Dear Readers,
Put these words in the order that seems most rational: (Don’t continue reading until you put these five words in the order that feels right!)
French the young girls four
I bet the order you put these words in was, “The four young French girls.” OK, here’s the crazy part: that’s how all native English speakers do it! Coincidence? I think not. There’s actually a grammatical rule that tells us how English speakers arrange adjectives. It goes number, then age, then nationality. See, it’s “the five old Irish men” not, “the old five Irish men.” We all follow that rule of arranging adjectives, but hardly anybody actually explicitly knows about the rule. That is, hardly anybody can articulate what the correct order is for arranging adjectives of number, age and nationality, but native English speakers can use the rule perfectly without even thinking about it. When we speak, we are following a rule that we don’t even know about.
(I stole this from the article Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar by Patrick Hartwell.)
Grammar goes even deeper. There is a deep, deep grammar inside our heads, which grammar is inaccessible to us. A lifetime of sentence diagramming will not unlock the mysteries of language use. People try to figure out what's going on when we talk. Linguistics is the attempt to make implicit language use explicit.
Truly our brains are beautiful. Our brains are like caverns nobody has seen.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Monday, April 27, 2009
The tricky “and”
Dear Readers,
Our minds do funny things when we read. Consider this sentence:
Roger tripped and fell.
What do you assume that sentence means? I bet you assume that Roger fell because he tripped. I bet you think that that sentence means that the trip caused the fall. Your interpretation is typical. People fall a lot when they trip.
But your interpretation isn’t entirely warranted. The story behind the sentence (assuming that the sentence is trying to represent a real-world occurrence, or at least a fictional-world occurrence, and that it is not a non-referential sentence.) (I’m making up linguistic terms now.) could be that Roger tripped on Tuesday, which caused him to stumble, and fell on Thursday because he passed out when he saw a monster coming towards him. It could be that Roger tripped in 1997 and fell in 2001.
“And” doesn’t mean “because” or “therefore”. It just means “also.” What’s the deal? Why do we assume, when we read, “Roger tripped and fell,” that Roger tripped because he fell?
Oooo… that tricky “and”!
Update! Ala-quiffert!
I just looked “and” up on dictionary.com and I found this definition for “and”, among a lot of other definitions: “Used to indicate result: Give the boy a chance, and he might surprise you.” and this definition, “(used to introduce a consequence or conditional result): He felt sick and decided to lie down for a while. Say one more word about it and I’ll scream.”
Ala-quiffert! So I guess “and” can mean “because.” But how do you know which definition of “and” the author of “Roger tripped and fell,” intended? You can’t know that! You can only infer and guess. That’s what’s so crazy!
Here’s a sentence that I made up that uses “and” in a tricky way:
Alice went to the grocery store yesterday and got some mushrooms that grew in her back yard.
Ha ha ha. That sentence is tricky because when you read “Alice went to the grocery store yesterday and got some mushrooms,” you assume that Alice bought the mushrooms at the store. (Right, isn’t that what you assume?) But when you read the next part of the sentence, “that grew in her backyard,” you think, “Wait a minute. Oh…. OK… Alice went to the grocery store, but she may not have bought anything there, and she also got some mushrooms that grew in her backyard.”
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Our minds do funny things when we read. Consider this sentence:
Roger tripped and fell.
What do you assume that sentence means? I bet you assume that Roger fell because he tripped. I bet you think that that sentence means that the trip caused the fall. Your interpretation is typical. People fall a lot when they trip.
But your interpretation isn’t entirely warranted. The story behind the sentence (assuming that the sentence is trying to represent a real-world occurrence, or at least a fictional-world occurrence, and that it is not a non-referential sentence.) (I’m making up linguistic terms now.) could be that Roger tripped on Tuesday, which caused him to stumble, and fell on Thursday because he passed out when he saw a monster coming towards him. It could be that Roger tripped in 1997 and fell in 2001.
“And” doesn’t mean “because” or “therefore”. It just means “also.” What’s the deal? Why do we assume, when we read, “Roger tripped and fell,” that Roger tripped because he fell?
