Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Whither Goest Thou?

That phrase has a tendency to turn up occasionally in books, sermons and poetical works. It is, as many such quotes are, Biblical in origin, although for some reason I thought I remembered seeing in in a poem by Keats or Tennyson at some point.

No doubt I did, but not as the first line, which is where my brain was subconsciously putting it.

Perhaps most famously, in recent years, it was used by Jack Kerouac in The Road. But it has also made an appearance in a variety of other works over the past couple of centuries.

It was the "modern" English translation of the Latin phrase "Quo Vadis" back when the Bible was first translated into vernacular English. Well, someone's vernacular. Vernacular enough for most English speakers to understand it when the dude on the funny stage read from in on a Sunday morning, which put it miles ahead of the Latin version.

What I like about it is the fact that it contains three words we don't use in English any more - but more than that, it actually uses three morphological constructs we don't use any more. This simple question contains entire language concepts that have been dropped from the English language.

I bet you ten dollars that, if you walked into a hair dresser's or a supermarket and asked the nearest twenty-something native English speaker to explain the grammar and vocabulary involved in those three words, they wouldn't be able to. Many of them would probably struggle to tell you what the question even means. We simply don't have those words or those grammatical constructs in our language anymore.

BUT - and here's the kicker - almost everyone else is still using them. If we understood what went into the question "whither goest thou?", we would be in a better position to learn other European languages. Having studied Shakespeare, Middle English and Anglo Saxon in my youth, I've long had the opportunity to wrap my head around these concepts, but I've seen how the other people in my class struggle with them.

You can sometimes see people not only struggling, but actively resisting. "It's too complicated!" you can feel them saying, "why do I have to learn something I never use in my own language?"

I do it myself with Estonian. There are a few points where my brain just says "Nope, that's a little bit stupid, and I'm not playing". I'm trying to talk myself out of such behaviour - to just relax my grip on what a language should do, and accept what it actually does instead, but sometimes things are just a little too "foreign" for my tiny brain, and I find myself trying to push the English simplicity onto the Estonian complexity. It never works, unfortunately.

Anyway, back to "whither goest thou?"

To start with: Whither.

We once had three different words to express what we now cover with "where".

Whither? = where to?
Where? = where (now)?
Whence? = where from?

Bad joke that only works with abandoned interrogatives:
Two men were walking over a bridge when they stopped to look into the brook. One sighed deeply and said: "Look at those fish! They are such happy little fish." The other man looked at him with disdain and said: "You can't say that. Whence do you know they are happy?" The first man thought about it for a little while and said: "I know it from this bridge."
Yeah, I know. Terrible and not very funny, but it showcases the way we used to use our language. Whence was used to discuss time and place, and was often used to mean "how?" so there's a little play on multiple meanings in there. If you think about it carefully, you still won't find it funny.

Anyway, as I was saying, many other modern European languages still use separate words for these concepts - especially those which, like English, come from Germanic origins. Take German, for example:

Whither? = Wohin?
Where? = Wo?
Whence? = Woher?

Or try Russian on for size:

Whither? = куда?
Where? = где?
Whence? = откуда?

Estonian:

Whither? = Kuhu?
Where? = Kus?
Whence? = Kust?

Italian (and French) does more or less the same as modern English, and has one word for "where", to which they add words to indicate the "to" or "from". That word, by the way, is "dove". I recently spend a good ten minutes on a bus trying to remember what the word "dove" meant. I passed a street called Dove Street, and the phrase "dove andiamo" popped into my head, and for the life of me I could not remember what "dove" meant. I could remember that "andiamo" was "we go" or "let's go", but for some reason I just couldn't put the pieces of the puzzle together. This was made doubly annoying because I'm not learning Italian, and therefore shouldn't care.

To continue: "Goest" and "thou"

These two are quite closely related. You see, once upon a time, we changed the endings of our verbs to match the person doing them. It's called verb conjugation, and we don't do it anymore. Not really. Not in anyway that we actually notice. Pretty much everyone else does, though. When we did it, it looked a bit like this:

I go
Thou goest
He/she/it goeth
We/you/they ...

Well, actually, the plurals are a bit tricky. Depending on where you came from, it may be "goeth", "go" or something else. But whatever it was, all of the plurals were the same.

