Literally Overused Words and Phrases – Awesome, Literally, Unique, “It’s All Good.” And a Word I’m Afraid of: Curmudgeon. In Five Posts:

Okay, so these next few posts may seem curmudgeonly to some, but we’ll get to that later.



The misuse of “awesome” is not awe-inspiring, but it’s so fashionable now to use “awesome” (or “amazing”) as the standard response to the smallest convenience or pleasure that I have to wonder if the actual meaning of the word is forgotten, or perhaps it was never fully understood, thus leaving us with one fewer word to describe the stupendous.

Conversation in a store:

Clerk: There’s something wrong with the credit card operation right now . .

Me: Well, here, I can pay cash.

Clerk: That would be AWESOME!


Conversation on the street:

First person: Looks like there’s 15 minutes left on this meter.

Second: That’s AWESOME, dude!


It’s actually kind of cute and kind of annoying all at once. It’s cute because people, mostly young people, say “awesome” with such conviction. It’s as if they’d suffered uniformly drab, disappointing lives up to that moment. “Tic tacs in colors other than white? AWESOME!!!” “There’s a bus-stop. AMAZING!!!”

“Really?” I want to ask. What word is left, then, for, say, comprehensive climate change legislation, a cure for cancer, the resurrection of John Lennon? And so the evocation of awe, previously reserved for the wonders akin to those given us in the Old Testament, annoys after awhile for the same reason that the misuse of “literally” annoys.

This brings to mind the current vogue in the expression of gratitude: “Thank you soooooo much!” which can be evoked by a gesture as simple as loaning a pen to someone for a moment. If such a simple courtesy evokes such gushing gratitude, what is left if I save that same person, moments later, from an oncoming car or a knife-wielding maniac?

Addendum to "Awesome" -- Mea Culpa!!

One of you wrote in response to this entry:

greg, your blog is just AWESOME! amazing, really!

My initial reaction was that I was so pleased that she liked it . . . and then, after a few moments, I realized, to my chagrin, that she used "AWESOME" and "amazing" for comic effect.

Whereas, initially, I just felt complimented.

So, it would seem that, for a moment, I accepted the possibility of my own awesomeness. And that, dear reader, is even worse than the overuse of "awesome."

Literally . . . Overused

I am not literally sick to death of the misuse of these words. Why? Because if I were, I’d be dead. Why? Because the presence of the adverbial form of “literal” in this paragraph’s first sentence tells you . . . . oh, you may be literally tired of this, but . . . I continue: The presence of “literally” means (and, of course, I’m tempted to say it “literally” means) that what follows in the sentence happened just as the words indicated, i.e., in reality, actually, factually. “My head literally exploded when Rosie played 30 minutes of Justin Bieber last night while I was doing math,” means that . . . you’re dead and your math book is a mess.

(Tina sometimes, but never literally, talks trash.)


Yes, yes, yes the overuse of the misused “literal” is not a revelatory observation. Others are fighting the good fight on this front. See here and here. And, yes, I know that the abusers of the word don’t mean me to believe that whatever follows “literally” literally happened. People are speaking figuratively, of course. But is that the end of it? Is that really an adequate defense for “I literally coughed my lungs up” and “I literally cried my eyes out” and “_____(your favorite here)______________”?

Can’t we also recommend that we literally give the figurative “literally” a rest? That would be awesome.

Unique -- This Post Is Not

I’m amazed I intend to spend time on the death of “unique” as a spoken word. The misuse of it has so ingratiated itself into common parlance that it’s official definition may change in my lifetime. Custom has long made “unique” more applicable to the merely unusual and so those of you out there wanting to fight this fight . . . will lose. My English teachers, yours, too, probably, occasionally explained that “unique” is like “pregnant.” There are no degrees of pregnancy. You either are or you’re not. So with uniqueness. Something can’t be “very unique.”

I rarely hear it used correctly, i.e., to indicate that some phenomenon is “one of a kind”, absolutely sui generis. Rather, I most often hear it used to describe relative rarity and, sadly, when I hear it used correctly, the person is quite often wrong about the uniqueness of the phenomenon because they are too hopeful or just quantitatively wrong about the uniqueness of the matter addressed.