Oooo… that tricky “and”!
Update! Ala-quiffert!
I just looked “and” up on dictionary.com and I found this definition for “and”, among a lot of other definitions: “Used to indicate result: Give the boy a chance, and he might surprise you.” and this definition, “(used to introduce a consequence or conditional result): He felt sick and decided to lie down for a while. Say one more word about it and I’ll scream.”
Ala-quiffert! So I guess “and” can mean “because.” But how do you know which definition of “and” the author of “Roger tripped and fell,” intended? You can’t know that! You can only infer and guess. That’s what’s so crazy!
Here’s a sentence that I made up that uses “and” in a tricky way:
Alice went to the grocery store yesterday and got some mushrooms that grew in her back yard.
Ha ha ha. That sentence is tricky because when you read “Alice went to the grocery store yesterday and got some mushrooms,” you assume that Alice bought the mushrooms at the store. (Right, isn’t that what you assume?) But when you read the next part of the sentence, “that grew in her backyard,” you think, “Wait a minute. Oh…. OK… Alice went to the grocery store, but she may not have bought anything there, and she also got some mushrooms that grew in her backyard.”
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Abraham Lincoln
Dear Readers,
I love Abraham Lincoln. I love what he stands for. I love what he represents. But I love his actual life, too. Who doesn’t like him? I haven’t met anybody who doesn’t like Abraham Lincoln. He was a genius, I think. He read Shakespeare’s play for fun. He quoted the Bible a lot. I love the way he wrote and I loved the way he talked. He was a man of high moral character. I think he had the hand of God on him, guiding him. He’s interesting. He didn’t go to much formal school. He was largely self-taught. He grew up poor in the boonies, in the wilderness, in the frontier land of Kentucky and Illinois. He was a hard-worker. He liked theatre. His ghost haunts the White House. He wrote the Gettysburg address on the back of an envelope while he rode on a train. He was a rail-splitter. He was a lawyer. He was a postmaster. He was ugly. Walt Whitman liked him. Carl Sandburg liked him. In a Reply to Horace Greeley published in the National Intelligencer in 1862, Lincoln explains that his main goal isn’t to free the slaves, but to save the Union. He ends the letter with the beautiful sentence, “I have here stated my purpose according to my view of official duty, and I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal wish that all men, everywhere, could be free.”
I’m usually scared of ghosts. I don’t want to see a wicked ghost. I don’t want wicked ghosts to bother my family or me. But I’d like to see the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. He’d be a nice ghost. If I ever go to Washington D.C., I’d like to take a tour of the White House and I’d like to take a tour and I’d like to look for his ghost. I’d tell him I thought he was a great president. I’d would thank him for all he did for the United States of America. And I’d ask him what was bothering him, why he was still a ghost wandering around the White House. And he would probably smile at me- it would be a warm, warm smile- and then his spirit would fade from my vision.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
I love Abraham Lincoln. I love what he stands for. I love what he represents. But I love his actual life, too. Who doesn’t like him? I haven’t met anybody who doesn’t like Abraham Lincoln. He was a genius, I think. He read Shakespeare’s play for fun. He quoted the Bible a lot. I love the way he wrote and I loved the way he talked. He was a man of high moral character. I think he had the hand of God on him, guiding him. He’s interesting. He didn’t go to much formal school. He was largely self-taught. He grew up poor in the boonies, in the wilderness, in the frontier land of Kentucky and Illinois. He was a hard-worker. He liked theatre. His ghost haunts the White House. He wrote the Gettysburg address on the back of an envelope while he rode on a train. He was a rail-splitter. He was a lawyer. He was a postmaster. He was ugly. Walt Whitman liked him. Carl Sandburg liked him. In a Reply to Horace Greeley published in the National Intelligencer in 1862, Lincoln explains that his main goal isn’t to free the slaves, but to save the Union. He ends the letter with the beautiful sentence, “I have here stated my purpose according to my view of official duty, and I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal wish that all men, everywhere, could be free.”
