I love words. It is the sound of them I particularly enjoy. Some words are so delicious saying them is like eating something particularly flavoursome like a dried fig or a guava or a tasty curry. Words like sanctimonious and parsimonious and pharisaical. The sound of those three words to me instantly bring to mind a certain type of person that should be instantly dodged once identified.
Then there are words like belligerent that describe exactly what they sound like. The belligerent bull pawed the ground angrily before breaking into a menacing trot towards the picnic goers seated on a rug.
I have always love words. However, some of my earlier efforts to use the gems of the English language were dismissed with the comment of 'too flowery' by the teacher I had for five years at primary school. That is rather ironical considering he was the one who first drew my attention to words like belligerent and benevolent.
Regretably the problem with words like parsimonious et al is they are a bit poncy and not in common use. One needs to be careful in whose company one uses words like that otherwise one can appear ostentatious.
This is exactly the problem I have when I occasionally use one of my favourite phrases epistemologically curious. I picked it up in my university travels from the writing of Donald Macedo. I interpret it as meaning to love learning and knowledge and sometimes although I fight the temptation I can not help but use it to describe someone. I always wish I had kept my mouth shut.
You might conclude in my line of work that having a love of words would be essential. Au contraire. When writing news stories I have to use language a twelve year old would understand. There goes another irony I suppose.
Friday 23 September 2011
Sunday 11 September 2011
Character or typing test?
Some time in the very near future I will resit the same typing test I have attempted to pass at least five times already since 2009. Each time I have failed to finish the test in the allotted time. I need to pass this 35 words a minute test to complete my diploma of journalism.
There are several bizarre aspects to this predictament I find myself in. Firstly according to the typing programme that is supposedly teaching me to type most people can learn to touch type in about 25 hours. It has sure had taken me longer than that. Does that mean I am not normal?
Secondly when I say how fast I have to be able to type most people give me a pitiful look and say 35 words a minute is not that fast. And I am sure they are right. Why am I having so much trouble getting to that speed?
Thirdly in real life if I try something and am not that good at it relatively quickly I drop it like a hot potato. I figure why waste my time on something I am not good at. Time is too precious to waste. I am rather intrigued with my doggedness to get the diploma no matter how long it takes and even though it does seem to be taking a long time, there is no doubt that sooner or later I am going to nail that sucker.
And it almost tempts me to wonder what else could I have mastered if I hadn't dropped it like a hot potato....
There are several bizarre aspects to this predictament I find myself in. Firstly according to the typing programme that is supposedly teaching me to type most people can learn to touch type in about 25 hours. It has sure had taken me longer than that. Does that mean I am not normal?
Secondly when I say how fast I have to be able to type most people give me a pitiful look and say 35 words a minute is not that fast. And I am sure they are right. Why am I having so much trouble getting to that speed?
Thirdly in real life if I try something and am not that good at it relatively quickly I drop it like a hot potato. I figure why waste my time on something I am not good at. Time is too precious to waste. I am rather intrigued with my doggedness to get the diploma no matter how long it takes and even though it does seem to be taking a long time, there is no doubt that sooner or later I am going to nail that sucker.
And it almost tempts me to wonder what else could I have mastered if I hadn't dropped it like a hot potato....
Saturday 3 September 2011
The day had begun without me. I lay in bed postponing the inevitable moment when I would have to leave its warm snuggliness. The air in my room was cold which probaly meant there was a frost outside.
Just as I was about to throw the layers of bed covers back and race out to the lounge where the logfire was still burning I heard a blackbird singing. And what a sound it was. It was like that bird was singing for its life. It was a no holds barred, full throated, lusty song straight from the heart. The sound trilled from the pit of its being in wanton, unashamed zeal.
I lay there listening caught up in the exuberance and extravagance of the song, wondering why I was moping about in bed, reluctant to face the world. So I got up.
Later when I went outside I noticed it had been snowing. It was bitterly cold yet the blackbird clad only in its feather suit had braved the weather to sing the same song it sang every day with the same gusto.
Why? Why did that bird sing? And for whom?
And what would happen if I approached each day with a song so exuberant I had to sing it loudly or burst?
Just as I was about to throw the layers of bed covers back and race out to the lounge where the logfire was still burning I heard a blackbird singing. And what a sound it was. It was like that bird was singing for its life. It was a no holds barred, full throated, lusty song straight from the heart. The sound trilled from the pit of its being in wanton, unashamed zeal.
I lay there listening caught up in the exuberance and extravagance of the song, wondering why I was moping about in bed, reluctant to face the world. So I got up.
Later when I went outside I noticed it had been snowing. It was bitterly cold yet the blackbird clad only in its feather suit had braved the weather to sing the same song it sang every day with the same gusto.
Why? Why did that bird sing? And for whom?
And what would happen if I approached each day with a song so exuberant I had to sing it loudly or burst?
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