There’s much we don’t know, and Erdrich seemed determined to drill that into our heads. What are dreams? Is dreaming merely a human thing, or do other beings dream too? And of what? Should dreams give us hope for life after death?
I must agree with both Erdrich and Lund in their pursuit to answer that last question. I want something of myself to survive even after I’m six feet under, left for the worms—surviving in ways other than fertilizer, of course. I’m human. I’m selfish that way. In the words of Erdrich, “I want more”.
One very human thing is to beat and brood, to complain over what isn’t worth complaining about, and to sit oneself in the center of the universe. Everyday things like denting your parents’ car can seem devastating, but are just “minor, mere wisps, compared to skunk.” In the grand scheme of things, many “devastating” events are trivial. Even if everything appears horrible enough for you to sleep in a football field, many things won’t matter ten years from now, let alone ten days! At least, that’s what I got out of Erdrich’s description of a skunk’s perfume.
But some things will matter. There are obstacles in life we must overcome. Her inclusion of Adam Phillip's philosophy was awesome! I was happy to have it loop back to the dreaming and the obstacles Erdrich still had to face. "I was filled with poacher's lust, except I wanted only to smell the air." I love that line. Erdrich's walks through the captured wilderness were very peaceful and respectful--which I find refreshing. "Shooting animals inside fences, no matter how big the area they have to hide in, seems abominable and silly. And yet, I was glad for that wilderness." I agree. One thing I truly loved about this article was Erdrich's view on animals. Erdrich, to me, seems very caring towards animals and the environment, and I was happy to see her crawl through that fence.
Overall, it was a solid article. The vagueness and sudden jumps through time and thought could be irritating, but Erdrich's strong prose and views kept it all together. The final paragraphs sealed Skunk Dreams with, of course, skunks. Fitting. While at first startling, I can't find any reason to mock Erdrich's choice of skunk. That animal toddles through life without worry, so sure of itself, causing little detriment to others, and without fear of death. We could learn to do the same.
There were many striking lines in Skunk Dreams. The first that made me stop and think (beyond, “why is she sleeping in a football field?”) was, “We don’t know about the dreams of any other biota, and even much about our own.” I love topics like this that give readers a quick taste of thought. There’s much we don’t know, and Erdrich seemed determined to drill that into our heads. What are dreams? Is dreaming merely a human thing, or do other beings dream too? And of what? Should dreams give us hope for life after death?
I must agree with both Erdrich and Lund in their pursuit to answer that last question. I want something of myself to survive even after I’m six feet under, left for the worms—surviving in ways other than fertilizer, of course. I’m human. I’m selfish that way. In the words of Erdrich, “I want more”.
One very human thing is to beat and brood, to complain over what isn’t worth complaining about, and to sit oneself in the center of the universe. Everyday things like denting your parents’ car can seem devastating, but are just “minor, mere wisps, compared to skunk.” In the grand scheme of things, many “devastating” events are trivial. Even if everything appears horrible enough for you to sleep in a football field, many things won’t matter ten years from now, let alone ten days! At least, that’s what I got out of Erdrich’s description of a skunk’s perfume.
But some things will matter. There are obstacles in life we must overcome. Her inclusion of Adam Phillip's philosophy was awesome! I was happy to have it loop back to the dreaming and the obstacles Erdrich still had to face. "I was filled with poacher's lust, except I wanted only to smell the air." I love that line. Erdrich's walks through the captured wilderness were very peaceful and respectful--which I find refreshing. "Shooting animals inside fences, no matter how big the area they have to hide in, seems abominable and silly. And yet, I was glad for that wilderness." I agree. One thing I truly loved about this article was Erdrich's view on animals. Erdrich, to me, seems very caring towards animals and the environment, and I was happy to see her crawl through that fence.
Overall, it was a solid article. The vagueness and sudden jumps through time and thought could be irritating, but Erdrich's strong prose and views kept it all together. The final paragraphs sealed Skunk Dreams with, of course, skunks. Fitting. While at first startling, I can't find any reason to mock Erdrich's choice of skunk. That animal toddles through life without worry, so sure of itself, causing little detriment to others, and without fear of death. We could learn to do the same.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Is Google Making Us Stupid?
After reading this article, I was unnerved, if not hesitant to click on Firefox again. However, I obviously have. The thoughts this article dumped on me are a little muddled, but I’ll try to explain them as best I can.
I remember reading the title for the first time. I rolled my eyes, smirked a bit, and already had my answer. “Of course. Of course, Google was making us stupid! How stupid do you think I am to think otherwise?” Actually, don’t answer. I wasn’t really expecting one then and I definitely do not want one now. I’m embarrassed to say my thought processing gets a little clogged when I’m cynical. The rest of my mind, at those times, doesn’t always keep focused on anything other than being a nitwit.
