I attended my first webinar today!
I had managed to get out of previous webinars because I always imagined that they would be pretty boring. I was very surprised to find out how wrong I was. The truth is that this webinar was far more boring than I could have ever imagined. I was surprised by this because in addition to having quite a good imagination, I am somewhat of an “awfulizer,” as my sister-in-law calls it. You know, those people who can make any situation seem much worse than it really is. So it was a real eye-opener to discover that something could be more boring than even I had imagined.
I discovered that there are five stages to webinar attention deficit, or WAD. If you can survive the first two stages, which are definitely the toughest, you will find that you will end up having a very successful and satisfying webinar experience.
1. In the first stage, one tries hard to pay attention, to read all of the poorly done Powerpoint slides, to follow what’s being said, in spite of the fact that the webinar speakers are apparently discussing something like municipal sewer repair in an unidentifiable Euroindonesian language. One wants to have a successful webinar experience, and to report back to one’s boss about how much one learned, so one furrows one’s brow, squints, frowns, and makes all of the appropriate facial and body language signs that one is trying really hard not... to... lose... consciousness.
2. (At this point, I am going to drop the whole “one” charade and use the second person because you know that I’m talking to you.) So, if you manage to remain conscious, you move on to the second stage of webinar attendance. You read the Powerpoint slides, trying–just for fun–to find some kind of sentient meaning in them. You try, really try, to discern some kind of human communication in them. It is strange because, though you know the meaning of all of the words in any given sentence, you cannot make out what the sentence as a whole was meant to say. It is as if they have taken out all of the verbs and used words like “actualization” instead. You are not really trying to understand at this point, you are just trying to keep yourself 1) awake, 2) conscious, 3) entertained, and/or 4) sane.
3. If you have gotten to the third stage without needing the intervention of a paramedic, I congratulate you. Stage three is that you get up from your computer, you quietly leave your office or cubicle, you go to the bathroom, you get some coffee, you stop and chat with a few co-workers whom you answer “Nothing much” to when they ask you what you are doing right now, you wind down the hallway to HR to see if they have any interesting insurance-regulation booklets that you might want to read when you return to the webinar, and, eventually, you return to the webinar, hoping that they will be wrapping things up by the time you return. It turns out that you were gone for only 12 minutes and you missed only two slides.
4. You settle back into your chair. You wonder if the other attendees can hear you over the phone. Is it like a conference call? Can they hear the background noises you’re making? Is it okay to eat, say, a very crunchy peanut butter wafer bar? Can you perform noisy bodily functions? What, exactly, can the other people hear? You worry about this for maybe four minutes, as you very quietly break off pieces of your peanut butter wafer bar and try to dissolve them in your mouth without chewing them. Finally, you realize that if you were to, say, pass gas, really loudly, it would be the most interesting thing that the webinar attendees had heard the whole time. You then begin crunching, munching, passing gas, and making every other kind of obnoxious, rude, offensive sound that you can think of. Stage 4 is a lot of fun for about 10 minutes. Longer, if you have not yet surpassed the maturity level of a fourth-grade boy.
You have now killed about 32 minutes of a one-and-a-half-hour long webinar.
5. You give up any pretense of paying attention. You get your iPod out and begin both listening to music, with just one earbud in, while also playing Angry Birds. This is the stage at which you realize that there really is something to these webinar things. Now you understand why they are so popular with your co-workers. At the end of the webinar, you sign up for the next one.
You then report back to your boss saying a lot of things like “I think that we could actualize this process in the building of better community resources by utilizing the development of more proactive parameters...or paradigms. Well, now I can’t remember exactly which word they used, but it was something like that.” Keep talking such nonsense until your boss’s eyes begin to glaze over, at which point, he or she will be so impressed that you actually paid attention that he or she will encourage you to take a long lunch. Anything to get you to leave.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Irish Alzheimer's
I just heard this line on Law & Order: Criminal Intent.
Eames and Goren are leaving Eames's dad's home, and she says of her dad, "He has Irish Alzheimer's: they forget everything but the grudges."
I actually laughed out loud. This is so true, at least in my Irish family.
My dad was born the oldest of eight children to Irish immigrants in Brooklyn, NY. My dad married a Southern girl and moved to Tennessee when they started their family. Like all good New Yorkers, the rest of them moved to Florida as they retired. They formed an enclave near Port Richey, all living within a couple of miles of each other, with many of them living next door or across the street from one another.
The last time I took my dad down to visit his family in Florida, all that they did was bitch and gripe about the ones who weren't there to defend themselves. My dad, as the oldest--and surrogate dad after their father died very young--was always conciliatory, wanting nothing more than for all of his sibs to get along and love one another. He was herding cats, I'm afraid.
On this trip, even though dad was in his mid 70s, he spent his entire time visiting each sib in his or her own home, trying to smooth feathers, soothe old hurts, and bring everyone together. But all they could do was grumble about how so-and-so played when they got together to play penny-ante poker, or how this one or that one didn't pull his load during family functions, and so forth. You probably know the drill. And despite the fact that these combatants were in their mid 60s to mid 70s the constant bickering had more to do with baggage that they were carrying from 50 or more years ago than it had to do with how Marty's wife made the potato salad for Easter.
My grandmother was already long-dead at this time. Had she been there, she would not have tried to soothe hurt feelings, as my dad did; she would have entered the fray. Truth to tell, she would have led the fray. We kids spent a large part of our summers in Florida with Grandma and the aunts and uncles, and I don't know that in all that time, I ever heard my grandmother say anything positive or have a kind word to say toward anyone or anything. I loved my grandmother, but that woman could nurture a grudge like nobody's business. It was actually kind of funny, if you didn't have to be exposed to it all of the time.
