Category Archives: Language

Fear of Missing Out

Language, Life

FOMO. It’s a terrible phrase, and an even more terrible contraction. It stands for “fear of missing out” and in the last year it seems to have wormed it’s way into the vernacular of practically everyone I interact with. Every Facebook picture, every tweet about a great night out is met with “FOMO”. It’s like YOLO’s equally mindless little brother.

And it is just plain wrong. That is definitely what winds me up the most about it. Because every time I hear someone say FOMO what they are actually meaning is “oh wow, that sounds great, shame I’m busy doing something else”. Or less frequently, “that sounds great, wish I’d been invited”. And that is where it gets annoying because that’s a sentiment I’d love to be able to get across in cute acronym form.

It’s difficult to approach the issue of being left out because the simple truth is, the likelihood of you accidentally having been left off an invite is much lower than the likelihood that you weren’t thought of, or worse, people actively don’t want you joining in. The conversation no-one wants to have is the one where you work out which of those categories you are in. In person it is awkward, but if you trust your friends enough then you should be able to just ask. But in the world of larger dissociated groups and social media, the closest we have is FOMO.

If it were up to me (and to my eternal sadness, it is not), I’d change the phrase. The “it’s great but I’m busy” team can just say that. The “wish I’d been invited” team can use SABLO – sadness at being left out. To be used sparingly, as a way of letting people know that you thought they’d have wanted to share your company and you are sad that they don’t seem to feel the same. That is the sentiment that is so hard to express because it feels very childish, and adulthood prevents us from being able to ask “why don’t you want to play with me?”

So that is settled then. FOMO doesn’t mean what it needs to. And no-one wanted it anyway. Let’s wipe it out.

For Geoff

Fun, Language, Life, Music, Travel

This post is for Geoff. He is my grandfather, and today he is the magnificent age of 94.

Geoff is my grandfather, but I’ve never really called him Grandad, or Grandpa or anything like that. When I was younger he and my grandmother Jeannine told me they didn’t like being called that because it made them feel old. Now I’m a bit older myself I understand what they meant. These are two of the people with the youngest souls I know. I feel privileged that for 24 of my grandfather’s 94 years on Earth, I’ve been able to be part of his fantastic life.

When I was little I remember hiding behind the back of his chair in the sitting room of their house. He always kept a bowl of sweets on the table between him and my grandmother, with squares of dark chocolate, Rowtrees Fruit Pastels and liquorice allsorts. At the time I didn’t like dark chocolate, and I still don’t have a taste for liquorice, but Iove Fruit Pastels, and I used to steal them and then run giggling to behind the settee and eat them there. For years afterwards I bought him them as presents.

I also remember sitting at my grandparents house and eating tutti frutti ice cream. I don’t even know if it exists any more, but I used to go with Geoff to Somerfield whenever we visited and that was one of the staple things we’d buy. Half the time he’d completely forget his wallet and then I’d end up running to the car to fetch it for him as we were at the checkout. I remember one of the members of staff there eyeballing me oddly as I wandered out, aged about 8 with a set of car keys and a determined face.

The best thing about seeing Geoff is always his stories. He has had a tremendous life, and the way he paints a picture of his memories is something I’m sure all of my cousins look forward to as much as I do. He grew up in Cambridge, fought in the Second World War, married a wonderful French woman, got his degree from Cambridge University (by way of various scrapes and running tours of the city), and then travelled the whole world, with my Dad growing up in Borneo and the whole family remembering ridiculous car trips across practically the entire Asian continent.

His stories about Borneo are always the best stories. Just like any story, they morph slightly every time I hear them, and I’m not sure if I’m misremembering the last time or if Geoff is telling them differently. Regardless they are always full of detail and colour, and usually something silly or embarrassing that my Dad or Aunties did once upon a time when they were kids. I’m sure his infectious enthusiasm for the time he has spent abroad is part of the reason I have always been so fascinated with the wider world and it’s cultures. He’s certainly had a bit part to play in my love of languages – he was a teacher at my upper school years before I started there, teaching French and Spanish, and his degree was in Classics.

