Babel

It never fails to amuse me that there are so many different languages within English.

Vidjeo games, for example.  Mumorpogers contain an entire lexicon of terms that no one unfamiliar with the game will understand, except for a few vague connections to common English.  The new healer pulled agro off of the main tank and got the whole raid wiped, or maybe someone decided it was a good idea to pull the next four trash mobs at 30%, but whatever the case, you can bet that it’ll be completely unintelligible to anyone who hasn’t been shelling out that $14.99 a month for the past year.  And no, I don’t play MMOs.  I’m just an all-around nerd, and it’s important to speak the languages of your peers.

Then there are the career-related dialects, like that one study done at some research facility somewhere where the scientists had practically developed an entire unique language due to their disconnect with the outside world.  Terms in theatre, as I am quickly learning, do not follow any logical train of thought in the perspective of a newcomer to the field – in fact, I’m so uncomfortable with these terms and their usage that I don’t even feel qualified to mention the handful that I think I have a grasp on just on the off chance that I’m wrong.  Doctors speak Medical, lawyers speak Legalese, and a carpenter can name any hand or power tool in the shop with two, maybe three syllables maximum.

The amusing part about all of this is that we are so resistant to learning the tech-talk of other groups.  It would make sense, you would think, for people who need to go to the doctor to brush up on their medical terminology so that they will have an idea of what they’re being diagnosed with.  Or those who go see a film or play based on a specific subject to learn the very basics of that subject, as attendees at a production of Pygmalion should, at the very least, be aware that there is a study known as phonetics, and that it concerns the sounds of human speech.

But we don’t.  We insist that the same language that we use every day for the most mundane subjects be used in subjects that are not mundane.  And while plain English is versatile, it is also a clunky bastardized mess of a language – sometimes using terms that fall outside the realm of normalcy makes things much, much easier.

Ah well.  If we can’t ever come up with the words to say what we want to say, we can always just go buy a Hallmark greeting card to do the work for us.  Did you know that they make “troubled relationship” cards?  They say things like “I wish I could go back” or “Let’s get back on track.”  Seriously, folks, if you’re at a stage in life where you’re in a long-term relationship and things aren’t looking too good, you’d damn well better put that three bucks toward chocolate and say something from the heart.  Giving a pre-printed card in a situation like that is the epitome of tactlessness.

Mono/Dialogue

A real post to follow soon enough.  For now, have some internal conversation:

I think you should be more tolerant of other people and their beliefs.

Why?

Because when you’re intolerant, you’re being hypocritical.  You preach tolerance and understanding in some parts of your life, and then you turn around and rain fiery hatred down upon people who aren’t the same as you.

I have never in my life rained fiery hatred down upon people.  Although, at times, I sure would have liked to.

And those people would be who, exactly?  Ultra-conservatives?  The Religious Right?  Westboro?

Probably.

And why is that?

Because, while I normally try to respect people’s beliefs-

Liar.

-these people simply believe in stupid things.

Harsh words, coming from someone who believes that people have the power to completely alter their personalities.  From someone who believes that he can turn off certain parts of his mind.

So far, I think I’ve been doing pretty well, and as far as I can see the evidence shows-

And their “evidence” supports their claims, too!  You’re ignoring basic biology.

Actually, I’m not.  People can reduce the importance of emotions and feelings and convince themselves that they’re not feeling them anymore.

So you’re going to live a life of constant self-delusion?

Hey, it sure beats the alternative.

Fine.  If you have your little fantasy world, why can’t they have theirs?

My “little fantasy world,” as you so kindly put it, doesn’t protest at people’s funerals or claim that people are supposed to choose their sexuality.

But isn’t that the same idea as trying to shut out emotions?  Aren’t you trying to deny-

No.  No, I’m not.  I’ve already established that most people aren’t capable of doing what I can do with emotions, and I don’t think ANYONE is capable of convincing themselves that they’re attracted to people they’re not attracted to.

That doesn’t make any sense.

Welcome to the club.

“…the Rest… of the Story!”

While working on the project that has been eating up the vast majority (by which I mean all) of my time in these past few days, I kept half an ear open to listen to the radio.  As is customary for a household of elitist liberals, it was tuned to NPR.

News is inherently biased.  As soon as someone witnesses an event, as soon as a camera or recording device captures a segment of the whole picture, the event has been tainted by the lens of the reporter.  This is a fact.  There is no such thing as perfectly impartial news.

Fox is strongly conservative.  CNN and NBC lean fairly far to the political left.  NPR, though, tries its best to be a little more moderate… or at least more open about their biases.  The non-news programming tends to be more liberal-minded, but the news itself is fairly divided between the sides of the ‘Murikan political universe or else on a topic that is affiliated with neither.  No recommendations are given, no suggestions are made: it is simply stated that X people were affected by situation Y, and important person Z is working on potential solutions.  Simple, effective, and reasonably fair.

Not that journalism has ever really stayed on the narrow path without teetering into the ravine on either side.  The best journalists, as I mentioned above, simply report on the situation.  Sure, they (and their camera crews, and everyone else involved) are picking and choosing bits and pieces of the story to present to the general populace, and the chances that they’re leaving out some element of the story that might favor an alternative viewpoint are fairly high, but that’s part of life.  That’s why there are so many different news networks scrabbling over these developing stories.  The more people there are talking about something, the easier it is to step back and put all the pieces together, as long as you’re fairly competent at sifting out the hyperbole and rumormongering.

