Musings on language

I work with a team that can be sent out to help if an emergency occurs.  I recently went into our team site at work to post when I am available.  I was surprised to learn I was a "resource".  Not even a "personnel resource", mind you.  It appears I am inanimate.  A wonderful message to receive.  And this got me thinking about language in America (in this case corporate America) and the impact it might have.

There are these gems:

“On-boarding” This phrase appears to mean bringing on new “resources”.  And I cannot help but think about things like food, water, torpedoes, depth charges… To me, it only works on a Naval vessel or a pirate ship.  It also, for some reason, makes me think of waterboarding.  

“Core resource”.  As near as I can tell I am simply a “core resource” because I am equipped in such a way that if the office burns to the ground I can keep on working.  The heck with any emotional issues I may have that the other “resources” with whom I spend a huge part of my life, are potentially hurt or in danger.  

These terms do not seem to be specific to my employer: informal chats indicate that everyone is using them.   It’s the new lingo.  

Lingo is another term I don’t care for.  I prefer the archaic term Language.  

Language is a powerful thing.  Words have plain meaning, but often they come with other images and associations.  They can evoke feelings, and sometimes not the feelings the person speaking actually means to evoke.  Awesome, to those who know their history, carries a sense of being overcome with awe, of a sense of how small they are in the face of something or someone mighty beyond understanding.  Not, “hey man, far out!” as it seems to mean to so many.  But I digress.  

The depersonalization of human beings has been said to contribute to the decline of manners and the rise of violence.  I wonder how much of this arises from the language we use to describe ourselves and others?  I used these examples from work because they illustrate a point, but think about it:  we use language that removes the individual's unique qualities and pigeonholes them all the time when we talk. 

Bittersweet

Because today's workout was to be aerobic only I eschewed the gym and took my best old hiking, jogging, and therapy buddy and squirrel chaser extraordinaire for a hike in Northwest Park in Windsor, CT.

This picture was taken about 4 years ago.  My boy is grayer now, but then so am I.

But it used to be that I would say "want to go for a DRIVE, Jesse?" And he'd leap up, tail wagging.  The tail still wags, but leap is a slower maneuver.  So is getting into the backseat of the car.  I had to give him a leg up.  He still yodels as loudly as before, making the people we pass laugh hysterically.  And his jump from the car is still pretty spry.

But we used to take the harder trails.  He would run ahead, and traverse the path following scents.  And he would turn to look over his shoulder with an expression that clearly said "Can't you go faster than that?"  I didn't take him nearly as often as I should, work and 3 bad knee injuries got in the way, but I could have done it more often than I did.

Today our roles were reversed, just a little.  We did one of his favorite trails, the bog and Braille trail, but I slowed my step to match his,.  I could see he wasn't up to swinging over to the wetland forest and rainbow reservoir trails as we have so many times before.  We took an easier path, and then sat beneath a tree in the meadow.

Now, he did have a busy day yesterday, and he doesn't rebound as fast as he used to (but then, neither do I, and I can hear his deep voice saying to me, yeah mom, if you were a dog you'd be dead by now!), so that explains a lot.

And while I miss the puppy he was I adore the grand old dog he is.  Funny, people loving, always expecting the best in the people he meets and seeing me as I should be, not necessarily as I am.

 So we will go for walks in the woods until he makes it clear he'd rather stay home.  And I will happily match my pace to his.

What are they thinking?

As I sat in my bathroom shaving my legs the mysterious lady in black

sauntered into the room, jumped into the window and shot me a puzzled look from her bright golden eyes.  "What the heck do you think you're doing?" she seemed to say as she watched me carefully removing my hair.

You know, I do wonder what they think of the things we do.

We are pathetically lacking in hair, a protection from the elements.  So what do we do? Scrape it off, put on these ugly drapery things, fuss about having nothing to wear, rush out and come back with bags of more ugly woven things to cover our pathetic hairlessness.  If we would only let it grow, our hair might work, although based on the look from my lady in black she doubts it.