Another thing I think I’ve taken from Geoff is my love of singing. His father was a top amateur opera singer and performed some of the shows I’ve recently been involved in about 100 years ago. Geoff caught that musical gene and passed it on to all his children and grandchildren (and probably great-grandchildren, though I’m not sure we really know about that yet). I remember him and my Dad singing loudly at each other around the dining table, funny folk songs and whimsical little rhymes. He’s always been keenly interested in what I’m doing theatrically, and on my last visit, despite his ill health, sang me some of the lines he remembers from HMS Pinafore, which he performed when he was younger.

Finally, he is absolutely the driving force behind my desire to achieve academically. When I applied to Cambridge I applied because it was where he had studied. Every time I visit without fail he asks me what I am doing, tells me some new interesting word or fact which he has picked up, and we have meaningful discussions about politics, economics, and language. At times discussions with him become rowdy and he has absolutely never been one to shy from an argument (particularly at large family gatherings, and particularly with my Dad and his sisters). But every discussion is intelligent and provocative.

Essentially what I am trying to say is that my grandfather is one of the most fantastic of people. His energy and passion for life is something I’m sure my entire family would say is a key part of how we’ve all grown up.

Happy Birthday Geoff.

famalam

Motivational Quotes

Language, Life

So this turned up on my facebook feed just now, and I feel it needs some discussion.

generous

So on the one hand, I somewhat agree with the sad face, and all of the comments saying this is sad, or really bad. Because if someone is just using you then that person probably isn’t good for you, and you need to get them out of your life. That is a very tough call to make.

But on the other hand, this is just not a thing to be sad about, and it’s quite depressing to see that everyone sharing and liking this image and leaving these comments doesn’t see that. If you are a generous enough soul that you can have someone screw you over 1 million times (which is a lot of times), and still go back, then you are an amazing person. Sometimes other people make the wrong choices, or aren’t grateful, or don’t entirely deserve the love and attention we bestow on them. But the people who are willing to keep loving and giving unconditionally are the people who make the world go round.

I’m a bit of a quote junkie (because everyone has to have something to be a bit obsessed with). I constantly have lines of songs or poems or something going round in my head, and I spend half of my time googling things to try and work out where they came from. A recent favourite of mine is currently hanging around being my screensaver, and it’s this one by the Persian poet Hāfez –

“And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth,
“You owe me.”
Look what happens with love like that.
It lights up the sky.”

It’s great, and lovely, and most of all it means the above. The people who can just give love even when it’s not reciprocated, and keep doing it and doing it and not care, are the people who light up the world.

Never be apologetic for being kind and good.

An open letter to the OED

Language

Dear OED,

Let’s talk.

On this day of an unreasonable number of people being accepted into higher education institutions (because the system does not care about whether a higher education qualification is appropriate, they only see the £9,000 a year paycheck per admission), it has been announced that you are helping the decline of proper learning by once again including silly words in your dictionary.

Now, I don’t mean to be wordist. I am an advocate of the ever-changing language, and I do strongly believe that English grows and evolves constantly. However, can we just take a second to go over some of your choices…

YOLO. This is not something to encourage. We were all perfectly happy with Carpe Diem, which is significantly more meaningful than YOLO anyway. If anything YOLO should be a warning to be less daring.

Binge-Watch. Why does this need to be defined? I know the definitions of both these words so I feel it’s fairly obvious what they mean together. This is what I’m talking about when I suggest you are dumbing-down. This. Right here.

Adorbs. This isn’t a word, this is a silly contraction. If you need to head to the OED to work out what this means, I think I respect you more.

This is just a selection, OED. But there are more, and you know it. I know it’s just your online version now, but where does it stop? Is this purposefully just fodder for linguistics students of the future? It was bad enough when you graced ‘selfie’ with word of the year status.

Like I said before, this isn’t meant to be wordist. There are some great words on the list. I just want you to have some self respect OED. Some of these words don’t need to be graced with your interest. Don’t insult yourself by associating yourself with words better placed in the mouth of a TOWIE star or Kanye West. No-one is expecting this of you, you don’t need to be “down with the kids”. The kids are stupid.

Yours,

A slightly stuck-up (ok, VERY stuck-up) language lover.