These days we have:

I/we/you/they go
He/she/it goes

So "goeth" is the verb "go" in second person singular conjugation. Which makes perfect sense, because it is with the word "thou", which is the second person singular pronoun.

As I have previously rabbited on about, we used to have plural and singular second person pronouns (actually, we also had a dual form, but quite frankly that was just weird). That's exactly what most other languages have. You have "I" and "me", "thou" and "you", "he/she/it" and "they".

The plural also doubles as the polite form, so you might address a singular person as "you" or "vous" or "Sie" or "teie" (depending on the language) until you got to know them better, or unless they were noticeably younger (or poorer) than you. You would use "thou" for a youth, a peasant or a friend.

So, in the question: "Whither goest thou?", we have an interrogative we no longer use, a verb conjugation we no longer use and a pronoun we no longer use - but all of which are still in use in other European languages.

Not bad for something that is, essentially, a friendly way to say "where are you going?"

Monday, August 29, 2011

Favourite headline for today:


Rural Elementary Schools Face Lack of Children


You can read the whole, sad story here.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Somerset-Sproats

I attended the August meeting of the Royal Saarloos Wolfhond Association of Great Britain in the hope of continuing my interview with the elusive Captain Katherine Twomey-Fosnot.

I had been told by my sources that she rarely missed a meeting, although it was impossible to know if the Captain was even in the same century these days - let alone country.

Suddenly, I heard a voice call out from show grounds:

"Clarabelle! Clarabelle stop that at once! You know you are only supposed to savage grey squirrels!"

I was in luck. Captain Twomey-Fosnot might not have been in sight, but if my sources were correct I had found someone who might be able to answer a few questions for me.


Excuse me, are you Lieutenant-Commander Sabastian Somerset-Sproats?

Eh? What? Maybe I am, boy, what's it to you?

I'm not a boy, sir, I'm --

What's that? Then why are you wearing trousers?

What? They're jeans. Anyway --

Who's Jean, and why should I care if you are wearing his trousers? Why are you wearing his trousers, anyway? Seems like a dashed silly thing to do.

No, I'm not... I'm a reporter for Fictitious Monthly and I was wondering if I might be able to ask you some questions --

Fictitious Monthly? Never read it. It's a load of tosh and balderdash.

Our readers may disagree. Anyway, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Captain Katherine Twomey-Fosnot?

Tomey-Fosnot! That jumped up tramp? You know the woman had the gall to join the Australian Infantry just so she could ride a horse all day and call herself a 'captain'? 'Captain' my foot! I'll tell you what she is: she's a little tart who doesn't know the right place for a woman.

I thought you--

You know, she has a nasty habit of wearing trousers, too.

Whatever. I had heard a rumour that the two of you were engaged. I take it this isn't true?

Engaged? Hah! Tosh! I wouldn't touch that woman with a barge pole. I'll tell you something for nothing, young man--

I'm not a--

I wouldn't share the time of day with Twomey-Fosnot if not for that dog of hers. That Jonathan is a fine specimen, and I hope to breed him with my Clarabelle. Can you imagine the litter! A fine pair they would make. Truly fine.

Ah, okay --

I mean, really, me and Twomey-Fosnot! Can you imagine it?

Not really, sir. I'm sure she actually has some sort of class.

Eh? What?

Thank you for your time, sir.

So my attempts to find out more about Captain Twomey-Fosnot's role with the Harris & Byrne Book Detective Agency proved fruitless on this occasion.

I saw some nice Sarloos Wolfhonds, though...

Moodle is to Blackboard as...

Oh, and for those are used to Blackboard and ask me what Moodle is like, let me put it this way:

Moodle is to Blackboard as Mac is to PC.

That should cover it nicely.

And I'm a moron

Every now and then I notice that I'm actually pretty stupid.

My university (through which I'm learning German) has recently changed from Blackboard to Moodle (this will make sense to people involved in universities, I apologise to the rest of you), and now there is an extra step involved in submitting assignments.

It was written all over the assignment submission page, but I was in a hurry at the time and didn't read it. Nor did I noticed the big button saying "Send for Marking".

So, now my assignment is 10 days late rather that just one. And all because I was in too much of a hurry to read information that was right in front of me.

