I have been accused in the past of being a bit of a ...nerd... when it comes to grammar. The term "Up North", ubiquitous in Michigan, refers to any place north of Detroit. (which, technically, qualifies my parent's house as our cottage up north...ha.) For years, I railed against the use of the phrase because "Up" suggests an increase in elevation, not direction.
Recently, a phrase has caught my ear that bothers me even more than Up North. No, not "irregardless" or even "supposably", but something more sinister because it is quietly offensive. It annoys on a subconsious level, and actually took quite some time to get under my skin. But now that I'm aware of how it sounds, my ears hurt a little bit every time I hear it.
The phrase is "my degree". As in, "I'm going to graduate school to get my masters degree" or "I went to college and got my bachelors" or "I completed clown college and got my certification". ARG. My degree? Are there degrees laying about, and we just have to go pick ours up? Are we predestined to get a degree, and are simply fulfilling our destiny by slogging our way through college?
I'm going to the grocery store to get my oranges. I'm going to Dairy Queen to get my blizzard. I'm just going to run out real quick and get my earplugs so I don't have to listen to this crap anymore, ok?
Using the word "my" to describe a degree suggests ownership. My dry cleaning, my dog, my car, my ugly shoes. Do we own a degree? Or perhaps it is something different because it isn't a physical object.
I realize that there is still that pesky issue of world hunger and rampant illiteracy in the rural populations in India and I should probably stop wasting my time getting annoyed by silly turns of phrase. But, like Popeye always says, I yam what I yam.
And right now I'm easily annoyed.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Throw out your pens!
Ah, pens. Some prefer blue ink, some black, but most of us have a cup of pens somewhere. I noticed recently that I kept pulling the same pens out the cup, assessing the appropriateness of the pen, and putting it back in the cup. I don't like pens that have barrels that are too wide, too skinny, pens that write with glops or require several circles on a scrap piece of paper to convince them to work. Every job requires the proper tool, and my cup of pens was filled with tools that didn't quite cut the mustard.
I grant you, I am picky when it comes to my pens. Perhaps you are similarly afflicted, or perhaps you have chosen other things to be neurotic about. (Fold towels in thirds? Load the dishwasher a certain way? There has to be something...) So, pens are one of my "things".
One day, in a fit of pique, I decided that I deserved to have a cup full of pens that I like. Pens I enjoy writing with. A solid collection of pens so that every cup would have tons of writing options, all fit for immediate use. What a gift to give myself!
Oh, but how wasteful! To throw away pens with metal barrels simply because I don't like the way they feel in my hand? What would it mean to throw out a pen whose only sin was the occasional ink blob on the paper? Could I be that selfish?
Hell yes, I can be that selfish. I ruthlessly tossed away piles of pens, apologizing to them if I felt like I had hurt their feelings. It was hard, it took courage, but I threw out all the pens that didn't match my favorite pen criteria.
How Liberating! What a difference, to be able to reach into a pen cup at any given time, at any given day, and pull out a pen that would be up to the challenge of the moment. How much had those little moments of frustration and irritation built up over the course of a day? Not only was it an energy zapper, but confirmation of my secret belief that the world is out to piss me off.
I went to Target and bought a few boxes of my favorite pens. (Grand total: $8.47) I put them neatly in the pen cup, where they bristled importantly with the potential of writing great things. And now, whenever I need to write a grocery list (shut up, it happens sometimes) or jot a nag note, write a check, whatever...I can rely on my pen cup to have the right type of pen.
The message: Throw out your Pens! Get pens you actually like, instead of having a drawer or cup full of pens that annoy! It may seem selfish to give yourself this kind of gift, but you too deserve a cup of pens that meet your needs. You are allowed, you are worthy, you are entitled to chose your own pens.
I grant you, I am picky when it comes to my pens. Perhaps you are similarly afflicted, or perhaps you have chosen other things to be neurotic about. (Fold towels in thirds? Load the dishwasher a certain way? There has to be something...) So, pens are one of my "things".
One day, in a fit of pique, I decided that I deserved to have a cup full of pens that I like. Pens I enjoy writing with. A solid collection of pens so that every cup would have tons of writing options, all fit for immediate use. What a gift to give myself!
Oh, but how wasteful! To throw away pens with metal barrels simply because I don't like the way they feel in my hand? What would it mean to throw out a pen whose only sin was the occasional ink blob on the paper? Could I be that selfish?
Hell yes, I can be that selfish. I ruthlessly tossed away piles of pens, apologizing to them if I felt like I had hurt their feelings. It was hard, it took courage, but I threw out all the pens that didn't match my favorite pen criteria.
How Liberating! What a difference, to be able to reach into a pen cup at any given time, at any given day, and pull out a pen that would be up to the challenge of the moment. How much had those little moments of frustration and irritation built up over the course of a day? Not only was it an energy zapper, but confirmation of my secret belief that the world is out to piss me off.
I went to Target and bought a few boxes of my favorite pens. (Grand total: $8.47) I put them neatly in the pen cup, where they bristled importantly with the potential of writing great things. And now, whenever I need to write a grocery list (shut up, it happens sometimes) or jot a nag note, write a check, whatever...I can rely on my pen cup to have the right type of pen.
The message: Throw out your Pens! Get pens you actually like, instead of having a drawer or cup full of pens that annoy! It may seem selfish to give yourself this kind of gift, but you too deserve a cup of pens that meet your needs. You are allowed, you are worthy, you are entitled to chose your own pens.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Things The Baby Did Today, June 23
To Josh:
1. Grew arms
2. Required so many Twizzlers that now Mom feels like crap
3. Ordered "The Last Unicorn" DVD and soundtrack
4. Decided against sushi for lunch after convincing Mom to buy it
5. Took a nap
To Emily:
"I must tell you! I was driving Maeve to daycare this morning when we pulled up next to another Wolfsburg. I said "Maeve! It's another Wolfsburg, like Momma's car." She said "Woof sherg?" So we covered the pronunciation a few times, and she had a pretty good grip on the two parts of the word. Then, she busts out with "Dat car FIERCE." I almost fell out of the car, laughing! She's totally right, but how did she know?"
1. Grew arms
2. Required so many Twizzlers that now Mom feels like crap
3. Ordered "The Last Unicorn" DVD and soundtrack
4. Decided against sushi for lunch after convincing Mom to buy it
5. Took a nap
To Emily:
"I must tell you! I was driving Maeve to daycare this morning when we pulled up next to another Wolfsburg. I said "Maeve! It's another Wolfsburg, like Momma's car." She said "Woof sherg?" So we covered the pronunciation a few times, and she had a pretty good grip on the two parts of the word. Then, she busts out with "Dat car FIERCE." I almost fell out of the car, laughing! She's totally right, but how did she know?"
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