Now, my dad is gone, as are all but one of his brothers and sisters. I wonder if my aunt--the youngest of the family--misses the squabbling. I'll bet she does.
Eames and Goren are leaving Eames's dad's home, and she says of her dad, "He has Irish Alzheimer's: they forget everything but the grudges."
I actually laughed out loud. This is so true, at least in my Irish family.
My dad was born the oldest of eight children to Irish immigrants in Brooklyn, NY. My dad married a Southern girl and moved to Tennessee when they started their family. Like all good New Yorkers, the rest of them moved to Florida as they retired. They formed an enclave near Port Richey, all living within a couple of miles of each other, with many of them living next door or across the street from one another.
The last time I took my dad down to visit his family in Florida, all that they did was bitch and gripe about the ones who weren't there to defend themselves. My dad, as the oldest--and surrogate dad after their father died very young--was always conciliatory, wanting nothing more than for all of his sibs to get along and love one another. He was herding cats, I'm afraid.
On this trip, even though dad was in his mid 70s, he spent his entire time visiting each sib in his or her own home, trying to smooth feathers, soothe old hurts, and bring everyone together. But all they could do was grumble about how so-and-so played when they got together to play penny-ante poker, or how this one or that one didn't pull his load during family functions, and so forth. You probably know the drill. And despite the fact that these combatants were in their mid 60s to mid 70s the constant bickering had more to do with baggage that they were carrying from 50 or more years ago than it had to do with how Marty's wife made the potato salad for Easter.
My grandmother was already long-dead at this time. Had she been there, she would not have tried to soothe hurt feelings, as my dad did; she would have entered the fray. Truth to tell, she would have led the fray. We kids spent a large part of our summers in Florida with Grandma and the aunts and uncles, and I don't know that in all that time, I ever heard my grandmother say anything positive or have a kind word to say toward anyone or anything. I loved my grandmother, but that woman could nurture a grudge like nobody's business. It was actually kind of funny, if you didn't have to be exposed to it all of the time.
Now, my dad is gone, as are all but one of his brothers and sisters. I wonder if my aunt--the youngest of the family--misses the squabbling. I'll bet she does.
Two kinds of people... (continued)
[Note: this post is continued from yesterday. I've repeated the last few lines from the previous post to provide continuity. --KB]
Well, here's my “two types” theory for the day (I'm sure I'll have another one tomorrow).
There are two types of people in the world: those who like so-called logic problems and those who don't.
You can probably guess which type I am by my use of the word “so-called” to describe these problems. By “logic problems” or “logic puzzles,” people mean “math.”
Logic is part math, sure. But it is also part language. These are what my fourth-grade math teacher used to refer to as “word problems,” to make it sound like they would be more interesting and solvable than actual math problems. But they were really just math problems masquerading as interesting scenarios. By the end of the problem I felt like I had gotten to read a little story, which I liked. And then the teacher would say, “Okay, students, now I want you to come up with the answer.” And I would think, “Answer? Answer to what?” To which the teacher would say, “You have three minutes, starting...now.”
I am not good at math. You may have already guessed that. To say that I'm not good at math is like saying that Bernie Madoff was not good at investing or that Joseph Stalin was not good at interpersonal relationships. I really suck at math.
But I'm not an illogical person. In fact, my college offered a number of logic classes (which were in the philosophy department, not the math department). I took them all. In fact, I took enough logic classes to be able to claim philosophy as a minor. (Though I don't.)
So, logic yes, math no.
There is not really all that much logic in the average logic problem, or puzzle. But there is a lot of mucking about with charts and graphs and columns and rows, all carefully marked with people's names, dates, types of freight, country names, speeds of vehicles, and so forth.
Good grief! Do people really not have enough to do?
If you don't know what I'm talking about, just google this as well. I found many excellent examples of this particular kind of time waster at puzzles.com (which I'm sure is an excellent site, by the way, for people who enjoy puzzles of all kinds. If you are that type of person, that is.)
Here are just a couple: (you can skip the part between the lines if you already know what I'm talking about. Just know that I will give the answers to the problems at the end of today's post.)
____________________________________________________________
Elliot and four friends were amateur astronomers and often spent nights together observing the stars through their telescopes. Recently, they’d discovered a new way to enjoy their passion – not just observing the heavens but also photographing them. Using laptops and digital cameras connected to the telescopes, they scanned the sky for astronomical phenomena to photograph. On Friday night, the five friends met for the evening to view the stars. It was a beautiful night for astronomy. Weather conditions were perfect for viewing, the sky clear and brilliant with stars; even the temperature was pleasant, warm but comfortable. As a result, some of them stayed out quite late and all shot some great photos. Each had two photos in particular that were just fantastic images. By happy coincidence, each happened to be shooting something different when those photos were taken so by the end of the night, they had a phenomenal collection of images to show off (each managed to capture a different planet and a different nebula). Determine the full name of each amateur astronomer, the time each packed up for the night (between midnight and 4am), and the planet and nebula each captured with a fantastic image.
1.Mr. Masters got a terrific picture of the Ring Nebula. Felix didn’t get a picture of the Orion Nebula.
2.And then there were five more “clues,” along with several complex-looking tables of names and such to help you solve the problem. (I'll give the answer at the end of my post today.)