So far, this semester has not been quite as smooth sailing as last semester.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Continua

In my last post I mentioned the confidence-competence continuum, and thought it might bear some explanation.

For those of you who haven't encountered it before, the confidence-competence continuum is a bit like the space-time continuum, only more applicable to your daily lives (if completely devoid of either science or physics - ain't that always the way?).

It is the theory that one's competence in any given task is directly and irrevocably related to their confidence. If they aren't confident, then they aren't competent. If they aren't competent, then they aren't confident. As you progress in one, so you progress in the other (hence the continuum).

I tend to apply this to cycling. When I feel less than confident about approaching a situation on my bike, I think it might be a good idea to get off and walk. I may actually be quite capable of negotiating the situation, but I know my lack of confidence will lead to a lack of competence. In so many little ways, I'm likely to balk. It's the balking that will see me land face-first in a pile of rocks.

That's why maniacs can do stupid things and not die, while careful people can do relatively tame things and hurt themselves. The level of confidence is providing a matching level of competence.

Of course, sometimes people are just deluded, and can therefore kill themselves whilst doing something reckless and stupid. But then, if the universe didn't allow for things like that, those of use who manage to hurt ourselves while being careful would probably rebel against the "natural order of things" and start trying to even the score.

"Oh, you managed to do that ridiculously stupid thing without dying did you? That's very interesting. Just stand there for a minute while I go get a large stick with which to beat you to death."

And the winner is...

...the Brommie.

It probably wasn't the world's best comparison test. In spite of the fact that I told the shop I was flying to Brisbane specifically to visit their shop and check out those two models of bikes, they didn't have the other model to look at.

I needed to try a Pocket Companion or a New World Traveller for the Bike Friday, and all they had was a Tikit that was a size too small for me. Needless to stay, it did not stack up well against the Brompton they had in the shop.

Mind you, I was leaning towards the Brompton anyway. That fold is just the best fold out there. And the idea of not disassembling the bike appealed to me greatly.

Riding it around the streets near the shop (including deliberately going off the path and through some debris) was also reassuring. It was no more uncomfortable on rough sections of road that the bike I'm currently riding, and with a few tweaks to the saddle and handle-bar angles will probably fit better than the bike I'm currenly riding as well.

And, when you think about it, the only times I'll really need a bike capable of doing more "serious" off road stuff will be when I'm on a proper bike tour, and then I'll probably be able to rent a more suitable bike. This one is for taking with me when I go places, not for going cross-country.

Maybe the proper Bike Friday would have proven a better bike agains the Brommie if it had been available, and maybe one day I'll get the chance to try it and decide I must have it. For now, the Brommie was the best bike in the three bike shoot-out (I also tried a Dahon Vitesse), and it was a bike that made me smile. I tried it twice. The first time I liked it, the second time I really liked it.

It felt reliable, if that is a strange thing to say. Like I could get away with pushing things a bit without landing flat on my face. The other two bikes felt like I needed to be careful with them. I'm a big believer in the confidence-competence continuum, and I felt more confident on the Brompton.

So, "my" Brompton is probably about two weeks to a month away. I may be doing a few "I'm getting a new bike" happy dances in the intervening weeks. Just thought I should warn you.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The trouble with bikes

Is that there are too many to choose from.

In the last couple of days, just as I've been preparing to head down to Brisvegas and try to make up my mind between the two bikes I've been umming and ahhing about these past weeks (months?), I start thinking about a third one.

I've been deliberating avoiding looking at the Dahon, because everything I've read has put it at number three on the list of folding bikes, and I figured I'd give myself a break and limit my indecision to the top two.

But, I went and looked it up last week, didn't I? And now I've got yet another option worth looking at.

It's all Peter's fault.

As I've been investigating the Brompton I've become mildly attached to Peter, from NYCewheels. He does the product review/ads for his bike shop (if I lived in New York, I would buy something from this shop, just to thank them for having such useful YouTube clips), and I've been watching his stuff on the Brompton very closely. Then I stumbled across another review of his where he was showing off the Dahon Speed P8, and it looked a heck of a lot more all-roady than the Brompton.

