Snobbery

I'm going to have to throw out the possibility that some majors may in fact be smarter than others. And I don't just mean the biochemical engineers. Maybe this is all coming about because I'm something of a logophile, and an English major, and therefore am frequently surrounded by those who have a similar love of words, phraseology, orature, and hearing the sound of our own voices saying those words. (Hence... this blog. Obviously.)

I've taken the opportunity this semester to delve a little bit into another area of study that caught my interest last fall, and signed up for a sociology of gender class. It was pretty okay, but definitely felt like a battle against my own weak-sauce conservativism (I say weak-sauce simply because I consider myself predominantly politically illiterate and completely unable to argue my own opinions, as I don't spend a lot of time thinking about them). Anyways, I'm getting so far off the track that it's boring me to death, and we all know that I get more pleasure out of writing these things that any of you get from reading them, so if I'm bored, you must be gouging your eyes out, or no longer reading this post (congrats if you are). Back to sociology of gender!

The first day of class, we took the time to have everyone introduce themselves, their major, hometown, etc. This, I believe, is moderately unusual in a class of 40-50 students, but we did it anyways because the syllabus (and the class) was painfully simple and took about .2 seconds to discuss. The breakdown of this monotonous introduction hour came to about this: the majority of the class were either sociology or psychology minors, but there were a few variants here and there, some business majors, a theater major, ... and myself, the single, solitary English major in the whole place. Now, I don't mean to be judgmental (*ahem* who are we kidding? I'm being hugely judgmental, and you better believe I mean it) but I've come to the conclusion that I think I'm smarter than at least a few of these people. 

Don't get me wrong. They're still valuable human beings who are capable of doing many good things, and somewhere in my heart of hearts, I probably have some kind of love for them. 

But I cannot hold back the stink eye when I catch someone saying the word "like" 30 times in a 45-second comment. (See my post A Rant: "Like" for more on this subject.) And even though that may be a worst-case-scenario, over the past few days of listening to presentations on research papers, I've been subjected to some of the most horrifically slang-peppered verbosity of my life. Or maybe it's just never bothered me this bad.... in which case, I can only blame my sociology of gender class. And who ever heard of a sociology class making someone more intolerant? And, in my case, I probably got a little more sexist because the girls are far more likely to make idiotic comments that are watered down with "like"s and "ya knows" and "so"s and "just"s and "just-like"s and "doesthatmakesense"s that if you cut them out, they're probably only saying somewhere in the ballpark of twelve significant words that contribute to a coherent message for every 50 that come out of their mouths .... Not that I'm suggesting that my professor is, in any way, shape or form, responsible for my decreased tolerance and increased sexism. It's my classmates! 

I suppose it isn't fair of me to feel like I am smarter than these individuals, because they probably know a lot more about sociology than I do. And yet, I cannot stop myself from believing that a vital part of being smart is being able to communicate in a way that doesn't make you sound like an insipid thirteen year old in a Justin Bieber t-shirt. (Okay, so maybe the t-shirt has nothing to do with anything.) But seriously guys. I don't want your message from concentrate. I want the concentrate when I'm at school. Don't make me listen to all your other stupid words, please. You're wasting them, and you're wasting my time. 

A Rant: "Like"

It seems to me that there's always at least one person in a class who frequently feels compelled to comment, and who, unfortunately, also grates massively on your nerves. Perhaps it's just the simple fact that they seem always to have something to say that is truly bothersome and inspires you to look for other reasons to want to plug your ears and shout "LA LA LA LA LA" every time their hand goes up in the air ... but we all know that we find those other reasons. Whether or not this is the case for you, I will leave to your own interpretation of yourself. But for me, whether this is the true reason that I'm bothered by one of my dear classmates' comments, or simply a justifying cover-up for the fact that I seem to glean nothing from the words that come out of her mouth, I don't really care about right now. Because the fact that I'm hung up on right now is that this girl cannot eradicate the word "like" from her vocabulary.