We are truly pathetic hunters.  We let perfectly good protein in the form of mice and bugs wander unharmed and come back with still more bags filled with meat and green things wrapped in plastic.  If we did capture the things on our own why didn't we eat them where we caught them rather than running the risk of a bigger hairless thing taking them from us while we carved them up or removed the leaves and wrapped thin in that clear stretchy stuff on weird trays?

And getting a drink of water is a large, drawn out process for us when there are plenty of pools to drink from throughout the lair.

As she sits beside me, on my white knitting, I know the mysterious lady in black has concluded that I, at least, am a hopeless case.

The "Smart" Life - or -The Future Is Bleak

I happened to overhear a discussion on technology and the digital life.  The speakers were earnestly discussing the advances in "smart phones", "smart workout equipment", and "smart cars" that could drive themselves and avoid accidents.

Wouldn't it be great, they mused, if your "smart" devices could someday communicate your needs to each other, a technologically integrated approach to life.

Now that caught my fancy, because I did study SciFi and Science (an integrated approach to learning) in college and I began to think of the possibilities.  No more angst riding out the traffic jams on the Tappan Zee bridge:

Sit back, play Tetris and leave the driving to Google.

I already know the advantages to a smart elliptical:

I can set for Cardio, Fat Burn or Total Exhaustion.  And a smart fridge?  That provides useful information and tracks my food?

Cool.

But wait: what if my smart elliptical orders the smart phone to call the fridge and refuse access to dessert because I didn't burn enough calories?  Or what if the smart car refuses to start because walking is healthier?

And that fridge that suggests menus based on the contents?  I can just hear it's little robotic voice saying "your choices today are wilted lettuce salad with desiccated cucumber or Cap'n Crunch and spoiled milk."

Maybe I'm not quite ready for the technologically integrated life,  in fact, it sounds a little dystopian to me.

Visiting Knitting Heaven

Sick of a white baby sweater for a friend (yes, it is washable) and a white lacey bolero for my mom and suffering from something akin to Snow Blindness I took myself off to heaven?

Also  known as my largest and bestest LYS.  Okay, I'm not from New England, so unlike a lot of my neighbors my local area des extend further than a 10 mile radius.  I'd seen a pattern for a blanket,

Mountain Laurel Counterpane Blanket by Kim Brody Salazar.

Lovely hexagons  of flowers and lace assembled into a rectangle.  If I bought a number of harmonious colors I could knit a motif when snow blindness struck.

 Cascade 220 Superwash and Plymouth Encore were both on sale for the last day of the 40th Anniversary Sale.  I loaded my sister and boon traveling buddy into a car and off we went.  I knew the largest selection of sale yarns are in the warehouse, so I went straight back there.

After about 2 hours of dithering I finally settled on bluish-greens and purples for the blanket.  And a kit for a gradient I'm not sure what:

That should cure the snow blindness.

Friday!

So, in the middle of a short week that seemed eternal - cramming 5 days of work into 4 - I decided I needed some time.

Time to knit.

Time to clean (okay that goes to the bottom of the list)

Time to hang out with my Maine Girl.

Time to get a haircut.

Did I mention time to knit?

Shaping up

There is nothing like looking at yourself in the dressing room Mirror and realizing you've kept your girlish figure and added soooo much to it.

It was a stunning thought.  I thought maybe if I smiled things would look better, but, well:

Something had to be done.

So I started walking at lunch time and joined Planet Fitness.  I particularly love the Judgment free zone.

We'll see what happens...

Alleluia!

He is risen!

He is risen indeed!

Giving Thanks 5

It is a rare person who is prepared to lay down his or her life for others.  Sometimes it is called altruistic suicide.  Sometimes it is called conspicuous valor.   Often it is done without thought, a selfless, instinctive act, like the professor at Virginia Tech who used his body as a barricade so that other men and women could escape.

