3.05.2011

Enjoy Your Flight

There is a certain level of trust that we expect and uphold when we board a plane. We expect that some one of the group will know what to do if we are caught choking on our peanuts. We expect that the lady in seat twenty-three A will do her very best to silence the screaming child that accompanies her. And we expect everyone on board to maintain a firm grasp on their sanity for the duration of the flight. It's paradoxical thinking. We don't expect these same behaviors of these same people when we're on the ground; in fact, more often than not we expect the exact opposite.

So why is it that just because we board the aircraft to a common destination, we expect everyone to suspend whatever moral code to which they adhere and adopt the code of the friendly skies?

We don't expect other drivers to stop and help us if we have a flat tire. We expect them to blow right by us as we frantically and frustratedly dial AAA. Why do we expect instant courtesy and respect on airplanes?

3.04.2011

somethin too consider

we right different from what we talk this much i no to bee true, i've even saw it with my own to eyes. in this age of text messaging instant messaging and emailing we always are in such a hurry that it becomes two timely to apply the rules are grade school teachers tried so fervently to instill in us. butt what does that suggest of us what is it about our lives that make them so complicating that we ca'nt construct our writin proper?

HAPPY NATIONAL GRAMMAR DAY!

In the spirit of what has quickly become my favorite (technically) unofficial holiday, I've decided to remind myself of why I do what I do. I take consolation in the difficulty of composing that first paragraph. It took nearly thirty minutes, and it was a profoundly difficult undertaking. The final question, however, is perfectly legit and concerning. Why can we no longer be bothered with proper writing? What happened to the formally composed letter? What happened to the ability to write a draft then a second draft and finally a third? I don't want to get carried away and blame the total dissolution of concern for the mechanics of language on the word processor, but there is something disconcerting about a word processing program that thinks it's smarter than I am.

I find it disheartening that so many people seem to lack the fundamentals of English grammar. Are schools not teaching it anymore? Why have we forgotten why it's important to actually write the word you instead of typing the letter u? And why have we started using commas as breath marks, as opposed to their intended purposes?

We used to tell children to mind their ps and qs. We always make sure we dot every i and cross every t. Is it too much to ask that we put the comma in front of the coordinating conjunction? Has the task of properly placing a preposition become so arduous we can't even bother ourselves to do it anymore?

This post is full of questions to which I will probably never have answers. Maybe I'm one of the few remaining grammarians who think these things are important. Maybe grammar is a dying art. Or maybe not. (Yes, that would be me making full and glorious use of the sentence-fragment-for-emphasis rule.)

For my part I am trying to rid the world of its lack of concern for all things grammatical one student at a time. I firmly believe that being able to express your opinions and thoughts articulately on a page is a valuable skill in every arena of life. And as long as there are those of us who still believe in the importance of communicating in complete sentences, grammar will continue to wield power over the written word.

2.27.2011

Happily Ever After...The End

The accomplishment of finishing a book is something to be savored. Finally turning the last page of a thousand-page novel somehow seems like a much greater feat than adding another book to the shelf. But what happens now?

What happens to the people, the places, the problems we were so intrinsically bound to for however many pages? Do they disappear? Do we secretly harbor them in our imaginations, sustaining them for as long as they continue to entertain us? Or do we let them dwindle with the cracking of the next book cover? And does this make us fickle readers?

Admittedly, it is sometimes easier for me to jump right into the next novel or short story without taking that contemplative moment after finishing my current literary endeavor. Not everything I read enthralls me to the point of not being able to move on from it. The residual feelings are just not that sticky. This doesn't necessarily make me a fickle reader, per se, but it does suggest a certain complacence about the characters I've just spent three hundred or so pages trying to get to know. Isn't there something realistic about that interaction?

Then there are those books that leave me bored and dissatisfied with all that come after them. The places become real to me; the characters are people I've known all my life. These are the ones with the ability to hold my imagination hostage. It becomes impossible to extricate myself from the literary reality I crave and the literal reality I live. After completing books of this caliber, I acknowledge a sense of guilt at moving on too quickly. There is a certain period of reverence that generally follows a completion like this.

Does moving on make me fickle? Of course not. It has to be done if I'm ever to make progress. But there is something discomforting, something unsettling about the attempt to move forward too quickly. Dare I suggest that it might be something akin to committing literary infidelity?

A good book should be allowed to incubate until its full meaning comes to you. A good book deserves a certain amount of respect for its accomplishment in its reader, whatever accomplishment that may be. It deserves the chance to completely evolve in our minds so that when we finally say "The End," we can mean it.

Gizmos, Gadets, and Widgets...and Their Clothes

Sometimes I feel like I am amassing my own personal arsenal of technology. I have a device for everything. I have my netbook, which is perfect for taking with me when I'm on-the-go. It almost entirely eliminates the need for any kind of journal, paper, or pen. I have my NookColor, which is great for providing reading selection when I'm out-and-about. And I have my iPhone to fill the gaps in between. Funny, though, that I rarely use my phone for actually making phone calls.

While I have come to rely on these devices more than I care to admit, I am not so blinded by their importance that I can't admit to getting (dare I say it?) bored with them sometimes. There is no inherent flaw in the devices themselves. They do nothing to provoke these feelings of ennui (ok, maybe the iPhone does occasionally). It's the constant evolution of technology that plagues me. There is always some later, greater version available than the one in my possession.

In an age when a cell phone is a smartphone, and a smartphone is a handheld computer, in the age of Xooms and Galaxies and iPads, how are we supposed to content ourselves with what we have, instead of lusting after its usurper?

Buying a new case for an old widget is like giving said widget a face-lift. It doesn't change the nature of the device. It doesn't increase its operating capacity. It doesn't update the software. And it doesn't turn an iPhone into an iPad. But it does change the way I look at the gizmo. It changes the way I want to interact with it.

Some people see these cases as mere elements of protection. They serve no other function than protecting the device from meeting an untimely end. But for those of us who oftentimes see our gizmos as accessories (I'm still enthralled with my newest MK cell phone case), the case takes on a whole new level of significance. It becomes more than a precautionary measure, but it doesn't change the identity of the device or its user. A case is simply a way to mollify our desire to maintain what we already have. This doesn't mean that updates become unmerited; there will come a time when my netbook will expire, and I will have the opportunity to once again experience the thrill of possessing a new piece of technology. But in dressing up our gizmos, gadgets, and widgets, we can extend their desirability and our tolerance of always being one step behind.
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