No Fairytale

Language, Life

I love fairytales, ask anyone. As a child I was lucky enough to be fascinated by stories from all round the world thanks to a combination of my Mum’s travelling and her love of books. As cliched as it may seem, I’ve always hoped that one day a prince would come riding in, sweep me off my feet, and take me to live in an amazing castle, full of gnomes and fairies and “beasts of the forest” and such.

Unfortunately for me, life is no fairytale, and that has been particularly true of late. I’m very lucky, because I have a wonderful family, an amazing boyfriend, a nice house, a good job, the opportunity to pursue my academic interests at a great university, and on top of that a big circle of friends with whom I have a lot of fun joining in with all the opportunities I could hope for. But I think there are very few people who can honestly say that their life is a breeze, even if (like me), they have everything they need and want.

For reasons which aren’t really mine to discuss, the last few weeks have been hard, and the next few weeks and months could be even harder. Since life is not a fairytale there isn’t a magical cure, and it’s not going to be acceptable for me to just sleep it off (which is basically a great fairytale tradition of princesses). However, I’m very hopeful for the future, and I can see my own unique happy ending in sight, which is something I’ve very thankful for. To everyone who has helped me on my journey of late, thank you, and a thank you in advance to everyone who I know will help through anything to come.

” لا شيء يدوم ” – This too shall pass

Procrastination Problems

Language, Life, Work

I am currently (and with great interest) watching the man trimming my front hedge. He’s doing a good job, except that as usual he’s trimmed it too short and now the world and his wife will stare into/throw things into my garden. However, there’s nothing I can do about it because he’d started before I realised, and anyway it’s up to the landlord.

What I’m meant to be doing is my degree work. That consists of analyzing some poems, and switching between Spanish, French and Portuguese metric schemes is headache inducing and I don’t want to do it. So here are the things I am doing to procrastinate today:

  1. Watching the man and the hedge
  2. Writing a blog post about procrastination
  3. Doing Duolingo practice (which is basically my degree, slightly a bit)
  4. Tidying the house
  5. Watching a gadget thing on TV
  6. Doing work for my job (yes, I am doing job work rather than uni work, on a day that I am not even being paid to do said work. Perfect employee, I think so.)
  7. Browsing reddit (root of all procrastination evil)
  8. Planning more things to do which will make me feel OK for not having done uni work

So that’s all going well. In fact, it’s keeping me quite busy, so I’d better get back to it all…

Language skills

Language

Once again, my post today is inspired by music I listened to on the walk to the gym. Once again, the inspiring artist is Will.i.am. For once, this post isn’t just a rant about his complete lack of lyrical ability.

Today, I want to talk about how Will.i.am (or possibly Cody Wise, who sings the chorus of the song) can quite decisively NOT speak Japanese, or if he can those aren’t skills that he is displaying in the song “It’s My Birthday”. In the song he claims “I can speak in Japanese/ Kawaī, kawaī, kawaī/” and then moves on.

This is an issue I think a lot of language students and linguists can relate to. No, you cannot speak a language just because someone taught you a single word. I’ve worked for years to come to the point where I will grudgingly claim I speak Spanish, and honestly despite studying for a Masters degree and having lived in Morocco for a year, probably wouldn’t claim that I can speak Arabic. So who are you, Will.i.am, to claim you speak a language by then repeating a single word.

Now, admittedly Will.i.am is an unfair scapegoat, because if we judge someone’s ability with language on the basis of them not just repeating words in a song I doubt he qualifies to actually speak any language. However, the fact remains that learning languages is hard, but ultimately very rewarding, and it’s frustrating to see people make light of the hard work which we linguists put in.

And that’s not all. If you boldly go into a bar in Spain and brag to your friends “Don’t worry, I speak Spanish”, before shouting “Por fayvor, servaysa andale andale” you are giving the British a bad name as well. Children in countries all around the world are working harder and harder to improve their language skills because that is vital now for real-world commerce and international engagement, yet we’re still happy to have our kids pretend to study French for two years before it can be dropped pre-GCSE. What not only the education system, but parents and guardians are failing to realise, is that though learning another language is hard work, it ultimately pays off. Instead of sending their child on exchanges or to classes, however, they go on holiday and insist on boasting about their own (lack of) language skills and perpetuating the issue.

