I have always wondered how it is decided what is the proper way to spell words. From my early grade school days I always remember that there are certain rules to follow, such as “I before E except after C.” But then there are words like weird, and their, and foreign, and a whole slew of words that don’t contain a C but do have E before I. It would sure look weird to spell weird with an “IE”, but it still breaks the rule.
Some words seem to have too many repeated letters. One has to memorize how to spell words such as Mississippi or embarrassment, the latter of which looks like it has too many R’s. For the former I never learned any rhyme or sentence to remember it; I only kept in mind that after M the only vowels are I’s, all of the consonants are doubled, and there are two sets of S’s. Some words are confusing to spell because they aren’t pronounced the way one thinks they should be. For instance, why is separate spelled with an “A” in the middle when I feel like it needs an “E” and people say it like “uh” (or the schwa sound)?
And then there are words that are two words put together that, when apart, sound like the complete opposite, an oxymoron. The word extraordinary is a good example: to me, when reading, it looks like something is very ordinary instead of above the ordinary. The phrase “all right” is usually used (in the circles I traverse) to indicate that something is only “okay”, and not necessarily wanted but must be accepted anyway.
In the United Kingdom they speak the same language we do but their words can sometimes mean different things. When I first started reading the Harry Potter books I had no idea why Harry and Ron would be wearing jumpers and what bogeys were… but Rowling meant sweaters and boogers. The British say “crisps” for “chips” and “biscuit” for “cookie”, “lift” for “elevator” and “flat” for “apartment.” They spell words differently, too. On the Dark Angel message board I used to frequent those from the UK would spell pajamas with a “Y” and add a “U” for words like honour, flavour, and savour, just to name a few. But on the other hand the English language also has different spellings for the same thing, too. I was taught that a boy is blond while a girl is blonde. No one can agree whether to spell the color (colour) gray or grey.
But even in America it depends on where one comes from when it comes to naming things. Most people around here call what I refer to as a Traffic Circle as a Roundabout. In Arizona we say Freeway while around here it is Interstate. When I was living in the Carolinas all of my friends thought that West was Ohio while to me West starts in Colorado and Ohio seems pretty far east to be called Central (of course, most of these friends were from Ohio, so their concept of the term is decidedly different). And then there are words out East that do not even enter into our dialogue, terms such as “Frou Frou,” which is everything that the modern day Southern Belle is about.
Words just make me wonder sometimes. Of course there are no answers to any of my questions and observations without much research, and all of my questions are merely rhetorical… but spelling and syntax sure does confuse things.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Lady in the Water
i love Signs, i love the Village, and i thought this movie would not be nearly as good but i was wrong. This movie is incredible. i loved the humor, loved the story, felt for Hess, and was trying to guess what was going to happen next the entire the time. Shyamalan still has the ability to keep me guessing and amaze me with how touching and thought provoking and lovely his films are. i cannot wait for his next project.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Reflection #1
i wrote this for Structure of the English Language. We're supposed to write a sort of essay about words and how they work, affect us, influence our lives. i'm not sure this was what she wanted, but it's what came out. i've been thinking about it for a long time now; it's hard not to.
The human need for language is a tricky thing. Words can lift us up or crush us. Words can sooth or enrage. And sometimes words are not even necessary.
When I was a child I loved my grandfather. He never cursed, was never rude, and was always a gentleman. He said things a bit differently than we did. He calls lunch “dinner” and dinner “supper.” He never wore his seatbelt unless we begged him. He used big words and knew what he believed but he would never say anything derogatory about someone of another race.
When he would drive us places he would say something about the signs we passed. He liked to laugh and make jokes. He would mix up his consonants on purpose, call Jack in the Box “Back in the Jox” and Circle K would be pronounced “Kurkle Say.” On vacation he would always run into someone he knew. If he saw a photo of a vacation that happened decades ago he’d always be able to tell you what month and year that was and where the picture was taken.
He liked to pick us up by the ears. When he wanted to tell us that he loved us, he wouldn’t say the words, he would whisper in our ears a sound that’s heard to describe, full of “ps” and “sh” and breathy nothings. If we were feeling down he’d say “chirk up, honey pot.” He also like to play a game where he would blink one eye, then the other, and see how fast he could switch back and forth between eyes. He initiated staring contests. He did the crossword puzzle in the newspaper every day.
Grandad was all about words. He’d talk about what he read in the paper, what had been reported on the evening news, and what Rush Limbaugh had said that day. No one was allowed to read or sing at the table but everyone talked with one another. I’m told that when his children were in school that during supper he made them spell words aloud, define big words, and talk about the news of the day. He was on the school board. My memories are of him eating spaghetti with a fork and spoon, always having a glass of water and a mug of coffee (black), and at a restaurant making us wait for him to finish his coffee before we could leave.
Maybe this doesn’t sound like it’s about words and language, but it is. Grandad doesn’t use big words anymore. He can’t remember the rules of games that he’s been playing all his life. He can’t remember where a photo was taken a few days ago, let alone years ago. He doesn’t remember how to get home but he insists that he should be allowed to drive: after all he has been since he was fourteen. When he asks about where the car is he uses the same arguments over and over, every day. He curses now, but with words like “Dad-blammit.” He doesn’t remember what you told him five minutes ago, even when he is in the midst of the same conversation. On Christmas day, and every day the week before and the week after, he didn’t know that it was Christmas.
And while Grandad used to shower every day and always smell like aftershave—it would only be every once in a long while that we got to feel his whiskers—he now refuses to bathe and wears the same clothes day after day. His words are full of complaints about moving away from Arizona and his relatives being good for nothings that only want to take advantage of him. People of other races are now derogatory terms and tales of his youthful indiscretions have crept into his stories about the war in Korea.