Elliot worked for a distributor and looking at his work schedule this morning, he had a lot of scheduled pickups to get ready for the trucks. The odd thing about today's work schedule was that all of the trucks scheduled for pickups were from independent trucking companies instead of the large trucking companies who handled the bulk of their shipping. Shrugging, he hurried off to get the scheduled goods ready for shipment. Determine the name of each trucking company picking up loads today, the name of each truck driver, the type of goods each was picking up, and each trucker's final destination.
1.Freight Away was carrying shoes but not to Ohio.
2.And then there were five more “clues,” along with several complex-looking tables of names and such to help you solve the problem. (I'll give the answer at the end of my post today.)
____________________________________________________________
Okay, you get the idea. Surely you had to solve these kinds of problems when you were in grade school.
To solve the problems, my first question is this: Why did they use the name Elliot in both puzzles? I mean, all of the male names in the world, and they use Elliot twice? Doesn't that strike anyone else as weird? Elliot is such an uncommon name, not to say that it's twerpy and odd, it's just uncommon. Why not use Robert or James or William? I am not making this up. Go to logic puzzles at puzzles.com, and you'll see that they really did use Elliot twice.
But that kind of thinking isn't going to get this problem solved, is it? And—yikes!--I have only 90 seconds left! Aaaggggghhhhh!!!
This pretty much sums up my entire mathematics career, from kindergarten through the first year of college (which is the last time that I had to take a math class, since I quickly declared a non-mathematical major after that).
I'm going to give the answers to the two above problems in just a moment. But first I have to observe that giving the answers is not really necessary. That is because of the two types of people in the world. The type that likes logic puzzles has long since abandoned this long blog post for puzzles.com so that they could 1) find something interesting to do, and 2) see the cool, complicated tables. The only people left reading at this point are people who 1) do not like logic puzzles, 2) do not have anything interesting to do, and 3) are related to me.
So, given that the only people who are still reading are not interested in logic puzzles, I will give only the final answer to each logic puzzle, without all of the complicated explanation required to show you how the answer was reached. And, for those of you who think that I am going to say that the answer is “I don't know,” all I can say is that that is an extremely cynical, sarcastic, and ignorant way of thinking.
I have, though, discovered in all my years of having to try to answer these puzzles, come to the conclusion that the answers are quite simple and easily arrived at. The answers to all such problems are, “Who cares?” or “Don't do it, then.” If the second answer is not appropriate for the way that the problem was couched, then I can assure you that the first answer always works and is always appropriate.
Well, here's my “two types” theory for the day (I'm sure I'll have another one tomorrow).
There are two types of people in the world: those who like so-called logic problems and those who don't.
You can probably guess which type I am by my use of the word “so-called” to describe these problems. By “logic problems” or “logic puzzles,” people mean “math.”
Logic is part math, sure. But it is also part language. These are what my fourth-grade math teacher used to refer to as “word problems,” to make it sound like they would be more interesting and solvable than actual math problems. But they were really just math problems masquerading as interesting scenarios. By the end of the problem I felt like I had gotten to read a little story, which I liked. And then the teacher would say, “Okay, students, now I want you to come up with the answer.” And I would think, “Answer? Answer to what?” To which the teacher would say, “You have three minutes, starting...now.”
I am not good at math. You may have already guessed that. To say that I'm not good at math is like saying that Bernie Madoff was not good at investing or that Joseph Stalin was not good at interpersonal relationships. I really suck at math.
But I'm not an illogical person. In fact, my college offered a number of logic classes (which were in the philosophy department, not the math department). I took them all. In fact, I took enough logic classes to be able to claim philosophy as a minor. (Though I don't.)
So, logic yes, math no.
There is not really all that much logic in the average logic problem, or puzzle. But there is a lot of mucking about with charts and graphs and columns and rows, all carefully marked with people's names, dates, types of freight, country names, speeds of vehicles, and so forth.
Good grief! Do people really not have enough to do?
If you don't know what I'm talking about, just google this as well. I found many excellent examples of this particular kind of time waster at puzzles.com (which I'm sure is an excellent site, by the way, for people who enjoy puzzles of all kinds. If you are that type of person, that is.)
Here are just a couple: (you can skip the part between the lines if you already know what I'm talking about. Just know that I will give the answers to the problems at the end of today's post.)
____________________________________________________________
Elliot and four friends were amateur astronomers and often spent nights together observing the stars through their telescopes. Recently, they’d discovered a new way to enjoy their passion – not just observing the heavens but also photographing them. Using laptops and digital cameras connected to the telescopes, they scanned the sky for astronomical phenomena to photograph. On Friday night, the five friends met for the evening to view the stars. It was a beautiful night for astronomy. Weather conditions were perfect for viewing, the sky clear and brilliant with stars; even the temperature was pleasant, warm but comfortable. As a result, some of them stayed out quite late and all shot some great photos. Each had two photos in particular that were just fantastic images. By happy coincidence, each happened to be shooting something different when those photos were taken so by the end of the night, they had a phenomenal collection of images to show off (each managed to capture a different planet and a different nebula). Determine the full name of each amateur astronomer, the time each packed up for the night (between midnight and 4am), and the planet and nebula each captured with a fantastic image.
1.Mr. Masters got a terrific picture of the Ring Nebula. Felix didn’t get a picture of the Orion Nebula.
2.And then there were five more “clues,” along with several complex-looking tables of names and such to help you solve the problem. (I'll give the answer at the end of my post today.)
Elliot worked for a distributor and looking at his work schedule this morning, he had a lot of scheduled pickups to get ready for the trucks. The odd thing about today's work schedule was that all of the trucks scheduled for pickups were from independent trucking companies instead of the large trucking companies who handled the bulk of their shipping. Shrugging, he hurried off to get the scheduled goods ready for shipment. Determine the name of each trucking company picking up loads today, the name of each truck driver, the type of goods each was picking up, and each trucker's final destination.