I have been lucky enough to come from a mostly bilingual family who have nurtured a love of languages in me and pushed me to engage in language learning. That goes beyond my degree (I’m currently learning basic German using Duolingo, totally for free, just with the use of my internet connection) and I am so grateful for that, but I can’t help feeling that it shouldn’t be necessary. It’s a big world out there, which more and more people want to explore and which is more and more accessible. Why not take the time to learn more than how to say “where are the toilets” and “one beer please” and really enjoy wherever you are visiting?

It’s a big ask though, and attitudes aren’t going to change overnight. So for now, just stop claiming  you can “speak a language” when you “can’t”.

Views

Food, Language, Life

In an exciting turn of events, my blog views appear to have gone up. I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of someone actually reading this funny stream of consciousness I call a website, since that hasn’t happened since I lived in Morocco (such a long time ago now). Thanks, anyway.

Mostly this blog is about general views I have, so I wanted to share some of my experience of earlier today, and some of my views which were shattered (somewhat). I took a group of Leeds University Spanish Department (as was) alumni on a tour. This year marks 50 years since they graduated, and 50 years since the department moved into the current building. It was a fantastic and absolutely fascinating experience.

Firstly, I had some preconceptions about the gentlemen which were all proved completely false. It was a mistake to think that they would be “elderly” in the stereotypical sense – they were all very sprightly and incredibly chatty. I don’t really know why I ever expected otherwise, given that my grandparents continue to be some of the most energetic people I know, despite their age. They give the truest meaning to the saying that “age is just a number”, and these gentlemen were no different.

I also had the view that they would be nostalgic for the Leeds which they had experienced, but I was totally off the mark here as well. They all have contributed towards the university for years, and were so eager to see the improvements and innovations, as well as having lengthy discussions with me about my BA course, my MA and what I thought of language teaching practices and standards (I held off ranting about the current state of education in Britain, you’ll be glad to know).

In short, I had a fascinating time, feel like I know much more about my department now, and I hope I can be here in 2018 when they’d like to return and celebrate the centenary of the department. What a great idea!

Cold-Blooded

Language, Life

I think it’s amazing how quickly our brains associate certain phrases, or rhythms, or just sounds with certain images. Titling this post “cold-blooded” probably instantly conjured images of lizards and snakes in the heads of most readers, even though that’s not what I’m writing about. I’m actually writing about word association and the fact that I am bloomin’ cold all of the time.

Following the association thread, as I was thinking of this post a song lyric caught my attention, because it was saying the same thing I was essentially thinking. Taken from Eminem’s “Not Afraid”, the line is

I shouldn’t have to rhyme these words in the rhythm for you to know it’s a rap

This fascinated me, because at the same time that I was thinking about how clever our brains are for doing this linguistic cross-association, Eminem chose to lyrically contradict me. I completely disagree with his line (respectfully, of course), because I think that his skilled use of rhyme and rhythm is exactly what makes his work so brilliant, and it’s what immediately alerts me to the fact that I’m listening to an Eminem rap.

This is all very similar to the research I’m currently doing into crossover in metre between North Africa and southern Spain. One of my most vital points is that it’s difficult to claim there’s no interchange between these two cultures when you can hear it in the poetry they were each constructing. The beauty of our minds is practically their simplicity. Nine times out of ten we work on the basis of “I liked that, I’ll do it like that”, and thus themes, rhythms, phrases get passed around, and meanings get changed until something like “cold-blooded” immediately creates the image of a lizard, and three bars is enough to distinguish the creative prowess of Eminem.

It’s pretty fantastic.

Buzzy Bee

Language, Life

Busy should be pronounced buzzy. I have no linguistic basis for this comment, I’d just prefer it.

Also, no blogging for a while, due to intense amounts of buzzyness, involving many opera costumes, an awards show for the union, my MA, my job, and my attempts to have a life around the edges of these things. Something had to give. The things that gave are blogging and going to the gym. I’ll do them both again in a week when the buzzing stops.

‘Til then, TTFN.