Untranslatable

Finally have circled around to another day off. Still haven't decided how to use it, but the rain is (again) sending out "nap!" signals I'm going to have to continually resist. There goes my intention for a run, I suppose. I believe I'm experiencing what is in Estonian "viistima: the feeling of slightly laziness, can't be bother by anything. Don't want to work nor going anywhere. (sic)"

Identified this useful emotional descriptor after reading a Salon article on a cross-lingual map of human emotions put together by Pei-Ying Lin that includes labels for some of those titchy, unidentifiable or in-between feelings for which we don't always have words in English. It's part of his Unspeakableness project, "An intervention of language evolution and human communication." It's a delightful find really-- a kind of moulding/picking throuhg of launguages to more accurately depict human...ness. Particularly like Part 4 of the project, "Personalised Language." He's filmed multilinguals doing monologues in kind of an extreme cross-lingual idiolect, where they translate a piece (dealing with a particular emotion) using all of their available languages, jumping around word by word. I'm kind of in love with/identify strongly with the Icelandic girl (Robyn Peters, though her real name sounds unspellable for me) who does the first monologue, on love...the sound of it all is unspeakably (ha) gorgeous, and her explanation for why she translated the way she did resonates with my own translation organ and makes me want to give her a big ol' hug.

Maybe then I'll do some translation work as my next project. Huh, it's very strange though. After having no ideas for anything to do, I suddenly just had a lot--to the point of a mental log jam. Words are hard to sort and select right now, and I have the beginnings of a headache. Unfortunate.

Maybe I'll go snack on some of the fancy cheese on which I spent an obscene amount of money yesterday. What's the emotional offshoot of decadence? Something related to gluttony, evelry, and pleasure I'm sure. With a twinge of incompleteness to make sure the spires keep climbing.

I CAN HAZ THESIS STATEMENT?

Since I am now officially done beating my brain into a pulpy mush to extract papers, etc. (at least for this semester) and griping about it, I can now get back on an ivory-soap box and talk about why it is important to be able to construct coherent sentences from your brain-mush.

Even if you are not a giant geek like I am, flying into giddy fits over discovering the shared etymological root of punch (the drink) and punch (the flying fist)*, it is pretty obvious that yes, words are important. You use them every day to convey important (or trivial) ideas, and you need to organize them properly in order to convince your professor (and friends, and later on your boss, coworkers, lover, parole officer, etc) that you are not a flaming numbskull. You take advantage of this skill (or lack thereof) every time you open your mouth. Fortunately or unfortunately, we cannot aways rely on the Gift of Gab (and all the relevant "like"s and "y'know"s that tend to fill conversational/logistic gaps) to help us out. Your words at some point have to take the form of squiggly little letter on a page (or screen). They are there for longer than are soundwaves in the air, and give your audience time to reread, process and criticize what you have put forth. Opportunities for judgment are increased exponentially. So please at least attempt to make yourself sound like a functioning human being (but don't try too hard--overwriting is pretty damn agonizing to read as well).

This article on Salon by Kim Brooks does a pretty good job of expressing the frustration I often feel when I encounter the writing of my peers. And, as I will almost inevitably be teaching a chunk of composition classes at some point in my life, the same article is incredibly depressing to me. I have over the course of my education been blessed with some fantastic English teachers, both in high school and in college. And, were I ever (*shudder*) to end up in the same position, I can only hope I live up to the standards they set. More likely, I think, I would be driven to drink. Because I have also had my share of shoddy English teachers, But, looking around at my classmates, I couldn't always blame them for their apathy or their rote, heads-down approach to the curriculum. Teaching is hella hard. But even so, I'm going to hope that some attempt is being made to wedge Critical Thinking and the Production of Ideas and Discourse into this/my generations head. Because even the small slice I've personally witnessed is...well, unacceptable.

Okay, I'm stepping down of my "elitist" soapbox. But goddammit, I'm not asking everyone to go out there and write the Great American Novel, or even develop an appreciation for the Mediocre American Novel(s). JUST MAKE YOUR WORDS WORK.

*[In case you're interested, by the way, the etymology is from the Indo-European root penk(w)e-, which is where we get the word "five" (cf. Greek pent-)-- punch traditionally had five ingredients, a punch is made from the five fingers of a fist. Ta Da!]

In Fear of Old Irish

So in this coming semester (two days and counting--ergh) I signed up for a class of Old Irish. Why? Unsure. It is almost as related to modern Irish as Old English is to modern English. And I had no plans at all to learn/use Irish anyway (though its status as an endangered language is sad). But, hell, they're offering it, and when else am I going to get to learn Old Irish?

