For the love of money is the root of all evils; it is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced their hearts with many pangs. 1 Tim. 6:10
I haven't read the NT in Greek, and I'm no scholar, having had only one semester of the language. Seth tells me the word translated money is the Greek chrema, which I remember from C&P to mean thing in the singular and things or money in the plural. An alternative--and perhaps better--translation, then, would be "love of things is the root of all evils." (Thanks, Seth, for pointing this out.)
I believe it.
Let him be the rote and grounde of alle your blysse (Pearl, 420), and all will be well.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
this is just fun
I used Steven Pinker's The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language as a reference for my research paper or my science fair project (or maybe both) in eighth grade and have been meaning to actually read the thing ever since. I finished Exodus; Leviticus; Bud, Not Buddy; Caddie Woodlawn; and All Creatures Great and Small. Numbers intimidated me and I didn't really want to read Everlasting Man. So I started The Language Instinct.
Here are some fun things I found:
George Bernard Shaw complained that fish could just as sensibly be spelled ghoti (gh as in tough, o as in women, ti as in nation).
Chomsky: colorless green ideas sleep furiously
About the Kivunjo language: "The Kivunjo construction fits entirely inside the verb, which has seven prefixes and suffixes, two moods, and fourteen tenses; the verb agrees with its subject, its object, and its benefactive nouns, each of which come in sixteen genders."
Cherokee pronouns can distinguish between "you and I," "another person and I," "several other people and I," "you, one or more other persons, and I" -- and in English, it's "us" or "we."
"He walks" = "as solitary masculinity, leggedness proceeds."
Newspaper headlines:
Second guy: I don't know. What was her maiden name?
These apparently also appeared in newspapers:
The comedian Dick Gregory tells of walking up to a lunch counter in Mississippi during the days of racial segregation. The waitress said to him, "We don't serve colored people." "That's fine," he replied, "I don't eat colored people. I'd like a piece of chicken."
How old Cary Grant?
Old Cary Grant fine.
More newspaper headlines:
Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sightseeren keepen das cottenpickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
In Boston there is an old joke about a woman who landed at Logan Airport and asked the taxi driver, "Can you take me someplace where I can get scrod?" He replied, "Gee, that's the first time I've heahrd it in the pluperfect subjunctive!"
That's all I've got for now--I haven't finished the book yet. If you want more, go read it yourself.
Here are some fun things I found:
George Bernard Shaw complained that fish could just as sensibly be spelled ghoti (gh as in tough, o as in women, ti as in nation).
Chomsky: colorless green ideas sleep furiously
About the Kivunjo language: "The Kivunjo construction fits entirely inside the verb, which has seven prefixes and suffixes, two moods, and fourteen tenses; the verb agrees with its subject, its object, and its benefactive nouns, each of which come in sixteen genders."
Cherokee pronouns can distinguish between "you and I," "another person and I," "several other people and I," "you, one or more other persons, and I" -- and in English, it's "us" or "we."
"He walks" = "as solitary masculinity, leggedness proceeds."
Newspaper headlines:
- Child's Stool Great for Use in Garden
- Stud Tires Out
- Stiff Opposition Expected to Casketless Funeral Plan
- Drunk Gets Nine Months in Violin Case
- Iraqi Head Seeks Arms
- Queen Mary Having Bottom Scraped
- Columnist Gets Urologist in Trouble with His Peers
Second guy: I don't know. What was her maiden name?
These apparently also appeared in newspapers:
- Yoko Ono will talk about her husband John Lennon who was killed in an interview with Barbara Walters.
- Two cars were reported stolen by the Groveton police yesterday.
- The license fee for altered dogs with a certificate will be $3 and for pets owned by senior citizens who have not been altered the fee will be $1.50.
- Tonight's program discusses stress, exercise, nutrition, and sex with Celtic forward Scott Wedman, Dr. Ruth Westheimer, and Dick Cavett.
- We will sell gasoline to anyone in a glass container.
- For sale: mixing bowl set designed to please a cook with round bottom for efficient beating.
The comedian Dick Gregory tells of walking up to a lunch counter in Mississippi during the days of racial segregation. The waitress said to him, "We don't serve colored people." "That's fine," he replied, "I don't eat colored people. I'd like a piece of chicken."
How old Cary Grant?
Old Cary Grant fine.