Am I being oversensitive? I mean, lots of people use the word "like" in ways that extend beyond its dictionary definition, and they do so with very high frequency, compared to other words. "Like" has become our space filler, the word that comes out of our mouths when we realize we don't know the word we really want to say, the word that seems to indicate an impending metaphor ... but not really. I could go on, but I'll just stop for the time being, because I'm sure, scientific minds that you all have, want some evidence to support my point, and not just my own unadulterated irritation.

Last class, I took it upon myself to tally the number of times she said "like" in one comment. In one comment, probably lasting 30-45 seconds, she said the word "like" 32 times. It doesn't even seem possible, does it? But let me tell you how possible it is. There were moments when I could barely finish one tally before I had to put two more down. There were a lot of "and like, it's like" and "and it's just like" and sometimes some "and like, it's like, just like" ... (And I won't even mention (beyond this single moment) how many "ya know?"s there were smushed in there as well). I know, it's sounds like I'm kidding. But I assure you, I am 100%, bet-your-bottom-dollar, I'm-going-to-claw-my-eyes-out serious about this girl. I'm amazed that she could actually convey a message that was so watered down with "like". It was truly horrific.

And that being said, I'm going to pass you over to Taylor Mali, who is (1) a perfectly fantastic slam poet and personal favorite, (2) full of words of wisdom on how we do, and should, converse.

First Video: for the purposes of my own message, I recommend watching the first minute or so. You can keep watching if you want to hear his poem (which I also recommend) "Any Language Much Less English"



Second Video: I've posted this here before, but it's just fantastic, so I'm posting it again. You should watch all of this one, and enjoy the beautiful typography. :)




He's brilliant. I wish everyone would watch these things. Can you even imagine how much better comments in class would be?

:)

Stupid Sarcasm

Maybe I'm just imagining things, but I've been seeing the following pop up in a lot (and I mean a LOT) of status updates on Facebook. Maybe you're familiar with it. It goes a little something like this:

" That awkward moment when your sarcasm is so advanced that people actually think you are stupid! "

Now, maybe I'm a meanie, but I often find myself tempted to leave the following in the comments:

" That awkward moment when your stupid is so advanced that you actually think you're sarcastic. "

 Oh my honeys ... Please leave the building. Just ... please.

Winnie the Pooh

A couple weeks ago, my mom and I saw the movie Prom while waiting to take my sister home from one of the proms she was going to (4/5, and it was 2 hours away from our house). One of the previews was for a new Winnie the Pooh movie, which I really want to see. Why? Because it’s in the same style as the old Winnie the Pooh’s! Which means stuff like this:

I just love that. The picture and the words interacting like that … it’s just so cool, and so different from anything else. It’s also massively nostalgic, and just plain delicious. Shouldn’t that be the way reading actually is? You get so caught up in the story that the words just wash away? I think it’s kind of a lovely thought.
Also, love me some Winnie the Pooh. (But really, what kind of a name is that?)

Diet Update: I've officially lost 10 lbs. We'll see if that monster banana split I'm planning on consuming tomorrow totally destroys that ;)

Pet Peeve: Guess What

I'm just going to take a quick moment to address a stupidity of the English language. Yes, I too am guilty (as always). But it's a problem, and we need to talk about it.

The phrase "guess what" has got to go.

Let's just start with the first annoying part: How the heck are you supposed to punctuate that?? I mean, technically it's a question ... but you aren't usually expecting people to guess because the whole point of saying that is that they probably won't guess it, right? But when you say it and you know it's only a pseudo-question, so basically there are three options:

1. "Guess what?" which conveys nothing but b-o-r-i-n-g and makes people feel like they have to answer a question, and what are they even supposed to say? (This will be addressed shortly. Never you fear!)
2. "Guess what!" which doesn't acknowledge the fact that it's technically a question and sound stupid
3. "Guess what?!" which is just too much emotion, and you don't want to overwhelm people or over excite them for something that just ain't that great (and it's usually not, because life ain't that exciting, folks)

All in all, not a good choice among them. Lame, eh?

Now let's say you're on the receiving end of said question. This is how it usually goes:

Person 1: Guess what[? and/or !]

Person 2: What?

