Can you be in love with a language?

I love the English language. It fascinates me. There's always some new word to learn and its origin to explore. You'd think that since I loved my college class on the history of the English language that I might have pursued a linguistics degree instead of a straight English degree, but you'd be wrong. I hated school and straight English with no teaching was the program that would allow me to graduate the fastest. I think of my Bachelor of Arts as a badge of honor since I had to endure so many hours of torture to get it. I had dreams of becoming a writer and did my best to take the available writing courses, but the real purpose of that degree was to pump out critics. And contribute to more liberal arts degrees for kids who then have a hard time applying those skills in the real world.

Sure, having a degree in English would be a great base for moving on in schooling. In fact, I wish it were required for pre-law and premed. Lawyers and attorneys have a great knack for slaughtering the real meaning of words in their legalese until all legal documents don't make a lick of sense. They're counting on their ability to obfuscate their intentions so you agree to hand over your first born and perhaps an unneeded limb without realizing it. If only it were just explained in the fine print then it might still be legible with a magnifying glass. As for doctors, they really do need to have a better mastery of English. I was part of a local project to digitize medical abstracts from The Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) and was told that the digital version had to match what was printed and I was NOT ALLOWED to correct the grammar. That was torture. Not only could I not edit what really needed to be edited, I also learned about a lot of experiments on rats and mice which made me slightly ill. And not just because I am not fond of rodents.

I also struggle with corporate-ese. Do you know how many catch-phrases that the corporate world gloms onto that don't actually mean what they're intending to say? Engineers, particularly, often misuse words, but because none of them studied their own language enough the misuse is "the accepted standard." Horrifying. I've had arguments with them that the word doesn't mean that and they should use something else. Apparently Engineers are stubborn and would rather use a word incorrectly as a whole because that's what everybody else is using than fix it. I thought it was their job to fix things. Perhaps I'm wrong?

I have read a lot in my life. I love books and there have been times that I devoured them on a regular basis. Because of this much of my vocabulary was learned through reading. I've been accused of constant mispronunciation. Okay, but even if I'm saying it incorrectly, I know I'm using the right term. So, there.

Here's the thing, though: people struggle with what to call me based on my degree. It's true that I'm not a scientist, engineer, doctor, lawyer, athlete, teacher, etc. But I am NOT an "English Major." I was while I was getting my degree, but then I graduated. To continue calling me an English major seems as if I am constantly pursuing a formal education. I realize that there is no official term for a person that completed my program, otherwise you could call me an Englishist or Englisher. Neither of those terms exists (and one sounds like a swear word). So, perhaps you shouldn't refer to my degree as a definition for what I am, because it doesn't work. Please do, however, use the terms "educated" or even the apropos "underemployed." Ha!

I stand corrected! In using the spellcheck option before posting, Englishist was, indeed, not a term, but Englisher apparently is. I went to Dictionary.com and it says that the word means "a person who translates from a foreign language into English." So, yes, I am still learning about this complicated, frustrating, wonderful language. How marvelous!

Inevitable Imperfection

Some people worry that one day, maybe far in the future, maybe next week, that machines might actually take over the world. That movies like I, Robot and The Matrix trilogy are inevitable. You know what I say to that? Phooey! I'm sorry, but have you ever used a computer before? How often has your computer frozen or a program died for no apparent reason? Hmmm. Well, how about the fact that computers and computer programs are created and written by imperfect people? It doesn't matter how many times someone rechecks their work to find a flaw, there will be at least one if not many more. I've seen those jokes based on the premise: What if Microsoft was a car? And Apple has flaws, too. Or didn't you know that they have to sell a new phone every year because if you don't buy a new one with every release your phone will die because it's not that well-made (despite the hype and rabid following).

Feel free to be mad, but it's true. You could even call it planned obsolescence...but in some cases it's just flawed. My mother told me about how the Amish are so good at quilting that they purposely put a "mistake" in each quilt because only Heavenly Father can make something perfect. She was quite impressed with that. I tried not to giggle after she related the story (I can't remember if I was successful--there may have been a sarcastic laugh). Really? They think they're that good? Nowhere in that entire quilt is a flaw they didn't intend? It sounds more like pride than skill to me. But then, I know I'm not perfect.

I also know that no one else currently on Earth is perfect, either. So, imperfect parents raise imperfect children who grow up and have their own children that they also help flaw along in this world. So we should cut our parents some slack if they've tried their hardest to raise us the best way they knew how. For those parents that didn't try their hardest...or didn't ever try...or gave up a long time ago...that's all on them. Feel free to be mad in those types of situations, but you should probably seek therapy so you can stop being mad eventually. I guess that also means that if you make a mistake as a parent you're probably going to have to forgive yourself. And if you have any siblings, it's good to forgive them, too. Often brothers and/or sisters make mistakes or hurt you in ways they didn't intend, or as badly as it happened, or perhaps you were unaware of an issue and you're still getting blow back from it decades later. To my siblings: I'm sorry! Truly! Please forgive me!!!!!! I'm not the same person as when I was 6 or 10 or 14 or 18, so please somehow find a way to let it go. I probably didn't even mean it (hopefully). And I would like to forget it ever happened, but you keep reminding me. Ha ha.

So as the Borg, and now the Observers, say: resistance is futile. Of course, I prefer the Vogon's version: resistance is useless (just because I think they're hilarious). It's true that we can't escape being fallible. However, as in most things we do have a measure of control. I may have many flaws, but I still have a choice on how I deal with them--work at polishing them away through hard work and true change or by making them larger until I shatter from too many fissures and not enough substance. Stasis isn't possible and never has been. I will choose the polishing method. It may be a long and painful process, but I'm hoping the result will be worth it. Shiny!