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November 14, 2007
Ah, the Shame of It...
...of using a word wrongly, sometimes for years, only to find out later the error of one's ways. Even when someone has not overtly pointed out my error to me, which usually involves defensiveness and then humbling in a quiet moment upon checking a dictionary then returning with my tail between my legs, I even feel the shame when I find the error myself. Groan. How embarrassing is it that I have been misspeaking all these years, not only for the shame of it, but the sheer garbling of communication, which is hard enough as it is, a tenuous landscape that is so eaily pierced with fissures of misunderstanding.
And, why does it happen so often? Well, it does to me at least. First, I think it arises from a desire, partly vain, partly useful, to expand one's vocabulary, to nuance communication with a broader vocabulary, which makes it all the more tragic when one has misunderstood a word, because exactly the opposite is the result. I also think it occurs because we largely learn words by hearing them used, and words, though they cannot be used with an infinite set of meanings, often have rather large set of meanings. And even this set is not set.
I remember when I learned the concept that language is conventional, that words only have meanings as groups of people use them in certain ways. I like to picture the term conventional itself here as a little groups of people meeting in "word conventions" for each and every word deciding what it will mean. Of course, most such deciding is pretty unconscious and constantly ocurring, and is done as easily as we breath, as a function of our creation as intensely social, meaning making beings.
If you doubt this dynamic of how words come to mean certain things, I submit that you should simply consider slang, and how words acquire and lose meaning in that context. It seems to me as if slang is a cocentrated, fast-moving version of the process that occurs with all words.
And, so, because words have semantic ranges that are fuzzy around the edges and constantly shifting, sometimes I think if one hears a word used at the edge of one range, well, one might simply map it to a different semantic range that is somewhat relted and then begin to associate it more strongly with the main word in that range. Does that make sense?
All that is to say that my most recent faux pas (that's pronounced "fox pass" if you live in the Midwest ;), was to use the word "quixotic" to mean puzzling, mysterious, secretive or to have a hidden meaning. It means no such thing, but rather is derived from the story of Don Quixote and means: 1) foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action 2) capricious, unpredictable. Groan.
I think my worst mistake, though, actually occurred in another language, in Urdu. Mind you I did not speak Urdu often and consistently, but for years when I thought I was using the word "strict," I was actually using the word "lazy." I remember several conversations in which I described one of my teacher as being "sust" and saying that I still liked him, meaning he was strict, but I still appreciated him. Alas, groan, my assessment of my teacher and my listeners assessment of me were radically different than intended, about which only a few minutes ago I still laughed nervously, heartily, after all these years, with the relieved, cathartic laugh one sometimes experiences when being delivered from great shame.
Do you have any examples of similar fox passes? Yeah, mispronunciation of words you have only read but never heard will work too. I am not dyslexic but for years "debris" was "der-bis" for me and "hereby" was "her-bie," as in "Hey, Virgil, are you going to herbie will me something on your yearbook page?"
P.S.
Oh, and, yes, I have been playing FreeRice, why do you ask?
Lit and Library Stuff | By jackdas | 9:51 AM
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Comments
I have a lot of those foibles. I won’t go into some of my most shameful examples; however, I will say Freud would have fun analyzing them. I think the MOST recent one was using the word “cornucopia” for “conglomerate”. D’oh. But, when I'm really honest with myself, I think MY issue is less getting the definition of words confused; It's more my tendency to speak WHILE processing. Yikes! I'll spare myself the shame of offering examples.
Sometimes I get frustrated that Jacob’s vocabulary is far greater than mine, yet he lets me do so much talking—a shame really.
Posted by: Heidi Vincent at November 14, 2007 10:20 AM
I remember for about a year or two- maybe during high school, the word "subtle" seemed like the best description for a lot of things but when I tried to say it it sounded like "suB-tell" and it sounded wrong but I couldn't figure out why. Finally someone (probably my dad) corrected me ("suttle"), and I had that feeling of food in my teeth- "how long has it been there when people weren't telling me?" The worst was that I had known in the past and forgotten.
Now, I try to just laugh my little mistakes off-it's not like it's earth-shattering news to anyone that I make mistakes. I also probably use more words in writing than in speaking as well! Some words can be spelled but not pronounced!
Free rice! Fun!
Posted by: Heidi H. at November 14, 2007 11:35 AM
Heidi H., I thought that was a rather suBtell difference in my mind, but then when I sounded it out, it really is not that suttle at all. "I had that feeling of food in my teeth- 'how long has it been there when people weren't telling me?'' That is a great description of how one feels. The levels of shame I, and I believe people generally feel, at such inadvertant mistakes amazes me at times. Why should it be so?
Heidi V., not because of such foibles, but because such enthusiasm enduced foibles are right there alongside sparkling wit and thoughtful speech is why your presence is so delightful at gatherings.
Posted by: Neil E. Das at November 14, 2007 12:19 PM
Awww thanks Neil. You're too kind. :)
Posted by: Heidi Vincent at November 14, 2007 12:47 PM
I was in back home on break from boarding school and was quite envious of the praise that my brother Neil was receiving for his command of the local dialect, Punjabi. So I selected an obscure word of the dialect and loudly injected it into the dinner table conversation while our cook was standing by. The word "tooker" was used in the villages for "chapatti" the local term for the flat unleavened bread that we routinely ate. I learned from the icy silence that followed and the embarassed and quiet mutterings of our cook that the word really should have been left in the village. I love the guttural (sp?), rough and unsophisticated language that is Punjabi but I learned that even it has its own linguistic snobbery.
I can still feel the ice.
Now I am even wondering if I know what guttural means. I am certainly not sure of the spelling. Webster's here I come!
Posted by: Virgil Das at November 16, 2007 12:38 PM
Virgil that's hilarious!
Guttural: “gruff-sounding: characterized by harsh and grating speech sounds made in the throat or toward the back of the mouth”
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2004 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
Posted by: Heidi Vincent at November 16, 2007 1:20 PM
I always thought that "tooker" was not the word for bread, but short for "tookerah" which meant "piece of," which often though was used with bread or in place of bread.
Ah, Punjabi is a wonderfully gutteral and descriptive language. Alas, metaphorically, I have become more Urdu than Punjabi in these later years. In the subcontinent, Persian was once the gold standard for poetry, but Urdu at one point ran a fairly close second. It is so refined in comparison to Punjabi, though.
Neil (the Punjabi expert ;)
Posted by: Neil E. Das at November 16, 2007 2:23 PM
Oh, and to explain the "herbie will" thing, since our high school was so small, each senior got his or her own page and could lay it out how they chose with pictures, quotes, and, if they wanted, a will, wherein one would leave either actual things or informal titles/roles or sincere wishes to friends and family. These all started with "I, Lloyd Virgil Das, do hereby will..." I don't remember if Virgil did "herbie will" me anything or not. I will have to go back and check the yearbook.
Posted by: Neil E. Das at November 16, 2007 2:28 PM