** PAUSE **

Me: Okay, now let's examine this response. "What?" Since when is "What?" the appropriate answer to that question? It's not. It's just what we say because we don't want to get into a situation like Person 1 is about to create ...

** PLAY **

Person 1: No! I said for you to guess!

Person 2: (Doesn't want to guess. What kind of stupid game is this?) Ummm ... I don't know ...

Person 1: Come on! It doesn't matter! Just guess!

Person 2: (The stink eye is about to come out. Super doesn't want to guess, because no matter what they say, it's going to be wrong and they're going to look stupid.) Uhhhh ... you're pregnant. (Hint: Not an appropriate guess, usually.)

Person 1: No! I *blah blah blah something about how great their life is blah blah blah* ...

Person 2: (Doesn't care. Still feels stupid about the pregnancy comment, and wants to unleash the stink eye on Person 1 for putting them into that position.)

Person 1: (Selfish snot.)

The end.

As you can see, "Guess what?/!" is a stupid question, and it needs to not be a part of our speaking anymore. Because it's mean, and confusing, and just a big lie all around. Boo on GUESS WHAT!!!!

:)

Blog Re-Vamp, and A Dating Pet-Peeve

Okay, so I know that I've been squirrely with the design of this blog all over the place, but now there's a bigger change going on -- NEW BLOG TITLE! I figured now was a prime time to do it because this is my 101st post! Crazy, huh?? It's almost hard to believe.... almost. Of course, I'm rather verbose, and there's probably 20+ drafts scattered throughout Blogger, Windows Live Writer, and Word ... but who really knows. There's 100 on here, and that's what counts.

So, why "The Happy Pessimist"? Well, first off, I think that's what I am. I know it seems a little bit contradictory, but I think it's very possible to be both pessimistic and happy. I guess a more accurate title would actually be something like "The Optimistic Realist," but that doesn't have quite the same ring to it, and really doesn't mean the same thing. And I mean it to mean what it means, which is "I'm a pessimist, and dangit I'm happy too!"

Additionally, I feel like it's about time I adopted some kind of blog-identity. It just feels right. I don't know how much of a difference that makes, but it feels different. Sort of. Not really. Plus, I have the advantage of not making a title-specific blog address, so I can change the actual title whenever I want. Suck on that. :)

Anyways. That's all the news on the blog re-vamp. On to my newest dating pet peeve. Are you so ready for this, people?

So here's what's up: When you're 15 and you're trying to sneakily date someone and you keep saying "It's not a date," but it looks like a date, smells like a date, sounds like a date, etc. ... it's a date.

BUT

When you're in college, and you're repeatedly getting called to repentance for not dating and not getting married, you don't get to rip your moves off the 15-year old pubescent boys. It's severely not cool.

In college, if you want to go on a date with a girl, you ASK HER ON A DATE. Not "want to hang out?" or "want to play?" (which is just hecka annoying for a bajillion other reasons) or "a bunch of us are doing this want to come?" No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. These are all the wrong way to handle the dating situation. I suppose you don't actually have to say the word "date" (though it's much preferred, as it makes things that much more clear). You do need to make the Three P's (Planned, Paid For, Paired Off) very clear from the very beginning to count it as a date.

Let me give you a situation I have recently become acquainted with (and dramatized for effect).

A young woman was hanging out with herself one day, and a young man texted her and said "Wanna play tonight?" (You boys have REALLY got to stop saying that. It's infantile and creepy sounding.) She said okay, and they determined to meet up later that evening to do something. When they met up, they decided to get some food, as friends are wont to do. Upon arriving at the restaurant, the young man offered to pay. She said no, that she could get it, but he insisted, and she gave in. They hung out that night, had a fun time, and that was the end of it.

Or so she thought.

The next day at church, the young man's roommates and friends asked her at different times throughout the day, "How was your date last night?"

The young woman was surprised. She hadn't been on a date. She had hung out with a friend. Yes, that friend offered to pay ... but that wasn't the intent from the beginning. At least, she didn't think it was. In her mind, it hadn't been a date. How could such a misunderstanding have happened?