And sometimes it comes from love.  "For God so loved the world..." (John 3:16) that he was willing to give his life, even to suffer death by crucifixion.  Others have said it more eloquently.  The one who is timeless in the moment of his death saw all of His creations and willingly became the sacrificial lamb. 

I give thanks for all who have given their lives so that others may live, and especially thanks to the one who died for all.

Giving Thanks 4

They are gathered around the table.  Gethsemane is looming, but for now they are enjoying their meal with their teacher.  Did they sense anything?  A touch of unease?  Or did they do all the things close friends do on a meal in the town?  Who can say what they did?

But when the bread was broken and the cup was raised I doubt any of them had any idea of the depths of despair and the ultimate joy the next few days and weeks would bring.

There are no words that can capture the debt I owe or the gratitude I feel.

A Special Giving Thanks

To Diana Wilder; who managed to recover a post deleted by accident and helped me repost, making it better than before.

I am truly grateful.

Giving Thanks 3

Today I'm going just a tad toward the frivolous and giving thanks for Good Service.  It's that time of year when you pull out the next  season's clothes from storage and realize that what you do have needs help.

So I hied myself off to a mall and hit one of my regular stores.  I was largely ignored and the person with me was absolutely ignored.  A sales clerk finally approached and asked if she could help: I said I was looking for solid colored shirts.

"The Tees are over there..."

"I was thinking of something more like a shirt...", I said.

 And she went wafting off.

I did finally buy one pair of jeans and was given a little lip at the register by the same clerk who seemed to want to look me up by my phone number rather than use the member card I was holding out to her.  I left feeling that I had interrupted her fun: we were the only ones in the store.  Perhaps she wanted to get back to the novel she was reading in the back room.

Two doors down was a new store; a British concern that had opened a few months before.  There was a lovely dress just inside the door in a jewel-toned paisley, a lovely patterned blouse and an embroidered evening dress.  I was lured in.  The two women greeted me, my companion, and anyone else who came to the store as a friend.  They didn't have assigned customers; they worked as a team, making sure no one was left waiting for help.

Over the next hour or so I tried on more than 45 items: 15 I selected myself and the rest clothes they thought I might like.  Their choices were better than mine.

I was noy pressured.  I was not made to feel out of place: I noticed women of all ages in the store.  They were helpful.  They provided honest feedback.  I lest with three items that made me feel pretty.   The store?  Monsoon in Holyoke MA.  The experience?  It reminded me of the training I received in an upscale boutique in Philly.  The clothes? Well made.    Why I am thankful?  I don't usually enjoy shopping, I usually leave with my ego in shreds.  This was different, due largely to two young women who loved their job and liked people.

Giving Thanks 2

Yesterday was the beginning of Holy Week and we relived the triumphal entrance into Jerusalem. The palms waving, the crowds yelling "Hosanna!"

Words of praise. The savior comes. 

I learned it can also be a plea, as in the 118 Psalm, Save Us! Or, more importantly "save me". Save me from loneliness. Save me from despair. Save me from my enemies. Save me from myself... 

At the core of the joyful entry into Israel's capital city is the mustard seed that grows into a mighty plant at the end of this week. So today I give thanks saying "Hosanna!" Save me from myself this day; still my hasty tongue; help me cool my hot temper; bring me Peace; and grant me and all those around me Joy

Giving Thanks 1

It's so easy to get caught up in the drama around us: prima donnas throwing fits, Kim and Kanye's wedding favors, and whether Justin Bieber should go back to Canada...it can make your own life seem so, well, odd.

No one is chasing you for autographs.

No one cares if you complain about your coffee.

You can cry in public without people snapping your picture all over the web looking less than stunning.

If you lose a child, parent, or spouse no one expects you to release a press statement at one of your darkest hours baring your grief for public consumption.  You don't need a PR expert.

So I am giving thanks for the fact that I am not a celebrity.  That I don't live under a microscope.  That I. Can be me rather than what the "public" expects me to be.

It doesn't get much better than that.