I’m usually scared of ghosts. I don’t want to see a wicked ghost. I don’t want wicked ghosts to bother my family or me. But I’d like to see the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. He’d be a nice ghost. If I ever go to Washington D.C., I’d like to take a tour of the White House and I’d like to take a tour and I’d like to look for his ghost. I’d tell him I thought he was a great president. I’d would thank him for all he did for the United States of America. And I’d ask him what was bothering him, why he was still a ghost wandering around the White House. And he would probably smile at me- it would be a warm, warm smile- and then his spirit would fade from my vision.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Some Theatre-goers
Dear Readers,
Flagstaff has been good to me, but I’m glad that I’ll be out of here in a few months.
The other night my wife and I almost went to an NAU theatre production of The Bald Soprano and The Lesson by Eugene Ionesco. We have season tickets, (they were pretty cheap- we got the student discount) but uh… we ended up staying home and doing nothing instead. I’m happy with our choice.
I knew what I would find there, at the theatre… all those trendy looking, dressed up people, looking so intelligent, well-mannered, civilized, enlightened, intellectual, gentrified, smiling… liking being seen by like-minded theatre goers, laughing at intelligent humor… Perhaps those theatre goers are fighting off a hidden desperation, an identity crisis, perhaps they’re going to the theatre not because they really like theatre but because they like the idea of liking theatre- they like the social perks of liking theatre- they want to reassure themselves and those around them that they’re the type of people who go see high-brow plays.
And if we would have gone, my social awkwardness would have kicked in. And if I saw people I know, which would surely happen, I’d feel the urge to impress them, and I’d get the sense that they were trying to impress me. I’d laugh at jokes I didn’t really get, and I’d struggle to follow the plot, and I’d read the program for clues of what’s going on, and I’d try to look like I was thinking about the motifs and themes and political implications of the play. I’d probably start to feel better than all the people who didn’t go to the theatre. I’d start to feel better than the people who stayed home and watched TV, or the people who went to the movies and watched a trashy comedy, or a horror flick, or the latest popular talking-animal computer-animated movie.
So I’m glad we stayed home.
I really don’t like absurdist/ existential theatre very much anymore. Some of the absurdist literature I like (I recommend The Stranger by Albert Camus) but reading a book isn’t such a social activity… you typically don’t read in front of other people to impress them… reading is typically a nice private thing. But sometimes when I look around an audience during an intellectual, pretentious play- maybe something by Harold Pinter- and I read the auras of the bodies filling the seats, I sense that the people are wearing a mask, presenting a false front to the world, for social reasons… they want to look cool.
I wonder how many people really like, say, Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett, or Rosencratnz and Guildernstern are Dead, by Tom Stoppard. How many people really like those types of plays for personal reasons, not because their collegiate liberal arts education told them that they should like it. (“Like” isn’t really the right word. “Appreciate” and “respect” are probably better.) My question is, take away all the extra social perks of going to see a play like Waiting for Godot, and then what’s left? What’s the motivation for paying for an expensive theatre ticket and sitting through a play like that?
I feel that it’s time for me to move on to a different city- a city without as much culture. Ha ha ha. And you know what kind of culture I’m talking about. I’m talking about stuff like this: http://www4.nau.edu/insidenau/bumps/2009/4_22_09/arbor.htm
It’s an article about an abstract sculpture unveiling on campus. From the article:
“The celebration will include an Arbor Day garden party featuring scones, tea and a game of croquet. Attendees are encouraged to play croquet and wear garden party attire: whites, floral patterns, parasols and hats.”
Who goes to those things? I’m getting tired of this snobby-artsy stuff. Here’s a funny blog that sort of has to do with some of the stuff I’m talking about in this blog post: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/
I don’t mean to sound ala-quiffert. I’m sure the people who will attend the sculpture unveiling and sip tea and nibble scones are great people. They just seem funny to me, that’s all.
The annoying thing is, I really do like art. I really do like culture. I really do like going to art galleries. I remember recently having a wonderful afternoon at the Phoenix Art Museum, and I remember genuinely enjoying Persepolis, a black and white animated subtitled foreign film… I might miss all the cool artsy things to do in Flagstaff and at NAU. But I guess I sometimes get so aware of the way I look and the way other people look around me, I get self-conscious, and I start thinking about the people who go to artsy plays and events, rather than the art itself.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Flagstaff has been good to me, but I’m glad that I’ll be out of here in a few months.