Here's another story that happened to me about a year and a half ago. I met this guy at a party, and we became Facebook friends, and one night he invited me over to his house to watch a movie with him and some of his friends. Being uncool and having no form of vehicular transportation and this guy living far away, I said, "Sorry, I can't make it." Eventually it came out (though I was much more cool about it than the way I just explained it) and he said he'd come and pick me up. So he came and got me, and then he said he was hungry and that he wanted to grab some food at the Taco Bell. He asked if I wanted anything, I said no, and we proceeded on to his place.

There wasn't anyone else there.

Now I'm thinking either this guy was really clever, or he didn't have any friends, or he was the lonesome loser that got left out when everyone else wanted to have fun. So since there's nobody there, we put in Hot Rod and sit on the couch and it's super awkward because we don't know each other at all and, like I said, there was no one else there, plus his house was really creepy and gross. Eventually, the night came to an end, and he took me home.

So, what I'm still wondering is ... was that supposed to be a date? I mean, it kind of came off looking like one, and he did end up asking me out on a real date later on (which lasted 45 minutes, muahahaha), but what was that heinousness? There's an even more important question though:

Don't I have the right to know if I'm on a date or not?

I don't feel like that's an outrageous expectation. Is it? I'm going to give you an answer for that: No. No, it is not. Girls have the right to know when a boy thinks he's on a date with her. Which is why it is preferable that the word "DATE" is used when inviting a girl to do something, if that something is indeed being perceived by you as a date. Okay, kids? If it's not going to be a date, make that clear also. There are creepy, overeager girls too who will turn anything into a date. SO MAKE YOUR INTENTIONS CLEAR.

You know, I feel like this applies to a lot of situations, and I feel like there are a lot of problems that would be solved in this world if people were just straight-up honest about things, if people actually said the things they were thinking instead of trying to hint at or suggest or imply or whatever their actual thoughts. In the words of John Mayer, "Say what you need to say. It's better to say too much than never to say what you need to say."

It really blows my mind that some people can talk so much without saying anything. You'd think with all the time we spend talking about ourselves, updating our Twitter accounts and telling people what we're doing and posting pictures of things we've attended and stuff we've done ... that we'd somehow find the ability to convey our actual thoughts, feelings, intentions. But we fail. Big time. Is anyone else frustrated that we deal with all this miscommunication and misunderstanding when we really don't have to? Why?

I really don't get it. Not to suggest that I have superior skills in the communication department, because heaven knows I've had my fair share of responsibility in these types of matters. I'm just saying, something needs to change.

The Feeling of Words

I've got a pretty crazy internal dialogue going on almost all of the time. If I'm not having a silent conversation with myself, I'm most likely imagining some sort of dialogue between myself and another party. This gets real interesting when I'm annoyed with people, and I'll tell you why:

It's because my brain makes up very ... erm ... unique insults.

I think that this must be a pretty typical function, since some of Shakespeare's weirdest (most brilliant?) moments are his insults. There is even an entire online dictionary of his insults: http://www.william-shakespeare.org.uk/shakespeare-insults-dictionary.htm. Not to, in any way, put myself on the same level as Shakespeare, but I think that the human mind gets pretty creative when it wants to tell something else that it sucks.

Unlike Shakespeare's verbose and clever insults, however, mine tend to come in very short phrases, most frequently individual words ... which have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.

Now, you might be getting a little confused right now, and that's completely understandable. You need an example. Let me give you one.

A few days ago, I was perturbed by some person doing some thing that I found rather irritating. Probably something to do with the way that they chose to walk through a hallway or block a path or something similar. My brain said something like this: "Ugh are you serious? Can you not see that there are people here trying to get around you? What's your problem, box elder?"

In case you didn't notice (and you really should have, because I italicized it), the word of that sentence that doesn't make sense is "box elder." Yes, it's technically two words, but it's a single term, so don't get persnickety with me.

As this thought passed through my head, I suddenly forgot about the person doing whatever it was that they were doing, and I wondered what the heck had just come out of my internal mouth. Box elder? Had I heard someone use it that way before? I knew it had something to do with nature, but I couldn't even remember if it was a tree or some kind of stick bug (I just Googled it, and it's a tree... and a bug. Go me).