It used to be that “unique” maintained its integrity in the written word, but with so much online writing, without proper editors (like Tina), “unique” will fall from its lonely perch to join the ranks of “unusual,” “rare,” “surprising,” and other slovenly, unquantifiable terms.

The misuse of “unique” may be due to the very construction of the word itself. “Un-” gives us the “one” and oneness of things. But the French “-ique,” like the English “-ic” translates to “in the manner of” or “kinda’ like” as in “heroic.” So if “unique” were fully anglicized, it might be a very ugly and unEnglishy “oneish,” pronounced “one-ish” and that does, we must admit, suggest relative rarity rather than one-of-a-kind absolutism. Americans are often peeved with the French and thus may be sabotaging the Frenchy “unique” because we can perceive the potential “oneish” and would use it if that “-ei-” weren’t so thoroughly hideous.

And, just in case you think I’m literally tone-deaf to how silly my objection to “unique”’s misuse makes me seem to you, dear reader, well, I see you rolling your eyes and exclaiming, “No one cares!”, but you are so wrong for I am not unique in my banner-raising about this matter. I have the English speaking world’s grammarians and English teachers behind me and they kick ass. Awe-inspiringly.

"It's All Good" -- All?

What is it about “It’s all good” that makes me think bad thoughts? Especially about the speaker? Makes me shudder like dragging fingernails on a blackboard. This is a current hipster idiom drawn I believe from 90’s hip hop which has been, like popular music throughout the ages, a fount of neologisms, some artful and lasting, some more contrived or, for whatever reason, dated, so that the only appropriate use of them is in the ironic sense (“far out”).

Pop music born neologisms get appropriated across communities of young people if these new words and phrases are found to be clever or if the artful use provides some sort of elite status, i.e., makes you seem “cool.” Some neologisms even get picked up by older generations and while young people may object in this instance, so what? The evolution of the language requires artistic talent and we elders appreciate it when it’s elegant and clever. I, for example, have always liked the use of “down” to suggest approval . . . though I use it judiciously. I’m not 28 after all (and for all I know “down” may be down and out now).

“It’s all good.”

No. It’s not. I hear this faux-Zen expression usually in response to someone’s apology for some small transgression. An elevator passenger asks me to press "5." I press "4" by mistake and I apologize. “It’s all good,” says the seemingly blissed out fellow passenger.

I shudder. Why? How’s it different from the tried and true, “Oh, that’s alright!”? Or the “Eh, fuhgeddaboutit”?

Because the more traditional responses come with a “Hey, I’ve been there, buddy” comaraderie and a smile, even a pat on the back at times, that binds the miscreant and the victim, such as they are, together in the human lot of comic frailty and error.

Whereas, by comparison, “It’s all good” gives off a mellower-than-thou, blithely hip affect that separates the parties involved as if to say, “You’re a fuck-up, but I’m so far above any possible inconvenience you could cause me that you must wish you could be as Zen as I am.” There’s no eye contact, no binding in the human comedy, no acceptance of the apology. No, it’s just Buddha-wannabe and loser. What’s more, it suggests a cosmic order, a determinism, that no one need get stressed about. So not only does it attempt to toss me into a caste of the ignorantly striving, but it also denies me my free will.

Just what does the “all” in “It’s all good” cover? How about if I steal your purse?

Yet this hipster non-chalance is such an obvious veneer – because I know in my heart of hearts that I can piss off anyone without much effort – that the person expressing the Panglossian idiocy of “It’s all good” comes off as mindless as a Haight Street stoner and, well, kind of small. And why? Because “It’s all good” means nothing more than that a person wants to say "It's all good" and seem blithely hip.

Curmudgeon? Me?

Tina does say I’m becoming a bit, just a bit, curmudgeonly, though she acknowledges as much only when I seek her appraisal of something I’ve done or said that seems to me like it may suggest a bit of curmudgeonliness to others. For example, recently, I unsubscribed to the neighborhood email newsletter after weeks of not reading anything in which I seemed remotely interested. Many posts were by the same person who seems to “rescue” small wild animals in our neighborhood. Never mind that we live in the woods . . . where Darwinism is the law of the land.