This is important, for Townsville. There are sections of road and bike path that may as well be off-road, they are so badly torn up and poorly maintained. There's a section on my route home that practically shakes the light of the handlebars every time, and the council recently repainted it, so I'm guessing they don't really intend to resurface it.

I accidentally dropped into another permanent pothole on my way home last night (sunken manhole covers are a common occurrence in Townsville bikelanes), and it felt quite jarring with my 24inch wheels. I'm not sure how it's going to go with 16. Maybe getting the 20 wheels is the better option for a town like Townsville? Dahon and BF both have 20s, and judging from the pictures the Dahon is a slightly neater fold...

As a certain annoying comic strip character would say:

Ack!

Monday, August 22, 2011

Product placement

So, Amazon is now selling ad space on their pages for products they don't sell.

Okay, fair enough, but I'm not sure what their space sales team are doing. Product placement could be a tad more logical. I just saw an ad for Chinese chicken soup on a page for an introductory Latin textbook.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Oh, by the way...

And, just in case anyone was thinking of sneaking up behind me and touching my head, just to see what I would do, allow me to spoil all your fun by telling you exactly how I would react:

Firstly, I would probably jump a little and make a bit of a noise. Probably not a scream, because I'm not really a screamer (I have to make my vocal chords produce that sound and it's not terribly comfortable), but definitely a little yelp. You know, the kind of thing most people do when startled.

Then I will be mildly annoyed.

Depending on what mood I'm in at the time and how much I like and respect you, I will express that annoyance by either punching you in the nuts* or sighing deeply and calling you a moron (or something similar).

That's about it, really.

If you think that will be entertaining, then whatever.

I'm afraid I haven't given you my kryptonite here. These are things that I try to avoid because they make me uncomfortable, but they aren't really buttons worth pushing. I'm not going to flail my arms about amusingly or hate you forever if you decide to try your luck.


*Of all the people I know, the ones I'm most expecting to try this all have nuts.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Seating Arrangements

Seating plans are strange things, aren't they?

I'm a bit out of the loop with these (as I am for most things), because when someone asks me about where people should sit, I tend to think in terms of locations.

If you asked me where I wanted to sit, I would pick a place. "Over by the window", "On the right side of the aisle so I can stretch my leg", "where I can see the door".

Actually, nine times out of ten, I usually pick a place where I can see the door. It may not be obvious at first, but if you paid close attention you might notice that, when given the choice of where to sit, I tend to pick a spot where my back is to a wall and I can easily see the door or passageway. I'll sometimes pick a spot that is less attractive or more awkward to get to, just because it has better lines of sight.

Over the years I've managed to whittle most of my hang-ups regarding personal space down to two:

The big one is that I don't like people touching my head. I'm okay as long as they are a professional of some description (a hairdresser, for example), and I have asked them to do something (like, say, cut my hair), but apart from that I can see no reason why anyone would touch my head, and therefore no reason why anyone should touch my head. Not unless they were being a) deliberately annoying, b) weird and creepy or c) all of the above.

The second one is that I don't like having my back to a door or passageway. I don't mind having people behind me as long as I know they're there. I'm really not comfortable with the idea that someone can enter the room and walk up behind me without my being aware of it.

I spent the last three years sitting in a desk in a nice spacious office next to a big window. I had plenty of natural light, I could see the sky and some trees, I could talk to people without making a special trip and I had lots of places to store things. It was, however, positioned in such a way that I had an entrance behind me.

I have recently moved to a smaller office in a poky little room with less room, less storage space, hardly any natural light and the world's most unpredictable airconditioning (some days it's hot, but then it's freezing by the afternoon) - and most of my friends are in a different room. I actually like it better than where I was sitting before because I'm in a nice little corner where my back is to a wall and I can easily see the only door from where I am.

I need to enjoy it while it lasts, because when we move to the renovated office space in October (well, maybe November), I've managed to get one of the only two spots which is right at the end of two corridors. I've got one passage way directly behind me and another on a slightly oblique angle. People can come up behind me from two different directions. Yay.

Now, the reason why this has come about is because, other than having my back to an entrance, I don't care where I sit - or, rather, whom I sit next to. Other people apparently do.