In any case, when I finally drew my eyes away from the title to the first paragraph, I became amused. 2001: A Space Odyssey was something I’d merely heard about and only seen replicated. I’ve read a handful of artificial intelligence vs. humanity books, and figured I knew enough. I expected some kind of silly ranting with little backup after that, but Nicholas Carr had other ideas.
I was sucked in. My nitwit command center redirected the majority of its power to my eyes so that I could read faster. It was as if Carr was talking about my reading abilities and their, uh, latent demise. His lines concerning the media left me nodding. I also feel that I’m on a jet ski all too often, but the rest of the article pulled me in deep enough to taste the ocean again.
I have a confession. Once upon a time in eighth grade, I read Jane Eyre, by brilliant Jane Austin, and loved it to bits. For the winter holidays, my dad bought me both Dracula and Pride and Prejudice. I was ecstatic, started on Dracula right away (mostly to get the taste of Twilight out of my head), and later tried Pride and Prejudice. I haven’t finished either. It’ll be December again in no time and those books will probably be sitting on my shelves, getting acquainted with ever more dust. It’s not that I didn’t like the books. Really, Dracula went as far as to give me nightmares, making me read even more, but the way it was written deterred my interest. I was distracted left and right by computer, TV, and the not-so-random irritation that I couldn’t understand my own language every other paragraph. I have a small collection of book from around the First World War that I cannot concentrate on either. When I get too into texting, my English rots from “Hey friend, how goes it?” to “wats up?” I write differently depending on whether or not I’m holding a pencil or if I’m slumped in front of a computer. Here, I’ll stop the rant, and simply say that by page three of Carr’s article, I was remembering all this. I was remembering and desperate to know if he had answers.
Instead of a cure, he gave me more questions.
I think I almost imploded when Wolf made the point about our brains and our language. I’ve been wondering about how minds function differently between languages for a long time. I look at Japanese and I see beautiful squiggles where I wished for words; I see Spanish and I think of each word’s meaning, each sentence’s structure. I can’t help but instantly respond that way. Apparently, it really is how I’m hardwired.
But hardwire, as James Olds pointed out, can change, especially with our brains. Machines make us malleable. Here, I wondered how cuneiform captured the Sumerians, how paintbrushes pocketed the Chinese, how typewriters trapped the Americans and so on. Technology is rapidly growing, and while we may adapt with it, will we always be able to match it? With computers smarter than us, doing all our thinking, where will we be? We just might find ourselves as outdated as a 2002 cell phone, lost in Taylor’s “system”, and, if you’re keen on a techno-takeover, disposed of. (After all, who knows what your microwave is thinking…!)
And then there was Google. Oh yes, the title taker of this entire article, here at last. Around this point, I was considering panic. Finally, the opening that had amused me took an 180 degree turn just to slap me in the face. Google was fiddling with thoughts, reaping information, and generally sowing some good old fashion unease in my throat. Figuring that bashing my computer over its hard drive with a sturdy dictionary wasn’t the answer, I read on. There was no drive now for distraction.
Of course, Carr distracted me via a surge of reassurance. He made several points of “this has happened before, see? Writing, typewriters, thumbs, and books were big no-no’s once upon an era. Be skeptical of my worry.” However, I rolled my eyes at this warning and worried anyway. I know the Internet has helped. Information is open for the world like never before. I even have inklings that one day; people will look back and shake their heads at us. They will laugh at our dismay and distrust with computers thinking for us. They will smirk, claim superiority, and thusly freak out at whatever their new “typewriter” is. I know, because it’s exactly what has been happening ever since some prehistoric dude rounded some rocks and plopped a cart on top.
So in all, I loved Carr’s “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” I spoke with my mom on the topic, and her input and this article have changed my nitwit answer into an almost-question, because, I don’t know, maybe we’ve always been this way. Maybe it’s more of our reaction and later reliance on these technological crutches than anything. We can ask for help when we need it, but we can walk on our own too.
This has happened before—this revolution of thinking—and for better or for worse, we’re still here. Are we overacting? Is the evil super duper Google-god of doom looming over us, snatching our minds up as we search for pics of Sponge Bob, and skim through five paragraph articles? Was the tyrant-typewriter our first step into a demise of originality? Do I need to quit with the questions? Your answer, expect for the last inquiry, is as good a guess as any. After reading this, setting it aside and hungrily borrowing half the library, I’m still not sure how I feel. My use of Bing and Google has dropped, and I’m inside the words of books now more than I have been since eighth grade. It’s nice. Maybe all we need is a bit of balance in a diet of words. Less fast food, more homemade meals.
Unless, of course, that’s what Google wants us to think.
What are your thoughts?
I remember reading the title for the first time. I rolled my eyes, smirked a bit, and already had my answer. “Of course. Of course, Google was making us stupid! How stupid do you think I am to think otherwise?” Actually, don’t answer. I wasn’t really expecting one then and I definitely do not want one now. I’m embarrassed to say my thought processing gets a little clogged when I’m cynical. The rest of my mind, at those times, doesn’t always keep focused on anything other than being a nitwit.