The other night my wife and I almost went to an NAU theatre production of The Bald Soprano and The Lesson by Eugene Ionesco. We have season tickets, (they were pretty cheap- we got the student discount) but uh… we ended up staying home and doing nothing instead. I’m happy with our choice.
I knew what I would find there, at the theatre… all those trendy looking, dressed up people, looking so intelligent, well-mannered, civilized, enlightened, intellectual, gentrified, smiling… liking being seen by like-minded theatre goers, laughing at intelligent humor… Perhaps those theatre goers are fighting off a hidden desperation, an identity crisis, perhaps they’re going to the theatre not because they really like theatre but because they like the idea of liking theatre- they like the social perks of liking theatre- they want to reassure themselves and those around them that they’re the type of people who go see high-brow plays.
And if we would have gone, my social awkwardness would have kicked in. And if I saw people I know, which would surely happen, I’d feel the urge to impress them, and I’d get the sense that they were trying to impress me. I’d laugh at jokes I didn’t really get, and I’d struggle to follow the plot, and I’d read the program for clues of what’s going on, and I’d try to look like I was thinking about the motifs and themes and political implications of the play. I’d probably start to feel better than all the people who didn’t go to the theatre. I’d start to feel better than the people who stayed home and watched TV, or the people who went to the movies and watched a trashy comedy, or a horror flick, or the latest popular talking-animal computer-animated movie.
So I’m glad we stayed home.
I really don’t like absurdist/ existential theatre very much anymore. Some of the absurdist literature I like (I recommend The Stranger by Albert Camus) but reading a book isn’t such a social activity… you typically don’t read in front of other people to impress them… reading is typically a nice private thing. But sometimes when I look around an audience during an intellectual, pretentious play- maybe something by Harold Pinter- and I read the auras of the bodies filling the seats, I sense that the people are wearing a mask, presenting a false front to the world, for social reasons… they want to look cool.
I wonder how many people really like, say, Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett, or Rosencratnz and Guildernstern are Dead, by Tom Stoppard. How many people really like those types of plays for personal reasons, not because their collegiate liberal arts education told them that they should like it. (“Like” isn’t really the right word. “Appreciate” and “respect” are probably better.) My question is, take away all the extra social perks of going to see a play like Waiting for Godot, and then what’s left? What’s the motivation for paying for an expensive theatre ticket and sitting through a play like that?
I feel that it’s time for me to move on to a different city- a city without as much culture. Ha ha ha. And you know what kind of culture I’m talking about. I’m talking about stuff like this: http://www4.nau.edu/insidenau/bumps/2009/4_22_09/arbor.htm
It’s an article about an abstract sculpture unveiling on campus. From the article:
“The celebration will include an Arbor Day garden party featuring scones, tea and a game of croquet. Attendees are encouraged to play croquet and wear garden party attire: whites, floral patterns, parasols and hats.”
Who goes to those things? I’m getting tired of this snobby-artsy stuff. Here’s a funny blog that sort of has to do with some of the stuff I’m talking about in this blog post: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/
I don’t mean to sound ala-quiffert. I’m sure the people who will attend the sculpture unveiling and sip tea and nibble scones are great people. They just seem funny to me, that’s all.
The annoying thing is, I really do like art. I really do like culture. I really do like going to art galleries. I remember recently having a wonderful afternoon at the Phoenix Art Museum, and I remember genuinely enjoying Persepolis, a black and white animated subtitled foreign film… I might miss all the cool artsy things to do in Flagstaff and at NAU. But I guess I sometimes get so aware of the way I look and the way other people look around me, I get self-conscious, and I start thinking about the people who go to artsy plays and events, rather than the art itself.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Update on my Life
Dear Readers,
Right now I’m in graduate school working on a master’s degree in General English Studies at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona. I don’t like it all that much though. A lot of what we’re talking about in my classes is kind of alawhutiest woopert stoopert. Or maybe I should just say that it’s stuff that I’m not that interested in.