My first action was to look it up on Urban Dictionary, to see if that had any clarification. (I highly recommend NOT looking up the term "boxelder" on UD, just so you know. It has a "definition," but it's not one you'll have heard, and it's not one you want to hear about.) It clearly had no colloquial meanings that I could have possibly heard.

Really, though, let's think about this. There is no explicable reason for why that word popped into my head at that moment. Who ever even uses that word? I certainly don't, I can't even identify trees, and box elder bugs give me the heebie-geebies ....

So where did it come from? Surprisingly, I think I have an answer for you.

The English language is a delicious one that gives us a lot of different sounds. I'd call it something like ... musically diverse, though not in the traditional sense of the word "music." The production of these sounds creates a physical sensation in our mouths, and, I'd suggest, an emotional response to that physical sensation.

If you don't believe me, read John Keats' ode "To Autumn" out loud, and I dare you not to enjoy the lusciousness of his diction. Your mouth practically explodes. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but you have just got to see what I mean by that. Add on the actual meaning and connotations of each words, and you've practically got a bomb of sensation and meaning sitting right in front of you, waiting for you to immerse yourself in it. I know I'm getting ridiculously English-major-y here, but I can't help it :)

Let's look at a couple of examples of gross words:

1. Moist. Say that one aloud and try not to gag.

2. Flesh. Woof.

3. Pork. Just say it out loud a few times.

4. Puberty. Ehhhhhh.

5. Puss. ... I seem to be selecting a lot of "p" words now ... hmmm ...

6. Nugget.

7. Gluten.

These all just make my mouth feel icky, and then you throw in the meaning of the word, and usually it's just grossie-josie all over the place. Now try to put a bunch of them in a phrase, like "A nugget of moist pork flesh ..." Yeah I'm sorry you all probably just puked. My bad.

You might be wondering right about now what this all has to do with my use of the word "box elder." Say that one out loud a few times. Roll it around in your mouth. Say it with frustration. Annunciate. Throw in a little sarcastic flare. Say the whole phrase if you have to.

If you don't do it, you probably won't get it. And I'm betting most of you probably won't, but I'm telling you, box elder is a very desirable word for the expression of frustration. See, it's got that forceful "b" on the front of it, which gives it power, and that "x" in the middle that gives it a satisfying sting ... The long and short of it is that the physical sensation of saying that word fits really well with the emotion I wanted to express.

But here's the problem: the meaning of the word really detracts from my ability to use it.

I think words are best used, or at least most satisfyingly used, when those three aspects—the emotion being conveyed, the physical sensation and sound of the word, and the meaning of the word—are all aligned.

Let me give you another example. The one that first popped into my head is, unfortunately, not in English. But I think you'll still understand. It comes from the Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 1:9. In English, the verse reads:

"And it came to pass that he saw One descending out of the midst of heaven, and he beheld that his luster was above that of the sun at noonday."

The word I want to focus on here is "luster." I don't much like it in English, but that word in French is "resplendissement." (Type it into Google Translate (make sure the settings are French --> English) and click "listen" if you want to know how it's properly to be pronounced.) Technically, that word translates to "splendor" in English, which is just another cool effect of translation ... but can't you hear the glistening in that word? It just flows smoothly out of your mouth, and twinkles like stars. Not only is there so much emotion to be conveyed as Nephi is talking about Lehi's vision of Christ, but the sound of the word matches that feeling, and the very meaning of the word. They're all right there together, working to achieve an overall word-experience. It's beautiful! (Yes, I'm geeking out over words right now. Just get over it.)

I guess I don't have too much more to say on the subject. I've probably already said too much. Whatever. If you ever questioned my choice to be an English major, there's your proof that I picked right. :) Hahaha.