In any case, when I finally drew my eyes away from the title to the first paragraph, I became amused. 2001: A Space Odyssey was something I’d merely heard about and only seen replicated. I’ve read a handful of artificial intelligence vs. humanity books, and figured I knew enough. I expected some kind of silly ranting with little backup after that, but Nicholas Carr had other ideas.
I was sucked in. My nitwit command center redirected the majority of its power to my eyes so that I could read faster. It was as if Carr was talking about my reading abilities and their, uh, latent demise. His lines concerning the media left me nodding. I also feel that I’m on a jet ski all too often, but the rest of the article pulled me in deep enough to taste the ocean again.
I have a confession. Once upon a time in eighth grade, I read Jane Eyre, by brilliant Jane Austin, and loved it to bits. For the winter holidays, my dad bought me both Dracula and Pride and Prejudice. I was ecstatic, started on Dracula right away (mostly to get the taste of Twilight out of my head), and later tried Pride and Prejudice. I haven’t finished either. It’ll be December again in no time and those books will probably be sitting on my shelves, getting acquainted with ever more dust. It’s not that I didn’t like the books. Really, Dracula went as far as to give me nightmares, making me read even more, but the way it was written deterred my interest. I was distracted left and right by computer, TV, and the not-so-random irritation that I couldn’t understand my own language every other paragraph. I have a small collection of book from around the First World War that I cannot concentrate on either. When I get too into texting, my English rots from “Hey friend, how goes it?” to “wats up?” I write differently depending on whether or not I’m holding a pencil or if I’m slumped in front of a computer. Here, I’ll stop the rant, and simply say that by page three of Carr’s article, I was remembering all this. I was remembering and desperate to know if he had answers.
Instead of a cure, he gave me more questions.
I think I almost imploded when Wolf made the point about our brains and our language. I’ve been wondering about how minds function differently between languages for a long time. I look at Japanese and I see beautiful squiggles where I wished for words; I see Spanish and I think of each word’s meaning, each sentence’s structure. I can’t help but instantly respond that way. Apparently, it really is how I’m hardwired.
But hardwire, as James Olds pointed out, can change, especially with our brains. Machines make us malleable. Here, I wondered how cuneiform captured the Sumerians, how paintbrushes pocketed the Chinese, how typewriters trapped the Americans and so on. Technology is rapidly growing, and while we may adapt with it, will we always be able to match it? With computers smarter than us, doing all our thinking, where will we be? We just might find ourselves as outdated as a 2002 cell phone, lost in Taylor’s “system”, and, if you’re keen on a techno-takeover, disposed of. (After all, who knows what your microwave is thinking…!)
And then there was Google. Oh yes, the title taker of this entire article, here at last. Around this point, I was considering panic. Finally, the opening that had amused me took an 180 degree turn just to slap me in the face. Google was fiddling with thoughts, reaping information, and generally sowing some good old fashion unease in my throat. Figuring that bashing my computer over its hard drive with a sturdy dictionary wasn’t the answer, I read on. There was no drive now for distraction.
Of course, Carr distracted me via a surge of reassurance. He made several points of “this has happened before, see? Writing, typewriters, thumbs, and books were big no-no’s once upon an era. Be skeptical of my worry.” However, I rolled my eyes at this warning and worried anyway. I know the Internet has helped. Information is open for the world like never before. I even have inklings that one day; people will look back and shake their heads at us. They will laugh at our dismay and distrust with computers thinking for us. They will smirk, claim superiority, and thusly freak out at whatever their new “typewriter” is. I know, because it’s exactly what has been happening ever since some prehistoric dude rounded some rocks and plopped a cart on top.
So in all, I loved Carr’s “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” I spoke with my mom on the topic, and her input and this article have changed my nitwit answer into an almost-question, because, I don’t know, maybe we’ve always been this way. Maybe it’s more of our reaction and later reliance on these technological crutches than anything. We can ask for help when we need it, but we can walk on our own too.
This has happened before—this revolution of thinking—and for better or for worse, we’re still here. Are we overacting? Is the evil super duper Google-god of doom looming over us, snatching our minds up as we search for pics of Sponge Bob, and skim through five paragraph articles? Was the tyrant-typewriter our first step into a demise of originality? Do I need to quit with the questions? Your answer, expect for the last inquiry, is as good a guess as any. After reading this, setting it aside and hungrily borrowing half the library, I’m still not sure how I feel. My use of Bing and Google has dropped, and I’m inside the words of books now more than I have been since eighth grade. It’s nice. Maybe all we need is a bit of balance in a diet of words. Less fast food, more homemade meals.
Unless, of course, that’s what Google wants us to think.
What are your thoughts?
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