Also recently, the neighbors all got together of a Sunday night with chairs and wine on a driveway nearby and I didn’t even know about it until Tina said, “That get-together is happening right now up at Nancy’s,” and I replied, “What get-together?” and then Tina recalled that I had unsubscribed to the neighborhood newsletter. “Does this make me a curmudgeon?” I asked and she acknowledged that, indeed, it did. She didn’t pause to think nor did she gaze at me reprovingly and certainly not consolingly. Just kept eating her dinner as if I’d asked something as mundane as, “Did you remember to put milk on the grocery list?”

“Yes,” she said, looking at her grilled chicken, glass of wine in hand.

“I just don’t want to read about every animal that so and so rescues on a seemingly daily basis,” I whined.

“Curmudgeon,” she said still without looking up from the dinner that I, in my loving spirit, had prepared for her, a dinner that included a Tarte Tatin made with tomatoes.

So . . . my curmudgeonliness, such as it is, may in fact be rational opposition to mindlessness. But, I must admit, that’s what all curmudgeons say.

By the way, the dictionary definition of a “curmudgeon” points to a “churlish,” “miserly,” even “avaricious person.” But that doesn’t seem to be the working definition, the common understanding, except for the “churlish” part. There is no accepted etymology of “curmudgeon,” which is good because I had wondered if it shared any provenance with “cudgel” or “truncheon,” or “bludgeon” and hoped not insofar as those three weapons seem far too brutal to be evoked by the relative harmlessness of a “curmudgeon” whose curmudgeonliness is routinely, and perhaps rightly, ignored instead of feared.

Baycation

We didn't travel this summer. Instead, we had a new, and safe, deck built. So . . . had a four-day "Baycation" instead. Here are some photo highlights:

Directions -- a One-Act

Directions – a One-Act
Setting: A middle-aged couple in a car moving through an urban area – the male drives.


Jeanne: If we’re going through downtown we should stop and pick up Vivian.

Noah: Alright. We can do that. [Jeanne is already calling Vivian on her cell phone].

Jeanne: [into the cell phone] Noah says we can pick you up . . . that’s right . . . you’re off work now, right? . . . . Good so . . . hold on. . . . Noah, where should I tell her to wait for us?

Noah: Where’s her internship?

Jeanne [back to Vivian]: Where do you want to go for dinner. [to Noah] She works on . . . [to Vivian] where exactly are you? . . . Right now? . . . you’re there now? . . . in five minutes? [to Noah] Noah, will we be there in 5 minutes?

Noah: Where is “there” . . . .

Jeanne: [to Vivian] Just wait for us, Vivi. We’ll be there in a minute . . . . [to Noah] Noah, she works on K St. at Farragut Square. [to Vivian] No, we had pizza last night.

Noah: Tell her to walk to the other side of the square.

Jeanne: And then what?

Noah: And wait there.

Jeanne: Just anywhere on the other side of the square? It’s a big square. [to Vivian] Hold on. What? Yum! Lebanese sounds good. [to Noah] She wants Lebanese. [to Vivian] You want to know if we can just . . . .

Noah: Can always do Lebanese.

Jeanne: [to Vivian] Noah likes Lebanese. [to Noah] Can we pick her up on Perry? That’s what she wants to know. [to Vivian] Vivian, we just had fish tacos two nights ago. [to Noah] Do you want fish tacos again so soon?

Noah: Okay, tell her to go to the corner of K and 17th, but . . . .

Jeanne: [to Vivian] Did you hear that?

Noah: But tell her to walk to the corner and then go kitty-corner across the street.

Jeanne: Kitty-corner? What’s “kitty-corner”? [to Vivian] I don’t know either. [to Noah] She doesn’t know what “kitty-corner” means and I don’t either. “Kitty-corner” – I’ve never heard of that and how she’s supposed . . . . and now she’s scared she won’t be in the right spot.

Noah: Well . . . we’ll see her. She’ll see us. I’m just saying that it would be more convenient if she could walk to the corner and then go kitty-corner . . . .

Jeanne: [to Vivian] So it’s really “catty-corner” not “kitty-corner”? [to Noah] It’s not “kitty-corner”, it’s “catty-corner.” Vivian googled it.

Noah: Googled it? What? “Kitty-corner”? Well, fine, whatever, but just have her go, you know, diagonally, to the opposite corner.

Jeanne: She can’t cross the street diagonally.

Noah: Just tell her to wait at the corner and . . . .

Jeanne: Here, you talk to her and tell her where to be [hands Noah the cell phone which Noah does not reach for.]