More newspaper headlines:
- New Housing for Elderly Not Yet Dead
- New Missouri U. Chancellor Expects Little Sex
- 12 on Their Way to Cruise Among Dead in Plane Crash
- N.J. Judge to Rule on Nude Beach
- Chou Remains Cremated
- Chinese Apeman Dated
- Hershey Bars Protest
- Reagen Wins on Budget, But More Lies Ahead
- Deer Kill 130,000
- Complaints About NBA Referees Growing Ugly
- Squad Helps Dog Bite Victim
- Man Eating Piranha Mistakenly Sold as Pet Fish
- Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sightseeren keepen das cottenpickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
In Boston there is an old joke about a woman who landed at Logan Airport and asked the taxi driver, "Can you take me someplace where I can get scrod?" He replied, "Gee, that's the first time I've heahrd it in the pluperfect subjunctive!"
That's all I've got for now--I haven't finished the book yet. If you want more, go read it yourself.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
(faith)
The worst thing was that I did it. The best thing was that he forgave me (like always). The weird thing is that he hates the stupid stuff I do but somehow manages to love me always. I love him.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
new year
The year is ending; another one is starting and I feel like I ought to write something inspirational. Well, I'm out of inspiration. I checked my pockets and found a camera, a knotted Rosary, a knife, and a crumpled JoAnn's receipt with a few words scrawled in black pen, but no inspiration. Pity. I glanced at the clock a little bit ago and the hour/minute corresponded with the month/date of my birthday, but that's the best I can do. It made me smile.
For a while I've thought the idea of resolutions at the beginning of the year to be rather stupid. "Lent will be here soon enough," Fr. Tom says. And he's right.
Dr. Jackson mentioned to our class that his resolution one year was to start using flapjacks in place of pancakes. I think he's on to something. Here's what I've got:
1. Start using "eh?" the way yoopers and Canadians do. After seeing Tangie's reaction when she told us about the Canadian toll booth guy saying "eh?" I figured--dangit, I'm from Michigan, I can say "eh?" too. And considering how many pieces of my heart I've left up north, I'm going to have to work "eh?" well into my speech if I'm ever going to get them back.
2. Start saying "geez louise!" like Emily does, mostly because Emily's pretty cool. I type "geez louise!" in emails and IM, but I want to say it.
3. Start saying "dealies" for "things" like Grandpa and Dad do. "I've got five of these little dealies here."
4. Stop saying "like" as often. This will be harder because there are so many different uses for the word and for some of them, there just aren't good substitutes. For example:
a) "I opened the door and she's like--what?" This means "her general reaction was 'what?' though she may not have actually said that directly. In fact she may not have said anything at all. Maybe it was just her facial expression that said 'what?' Or maybe she said something that I can't repeat because it's inappropriate or because I don't remember it, but I know what her general reaction was."
*a) substitute: "she's," the way Grandpa says. "I opened the door and she's--what?"
b) "They had a crazy huge pile of snow. It was, like, five feet tall." This means "about, approximately." It may not have been exactly five feet tall, but it was about five feet tall. (Like me.)
*b) substitute: about. "It was about five feet tall." close to. "It was close to five feet tall."
c) "It was about five feet tall, like me." Here, "like" is just a shorter way of saying "similar to." This is fine, it doesn't bother me any, except that I should say "I" instead of "me." But that's unnecessarily awkward.
d) "We watched a bunch of different movies, like Escanaba In Da Moonlight and Wild Women of Wango." This just means "for example."
*d) substitute: just leave it out. "We watched a bunch of different movies. Escanaba In Da Moonlight, Wild Women of Wango."
e) "A deck of cards, like, to play euchre with?" This means "as in" or "you mean" and to used for clarification.
*e) substitute: as in, you mean, or just leave it out. "A deck of cards? To play euchre with?" (This one will be difficult.)
Here's the thing though. Pretty much every time I consciously try to alter the way I talk, it doesn't work. I've eradicated the obnoxious "like" a couple times and it keeps coming back. I pick up on how other people talk without knowing it. (Maybe that's why I got the accent I apparently have.) It'll be a fun experiment, though, I guess. We'll see what happens.
Happy solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (theotokos)!
And while we're speaking Greek--piana tapana stokavadi!
For a while I've thought the idea of resolutions at the beginning of the year to be rather stupid. "Lent will be here soon enough," Fr. Tom says. And he's right.
Dr. Jackson mentioned to our class that his resolution one year was to start using flapjacks in place of pancakes. I think he's on to something. Here's what I've got:
1. Start using "eh?" the way yoopers and Canadians do. After seeing Tangie's reaction when she told us about the Canadian toll booth guy saying "eh?" I figured--dangit, I'm from Michigan, I can say "eh?" too. And considering how many pieces of my heart I've left up north, I'm going to have to work "eh?" well into my speech if I'm ever going to get them back.