1.Freight Away was carrying shoes but not to Ohio.
2.And then there were five more “clues,” along with several complex-looking tables of names and such to help you solve the problem. (I'll give the answer at the end of my post today.)
____________________________________________________________
Okay, you get the idea. Surely you had to solve these kinds of problems when you were in grade school.
To solve the problems, my first question is this: Why did they use the name Elliot in both puzzles? I mean, all of the male names in the world, and they use Elliot twice? Doesn't that strike anyone else as weird? Elliot is such an uncommon name, not to say that it's twerpy and odd, it's just uncommon. Why not use Robert or James or William? I am not making this up. Go to logic puzzles at puzzles.com, and you'll see that they really did use Elliot twice.
But that kind of thinking isn't going to get this problem solved, is it? And—yikes!--I have only 90 seconds left! Aaaggggghhhhh!!!
This pretty much sums up my entire mathematics career, from kindergarten through the first year of college (which is the last time that I had to take a math class, since I quickly declared a non-mathematical major after that).
I'm going to give the answers to the two above problems in just a moment. But first I have to observe that giving the answers is not really necessary. That is because of the two types of people in the world. The type that likes logic puzzles has long since abandoned this long blog post for puzzles.com so that they could 1) find something interesting to do, and 2) see the cool, complicated tables. The only people left reading at this point are people who 1) do not like logic puzzles, 2) do not have anything interesting to do, and 3) are related to me.
So, given that the only people who are still reading are not interested in logic puzzles, I will give only the final answer to each logic puzzle, without all of the complicated explanation required to show you how the answer was reached. And, for those of you who think that I am going to say that the answer is “I don't know,” all I can say is that that is an extremely cynical, sarcastic, and ignorant way of thinking.
I have, though, discovered in all my years of having to try to answer these puzzles, come to the conclusion that the answers are quite simple and easily arrived at. The answers to all such problems are, “Who cares?” or “Don't do it, then.” If the second answer is not appropriate for the way that the problem was couched, then I can assure you that the first answer always works and is always appropriate.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Two kinds of people...
[Blogger's note: this blog post became so long, what with all of the examples included, that I have split it into two posts. Today's post covers the "two kinds of people" aspect, and tomorrow's post will cover the other aspect. --KB]
I love it when people say that there are two kinds of people in the world. You know that they are then going to give you their theory about the two kinds. It doesn't really give you so much an idea about the two types of people in the world, but it does give you some insight into what is important to the speaker.
People have all kinds of “two types” theories; just google the phrase and you'll see multitudes of quotations on the subject. Here are just a few:
Most famous is probably Robert Benchley's Law of Distinction: “There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don’t.”
Mark Twain was absolutely full of the “two types” adages, adapting the phrase to many situations, people, and purposes. Just a few of his were:
“There are basically two types of people. People who accomplish things, and people who claim to have accomplished things. The first group is less crowded.” “There are two types of speakers: those that are nervous and those that are liars.”
“There are two kinds of fools. One says, ‘This is old, therefore it is good.” The other says, ‘This is new, therefore it is better.’ Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them, the rest of us could not succeed.”
“There are two times in a man’s life when he should not speculate: when he can’t afford it, and when he can.”
There are two kinds of poets: the ones who tell the stories, and the ones about whom the stories get told.
But, of course, Mark Twain was not the only “two type” observer.
“For my grandfather, there were two kinds of people in the world: Those who agreed with him, and those who hadn’t yet agreed with him.” -- B. Spira
“There are two kinds of people in the world: the Givers and the Takers. The difference between the two is that the Takers eat well, and the Givers sleep well at night.”--Joy Mills
There are two types of people: those who come into a room and say, “Well, here I am!” and those who come in and say, “Ah, there you are.” (Abigail Van Buren)
And then there are thousands more examples. Like I said, google it yourself (if you happen to have a couple of hours to kill). By the way, I believe in attribution, so all of the above quotations were gleaned from a blog: http://danspira.com/meme-collection/etc.... But, as I said, sites about the two types are all over the place.
Well, here's my “two types” theory for the day (I'm sure I'll have another one tomorrow).
There are two types of people in the world: those who like so-called logic problems and those who don't.
You can probably guess which type I am by my use of the word “so-called” to describe these problems. By “logic problems” or “logic puzzles,” people mean “math.”
I love it when people say that there are two kinds of people in the world. You know that they are then going to give you their theory about the two kinds. It doesn't really give you so much an idea about the two types of people in the world, but it does give you some insight into what is important to the speaker.
People have all kinds of “two types” theories; just google the phrase and you'll see multitudes of quotations on the subject. Here are just a few:
Most famous is probably Robert Benchley's Law of Distinction: “There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don’t.”
Mark Twain was absolutely full of the “two types” adages, adapting the phrase to many situations, people, and purposes. Just a few of his were:
“There are basically two types of people. People who accomplish things, and people who claim to have accomplished things. The first group is less crowded.” “There are two types of speakers: those that are nervous and those that are liars.”
“There are two kinds of fools. One says, ‘This is old, therefore it is good.” The other says, ‘This is new, therefore it is better.’ Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them, the rest of us could not succeed.”
“There are two times in a man’s life when he should not speculate: when he can’t afford it, and when he can.”
There are two kinds of poets: the ones who tell the stories, and the ones about whom the stories get told.
But, of course, Mark Twain was not the only “two type” observer.