The professor (who, in addition to being the linguistics undergraduate advisor and the only linguistics professor currently teaching classes, has quickly become my favorite person at the university) is offering the class as an independent study for one of her grad students who needs it for her concentration, but is allowing some others to take the class too. End result: My being intimidated and/or amused by five super-smart graduate students and an undergrad senior. Professor advertised this class as one of the hardest languages she's ever learned, taught, or studied. But extremely linguistically interesting. Which intrigued me to the point of enrolling, perhaps foolishly.

Anyway, took a look at the book. I feel like I could learn the crazy arbitrary rules for orthography (spelling), if I could figure out how to pronounce half the consonants. I don't know how to palatalize l or n or f or really any other letters besides s and maybe g. Too bad! All of the consonants are sometimes palatalized and/or lentited! Or some combination thereof. Nor do I know how to make a voiced bilabial nasal fricative (m with slightly open lips? no idea.). My book even has cartoons of sheep being "amusing" put there specifically to try to ease the stress of learning this language. I find myself actively yearning for the simpler days of my advanced Latin textbooks.

This is swiftly becoming a matter of pride/stubbornness. My arrogance got my into this class and. by the gods, it's going to get my through it . Languages and the process of learning them and how they work has always been fun for me, or at the very least pleasurably interesting. Dammit, I will learn the basic grammatical structure of this language. And I will enjoy it.

One good thing: no graded work. So if I just look really earnest and eager and try really hard, I should be fine. Right?

Um, I like words?

Oh, hi there personal writing. I forgot you existed outside the graded, deadlined sphere that has devoured my life.

Speaking of which, it's National Novel Writing Month. That is but a wistful glimmer in my writer's eye this year due to crazy busy schedule and other writing obligations, but perhaps a miracle...

Current high point of my life: giant bags of Halloween candy sitting in my pantry, bought at discount the day after Halloween

Low point: the mucus-y demon living in my throat and lungs. Oh, and the complete lack of anything other than Halloween candy in my pantry.

Seriously contemplating going to grad school for linguistics rather than an MFA or something of that nature. Career options would be a little better, perhaps (though still hella gloomy probably). Of course, my linguistics professor hasn't actually shown up for class in about a week, so maybe that's God trying to send me a message. Or just get me home an hour earlier. If it is the latter, I sure do appreciate it.

I think that my social-interaction synapses have been misfiring more frequently than usual lately (something about that string of words seems odd, but oh well), and I may have crossed the line from "slightly awkward" into "eccentric". Example: A girl sitting next to me in my short story writing class complimented my story, which we had workshopped a few days earlier.

Girl: I really liked your story; I thought it was really well written.

Me. Oh. Me?

Girl: Um, yes.

Me: Oh. I didn't want to take a compliment not assigned to me, you see.

[awkward pause. blank stare on both sides.]

Me: Um. Yeah. I like words?

The stilted delivery of this, coupled with (that's not precisely the right word, either, but the sentence sounds the best) my glazed stare and the uncomfortable closeness of the desks in the classroom probably contributed to the awkwardness, along with my failure to follow this up with the usual context/explanation surrounding the phrase (i.e., My real interest is in words, what they mean and how they fit together to create different layers of meaning and experience in people's minds, rather than in a narrative or story-arc. That is why I tend towards poetry and linguistics rather than traditional fiction.). No major harm done though, I think. It is, after all, a class for aspiring writers.

Planning on taking 18 hours next semester, which in the fall would be suicidal for me but in the spring is merely ambitious. I guess I don't really need all of the classes right this second (or in some cases maybe not at all), but I'm afraid to not take them lest the chance slip through my fingers. I figured out that I can pull off my pie-in-the-sky triple minor and still graduate a semester early, but it would be by the skin of my teeth. Seriously considering abandoning Philosophy, but I'm going to try to talk to an advisor first. It would make my life a bit easier though, and I would only have to take 12 hours my graduating semester (knock on wood). For next semester, I'm looking at

Pidgins and Creoles, Brit Lit I, Chaucer, Symbolic Logic, Intermediate Poetry Writing. Oh, and Old Irish.

So much reading, but my days would be much less grueling than the 930-430 schedule I'm pulling this semester. We'll see.

Now, to write and revise poetry. I'll be reading tomorrow in front of actual people again, and I don't want to look like a total fool.