It seems that other people, when asked where they want to sit, make their decisions based on "I don't want to sit next to X or Y". So there were a couple of combinations of people that needed to be avoided.

It's not that the people who didn't want to sit next to X or Y don't like X or Y - they just find them annoying and prefer having them in small doses. The thought of spending all day every day in close proximity to the annoying person is something they wanted to avoid.

I don't have that problem. I can rest safe in the knowledge that, in any given combination of people, I'm the most annoying person in the room. I am, quite frankly, the most annoying person I know, and I've yet to meet someone who annoys me more than I annoy myself.

So, someone turns to me and says, "do you mind sitting next to X or Y?" to which I can only say: "Why would I mind? They're the poor sucker who has to put up with me."

So, as everyone else arranged where they wanted to sit based on whom they were willing to sit next to, I wound up choosing a location I don't like just to get out of the way.

Oh, well. I need to get over this anyway.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Released into the wild - the Fastpacker's Swag

My cousin, Joel, has been talking about ideas on his blog.

Specifically, he's been talking about the way we jealously guard our ideas, even if we don't have the skills or means to do anything about them. Even though we can't do anything with the idea, we seem reluctant to release it into the wild to see if anyone else can make it happen.

This is, as Joel would confirm, odd, because it means we may never see our ideas brought into reality - and for some reason we are equally depressed by the idea of our ideas coming to nothing as we are by the idea of someone else realising them.

Anyway, I have seen the wisdom of his comments, so I have an idea that I would like to release into the wild. Anyone who can make this is welcome to. I won't be asking for any acknowledgement or royalties - I only ask that you don't try to keep the idea for yourself (no patenting, in other words - share and share alike).

My idea is:

The Fastpacker's Swag


Fastpackers (that's an American term, but I don't know what we call it in this hemisphere) like to go hiking at a rather fast pace. That is, they run. They run for several days through the wilderness, and like to travel light (what with all the running).

Because of this, they tend to avoid taking most of the stuff that a normal hiker would take - like a complete tent or a full-sized sleeping mat.

A swag (that's an Australian term, but I don't know what it is called in the northern hemisphere) is like a combination between a sleeping bag, tent and sleeping mat. They can involve a bit of a vestibule, for you to keep your back out of the rain, and may involve a single tent pole or a guy rope.

It is usually made of canvas and involves a full mat, but if you could make one out of a lighter (water proof) material, with a mummy style torso mat (with cut-outs to reduce the weight) and make the mat section inflatable so that you get the extra cushioning of the air, you could probably reduce the size and weight of the swag considerably.

So much so, that it might serve as a complete replacement for tent/mat/sleeping bag for a fastpacker (take a bag liner instead of a bag). And, of course, you could design it to work with a walking stick instead of a tent pole...

It wouldn't be as comfortable as a proper swag, but fastpacker's gear isn't high on the comfort level anyway.

And, anyway, I want one - so if you make it and it becomes commercially available (or you are aware of such a thing already existing) let me know.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

What for and sentence structure

By the way, it occurred to me that everyone involved in the entire selection process for Latvia was apparently unaware that their 2010 entrant to Eurovision was using noticeably poor sentence structure in her song.

So, just a heads up for anyone who, like the Latvian Eurovision committee, thinks you can start an English question with the phrase "what for":

You can't.

"What for" always splits on either side of the full question:

"What is this axe for?"
"What did you do that for?"
"What are we living for?"

It's a corruption of "for what purpose" or "for what reason". You could start a question with "for what reason" (in fact, if you wanted to be completely correct, you probably should start the question that way), but it would sound pretty dorky:

"For what reason are we living?"

Dorky though it may be, that would still sound miles better than "what for are we living?"

"For what reason are we living?" sounds overly formal and slightly unnatural in modern usage. "What for are we living?" is just wrong.

Where you get "what for" together at the beginning of a question is when it is the entire question.

"Can you see me in my office after lunch?"
"What for?"

You can't see them, but there are words between the "what" and "for" in that example. The response is short for "what do you want to see me for?" Or, to be extra formal and correct: "For what purpose would you like to see me?"

By rights, the question should really be "for what?"

"Can you see me in my office after lunch?"
"For what?"

But, in modern English colloquial usage, we tend to go with "what for" - you just can't start a sentence that way.