“For my grandfather, there were two kinds of people in the world: Those who agreed with him, and those who hadn’t yet agreed with him.” -- B. Spira
“There are two kinds of people in the world: the Givers and the Takers. The difference between the two is that the Takers eat well, and the Givers sleep well at night.”--Joy Mills
There are two types of people: those who come into a room and say, “Well, here I am!” and those who come in and say, “Ah, there you are.” (Abigail Van Buren)
And then there are thousands more examples. Like I said, google it yourself (if you happen to have a couple of hours to kill). By the way, I believe in attribution, so all of the above quotations were gleaned from a blog: http://danspira.com/meme-collection/etc.... But, as I said, sites about the two types are all over the place.
Well, here's my “two types” theory for the day (I'm sure I'll have another one tomorrow).
There are two types of people in the world: those who like so-called logic problems and those who don't.
You can probably guess which type I am by my use of the word “so-called” to describe these problems. By “logic problems” or “logic puzzles,” people mean “math.”
Medical Mondegreens
Well, first, I know you're wondering what a mondegreen is. And even though my examples make it clear from context what a mondegreen is, you will be so absorbed by your curiosity and confusion ("What is a mondegreen? How come I don't already know this word? I must find out!") And then you will either leave my blog to find out (and perhaps forget to return), or you will go ahead and read on, but you'll be so distracted that you won't truly appreciate the hilarity of the situations I describe herein.
So:
A mondegreen is the mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase as a result of near homophony, in a way that gives it a new meaning.
American writer Sylvia Wright coined the term in her essay "The Death of Lady Mondegreen," published in Harper's Magazine in November 1954.[3] Wright described how, as a young girl, she misheard the last line of the first stanza from the 17th-century ballad "The Bonny Earl O'Moray". She wrote: "When I was a child, my mother used to read aloud to me from Percy's Reliques, and one of my favorite poems began, as I remember":
Ye Highlands and ye Lowlands,
Oh, where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl O' Moray,
And Lady Mondegreen.
The actual fourth line is "And laid him on the green."
--the preceding four paragraphs are from Wikipedia.com
Wikipedia goes on to say that most mondegreens come from mishearing music lyrics or poetry.
For some reason, though, my most memorable and embarrassing mondegreen moments happen in doctors’ offices.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #1:
A few years ago, I was waiting in my family doctor’s waiting room. It’s a large practice, with its own lab, pharmacy, walk-in clinic, X-ray department, and more. Occasionally, various staff members’ voices would come on over the PA announcing who was needed where or other announcements important only to staff. For the most part, I was able to ignore them.
However, because my name is Kathy, this one caught my attention. A female voice came on and announced, “Kathy, please come clean a chicken.” Okay, I thought. I’ve clearly misunderstood. So it was with much greater attention that I listened when the announcement was repeated a couple of minutes later. She clearly said, “Kathy, please come clean a chicken.” Just to be sure, I listened very carefully for any further such announcements, and sure enough, she came on one more time with the very clearly enunciated request.
When I got in to see my doctor, I was going to ask him about this. Whatever could it have meant? Have they gone into the veterinary business as well? Or was it “clean a chicken” as in the way a meat-packing plant would use the term? Either way, it was a bit unsettling. But when the moment came, I found I couldn’t bring myself to ask him and risk being referred to a mental health facility. So I kept my mouth shut. He did, however, send me down the hall to the lab for some simple blood work.
I continued to mull over what it all meant as I waited in the hall to be called into the lab. My turn finally came, and this time, screwing up my courage, I told the lab tech about the announcement and asked her what it meant. Just as I feared, she laughed out loud at me. Then, to my horror, she says very loudly to all of her co-workers in the lab (plus the patients sitting out in the hallway, from whom we were separated only by cloth curtains), “Did you hear that? She says that she heard them come over the PA and say, ‘Kathy, please come clean a chicken!’”
They all then began to conjecture on what the announcer had actually said. I maintained that she had said exactly what I had heard, since she’d repeated it several times and I’d been listening carefully. They were all work on this problem when one of them said, “Hmmm. Kathy. Kathy. Kathy works in the clinic. Oh, they must have needed her to come to the clinic check-in!”
Clinic check-in, clean a chicken, whatever.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #2:
My next embarrassing mondegreen moment came at another doctor’s office, one I hadn’t been to in quite a while. The first thing they wanted to do was update all of my information in their file. So I filled out reams of repetitive forms, signed away my life, etc., and turned it all back in. Then, the receptionist called me back up to the front desk and asked me if I felt like I needed a new copy of the doctor’s prophecy statement.
Now, when I am confronted with something confusing or perplexing, my brain instantly loses its ability to control my mouth and form even the simplest sentences. I stand, eyes wide, completely mute, looking much like the famed deer in the headlights. My jaw worked up and down, but I couldn’t say anything. My mind, in the meantime, was going wild. It was saying, but only to itself, Prophecy statement? Prophecy statement? Whatever could she mean? I know that Dr. M is a religious man. Does he actually prophesy to patients? He has a *statement* that one has to agree to? How does this work? In the meantime, as I stood, apparently catatonic, she repeated the question several more times, each time saying “prophecy statement” very clearly. What was I to do? Mouth, move! I ordered. Say something. Just take the darned thing. What difference does it make? But I just stood, mute and unmoving.
Finally, looking very concerned about my mental condition, the receptionist said quietly, “I’ll just make a copy for you–that way you’ll have it if you want it.” I nodded my head. She went to the copier, ran one copy, and returned with the doctor’s privacy statement.
I should have been able to figure this one out. The woman’s accent made it clear that she was from deeper in the South than we are in Tennessee. I lived in Georgia, for Pete’s sake, for many years, and I should have recognized the long “i” that becomes “ah” off the tongue of someone from the Deep South.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #3:
This one happened just the other day.