I have a part time job as a graduate teaching assistant in the English department. I teach one section of English 105, the introductory English class that all the freshmen have to take. I also work as a writing tutor in the Writing Center six hours a week. It’s a great job. I really enjoy it.
Right now I’m avoiding washing dishes or doing homework.
I’ve decided not to finish my degree right away. I decided to take a leave of absence, starting after this summer. I can finish my degree via summer school classes or online classes or maybe night classes eventually. I don’t know. I have five years to finish the master’s program. If I haven’t finished by 2014, I think all my credits disappear.
I’m still looking for a job as a high school English teacher somewhere in Arizona. A lot of schools don’t know what they’re budgets for the 2009/2010 school year are going to be yet, so they don’t know how many teachers they can hire. I don’t know when the schools are going to finally figure stuff out, but until then, I’m just waiting impatiently.
Looking for a career is weird. I’ve never had to have fancy looking resumes and act really professional during interviews before. But I think I’ll find a good job.
My wife and I hope to move to a community we like and that’s affordable and nice and family-friendly. We’d like to buy a house, actually, but we might not do that. We don’t know what we’ll do.
For the immediate future, I’m going to take some summer school classes, and Erin will still work at a Wells Fargo bank as a teller. We can stay in our on-campus apartment until August 1st, 2009, but then we have to leave, because neither my wife nor I will be a student.
In happy news, my wife is pregnant! She’s about 5 months along now. We’ll find out tomorrow if it’s a boy or a girl. She’s due on September 8th. We don’t have any kids yet, so it will be our first time being a Mom and Dad. We’re looking forward to raising kids.
Although our future is uncertain right now, we have faith in God and we’re enjoying life pretty well. The weather is beautiful, and my surroundings are peaceful. We're trying not to worry about particle accelerators creating black holes or pirate attacks.
Take care everyone, and I’ll see you later.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Right now I’m in graduate school working on a master’s degree in General English Studies at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona. I don’t like it all that much though. A lot of what we’re talking about in my classes is kind of alawhutiest woopert stoopert. Or maybe I should just say that it’s stuff that I’m not that interested in.
I have a part time job as a graduate teaching assistant in the English department. I teach one section of English 105, the introductory English class that all the freshmen have to take. I also work as a writing tutor in the Writing Center six hours a week. It’s a great job. I really enjoy it.
Right now I’m avoiding washing dishes or doing homework.
I’ve decided not to finish my degree right away. I decided to take a leave of absence, starting after this summer. I can finish my degree via summer school classes or online classes or maybe night classes eventually. I don’t know. I have five years to finish the master’s program. If I haven’t finished by 2014, I think all my credits disappear.
I’m still looking for a job as a high school English teacher somewhere in Arizona. A lot of schools don’t know what they’re budgets for the 2009/2010 school year are going to be yet, so they don’t know how many teachers they can hire. I don’t know when the schools are going to finally figure stuff out, but until then, I’m just waiting impatiently.
Looking for a career is weird. I’ve never had to have fancy looking resumes and act really professional during interviews before. But I think I’ll find a good job.
My wife and I hope to move to a community we like and that’s affordable and nice and family-friendly. We’d like to buy a house, actually, but we might not do that. We don’t know what we’ll do.
For the immediate future, I’m going to take some summer school classes, and Erin will still work at a Wells Fargo bank as a teller. We can stay in our on-campus apartment until August 1st, 2009, but then we have to leave, because neither my wife nor I will be a student.
In happy news, my wife is pregnant! She’s about 5 months along now. We’ll find out tomorrow if it’s a boy or a girl. She’s due on September 8th. We don’t have any kids yet, so it will be our first time being a Mom and Dad. We’re looking forward to raising kids.
Although our future is uncertain right now, we have faith in God and we’re enjoying life pretty well. The weather is beautiful, and my surroundings are peaceful. We're trying not to worry about particle accelerators creating black holes or pirate attacks.
Take care everyone, and I’ll see you later.
Sincerely,
Telemoonfa
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)