Noah: You know, all she needs to do is . . . .

Jeanne: You tell her. You know where you’re going. [Suddenly pulls phone back and then, to Vivian] Check to see if the Lebanese Taverna is open on Mondays. [thrusts phone back to Noah.]

Noah: Look, just tell her to . . . .

Jeanne: You should tell her so that you two know exactly where to be.

Noah: We don’t need to be exact . . . .

Jeanne: [to Vivian] I think you should . . .Vivi? Vivi? Are you . . . It IS open on Mondays? Okay, but I think you should talk to Noah directly, but he . . . [to Noah] Can’t you just tell her where to be? [to Vivian] You see us? Well, where are you? I don’t see you. [to Noah] She can see us. Do you see her?

Noah: Where should I be look . . . .

Jeanne: Tell her where to be.

Noah: Have her walk to the corner by the little lawn and then cross K St. and then cross 17th and wait.

Jeanne: [attempting to hand over the phone]. Here, you tell her. That’s too much.

Noah: [pretending not to see the phone] Walk to lawn at the corner and then cross over kitty-corner from there to . . . . I see her.

Jeanne: You mean “catty-corner”? There’s no “kitty-corner.”

Noah: Okay.

[They pull over.]

Jeanne: [leaning out the window] Hi, sweetie. Sorry we had trouble with all of that “kitty-corner” confusion. I don’t think it’s even a word.

"Be True to Yourself"? How?

What does “Be true to yourself” mean? And why do we seem to think it’s so easy to do? Can I really say that I “know” myself well? Can anyone? Isn’t finding ourselves part of our struggle? And do we really “find” ourselves or are we constantly creating, editing, revising ourselves? Do we choose our selves or do we find them? Or is there a fundamental self, a basic self, that we try to maintain and stay true towards while the surface changes? How and when did that "fundamental" self develop and can it be altered? Do we really only have one self? Or do we have several selves? And what does it mean to be “true” to oneself?

Isn’t self-knowledge the most difficult thing to know and doesn’t it require constant examination? The philosopher/economist Amartya Sen notes that there are “difficulties in obtaining self-knowledge that arise from the intricacies of our relations with other people.” Are we always the same around everyone? Sen continues: “We are influenced to an amazing extent by the company that we keep and the people with whom we identify, and our lack of clarity [about our selves] . . . may arise from the fact that” our selves may reflect the influence of others.

Don’t we often have a lot of identities? Consider yourself: List as many “identities” as you have. For example, here are some of my identities: Teacher, middle-aged, male, American, musician, hiker . . . . There are so many more. Consider the great American Paul Robeson: All-American athlete, scholar, lawyer, opera star, Communist . . . and there’s more. I left out a lot for Robeson and for me.

Sometimes these plural identities compete with one another for attention and priorities. Sen says, “The neglect of our plural identities in favor of one ‘principle’ identity can greatly impoverish our lives and our practical reason.” That seems inescapably true, but then it follows that “being true to ourselves” is hard unless we accept our plural “selves.”

Within reason, we can choose and work toward our chosen selves. And these chosen selves needn’t be permanent. Sen goes on to say, “To deny choice where choice exists . . . can . . . entail a moral and political failure since it denotes an abdication of one’s responsibility to face the fundamental Socratic question: How should I live?” With the help of Jonathan Glover’s new book, Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century, Sen goes on to explain that “many atrocities in the world occur as a result [our] feeling compelled to act in particular ways, in line with [our] perceived identities, including” committing crimes against others who belong to a group that is perceived to have a hostile relationship with our own group. We are required to exhibit loyalty, etc.



We have all sorts of identities thrust upon us and all sorts that we try on for size. Some of our identities are a result of the cultures we live in and gravitate towards. Sen continues:

. . . a person may decide to seek identity with more than one of these predefined cultures or -- just as plausibly -- with none of them. Also, a person may well decide that her ethnic or cultural identity is less important to her than, say, her political convictions, or her professional commitments, or her literary persuasions.

It is also important to note that a “culture” isn’t monolithic. For example, being Catholic doesn’t make all Catholics the same.

So, we are told to “know yourself.” And to be “true to yourself.” But is it easy?