I had a possible urinary tract infection and had gone to my doctor’s walk-in clinic to get a diagnosis and antibiotics.
A nurse beckoned me toward the bathroom, wanting to get a lab sample from me. She picked up one of the plastic cups and a Sharpie marker.
With marker poised over the cup, she said, “Got urine issues?” in a friendly way.
I smiled wanly and mumbled, “Yeah, I guess.”
She looked at me for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out what to do next, and then repeated, “What’re your initials?”
So:
A mondegreen is the mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase as a result of near homophony, in a way that gives it a new meaning.
American writer Sylvia Wright coined the term in her essay "The Death of Lady Mondegreen," published in Harper's Magazine in November 1954.[3] Wright described how, as a young girl, she misheard the last line of the first stanza from the 17th-century ballad "The Bonny Earl O'Moray". She wrote: "When I was a child, my mother used to read aloud to me from Percy's Reliques, and one of my favorite poems began, as I remember":
Ye Highlands and ye Lowlands,
Oh, where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl O' Moray,
And Lady Mondegreen.
The actual fourth line is "And laid him on the green."
--the preceding four paragraphs are from Wikipedia.com
Wikipedia goes on to say that most mondegreens come from mishearing music lyrics or poetry.
For some reason, though, my most memorable and embarrassing mondegreen moments happen in doctors’ offices.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #1:
A few years ago, I was waiting in my family doctor’s waiting room. It’s a large practice, with its own lab, pharmacy, walk-in clinic, X-ray department, and more. Occasionally, various staff members’ voices would come on over the PA announcing who was needed where or other announcements important only to staff. For the most part, I was able to ignore them.
However, because my name is Kathy, this one caught my attention. A female voice came on and announced, “Kathy, please come clean a chicken.” Okay, I thought. I’ve clearly misunderstood. So it was with much greater attention that I listened when the announcement was repeated a couple of minutes later. She clearly said, “Kathy, please come clean a chicken.” Just to be sure, I listened very carefully for any further such announcements, and sure enough, she came on one more time with the very clearly enunciated request.
When I got in to see my doctor, I was going to ask him about this. Whatever could it have meant? Have they gone into the veterinary business as well? Or was it “clean a chicken” as in the way a meat-packing plant would use the term? Either way, it was a bit unsettling. But when the moment came, I found I couldn’t bring myself to ask him and risk being referred to a mental health facility. So I kept my mouth shut. He did, however, send me down the hall to the lab for some simple blood work.
I continued to mull over what it all meant as I waited in the hall to be called into the lab. My turn finally came, and this time, screwing up my courage, I told the lab tech about the announcement and asked her what it meant. Just as I feared, she laughed out loud at me. Then, to my horror, she says very loudly to all of her co-workers in the lab (plus the patients sitting out in the hallway, from whom we were separated only by cloth curtains), “Did you hear that? She says that she heard them come over the PA and say, ‘Kathy, please come clean a chicken!’”
They all then began to conjecture on what the announcer had actually said. I maintained that she had said exactly what I had heard, since she’d repeated it several times and I’d been listening carefully. They were all work on this problem when one of them said, “Hmmm. Kathy. Kathy. Kathy works in the clinic. Oh, they must have needed her to come to the clinic check-in!”
Clinic check-in, clean a chicken, whatever.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #2:
My next embarrassing mondegreen moment came at another doctor’s office, one I hadn’t been to in quite a while. The first thing they wanted to do was update all of my information in their file. So I filled out reams of repetitive forms, signed away my life, etc., and turned it all back in. Then, the receptionist called me back up to the front desk and asked me if I felt like I needed a new copy of the doctor’s prophecy statement.
Now, when I am confronted with something confusing or perplexing, my brain instantly loses its ability to control my mouth and form even the simplest sentences. I stand, eyes wide, completely mute, looking much like the famed deer in the headlights. My jaw worked up and down, but I couldn’t say anything. My mind, in the meantime, was going wild. It was saying, but only to itself, Prophecy statement? Prophecy statement? Whatever could she mean? I know that Dr. M is a religious man. Does he actually prophesy to patients? He has a *statement* that one has to agree to? How does this work? In the meantime, as I stood, apparently catatonic, she repeated the question several more times, each time saying “prophecy statement” very clearly. What was I to do? Mouth, move! I ordered. Say something. Just take the darned thing. What difference does it make? But I just stood, mute and unmoving.
Finally, looking very concerned about my mental condition, the receptionist said quietly, “I’ll just make a copy for you–that way you’ll have it if you want it.” I nodded my head. She went to the copier, ran one copy, and returned with the doctor’s privacy statement.
I should have been able to figure this one out. The woman’s accent made it clear that she was from deeper in the South than we are in Tennessee. I lived in Georgia, for Pete’s sake, for many years, and I should have recognized the long “i” that becomes “ah” off the tongue of someone from the Deep South.
Doctor’s office mondegreen #3:
This one happened just the other day.
I had a possible urinary tract infection and had gone to my doctor’s walk-in clinic to get a diagnosis and antibiotics.
A nurse beckoned me toward the bathroom, wanting to get a lab sample from me. She picked up one of the plastic cups and a Sharpie marker.
With marker poised over the cup, she said, “Got urine issues?” in a friendly way.
I smiled wanly and mumbled, “Yeah, I guess.”
She looked at me for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out what to do next, and then repeated, “What’re your initials?”
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I do not want...
a car that parks itself.
Just in case you were wondering.