His words used to make me fly, but now they pull me down. He is the reason I love words and became interested in politics before I was out of junior high. I still measure every man I meet by the standard he set. He isn’t the same man anymore, he’s slipped away from us, and it makes us cry and laugh at the same time. But his old mannerisms still resonate in our hearts. And though he makes me wish that he would have died rather than come to this, and I avoid him more and more day by day, I still want my Grandad back and I still love him. The words he spoke to me will be a part of me always, and the things he used to laugh about still make me laugh. And it is so hard to see him fall to this.
The human need for language is a tricky thing. Words can lift us up or crush us. Words can sooth or enrage. And sometimes words are not even necessary.
When I was a child I loved my grandfather. He never cursed, was never rude, and was always a gentleman. He said things a bit differently than we did. He calls lunch “dinner” and dinner “supper.” He never wore his seatbelt unless we begged him. He used big words and knew what he believed but he would never say anything derogatory about someone of another race.
When he would drive us places he would say something about the signs we passed. He liked to laugh and make jokes. He would mix up his consonants on purpose, call Jack in the Box “Back in the Jox” and Circle K would be pronounced “Kurkle Say.” On vacation he would always run into someone he knew. If he saw a photo of a vacation that happened decades ago he’d always be able to tell you what month and year that was and where the picture was taken.
He liked to pick us up by the ears. When he wanted to tell us that he loved us, he wouldn’t say the words, he would whisper in our ears a sound that’s heard to describe, full of “ps” and “sh” and breathy nothings. If we were feeling down he’d say “chirk up, honey pot.” He also like to play a game where he would blink one eye, then the other, and see how fast he could switch back and forth between eyes. He initiated staring contests. He did the crossword puzzle in the newspaper every day.
Grandad was all about words. He’d talk about what he read in the paper, what had been reported on the evening news, and what Rush Limbaugh had said that day. No one was allowed to read or sing at the table but everyone talked with one another. I’m told that when his children were in school that during supper he made them spell words aloud, define big words, and talk about the news of the day. He was on the school board. My memories are of him eating spaghetti with a fork and spoon, always having a glass of water and a mug of coffee (black), and at a restaurant making us wait for him to finish his coffee before we could leave.
Maybe this doesn’t sound like it’s about words and language, but it is. Grandad doesn’t use big words anymore. He can’t remember the rules of games that he’s been playing all his life. He can’t remember where a photo was taken a few days ago, let alone years ago. He doesn’t remember how to get home but he insists that he should be allowed to drive: after all he has been since he was fourteen. When he asks about where the car is he uses the same arguments over and over, every day. He curses now, but with words like “Dad-blammit.” He doesn’t remember what you told him five minutes ago, even when he is in the midst of the same conversation. On Christmas day, and every day the week before and the week after, he didn’t know that it was Christmas.
And while Grandad used to shower every day and always smell like aftershave—it would only be every once in a long while that we got to feel his whiskers—he now refuses to bathe and wears the same clothes day after day. His words are full of complaints about moving away from Arizona and his relatives being good for nothings that only want to take advantage of him. People of other races are now derogatory terms and tales of his youthful indiscretions have crept into his stories about the war in Korea.
His words used to make me fly, but now they pull me down. He is the reason I love words and became interested in politics before I was out of junior high. I still measure every man I meet by the standard he set. He isn’t the same man anymore, he’s slipped away from us, and it makes us cry and laugh at the same time. But his old mannerisms still resonate in our hearts. And though he makes me wish that he would have died rather than come to this, and I avoid him more and more day by day, I still want my Grandad back and I still love him. The words he spoke to me will be a part of me always, and the things he used to laugh about still make me laugh. And it is so hard to see him fall to this.
Friday, February 02, 2007
stuck in my head
i’ve tried, to hide ~ it but i can’t sleep at night ~ everything i think about makes ~ me feel like a version of myself ~ they tell their lies ~ and we all synchronize ~ look to the sky because it’s almost over
we want the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing!
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
don’t talk if you are gonna tell me the truth ~ don’t tell me you know ~ and you’ve got everything under control ~ we can’t have it all ~ but we can break the fall ~ this time i’m letting go ~ cuz i can’t take it anymore
we want the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing!
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
wait til the bottle breaks ~ see how it all shakes ~ who’s gonna be around? ~ who’s gonna hear the sound? ~ wait til the smoke clears ~ who’s gonna volunteer? ~ stand if you’re gonna stand ~ everybody’s here ~ take what you’re gonna take ~ make what you want to make ~ say what you’re gonna say ~ and break, if you’re gonna break
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
~ Absolute by Thousand Foot Krutch
i think there's a part about
"i'm not invisible like you ~ next time this gets a little messed up" but these are the official lyrics and don't say exactly what i expected them to.
we want the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing!
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
don’t talk if you are gonna tell me the truth ~ don’t tell me you know ~ and you’ve got everything under control ~ we can’t have it all ~ but we can break the fall ~ this time i’m letting go ~ cuz i can’t take it anymore
we want the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing!
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
wait til the bottle breaks ~ see how it all shakes ~ who’s gonna be around? ~ who’s gonna hear the sound? ~ wait til the smoke clears ~ who’s gonna volunteer? ~ stand if you’re gonna stand ~ everybody’s here ~ take what you’re gonna take ~ make what you want to make ~ say what you’re gonna say ~ and break, if you’re gonna break
we want, the truth ~ give us the Absolute ~ we need Your help ~ cuz we’ve got nothing left to lose ~ i know we’ve tried ~ this thing a million times ~ but put me out ~ cuz i’m on fire
~ Absolute by Thousand Foot Krutch
i think there's a part about
"i'm not invisible like you ~ next time this gets a little messed up" but these are the official lyrics and don't say exactly what i expected them to.
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