Verbal Vomit

There are so many words in my stomach right now. They’ve been writing and twisting around and inside each other for so long now that I think they’ve just become one huge, pulsating mass. (I’m sorry, is this getting graphic?) I just have so much to say, and no where I can say it – not even here, and (dare I say it?) I’m beginning to miss my anonymity.
You know, that’s why this blog happened … so that I could go back into this world of anonymity and stop having my name attached to everything I had to say (I used to be a prolific Facebook Note-writer). Only then I started trusting myself more, trusting other people more, trusting them not to think I was crazy or stupid or emotional or verbose about every silly thing I wanted to talk about, and so I invited them to this blog, and it has become a beautiful thing. I love that there are people who actually read what I have to say. Granted, there aren’t many of you. But I like it just the same. :)
And yet, there’s a bit of a problemo. You see, saying goodbye to anonymity, making my blog available to any wandering eye, not having an iron gate and a guard that only lets selected viewers in … that means I have to be careful about what I say, because I don’t know who is going to read it. And worse, sometimes I do know who is going to read it, and so then I know for sure I can’t write it because you just don’t tell all things to all people. Not all at the same time, at least, and not in the same way.
The same thing seems to have happened to every social networking/blogging thing that I’ve become a part of, and I’m caught in this little Bermuda triangle of wanting to say some things to some people, wanting to make sure other people don’t hear those things, and having this bizarre need to have this all be broadcast out into universe. I might give up on that last part and just write in my journal about it, only here’s the thing: I don’t necessarily want my progeny reading some of this crap. I am blocked on all sides here. Can someone help me out?
Where is that dumpster in the alleyway that I used to be able to barf my guts into? You know, the one that was private, but not too private, and if someone wanted to go look at it, it was their choice and like, ya know, whatever … but nobody you didn’t want to be checking out your Technicolor yawn would be? I kinda miss that.
I suppose the easiest solution would be to simply let go of all the things that are causing the turmoil that has been making me want to deliver a sidewalk pizza like, every single hour of every day for the past week. We’re talking big time thunder-chunder rainbow parfait, splashin’ the hash, lateral cookie toss … I mean it’s ridiculous.
You know what would solve this problem? If people would just say what they think, and what they mean. Because if everyone else was doing it, then I could be doing it, and it wouldn’t be building up inside me like a psychedelic stomach shuttle just waiting for lift-off.
(Side note: I’ve just realized how many times I make reference to vomit on this blog (and based on that fact, probably also in real life) and so I’m considering renaming the blog “Finding the Center of Your Porcelain Chakra” or something … gosh I’m gross sometimes.)

One of "Those" ...

I think we've lost our articulateness, as a society. I was just thinking about how this week has been one of "those" weeks, and how somehow that has become an all-encompassing word to mean anything from "the most awful, dreadful, nightmarish 7-day period of my life" to "nothing happened that merits the effort of speech."

With what audacity do we dare sum up 168 God-given hours in such a pathetic, ambiguous word? Especially one that is usually attended with a negative connotation?

It's hard to say why we choose to do this. Do we think other people don't care about our lives? Do we not care about our lives? Are we afraid that they will be annoyed or bored with the things we have to say? Do we have anything to say? Or do we simply not know how to say it?

I can't help but think right now of Taylor Mali's slam poem "Totally like whatever, you know?" Watch it. It's awesome. :)

Are we so uncertain about the value of the things we have to say, do we have so little emotion invested in the things that happen to us, that we simply cannot articulate our own lives?

And isn't that something that's kind of important? Shouldn't we be able to talk about our lives, about the things we think, and about the things that are important to us?

Where things really get confusing for me is how we simultaneously have people who will post on Facebook every single thing they do and every single thing they feel. "SOOOOOO annoyed :(((((((((((" or "Bobbie Butthead is at Chile's right now. Chicken Enchilada Soup. YUMMMM." (I recognize that I'm being really immature by including the word "butthead" in my blogpost, but at this point I just don't even care. Judge me at your will and pleasure.)

Do we simply have no idea what is worth documenting and discussing? Or are we just afraid to talk about the things that actually ARE worth documenting and discussing because we don't want people to argue with us and judge us? Do we just not develop our opinions deep enough to have understanding sufficient TO argue them?

Are we so afraid of sounding stupid that we aren't willing to take the chance of sounding smart?

Language. Mmm :)