Is it even advisable? In "Hamlet," Shakespeare places this bit of advice in the mouth of his most foolish blowhard: "Above all else, to thine own self be true." If Shakespeare thought it was guffaw-worthy, maybe we should take another look.

See also David Brooks on this topic. And (thanks to Brooks) Paul Bloom.

Hawk and the Commodities at Fundraiser for Bay Area GSAs

Tomas Jacquez, Spanish teacher and Aim High Director at Urban, put together a band with Sophie Lieberman on keyboards, Lily Burns on bass, Abby Diamond singing, Tomas on guitar. I sat in on drums for Jasper Sheff who had another gig.

Great Song/Video -- With Thanks to Isa

"Artisanal" Pencil Sharpening

Many weeks ago, I argued that the word "artisanal" had become comically overused.

However, political cartoonist David Rees has come up with an ingenious spoof on the word.

Rock, Paper, Death bootleg video

This is the only known video of Rock, Paper, Death. Apparently, this is huge in China. Huge. I can't remember what we're playing here.

Was Jesus Savvy?

Did Jesus know when people were just trying to get his attention and not necessarily taking his name in vain? Here are some little playlets:


Mary: Jesus, will you please take out the trash?

Jesus: Mom, you didn’t just take my name in vain did you?

Mary: Oh for Chrissake Jesus.

Jesus: You better watch out, mom, cuz' when Jesus takes out the damn garbage, I mean straight up that I will “TAKE OUT the garbage!”

Mary: Don’t make me call your father in here young man!

Jesus: Pppphhh. What’s HE gonna do?

Mary: He’ll crucify you and you know it.



Peter: Christ, this “no women” thing is . . . well . . . hard!

Jesus: I’m sorry, my son.

Peter: “Sorry”? That’s all you got? Geez!

Jesus: What did you say?

Peter: Nuttin.’

Jesus: (Note to self: I’m not an idiot. Peter? Hell.)




Moneylenders after Jesus Gets Upset: Jesus H. Christ! What're ya' doin'here?!!?

Jesus: (Note to self: Ask mom about my middle name.)



Was there applause after the Sermon on the Mount?

Most of us clap hands by cupping our hands and having them crossover to make . . . a cross. Yet, this is not the attitude of prayer.

Some, however, applaud by aligning their hands as if in prayer. When Jesus saw people applaud this way, he must've thought, “Okay, prayer coming . . . no . . . yes? . . . wait . . . Is this dude just messing with me? . . .”

Turns out, it’s just prissy applause.

If ET is Bored . . . It's Probably Not Her Fault -- Exceptions to my "Inspiration via Discipline" Doctrine

Artwork by ET.

If ET is bored, then boredom without the complicity of the bored is surely possible. There are activities and occupations which may be inherently boring or at least so beneath the what was reasonably anticipated that they would and should bore.

ET writes in her blog, referencing mine:

. . . I have been thinking about what my high school English teacher Greg wrote about getting inspired (this too). I am totally bored at work and I am not yet sure how to apply his discipline-->inspiration theory there. To make more of my free time, I have decided that I must do one creative act every day. Either sew something or draw in my sketchbook or make prints or possibly cook, though if it's cooking it has to be especially awesome and I have to share. I think this will make me a lot happier.

If ET is bored, then I need to acknowledge that there are activities or occupations that are inherently boring. ET, being a young, modern-day da Vinci who could hold boredom at bay or attack it better than most, compels me to add some nuance to what I’d written in my last two posts.



First, let me begin with the premise that there are far fewer inherently boring activities and occupations than the history of human articulated restlessness would suggest. “This is boring,” should nearly always be translated into, “I am bored.” Those who frequently kvetch that this or that “is boring” or more accurately admit “I am bored,” despite their access to diverse activities and occupations, must have very few interests, if any, or an incapacity to develop an interest without careful, indulgent, perhaps maternal assistance. In other words, that person is boring. Characteristically boring.




The bored are, in their boredom, boring and they are particularly boring if they are adamantly, chronically bored. Even the Buddha would have to agree (though, of course, he might say that that this level of boredom is itself fascinating, but that doesn’t mean that the person harboring the boredom fascinates).

ET was very excited to be accepted as an Intern with a particular firm. Apparently, the people there haven’t availed themselves of ET’s capabilities. In this instance, she’s bored and quite powerless to change the circumstances.