But I still won’t watch Fox News or anything on that channel.  Yes, I’m aware that I’m completely passing over a source of information that has millions of devoted followers and huge amounts of power, but you know what?  I’d rather stick with networks that take care to help the viewer distinguish between the reporters, who give information,  and the TV personalities, who give opinions.  O’Rielly, Hannity, Beck… these people are not journalists, contrary to what some people seem to believe.

Forgive me.  I did not intend to spend so much time on my foolish Demoncrat pro-socialism soapbox.

All I ask is that we, as a species, learn to take things with a grain of salt.  Just because someone whose face and name you recognize says it doesn’t mean it’s true.  Wait for confirmation from another source before going on the warpath.

Unless that source is someone on the internet with no credentials, no history, and no special way of accessing information.  Like me.  Or you, I’m willing to bet.

Notes on Vacation

Las Vegas is a cesspool of sin and depravity, a melting pot for all the world’s varieties of poison and bile, a sweltering hellhole designed to swallow up the willing and unwilling alike, crudely cleave their money from them, and spit up the empty husk.

I am not in Vegas.

Where I am is altogether preferable, though still far from perfect.  Gambling takes a background role, and as the preferred clientele of this establishment is as far from the twenty-something males that the more serious casinos prey on as possible, such activities as drinking in excess and the more… physical… attractions that Vegas has to offer are totally nonexistent.  Here are the buffet lines and quarter slot machines, gift shops and piano bars, glitzy showcases and passable comedians; and here are not the scantily-clad waitresses, the snobbish bartenders, and the ill-natured passers-by.  Everyone is trapped here for the time being, constrained by physical boundaries that are impossible to circumvent at the moment, and so we must all make the best of it.

Everything is progressing as anticipated.  That is to say, my expectations (set at a reasonable level, as always) are being met, and in some cases they are being exceeded, and that is more than I could have hoped for.  Yes, the more one puts into this the more one gets out of it, but the role of passive observer is one that serves reasonably well.

Such is the nature of it all.  We must focus on the good parts or else the bad threatens to overwhelm us.  And, by my definition, the good parts are those that bring some amount of enjoyment to me… even if it is at the cost of others’ pride or emotional well-being.  Much like karaoke, actually, except my mean-spirited joy comes not from listening to people butcher songs that I despise but from watching, simply watching, as my fellow vacationers provide an object lesson on how not to live one’s life.

The waifer-thin (ha ha) woman who picks her way delicately through a single plate of food while, at the next table over, an extremely overweight gentleman, Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over his too-tight T-shirt, attacks a mound that would not be out of place in a competitive eating competition where, in the end, everyone loses.  The loud, rambunctious younger couple, downing drink after drink at the bar after dinner in an attempt to convince themselves that their respective partner is still worth a second chance.  And so on and so forth.

So it begins.

…

There is a distinct hierarchy here.  It is subtle, as they most often are, but a trained eye can detect the differences in class and learn to recognize, at a glance, where one fits into the grand scheme of things.

Those who are here to eat, drink, and attempt to forget their looming early graves from heart disease are closer to the bottom.  More often than not they are polite and reasonably well-mannered, but they are lacking in something – sophistication, perhaps?  It matters not.  They are as entitled to this vacation as any of the rest of us, and even more than some of us.

The older men and women, those who are in the twilight of their lives and are looking to spend the money they’ve worked so long to accumulate, tend to carry more weight – not in the physical sense, but in terms of importance and influence.  Staff members come running when a senior senior (ha ha) needs assistance or desires some special service.  They, too, are generally polite, but their occasional brusqueness is forgiven in a way that it would not be for other guests.  The feeling is that they have earned the right to be short with the people who annoy them.

We, the watchers, are at the top of the proverbial food chain.  Deaf to the siren song of jewelry sales and free lobster, we drift aimlessly from event to event, room to room, bouncing in between the pitfalls that have claimed so many of our fellow guests.  We have made the effort to become fluent in the various elements of both high and low society so that we may float between the two without seeming out of place.  The reasons for this are myriad and independent of one another; some may be coping with the hand that life has dealt them, while others might enjoy the sensation of belonging to whichever group they choose, while still others (myself included) have no clear goal in mind.  Observe, reflect, and react, always in that order.

But even amid such diverse backgrounds there is a certain unity among the assembled patrons.  From all walks of life we assemble, determined to wring as much enjoyment as we can out of our miserable little lives.  “Value for money” is the phrase of the week, especially in this time of tightened belts and empty wallets.

Except it’s not really as bad as all that, is it?  Financial troubles are always present, and the situation is nowhere near as terrible as it could have been.  As it has been.

But for the average impressionable ‘Murikan citizen, this seems like the end of the comfortable little universe we live in.  A Muslim foreigner in the White House!  A deadly flu devastating the country!  Horrible disasters in places we don’t care for!  Foreclosures and layoffs and socialism, oh my!  So what better time to take a sizeable chunk of money and go partake in as many of the seven sins as humanly possible?

And the fiddlers play on.

Wearer of Hats…

…will return on the 15th due to the unpredictable nature of life.