Still Slangin' On

Oh reputable Time Magazine, why do you pine for the slang of the 1960's?

Is it merely because you don’t understand the scads of modern slang that have sprouted up recently and you long for some of that wholesome goodness of the past?

Or are you just jealous that you didn’t come up with such "drearily literal" gems like ‘Christ on a whole wheat cracker!’ or ‘brown one's Cheese Doodles?’

Whatever the reason, methinks you doth reject too much. Modern slang is a fascinating lexicon of the astute, clever, and the downright strange. Perhaps it piques my interest only because I have been a captive to scholarly writing for the last couple of years, and now, having only recently been introduced to the blogosphere and accompanying hex, its novelty is refreshing. Time will tell.

Nevertheless, such slang is still language, no matter how wonky it may sound to the unaccustomed ear, and like the slang of the past (here is where your penchant for all things groovy comes in, Time), it may well influence the American vocabulary indefinitely.

Which is why I will continue to brush up on my lingo. God-knows, we all might be cosmic donut supporters in the future.

Yeah. Look it up, it might save your life someday, or maybe just your reputation.

F-Bombs Away!

That four letter word is everywhere.

It peppers conversations overheard in campus halls, flavors the bland lyrics of pop music, and well seasons the dialogue of movies and TV shows.

It’s the mother-of-all-curse-words, and some people are taking it to work.

I was highly amused by this little episode in Terry Heaton’s PoMo blog concerning the use of profanity in the newsroom. Pay for what you say.

To be frank, I’d stay away from f-bomb and company. You’ll offend before you impress. Not to mention that it’s rather linguistically boring if every other word that comes out of your mouth rhymes with schmuck.

It’s not like I don’t use those bad boys myself. I have sailor moments. I go all Bruce Banner when my knee collides with some hard metal object, or that idiot cuts me off while he’s crossing three lanes of traffic, and then I become this expletive-spewing mutant.

Yet I think that Heaton’s funny little Fu*k Jar goes a little far. Cursing is unprofessional, and the fact that it got so out of hand in the newsroom that they started charging per expletive is a trifle ridiculous. It’s work, not the Osbournes. Save it for a more appropriate time, like when the washing machine overflows and makes the laundry room look like the splash zone at Sea World.

So if something slips out on accident at the workplace, apologize, and don’t make a habit of it. What you say defines you, and unless you’re looking for that trailer-trash potty-mouth reputation, stop yourself before you let the four letter words fly. The professional realm is just no place for fuck.

Line of the (Last)Week

I’m a little late in introducing a weekly feature of Line, please!: Line of the Week, a weekly post where I will showcase an interesting blurb, recent or otherwise.

And this week’s winner is....

"To me, bars are what hell is like." – Clay Aiken

Memo to Beelzebub: get a bouncer. Things are really going to start picking up now that they know you serve alcohol.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I was leafing through the News Press this morning, seeing if there was bigger news than my oatmeal exploding all over the microwave. (Who knew that stuffy-looking Quaker had weapon of mass destruction potential?) It was impossible to ignore the headline on the front page: “DAY CARE HORROR,” the article screamed. Obviously the author was unused to a typical day at a daycare, where little horrors are run of the mill. Can we say projectile vomit?

In all seriousness, yesterday’s day care shooting was a chilling realization of any parent or teacher’s worst nightmare. As a former pre-school teacher, yesterday’s events caused me to question how I would have reacted to such a dangerous situation.

It’s a rather spicy bit of news for the sleepy Cape. Yet who, god bless them, do the journalists decide to interview? A three-year old.

I’m sorry, but how much information are you going to get out of a three-year old, even if she was a witness? All this “Last time we were in there, we saw a monster” crap, reeks of spoonfeeding to me. A child of that age is not often that articulate, and even when they are, their words and actions are colored by active imaginations and emotions. I used to talk with my pre-schoolers about what they ate for breakfast, and one little girl told me frequently: “Mommy made me snails!”

Not to discount the experience of this poor kid, I’m sure that she was as “scared” as she told the reporters. It’s a dreadful experience for anyone, nonetheless a child. But why are we interviewing her, for pete’s sake? She’s had a rough enough time already. Sooner talk to a teacher or another adult who was in the building, and leave the kids alone. I’d much prefer the inside detail from an adult commentary than an abject ploy at sentimentality from the exploitation of a small child.

Let there be.

Beginnings are hard. That first word on the page, that first awkward conversation with someone, the first day at the new job. You want to give the right impression, you want to say the right things, show that you’re something unique.

I had an art teacher who once told me to paint my canvases all one color before I started painting. I was apprehensive about making a mistake; canvases were expensive, and I had little money to spend on pricey art supplies. "Paint it all a light color," he said, "Baby blue or pink or green, just to cover up all that white, so it doesn’t seem like you’re starting new."

"It tricks your brain," he said. "Your mind is an idiot, it looks at all of that white and sees all of the mistakes it can make, not all of the possibilities it has. If you cover it with your own color and your own brush-strokes, it’s easier to start."

And it was.

This is a blog about language: the things that people say and the stories that they have to tell. Edward Sapir once remarked that "Language is the most significant and colossal work that the human spirit has evolved." Yes, but how are we using it?

This is a place where you will find both the profound and the profoundly stupid, because there is something to be learned from both. This is a place where you will find oral stories that merit from their recording. You will find quotes and dialogues, and humor intertwined with astuteness. Our language tells so much about who we are as people, and that, in and of itself, is a lodestone of diversity, curiosity, and interest.

This is my beginning.
My mind is an idiot, I first had to put down a layer of color before I could jump in.

Now I can paint.