Why? Quite frankly, only Mr God knows why, but if you aren't sure how to use "what for", might I suggest that you simply don't? The single word "why" works just as well, and avoids all sorts of value judgements regarding correct grammatical structures.

"Why is this axe here?"
"Why did you do that?"
"Why are we living?"

Why, indeed?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

...and a flashlight

My working environment has progressed to the stage that I always come to work with a bottle of water and a pocket flashlight.

I'm also contemplating scoping out the nearby buildings to see which as the most quickly accessible toilets.

These things are not what I expected from a job as an academic librarian...

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Still makes me laugh

She looks so earnest. She sounds so ridiculous. I just love the way the tears well up in her eyes as she says "I ask my uncle Joe, but he doesn't speak", and the way she says "what for do people live until they die?" as though the question really means something.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Still thinking: Audio Books

So, I'm still contemplating that idea of looking at the design of introductory language text-books as a Masters project. Part of me still really wants to play with the Introduction to Anglo Saxon concept, but lately I've been toying with another "output":

Audio books.

One of my pet peeves with educational material is the fact that they all lock you to something with your eyes. You'll either be locked to a book or a computer screen. You may, if you are lucky, also have the option of trading the computer screen for a TV screen, if you have a DVD as part of your materials.

Generally speaking, though, you have to be in a position to read something or watch something - you never have the freedom to just listen. Even the audiotapes usually come with a workbook, so that you have to read while listening in order to get anything useful out of it.

This is a pain, because there are so many times during the day when one might not be at liberty to read, but could still listen to something. You can listen to something while washing the dishes, but you can't read a book. You can listen to something while driving the car, but you can't watch a DVD. You can listen to something while going for a walk, but you can't work through a series of cleverly created activities on a computer.

And, you know, sometimes you get to a stage when reading things starts to give you a headache and you just can't look at a screen any longer. When I did my undergrad degree, I often found myself at a point where I would have happily paid extra to have audio copies of my textbooks and readings - but such things were only available to students with documented visual disabilities. "My eyes get tired and I sometimes have to walk or drive somewhere" doesn't really get you access to that sort of stuff.

It was the same when I started reading bucket loads of journal articles and books for my post-grad degree.

When I first started looking at language learning, I was looking at "teach yourself" material, which has a much stronger focus on "do this in your car!", but there's a strange element to those "in your car!" packages - they seem to all be trying to brainwash you, rather than teach you. With language learning material there is a very clear line between "learn this language in ten days without having to do any work!" packages and material designed to actually support proper language learning, and sadly most of the audio material that is reasonably stand-alone falls on the wrong side of that line.

I was over the moon when I discovered the joys of podcasts. So much good stuff based on the old radio concept of people listening to things they can't see.

I am particularly enamoured of podcasts like germangrammarpod, which assumes you are an intelligent person who can understand complex ideas when someone explains them in a clear and rational manner, and Italianpod.com, which uses a lot of the strengths of radio to make the audio experience interesting and fun, but makes sure you actually learn a decent range of concepts in the ten minutes provided.

But, and this is an important observation, I think, the podcasts I find most useful are either produced by individuals for their own personal amusement, or as part of a "teach yourself" package. I still haven't come across anything that could be considered a decent introductory "text" for language students that has a stand-alone audio component.

So, maybe I could look into what kind of information is covered in your standard introductory text, and look at what needs to be done to usefully format it for an audio book concept - turn the idea of the undergrad language text package on its head: instead of having a text-based book with some audio accompaniment to augment it, have an audio-based book with some text for augmentation.

The idea being: if you can take the time to look at something while listening, then you could get more out of the package. But if all you can do is listen right now, then you won't be getting less.

Bad Student

I am a bad student. I used to be a good student, but my last year of Education changed that. I had quite a lot of contact hours in an extremely boring subject that had the unfortunate combination of redundant information and a delivery by a lecturer with no inflection.

The man spent hours telling me information I already knew (and found boring in the first place) in a voice that never once deviated from "sleep inducing drone".

In order to avoid gouging out my own eyes with my pencil, I learnt to distract myself from the extreme boredom by drawing comics on the back of my notes and writing myself little stories in class. I would zone in every now and then to check to see if he was saying anything new, then comfortably go back to my fantasy world.

