December 16, 2005
Words for Sounds, or, "I want a fish named "Retroflex Affricate"
Sometimes, especially after reading articles like this one, I wonder if I missed my calling to be a linguist. I've realized, however, that perhaps the biggest draw to this profession would be the fact that linguists get to use cool words.
First, they get to use fun words to designate the "place of articulation." Essentially, the place of articulation is the point of contact in your mouth or throat tocreate a specific consonant sound. For example, "bilabial" sounds are those you make by first pressing your lips together (like "m" and "p") and labiodental sounds are ones you make by touching your upper teeth to your lower lip (like "v" or "f"). No one -- not even dentists -- get to call parts of your mouth by names that are as fun to say as these. Labial, laminal, apical, dorsal, radical... did you know that such places existed?
Then, as if that wasn't enough of a riot by itself, linguists also get to fling about terms that name the manner of articulation: africate, plosive, flap, trill, nasal, and, my personal favorite, fricative. By combining the place and the manner of articulation, they describe smallest and most commonplace sounds with fabulously multi-syllabled names. Make the [v] sound. There! A voiced labiodental fricative! Woah. Now, make the [d] sound. Yes! A voiced alveolar plosive, in the wild!
Why do linguists get all the fun? I suppose we shouldn't have expected anything different. Sounds are their world, and they have knowledge of the delightful. It's understandable that they would want to keep the very best to themselves, within their discipline of sounds and tongue movements.
I admit, reluctantly, that pursuing a career based solely off an irrational love for its vocabulary would not be a wise move. I wonder, though, what my chances are of naming our next pet "Glottal Fricative."
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I Dream auf Deutsch
I dreamed about German prepositions last night.
This is especially impressive since I have not yet actually learned all the prepositions.
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October 12, 2005
Soccer may be an international language...
...but apparently the Laws of the Game (LOTG) are still plagued with translation problems.
enables marital bliss by integrating spousal interests. This time, it's actually about a sport we both enjoy watching: soccer. One of Lieberman's cohorts, Jim Gordon, points out that a certain key rule actually changes meaning in the English translation:
Law 12 - Fouls and Misconduct; Decisions of the International F.A. Board (Decision 4):A tackle, which endangers the safety of an opponent, must be sanctioned as serious foul play.
Did you catch that? The commas after "tackle" and "opponent" transform a restrictive relative clause into a nonrestrictive relative clause. Instead of instructing referees to only call those tackles which are dangerous, the law now defines all tackles as something "which endangers the safety of an opponent."
Interestingly, this is not how the rule is written in the Spanish or French versions of the LOTG. Referees from those fine countries understand that you need only call dangerous tackles. Suddenly, refereeing politics becomes so much more intriguing... So tonight, as we watch the U.S. vs. Panama game, I'll pay particular attention to the nationality and language skills of the man in the middle. And if I'm at all suspicious that he's read the LOTG in English, I'll feel especially entitled to yell, "Sir!"
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October 05, 2005
When Words Mean the Wrong Thing
I like words that hint at their meaning through their sound. Onomatopoeia, of course, is the classic example. Bells clang and jangle, doors slam, puddles splash. But other words, too, seem to closely link sound and definition (or at least connotation). For example, contumacious just sounds like it means "insubordinate; rebellious." Or "ebullience". The l's, the long vowels, and the rolling cadence practically give away the definition: "the quality of lively or enthusiastic expression of thoughts and feelings."
But then there's words whose sound and meaning refuse -- for some reason or another -- to abide peacefully in my mind. My connotation detector fails, sometimes in a most splendidly obvious fashion. So I keep two dictionaries in my head. The one: common American usage in all its denotative glory. The other: my secret wishes of what certain words should mean...
Obloquy. My intuitive, personal dictionary says that "obloquy" should mean "a difficult to understand speach." Part "obtuse," part "soliloquy." (It's a lot more biting than that. It means "abusively detractive language; sharp criticism; vituperation.")
Puissance. Surely this word was supposed to mean "cowardice, fear." The smirking "oooo" sound and the nasty double "s" demands it! Boxers should circle each other ominously, jeering, "What a puissant fellow." (Though, if they did, they'd actually be complimenting him since "puissance" means "strength.")
Salubrious. I want this word to mean "greasy" in that overly suave, ingratiating way, I suppose because there's an echo of "lubricate" in there. But can't you just imagine a salubrious man with his perfect, cheesy smile, announcer voice, and slicked back hair? Ah. (Instead, it means "promoting health of well-being.")
Sedulous. I desperately want to define this word as "moving slowly and seductively." It rolls off the tongue so lazily. You could dance sedulously or watch the sedulous movement of tree branches in the breeze. (Instead, it means "diligent, persistent; hardworking.")
Temerity. It smacks of "timidity." At some point in the future, I will likely have the impulse to say something like "She has the temerity of a mouse." (Which would be fine, if I thought that mice had "boldness, brashness, and intrepidness.")
I wonder how hard it would be to snag the editor-in-chief job for the Oxford American Dictionary and make a few personal changes...
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July 27, 2005
The only time that "fo" can function as an infinitive
NPR had a fun audio postcard today about "pidgin," the unofficial official language of Hawaii locals. Hawaii's "pidgin" is technically a "creole," a language whose vocabulary is largely drawn from other languages but has its own syntax. Because of it's mash-up origins, pidgin is often snubbed as a corrupt form of English, a sure sign of uneducated, "country" folk. But pidgin can't be sub-standard English because it isn't English; it is a distinct language with consistent rules for grammar and pronunciation.
Most people in Hawaii can speak and understand both Standard American English and Hawaiian Pidgin and switch seamlessly between each as the situation demands. It's a wonderful thing to have our Samoan tree trimmers come to the door and hear my usually grammatically-correct mother slide into sentences like, "Cut dem shorta, yeah?" or "You guys need one glass of watta?"
She's not being lazy; she's just trying to be understood.
(Bonus: a spoken pidgin dictionary online)
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June 23, 2005
Rasheed Wallace and the Linguist
Tonight, as you all sit down in breathless anticipation to watch Game 7, don't forget that there's more to blog about than just what goes down on the court.
There's also the wacky language-usage bonanza at the post-game press conference.
Word-devotee Mark Liberman, over at the Language Log, noticed a discrepancy between several prominent newspapers' coverage of a Rasheed Wallace interview. As far as we can tell, Rasheed said:
Even though I did a bonehead play the other night, had to put it behind me.
Apparently, while other papers kept the verb "did," the New York Times went ahead and cleaned up the grammar and switched to the norma loquend'si favored verb, "made." But postponing questions of journalistic practice and integrity until later in the post, Liberman produces a brilliant alternative apologetic for Rasheed's phraseology:
Semantically, performing an action (even as abstract an action as failing to guard someone in the closing seconds of a basketball game) ought to be something that you do, not something that you make. And when you make a play, you're talking about succeeding at something, not neglecting or failing at something. So if Rasheed was putting words together from first principles, rather than slavishly following phrasal fashion, it makes sense for him to have said that he "did a bonehead play".
So, as we watch the game tonight, I will be blissfully imagining Rasheed Wallace as an ally to Noam Chomsky. Noel's right. There are a lot of reasons to like the NBA.
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