I LIKE to drive. I LIKE to park. I do a good job at these things. I do not want machines to take over what is, to me, a fun thing to do. That's all I have to say on that subject.
However, appliance manufacturers, if you happen to be reading: I wouldn't mind a washer that collects and sorts the clothes, loads itself, and then puts the wet clothes in the dryer, which would then hang or fold and stack them. I wouldn't even mind putting the clothes away myself. And while you're at it, if you want to build kitchen appliances that would work together to store cold food, create appealing menus, prepare meals, cook meals, and then keep the food safely warm for me till I arrive home, that would be fine, too.
But no self-parking cars, please.
Just in case you were wondering.
I LIKE to drive. I LIKE to park. I do a good job at these things. I do not want machines to take over what is, to me, a fun thing to do. That's all I have to say on that subject.
However, appliance manufacturers, if you happen to be reading: I wouldn't mind a washer that collects and sorts the clothes, loads itself, and then puts the wet clothes in the dryer, which would then hang or fold and stack them. I wouldn't even mind putting the clothes away myself. And while you're at it, if you want to build kitchen appliances that would work together to store cold food, create appealing menus, prepare meals, cook meals, and then keep the food safely warm for me till I arrive home, that would be fine, too.
But no self-parking cars, please.
Monday, May 23, 2011
I remember when it was just called toilet paper
What is it with toilet paper--er, I mean, bathroom tissue--commercials these days? Toilet paper seems to have come out of the closet, so to speak, recently, and--in my opinion--is getting too real for daytime television.
One commercial has a woman standing there, saying, "It's time to get real about what goes on in the bathroom."
And I think, "Really? Must we?"
I mean, really. Does anyone truly want to talk about this? Just walking into the bathroom after some people is too real an experience for me.
And then Charmin has its bear family (not to be mistaken for the bare family, though the bears are bare, now that I think about it). The mama bear routinely inspects her son's bottom for "pieces" that have been "left behind" (her words). Now, really. If you are more than three years old and your mom even occasionally inspects your bottom, then there is something wrong going on in your family. And she even calls it "inspection." Come on, Charmin! This is just downright creepy.
Then there's this weird product called Comfort Wipe. I'm not even going to go there. Literally. It's not TP itself, but it's a TP enhancer, you might say. It, too, would be creepy if it weren't so ridiculous that it seems like a spoof.
I confess that I do find the Angel Soft commercial funny--the one in which the guy's wife throws a roll of TP that takes the hair off the side of his head (because that TP is "too hard") and then the next roll, which is "too soft" explodes into fluff in his hands. But, you see, that one gets a little farther away from the topic of what, exactly, the TP is going to be used for.
Don't we all know what it's going to be used for? Do we really need to "get real" about it? I think not. We know that it's not really used for removing makeup, and none of us know what that blue fluid is that they're always pouring onto toilet paper and feminine hygiene products. No, we all know to what end toilet paper is going to come. And we don't really need to get specific about it, as far as I'm concerned.
One commercial has a woman standing there, saying, "It's time to get real about what goes on in the bathroom."
And I think, "Really? Must we?"
I mean, really. Does anyone truly want to talk about this? Just walking into the bathroom after some people is too real an experience for me.
And then Charmin has its bear family (not to be mistaken for the bare family, though the bears are bare, now that I think about it). The mama bear routinely inspects her son's bottom for "pieces" that have been "left behind" (her words). Now, really. If you are more than three years old and your mom even occasionally inspects your bottom, then there is something wrong going on in your family. And she even calls it "inspection." Come on, Charmin! This is just downright creepy.
Then there's this weird product called Comfort Wipe. I'm not even going to go there. Literally. It's not TP itself, but it's a TP enhancer, you might say. It, too, would be creepy if it weren't so ridiculous that it seems like a spoof.
I confess that I do find the Angel Soft commercial funny--the one in which the guy's wife throws a roll of TP that takes the hair off the side of his head (because that TP is "too hard") and then the next roll, which is "too soft" explodes into fluff in his hands. But, you see, that one gets a little farther away from the topic of what, exactly, the TP is going to be used for.
Don't we all know what it's going to be used for? Do we really need to "get real" about it? I think not. We know that it's not really used for removing makeup, and none of us know what that blue fluid is that they're always pouring onto toilet paper and feminine hygiene products. No, we all know to what end toilet paper is going to come. And we don't really need to get specific about it, as far as I'm concerned.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Commencement
We've had four graduations in our family in the last 24 hours, and I've been privileged to attend three of them. Alas, one of them was out of state, and it was impossible to make it to the three here in town and also to that one. The three here were all high school graduations and the out-of-state one was college (undergrad).
I don't have children of my own, but I have 14 nieces and nephews, and one more child who is like a niece to me, so she makes it 15 (she was also one of the high school graduates this year). I love all of my nieces and nephews, and I'm particularly proud of them right now, for all that they've achieved, and for the hope for the future that they represent in our family and for the world. They are all really bright kids with great promise; though they've achieved much, their best days are still ahead of them.
All three of the local kids went to different high schools, which meant, of course, three separate ceremonies to attend. Having sat through three high school graduations, I've heard lots of speechifying over the weekend. Some speeches were better than others, but I have to admit that at this point, they've all kind of run together in my mind. What I come away with is that this generation, like most generations before it, have great potential, big dreams, and the sense that they can make a difference in the world.