Ever since then I've had great difficulty focusing in classes - especially if the teacher is talking about something I already have a handle on. Previously, I would wait patiently, nod politely and answer a few questions (or ask some) to make them feel like they had a responsive audience. Now I have a tendency to start planning a novel (which will never be written), draw designs for inventions (which will never be made) or leaf through whatever book I happen to have with me (which may or may not be for that subject).

It's worse now that I study online. For my Estonian classes, it's a different kettle of fish because it's just me and my tutor, and you can't zone out someone when they are talking specifically to you. The German classes, on the other hand, are shocking. It's completely audio/text, so I have a tendency to do all sorts of things instead of paying attention to the class, and just scan the process of the lesson occasionally so I can leap into action when someone mentions my name.

And as for the face-to-face classes I have? Let's just say I am no longer a responsive audience - especially if I happen to have the iPod on me and can check my emails.

Bad habits can be so very easy to form, can't they?

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Oh, my sweet potato salad

This is for a spare moment of extreme weirdness:

http://www.epbot.com/2011/08/song-john-wont-stop-singing.html

It's so weird, I spent several moments feeling entirely speechless. I still have no idea what to say.

Not even in the same league as Solid Potato Salad. Next to this, SPS was a perfectly sensible thing for people to do on a Sunday afternoon.

Two Days

I'm sorry, but the news isn't good. I'm afraid you've contracted Võlts Disease - a completely fictitious illness which is incurable and fatal. I'm afraid you only have two days to live.

If you had come to us two weeks ago, when you first experienced your symptoms, we'd have managed to diagnose you sooner, you would have known about this for the past two weeks, which might have been enough time to do things like visit places you've never seen before, but always wanted to, or read that book you've been saving for your holidays.

But, sadly, you didn't, and we didn't, and now you only have two days left.

What are you going to do with your time?

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

There's a Bear in There

I've been a bit philological for my last couple of posts, so I thought I'd break it up a bit by talking about Playschool.

I was watching an episode while eating breakfast a few weeks ago, and Justine was showing the viewers how the lights in the studio can change the look of the set...

And suddenly I realised just how simple the Playschool set-up really was. The whole thing is just a cyclorama with some flats representing trees (for outside) or a wall with a window (for inside). Beyond that, it's just a small handful of props and a few well-placed lights.

So, I was looking at this, thinking: "Good Lord, you could do this in your basement (if you had a basement)!" Heck, the entire musical accompaniment is just one piano!

And this is possibly the most popular and long-running show in Australian television history (apart from the news). It's one of the longest running children's shows in the world.

So, now I have this powerful urge to rip of the Playschool model (not the format, because that would be a copyright infringement) and make an incredibly cheap children's show in someone's backyard. Maybe I can convince JCU to let me use the Cowshed Theater, or something. It wouldn't take that much effort to convert it to a sound stage...

Oh, and if I make it bilingual, I can try to sell it to SBS. I reckon an English/Italian preschoolers' TV show with books, games, stories, songs and arts-and-crafts projects would go down a treat with the SBS crowd.

All I need is a catchy theme tune, some charismatic bilingual hosts and some helpful Italian mothers to provide the songs...

Monday, August 1, 2011

Accusative and Dative

Meanwhile, there's something that has been bothering me for some time:

Why doesn't Estonian have Accusative and Dative cases? It has more cases than any language really needs, but not an Accusative or Dative case?

Russian has Accusative and Dative cases. German has Accusative and Dative cases. Finish has an Accusative case and a Partative case for the direct object (I'm not sure what it does for it's indirect objects)...

Since all of the major language that would influence Estonian have at least an Accusative case, why doesn't Estonian?

Surely, like Finish, it must have had an Accusative/Partitive thing happening for direct objects. What happened to the Accusative? Why did it decide that the object of a sentence could be in anyone of the three base cases? How did the Genitive case get to be the main go-to case for total objects?

Coming from a language that relies heavily on the subject-verb-object relationship, it seems odd to me. Like someone created a person without any feet, and then tried to come up with a variety of foot-substitutes. Functional? Well, yes. Practical? Not so much.

Then again, a lot of Estonian seems like that.