grammar


Parce que c’est fromage!

Tonight was our annual French Club soirée fromage. It felt a bit different this year than last year as a 101 student. I ran into mostly people who were in my 101 class, then a girl from 202, and a guy from 321. Then I got to talk to random strangers about Paris.

Also, when the jugs of juice were empty, I was standing in line, watching nothing come out of the spouts. Then I said, « Il n y a plus de juice ! » It rhymed, therefore it was funny. It’s not as funny – it’s actually downright sad to say it in English: “There isn’t any more juice.” That really makes me want to cry. I didn’t realize how much I love grape juice until it was all gone.

Saturday at a potluck, I met a guy (he was with his girlfriend) from Orleans. It was his first time in the United States. He was very soft-spoken, and his french was very smooth-sounding. We talked for a little bit. Being the way I am, I asked questions so that he would do most of the talking. He is not LDS, but he attended a session of General Conference in Salt Lake City. “Vous avez écouté les discours en français?” Of course he did. And he was very impressed with the interpreters. He prefers English to “American,” and I don’t blame him.

I got accepted into a study abroad program for spring term.

To Senegal.

A total of 18 of us are going. It’ll be five pretty intense weeks.

In case you’re concerned, Senegal is not near Egypt.

I’ll probably buy my plane ticket this week or next.

Here’s hoping my financial aid works out. Today, I contacted the financial aid office about a scholarship I applied for, in addition to the loans.

Chance of a lifetime, right?

Any masochist would eat this up.

Seriously, though. Don’t ask me about French, you guys. It makes me sad and frustrated to talk about it.

“Are there normalforms for the pronounciation [sic] of words?”

Then I said under my breath, but loud enough for the person sitting in front of me, “Like the word pronounciation?”

Then the person in front of me turned her head and whispered, “That word is so ironic.”

When I was in third grade, my young brain was just starting to make associations between words. I knew the word pronounce, and I figured its noun derivative describing the act of pronouncing would be pronounciation. When I heard my third grade teacher, Mrs. Hamlin, say – or, pronounce – it,  I thought she said it incorrectly. You see, Mrs. Hamlin got me into watching Jeopardy!, which came on right after Wheel of Fortune. This was especially fun, because it lengthened the TV lineup on Tuesdays, which included Who’s the Boss? (with Growing Pains and Perfect Strangers the next year) and on Fridays, which aired Webster and Mr. Belvedere.

Anyway, I couldn’t imagine my teacher being wrong, because Jeopardy! is awesome with all their smart people, so I made a mental note that it was pronounced “pronunciation.” Just like how it’s spelled. No O for a blended vowel sound. My tender, eight-year-old brain absorbed that.  My classmate was right to imply how people mispronounce a word describing how words are uttered. And it seems that the person who posed the question holds to what I consider my third-grade association. And when I look up the pronunciations of the word in a current dictionary, two are correct, one of them being the wrong one.

And that’s because everyone else got stuck in the third-grade place in their brains, and somebody got tired of correcting everyone else, so some grand arbiter of the dictionary allowed the faulty pronunciation. I can make some concessions in the evolution of our language, but man, I feel so sorry for English.

So, yes, classmate. My normalform for the pronunciation of pronunciation also happens to be the only true pronunciation in my mind. All others are corrupt and incorrect. Which is what normalform means.

May,
[Mon prof] vous recommande chaudement!  Il me dit que vous êtes une étudiante exceptionnelle.

Chaudement literally translates as hotly. Of course English has to make it weird. Ironically, reading this made me feel worlds of cool.

And, naturally, when I replied to the email, I deflected the compliments. Oh, the professor is too nice; he’s a very good teacher.

I’m taking a French grammar class this semester from the writer of that email up there. J’ai peur. Je vais mourir.

From Alexander Pope’s Essays on Man, Epistle I:

“May, must be right, as relative to all.”

Sure, the punctuation is a little bit wrong, but the dead man is surely onto something.

You should listen to him.

did you know it was national punctuation day) that is a pretty awesome holiday: i,m not sure it-s an actual holiday … though? when i found it was national punctuation day! it made me really happy,

what would happen if we gave no regard to punctuation – things would be really confusing” i mean; when you read out loud the! pausing and tone and inflection all depend on the punctuation’ [and when] you read. the punctuation determines how thoughts flow and separate,

a few hours are left in the day? make sure you “pay” particular attention to! punctuation give all those hardworking marks all the appreciation and respect the’y deserve(

The possessive form of it is its. No apostrophe.

It’s = It is, or some other contraction, such as it has. Always. Garner should back me up on this. I don’t own Garner, but I have Fowler, who’s probably just as uppity, who says, “Just a reminder that its is the possessive form of it (the cat licked its paws) and that it’s is a shortened form of it is (It’s raining again) or it has (It’s come).”

Wow, I quoted Fowler almost verbatim.

So, if I’m reading your blog, and you say, “The summer has it’s happy moments,” please be aware my brain reads it AND it means, “The summer has it is happy moments.” If you intended that, that’s one thing, but if you’re referring to happy moments that belong to summer, it’s its. It is, I promise. Or, if you’re unsure, just say, “The summer has happy moments.” I always write my way around a rule if I don’t know it.

It’s a weird rule; its tendency to trip people up is historical. It’s annoying me, particularly today, for some reason. Its dark magic has wrested all tolerance from my soul.

I’ll stop before it gets more obnoxious.

I came across some peculiar words just in some casual reading over the past few months. While I like expanding my vocabulary, I have to draw a line on the words I use, or at least determine the situations where I can use them.

accretion: This word and I reunited quite early reading The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton. I’ve seen this word before, and I was able to deduce its meaning since I couldn’t remember the exact definition. Accrue is simple enough, and accretion is the noun form. I get that. What bugs me is the way it sounds. And you know what it sounds like. But I applaud Ms. Wharton for using this word in a book about corruption and high-class society. It’s the perfect word for the agenda she has. I guess the way the word sounds serves her agenda. Fine. I like the word, but only in that book.

I took this grammar quiz, and stumbled upon the word copular when I read the explanation for question 5: “There exists a class of verbs called ‘copular’ or ‘linking’ verbs that take adjectives — not adverbs — as their complements.” I understand the meaning of the word. Again, I don’t like how this word sounds so much like another word that I’ve associated with animal reproduction. I really don’t need any of that in my grammar, thank you very much. Yes, grammar is beautiful and I can’t deny that much of grammar is very attractive and maybe? some parts of grammar I’d like to go out with and get to know better. But that’s where I draw the line. I always have to draw a line. Standards, you know?

9 out of 10, by the way.

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