2. Start saying "geez louise!" like Emily does, mostly because Emily's pretty cool. I type "geez louise!" in emails and IM, but I want to say it.
3. Start saying "dealies" for "things" like Grandpa and Dad do. "I've got five of these little dealies here."
4. Stop saying "like" as often. This will be harder because there are so many different uses for the word and for some of them, there just aren't good substitutes. For example:
a) "I opened the door and she's like--what?" This means "her general reaction was 'what?' though she may not have actually said that directly. In fact she may not have said anything at all. Maybe it was just her facial expression that said 'what?' Or maybe she said something that I can't repeat because it's inappropriate or because I don't remember it, but I know what her general reaction was."
*a) substitute: "she's," the way Grandpa says. "I opened the door and she's--what?"
b) "They had a crazy huge pile of snow. It was, like, five feet tall." This means "about, approximately." It may not have been exactly five feet tall, but it was about five feet tall. (Like me.)
*b) substitute: about. "It was about five feet tall." close to. "It was close to five feet tall."
c) "It was about five feet tall, like me." Here, "like" is just a shorter way of saying "similar to." This is fine, it doesn't bother me any, except that I should say "I" instead of "me." But that's unnecessarily awkward.
d) "We watched a bunch of different movies, like Escanaba In Da Moonlight and Wild Women of Wango." This just means "for example."
*d) substitute: just leave it out. "We watched a bunch of different movies. Escanaba In Da Moonlight, Wild Women of Wango."
e) "A deck of cards, like, to play euchre with?" This means "as in" or "you mean" and to used for clarification.
*e) substitute: as in, you mean, or just leave it out. "A deck of cards? To play euchre with?" (This one will be difficult.)
Here's the thing though. Pretty much every time I consciously try to alter the way I talk, it doesn't work. I've eradicated the obnoxious "like" a couple times and it keeps coming back. I pick up on how other people talk without knowing it. (Maybe that's why I got the accent I apparently have.) It'll be a fun experiment, though, I guess. We'll see what happens.
Happy solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (theotokos)!
And while we're speaking Greek--piana tapana stokavadi!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thank you, Al Gore
Emily said it best.
I started this blog in September so that I would write. I had two ends in mind: first, writing more would make me a better writer, and second, writing what I'm thinking would force me to think things through all the way.
It's not especially important to me whether anyone reads this or not. The point is that I keep writing, and some vague idea that someone might read this is enough motivation.
It's weird not writing for an audience though. I made the beginning of my Jackson paper alliterate, but I would never do that for a history professor. I let spelling and punctuation slide when I'm emailing my sisters, but I would never do that in a newspaper. I scrawl in thank-you notes to my friends but write neatly in thank-you notes to my grandmother. It isn't dishonesty, it's just that you treat different people differently. No matter what I'm writing, the audience is in the front of my mind.
But here, I'm not writing for an audience. Not officially, anyway. But I know four people who read this regularly and at least two who read it every so often, and it's hard not to gear my thoughts in their direction.
For this post, however, I do have an audience in mind: Emily and Anne, my beautiful, wonderful, completely different sisters. Look:
"Your shoulder bit my tooth!"
"Mom, I don't really need black shoes."
"That's why!"
"That's why what?"
"That's why she never buys you anything when I don't come!"
Crayola still makes historical markers.
"Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"
"Will you shut up!"
"No. Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"
"I din't hev a suth'n twaang!"
"That's south of the Mason-Dixie line."
Emily: Anne, you can't wear that green striped sweater with the blue skirt.
Anne: Why not?
Mary: Anne, even *I* know better than that!
Swing dance turned self-defense turned I don't really want to fall over right now.
"They only do this when there are guys over."
"No, that's actually not true."
"Yeah, she was beating me up in the kitchen yesterday."
"Anne, are you going to eat that?"
"No."
"Anne, is that all you're going to eat?"
"Yes."
"Anne, aren't you going to eat anything?"
"No."
"Anne, eat something."
"I just ate five pieces of pizza at quiz bowl!"
Pianatapanastokavadi!
my favorite gmail chat conversation ever-
"Is that book still in the living room?"
"What book?"
"Captivating."
"Maybe, I dunno. I'm up in my room."
"Okay, I'll go look."
"Good, cause you're closer to the living room anyway."
"Anne stole it. It was in her room."
"Oh, I wondered what she came up here for."