That's what youth gives to the world: hope and dreams and energy. We adults know that, like every generation before it, this one will produce its greats, the artists and engineers and leaders who will shape the culture and the country in their time. Most of them will end up settling into quiet lives: working in jobs that they never even heard of while they were in high school, getting married, having babies, growing gardens, teaching, volunteering, and making their local communities better places to live. It will end up a less grand existence than what they imagine right now, but that is not to say that they won't, in fact, have great lives and do great things. Their greatness will just be on a smaller scale than they currently imagine.
And the thing is, that's really okay. There is something to be said for leading a quiet life, for living in peace with those around you, for continuing the march of humanity across time and space. Right now, they see some of these things--growing up to have regular jobs and families and houses--as mundane and banal and a mere "existence" that they want to avoid. And yet, these are the very stepping stones of history. Over time, it is the "ordinary" people who shape our culture, our history, our destiny--not the rulers and revolutionaries.
I am here today because ordinary people had ordinary lives. They grew up, they married, they had babies and jobs. But they also hoped for something better. Maybe it was just a higher-paying factory job than the one they had, but there was always hope: hope for themselves but even more so, hope for their children and their children's children. They left Ireland during times of famine and oppression for the promise of America. They left the squalor of the big-city tenements for the peace of suburbia. They wanted their kids to have better educations, better jobs, and better opportunities than they had had. Now the great exodus from famine-stricken Ireland in the 1800s is not seen as "ordinary," it is seen as history--history that changed Ireland and the U.S. forever. But it was a movement made up, not of presidents and kings, but of poor, uneducated, ordinary people who just wanted something better.
I truly hope that this current generation will do great things for the global community. That they will strive to make life as good in famine-stricken, war-torn lands as it is in their homeland. It would be an achievement of magnificent proportions if they could make it each person’s dream to be able to stay in their own homeland in peace and prosperity rather than having to dig up roots and move off to a Promised Land halfway around the world. Yet, what am I saying but that they should make it so that people all around the world should be able to have ordinary lives, without the drama of war and hunger and poverty?
So, with no further advice or editorializing, I say to the graduating class of 2011: Go forth! Be brilliant! Be great! Be ordinary! You will change history, whether you mean to or not.
I don't have children of my own, but I have 14 nieces and nephews, and one more child who is like a niece to me, so she makes it 15 (she was also one of the high school graduates this year). I love all of my nieces and nephews, and I'm particularly proud of them right now, for all that they've achieved, and for the hope for the future that they represent in our family and for the world. They are all really bright kids with great promise; though they've achieved much, their best days are still ahead of them.
All three of the local kids went to different high schools, which meant, of course, three separate ceremonies to attend. Having sat through three high school graduations, I've heard lots of speechifying over the weekend. Some speeches were better than others, but I have to admit that at this point, they've all kind of run together in my mind. What I come away with is that this generation, like most generations before it, have great potential, big dreams, and the sense that they can make a difference in the world.
That's what youth gives to the world: hope and dreams and energy. We adults know that, like every generation before it, this one will produce its greats, the artists and engineers and leaders who will shape the culture and the country in their time. Most of them will end up settling into quiet lives: working in jobs that they never even heard of while they were in high school, getting married, having babies, growing gardens, teaching, volunteering, and making their local communities better places to live. It will end up a less grand existence than what they imagine right now, but that is not to say that they won't, in fact, have great lives and do great things. Their greatness will just be on a smaller scale than they currently imagine.
And the thing is, that's really okay. There is something to be said for leading a quiet life, for living in peace with those around you, for continuing the march of humanity across time and space. Right now, they see some of these things--growing up to have regular jobs and families and houses--as mundane and banal and a mere "existence" that they want to avoid. And yet, these are the very stepping stones of history. Over time, it is the "ordinary" people who shape our culture, our history, our destiny--not the rulers and revolutionaries.
I am here today because ordinary people had ordinary lives. They grew up, they married, they had babies and jobs. But they also hoped for something better. Maybe it was just a higher-paying factory job than the one they had, but there was always hope: hope for themselves but even more so, hope for their children and their children's children. They left Ireland during times of famine and oppression for the promise of America. They left the squalor of the big-city tenements for the peace of suburbia. They wanted their kids to have better educations, better jobs, and better opportunities than they had had. Now the great exodus from famine-stricken Ireland in the 1800s is not seen as "ordinary," it is seen as history--history that changed Ireland and the U.S. forever. But it was a movement made up, not of presidents and kings, but of poor, uneducated, ordinary people who just wanted something better.
I truly hope that this current generation will do great things for the global community. That they will strive to make life as good in famine-stricken, war-torn lands as it is in their homeland. It would be an achievement of magnificent proportions if they could make it each person’s dream to be able to stay in their own homeland in peace and prosperity rather than having to dig up roots and move off to a Promised Land halfway around the world. Yet, what am I saying but that they should make it so that people all around the world should be able to have ordinary lives, without the drama of war and hunger and poverty?
So, with no further advice or editorializing, I say to the graduating class of 2011: Go forth! Be brilliant! Be great! Be ordinary! You will change history, whether you mean to or not.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Starting Out
This is my first attempt at a blog. It'll take me a while to really get it going, but here's a short start.
I am a single woman of a certain age. My aunt, who was married for 17 years, has been divorced and single for almost 40 years now. When we get to talking about finances, or yard work, or car repair, or just about anything where a husband would come in handy, she says to me, "Kathy, we are just poor women alone in the world." That description, though accurate, makes me laugh. We may sometimes feel like we are alone in the world, but we are, in fact, quite blessed to be part of a large extended family that for the most part gets along with one another and laughs a lot together. We are also blessed to have friends and relatives who care about us.
This blog will probably be a blend of family stories, life observations, and some semifictional writing that I'm playing around with.
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