Oh the Hue, Manatee!

Language is a damn funny thing. I should know. I've spoken it all my life. Actually that's not quite true. I was so shocked at having been born that I didn't speak for several years.

But seriously, Language is a HOOT! I currently teach ESL (English as a Second Language) to all manner of international students who have come to the US to study art and design. Before my current job I taught the same at a State University, and before that, I taught English to Chinese speakers in Taiwan for about 7 years. I also have spent quite a bit of time learning to speak Chinese, not to mention dabbling in other languages. I have a Master's Degree in Foreign Language Education. So, when I say language is a hoot I do so with academic authority.(If you want proof that language = hoot then check out the link on my page for Engrish.com. That site shows lots of awkward Asianisms.)

Let's look at some language mistakes that give weight to the hoot theory of language. Well, for instance, the mistake from a non native English speaker: "I am in the library. I am stacked."

Another example comes from an experience that I had in Taiwan. At a buffet style dinner my student was showing me ingrediants for making dipping sauce. There was one tannish powder she pointed to and said in very clear English "that's penis powder"

I said, "Penis powder?" I paused, remembering all the odd things Chinese eat (jelly fish, Shark fin soup, chicken feet, bird's nest soup, thousand-year eggs); so I politely asked, "What animal does it come from?"

She replied, "It doesn't come from an animal it comes from penis." My mind was blown. After some negotiating, I finally discovered she was mispronouncing "peanuts".

My mistakes in Chinese are often just as funny. In a McDonald's, I once asked for a packet of "airport" (fei ji chang) because I get that word confused with ketchup (fan chie jiang). I've also said "let's giraffe" because I get the words for "cross the road" (guo ma lu) mixed up with "giraffe" (chang jing lu).

Now, I don't intend to give the impression that making language mistakes is what gives language it's hoot-ness. What really makes it so crazy is just that it's all so haphazard. The only reason we can understand anyone else who speaks our language is that we have the same rules. These rules are totally insane and you can see that when you try to learn another language or witness someone learning your native tongue. Yet, (and here's the kicker) as a native speaker our mother tongue is not just logical, it is the epitome of logic.

Sometimes my students ask "why do you say it that way?" Sometimes I can explain things so that students begin to be initiated into the logic of English. But sometimes I just have to say "Because that's the way we say it." For some things there is a historical explanation but that doesn't mean it makes any sense!!! (an example of that is "to and fro"--where else do you say "fro" in the English languge other than to talk about Cleopatra Jones' hairdo?)

Sew the next thyme ewe here sum one make a miss steak inn specking think a bought watt eye half sed. (And I'm not even gonna go into how crazy spelling and writing are, at least not today.)

--------------Brantley-------------

What I learned from TV

Monday, Monday, Monday. Work sucked today so I'll talk about...

What I learned from TV this weekend? Well...

Dogs are basically retarded wolves. I saw it on Animal Planet the other night; I swear. They didn't actually say that dogs are retarded wolves, but I guess in the age of politcal correctness you have to put it in other ways like "Dogs are genetically the same as wolves but domestication has resulted in a decrease in brain size."

Airports are horrible places to be trapped in. Ever watch that reality show Airport? The idea is to follow people around in airports and watch the fun as they grow more and more frustrated at paying for a flight and not getting on it.

Airports are horrible places to work. Again with Airport. Their are angry drunks who demand flights. vicious people who verbally attack airport employees. And most of those employees remain somewhat calm. They don't pay those people enough! That my friends is the real reason they no longer allow toe nail clippers in airports. Either an employee or a disgruntled ticket holder would plug it into the others jugular. I imagine Matrix like fights in concourses.

I learned a lot of other things, like who America's top model was for season 2 (there was a marathon on E! and somehow I got sucked in: hours of Tyra Banks making hungry (literally) young women fight for a chance to have a modeling contract. (It was very similar to watching the show about retarded wolves), and that Al Gore now has his own TV network (I'm still not sure about that one).

So to wrap it all up, my job's not as bad as an airport employee, but not quite as good as Tyra Banks or Al Gore. At least, when I come home everyday, I have my retarded wolf to greet me at the door wagging her tail.

-------Brantley-----------

The Meaning of Monkey's Instep

It's Sunday! So with my infinite ability to avoid doing things that need to be done, I decided I needed a blog this morning. Why should everyone else in the world with nothing important to say have one except me? So here it is "Monkey's Instep".

You may ask yourself "What does monkey's instep mean?" Well, I lifted the term from an old second-hand English slang dictionary that I found in a dusty bookshop on Ding Chou road in Taipei, Taiwan. (The book was a birthday present for a friend, but I had to rogue read it before gifting.) "The monkey's instep" is one of many phrases used in the 1920's to mean "the height of excellence". I don't know why flappers and racoon coated co-eds were so into animal anatomy, but there were other terms popular at the time meaning the same thing: the eel's ankles, the snake's hips, and the more well-known bee's knees and cat's pajamas (which, I realize, has nothing to do with anatomy but what the hey.)

Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't coose the name because I expect my blog to be the height of excellence (though for the 1920's it would be rockin'!) I chose it because, well, I like monkeys.

When I was a kid, I really, really wanted a monkey. For Christmas, for Birthdays, I always asked for a monkey. It seemed natural. I grew up on a farm; there were all kinds of animals there: Pigs, cows, dogs, cats, there were rescued animals, a baby rabbit, possoms, birds with broken wings. Why not throw a monkey in the mix?

My parents in their infinite wisdom did not get me a monkey. If they had I believe I would no longer like monkeys. (they bite; they stink; they throw poop!) I would still be crying on some therapists couch traumatized from having been bitten by my dearest childhood fantasy. (That's analogous to being bitch-slapped by Santa Claus) I'd also be living with the guilt from years of living with being a monkey abuser, not to mention the likelyhood of suffering from a Lady MacBeth like neurosis at having spilled the blood of an innocent (read: Barbaric) monkey. "Out, Out damn monkey-blood spot!"

Anyway, I'm going to post my musings about everything from Buddhist philosophy to reality television (Do reality TV stars have Buddha-nature?) I may not achieve "the height of excellence" but I'll just take it one monkey step at a time.