"I can hear you laughing."
"Have you started the book?"
"No, but if you ask me the same question...wait..."
"You're gonna read one sentence then tell me you did."
"Now I have. Yes yes, lil sis, you called me out."
"Punk. Warthog-faced buffoon."
"Actually, I read one and a half."
"I hear you laughing down there."
"That is Anne laughing. I mean, coughing."
"I'm sure. You're probably choking her to death."
"Your cell phone looks like a rabbit!"
I started this blog in September so that I would write. I had two ends in mind: first, writing more would make me a better writer, and second, writing what I'm thinking would force me to think things through all the way.
It's not especially important to me whether anyone reads this or not. The point is that I keep writing, and some vague idea that someone might read this is enough motivation.
It's weird not writing for an audience though. I made the beginning of my Jackson paper alliterate, but I would never do that for a history professor. I let spelling and punctuation slide when I'm emailing my sisters, but I would never do that in a newspaper. I scrawl in thank-you notes to my friends but write neatly in thank-you notes to my grandmother. It isn't dishonesty, it's just that you treat different people differently. No matter what I'm writing, the audience is in the front of my mind.
But here, I'm not writing for an audience. Not officially, anyway. But I know four people who read this regularly and at least two who read it every so often, and it's hard not to gear my thoughts in their direction.
For this post, however, I do have an audience in mind: Emily and Anne, my beautiful, wonderful, completely different sisters. Look:
"Your shoulder bit my tooth!"
"Mom, I don't really need black shoes."
"That's why!"
"That's why what?"
"That's why she never buys you anything when I don't come!"
Crayola still makes historical markers.
"Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"
"Will you shut up!"
"No. Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"
"I din't hev a suth'n twaang!"
"That's south of the Mason-Dixie line."
Emily: Anne, you can't wear that green striped sweater with the blue skirt.
Anne: Why not?
Mary: Anne, even *I* know better than that!
Swing dance turned self-defense turned I don't really want to fall over right now.
"They only do this when there are guys over."
"No, that's actually not true."
"Yeah, she was beating me up in the kitchen yesterday."
"Anne, are you going to eat that?"
"No."
"Anne, is that all you're going to eat?"
"Yes."
"Anne, aren't you going to eat anything?"
"No."
"Anne, eat something."
"I just ate five pieces of pizza at quiz bowl!"
Pianatapanastokavadi!
my favorite gmail chat conversation ever-
"Is that book still in the living room?"
"What book?"
"Captivating."
"Maybe, I dunno. I'm up in my room."
"Okay, I'll go look."
"Good, cause you're closer to the living room anyway."
"Anne stole it. It was in her room."
"Oh, I wondered what she came up here for."
"I can hear you laughing."
"Have you started the book?"
"No, but if you ask me the same question...wait..."
"You're gonna read one sentence then tell me you did."
"Now I have. Yes yes, lil sis, you called me out."
"Punk. Warthog-faced buffoon."
"Actually, I read one and a half."
"I hear you laughing down there."
"That is Anne laughing. I mean, coughing."
"I'm sure. You're probably choking her to death."
"Your cell phone looks like a rabbit!"
Sunday, December 28, 2008
empty
Anne and I took the last leaf out of the table before dinner. I've often marveled at what a good idea it was first to invent and second to find a table with leaves. Growing up, we had two leaves in the table and three for company. As we started graduating and moving out, the table got smaller and smaller and leaves started accumulating in the front closet. Now, they only come out when everyone is home, and we put the last one away today.
Emily left first, driving away in yesterday's rain that turned the knee-deep snow into mist. She called to let us know she'd made it to her friend's house in Ohio, where she stayed the night, then again when she arrived in Atlanta.
Joe left right after Mass and breakfast this morning, his Monte Carlo moving matter-of-factly toward Arlington. He called home when he arrived.
Paul stayed for euchre and left before noon, then returned to pick up his Costa Rican shotglass. The Oldsmobile clunked down the street, bound for Cleveland. He left the polyurethane for me on the table in the basement.
And then there were four and the table was shrunk.
Evidences of my family are scattered throughout the house. A new fan (with lights!) hangs over the family room. Emily and Joe each left a pair of shoes, and I still haven't cleaned up the golden-brown mess Paul and I left on the table when the polyurethane leaked through the cardboard. I have far more clothing in my room than I really need, some of it new (that's Emily's fault). A walking stick leans in the corner of my room. There are still five beds for all of us. The house is too big for a small family.