Here are exceptions (inspired by ET’s remarkable capacity for discipline and inspiration) to the Inspiration via Discipline Doctrine delineated in my two previous posts (posts which many of you didn’t read because the topic sounded boring).These exceptions to the rule that most any activity can be interesting, are activities which are, in fact, inherently boring:

Exception One: Many jobs and internships available to the young. Twirling signs pointing to condos for sale, preparing fries in McDonald’s, washing things – anything almost, ringing up sales in an airport concession – these activities and occupations may be inherently boring. We can all think of – or recall – a great many more.



Now consider internships: When posted here and there, they are meant to appeal to ambitions, preoccupations, and predispositions of proven capable, excited, inspired, and disciplined students. Students compete for these internships many of which are, in fact, fascinating seasons of access into the students' conceivable futures. However, if the mentors in these internships fail, due to fear or negligence, to make use of the intern’s skills and excitement, then that intern is going to be bored and should resent that boredom.

But now look at what ET is doing about the lemon of a job she has. She writes, “I have decided that I must do one creative act every day.” There’s a practice for you!

Exception two: Driving. Driving requires very little skill of any kind – not intellectual, motor, social, or spiritual acumen of any sort – yet it requires our absolute attention. That’s a recipe for boredom. If you disagree, try driving without radios, iPods, cell phones, passengers, or new vistas.

Exception three: People with whom we have romantic or other relationships we should have ended long ago. When relationships are going badly, and have been going badly for a while, and show no capacity for improvement, and don’t even offer the spark of harsh words expressed in anger anymore, then we find that even the aspects once thought attractive about our companion have become boring. A lovely leg, a certain savoir faire in conversation with strangers or with this and that in the kitchen, skilled musicianship, card tricks, good teeth, whatever . . . it all becomes just so tedious. Yes, we recognize that leg as lovely, that gentle facility with the guitar as admirable, but . . . only to others. To us, in that moment, there is, in fact, nothing there.

Exception four: My blog. Apparently. Unless you’ve read this far. Then I guess it’s not boring.

Exception five: Ourselves. We bore ourselves when we don’t make the effort to be inspired, to fight through the ennui attendant to life and its existential despair.

Exception six: Existentialism . . . at least some expressions of it that seem so comically pretentious.

Exception seven: People who are chronically irritable – and especially a subset thereof: spoiled children.

Exception eight: Clingy people. In the abstract, what makes them so clingy is interesting, but we need distance from actual clingy people before their clinginess becomes intriguing. Same is probably true for irritable people and spoiled children.

Exception nine: Relatively simple phenomena that seem so exciting initially and so we hurry to experience it over and over again as soon as possible and in so doing we find it becomes . . . boring. “No, I’m tired of ______.” Fill in the blank with your own current enthusiasm. Often, it’s songs popular about a year ago. But not always. Some of these phenomena remain joyous for us. So why not all of them? Seems like a comic twist on the Buddha’s insistence that initially boring phenomena can become inspiring when we repeat them 278 times in order to force ourselves into the essence of what seems, on the surface, boring. Wouldn’t it follow then that if we repeat 278 times what initially seems exciting on the surface, then it would just get more exciting? No! Because the surface keeps us from getting to the essence. So the Buddha would have us look at the initially exciting, but now boring, phenomenon 278 times after it has become boring. This way, we see it anew!

Exception ten: Hurry. Hurry is an enemy of focus. Focus is needed to avoid boredom.

Exception eleven: Dentists’ waiting rooms. I mean really. Somehow they’re more boring than doctors' waiting rooms. Probably because we’re preparing mentally for serious business with a doctor. At the dentist’s office, it’s like waiting to have your car detailed or your shocks replaced.

Exception twelve: Busy busy business. Socrates said, “Beware the barrenness of a busy life.” Note that business, as we commonly understand it, is called, well, busy-ness . . . without indicating an aim for all that busy-ness. But what Socrates was getting at is what we now call “multitasking” with our lives. As my friend and colleague SN says, “When I listen to music, I listen to music. I don’t do other things while listening to music.”

Exception thirteen: Wannabes. Of any sort. Affecting whatever. We instinctively roll our eyes upward when confronted with wannabes.

Exception fourteen: Nearly all advertising.

Exception fifteen: Waiting in long lines.


Do you have any more examples?