Briefly I thought about crying my eyes out, but mostly I feel a calm, empty sadness.
And today?
Today is the feast of the Holy Family.
Emily left first, driving away in yesterday's rain that turned the knee-deep snow into mist. She called to let us know she'd made it to her friend's house in Ohio, where she stayed the night, then again when she arrived in Atlanta.
Joe left right after Mass and breakfast this morning, his Monte Carlo moving matter-of-factly toward Arlington. He called home when he arrived.
Paul stayed for euchre and left before noon, then returned to pick up his Costa Rican shotglass. The Oldsmobile clunked down the street, bound for Cleveland. He left the polyurethane for me on the table in the basement.
And then there were four and the table was shrunk.
Evidences of my family are scattered throughout the house. A new fan (with lights!) hangs over the family room. Emily and Joe each left a pair of shoes, and I still haven't cleaned up the golden-brown mess Paul and I left on the table when the polyurethane leaked through the cardboard. I have far more clothing in my room than I really need, some of it new (that's Emily's fault). A walking stick leans in the corner of my room. There are still five beds for all of us. The house is too big for a small family.
Briefly I thought about crying my eyes out, but mostly I feel a calm, empty sadness.
And today?
Today is the feast of the Holy Family.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
how to get men to respect you, I guess
I recently discovered that two of my camp friends, whom we'll call P and T, don't like each other.
More accurately, T doesn't like P, and P merely requites the sentiment.
I asked T what the issue was, and he told me that he disagreed with P on some important things, specifically, how P treats women.
P has always treated me well, I told him.
That's because he knows he can't get inside your pants, he told me.
Was that really it?
Men are always thinking about sex, he told me, and with me, sex isn't even an issue. P doesn't look at me and think "how can I have sex with her?" because he knows he can't. He looks at me and thinks "friend."
Are a lot of men like that? I asked him.
They pretty much all are, he told me.
Do you see why I don't want to have sex until I'm married? I asked him.
In order to love anyone--sisters, parents, friends, a specific male--you have to make yourself vulnerable to them. It's like leaning against a wall--you are vulnerable to the wall falling over, but if you're smart, you only lean against walls that won't let you fall over. Likewise, you only make yourself emotionally vulnerable to people who won't toy with your emotions or take advantage of you. "I hate you" is much more bitter coming from a friend than from someone you don't know.
If you're going to have sex with someone, you make yourself pretty much as vulnerable as you possibly can. And if I'm going to make myself that vulnerable to a man, I want to make sure it's a man who has sexual self-control. Someone who looks at me and thinks "beautiful woman" or "friend" or "girlfriend" or "fiance" or "wife"--someone who doesn't look at me and think "sex." My sexuality is a very important part of me, but it's definitely not the only part of me. The only way he can see the rest of me is if he gets his mind away from sex. If he already knows that he isn't getting any, and if he's still hanging out with me, it means he isn't just looking for sex.
Amazing how much respect something as simple as chastity commands.
More accurately, T doesn't like P, and P merely requites the sentiment.
I asked T what the issue was, and he told me that he disagreed with P on some important things, specifically, how P treats women.
P has always treated me well, I told him.
That's because he knows he can't get inside your pants, he told me.
Was that really it?
Men are always thinking about sex, he told me, and with me, sex isn't even an issue. P doesn't look at me and think "how can I have sex with her?" because he knows he can't. He looks at me and thinks "friend."
Are a lot of men like that? I asked him.
They pretty much all are, he told me.
Do you see why I don't want to have sex until I'm married? I asked him.
In order to love anyone--sisters, parents, friends, a specific male--you have to make yourself vulnerable to them. It's like leaning against a wall--you are vulnerable to the wall falling over, but if you're smart, you only lean against walls that won't let you fall over. Likewise, you only make yourself emotionally vulnerable to people who won't toy with your emotions or take advantage of you. "I hate you" is much more bitter coming from a friend than from someone you don't know.
If you're going to have sex with someone, you make yourself pretty much as vulnerable as you possibly can. And if I'm going to make myself that vulnerable to a man, I want to make sure it's a man who has sexual self-control. Someone who looks at me and thinks "beautiful woman" or "friend" or "girlfriend" or "fiance" or "wife"--someone who doesn't look at me and think "sex." My sexuality is a very important part of me, but it's definitely not the only part of me. The only way he can see the rest of me is if he gets his mind away from sex. If he already knows that he isn't getting any, and if he's still hanging out with me, it means he isn't just looking for sex.
Amazing how much respect something as simple as chastity commands.
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