On Custom and Politeness
I love my local grocer. He’s a man probably in his late fifties, although his retainment of hair colour could indicate him being slightly younger. I believe he is of Pakistani heritage, although I have nothing to build that on; I have never talked to him about it, because it would seem quite odd to do so. And exactly where he is from is of less importance to what I want to say: the important fact is that he wasn’t born or raised in Denmark.
It is my guess that he came to Denmark some twenty years ago; he is somewhat able to engage in conversation, but not on a very high level and his pronunciation is quite bad; again, these things are only a little relevant what I want to say: he’s not a master of the Danish language and of Danish lingual customs.
But he seems eager to learn. In Danish — as in many other languages — it is custom to reply to ‘tak’ (’thank you’) with ’selv tak’ (’you’re welcome’). He has understood this but hasn’t really understood exactly when to use it. And this is where it gets interesting.
When I go there I often carry a bag with me, because I’m used to do shopping that way. However, the proud grocer he is, he often offers me a plastic bag. As I’m already carrying a bag, thus making it a waste for him to offer me one, I usually decline. (Save for the rare cases when I’m not carrying a bag, and where he seems to quite consequently not offer me a bag.) I do so in the proper manner in Danish, by saying ‘nej tak’ (’no thank you’). To this he simply replies: ’selv tak’.
Obviously, he has caught on to ’selv tak’ being a proper response to ‘tak’, but he hasn’t noticed in which situations this doesn’t apply. But this is a lingual error in the sweet department. And, after all, rather be polite once too many than once too few.
When Your Mom Forwards Email ∼
Sad but true. What’s up with that?
BlubML ∼
Incredible what two days can do. I’m somehow reminded of Benedick in Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, who changes his viewpoint on love in an instant.
Seth Godin on Mother’s Day ∼
Amen. And I feel the same for Father’s Day (obviously) and Valentine’s Day. I have always had stronger opinions on Valentine’s Day; ever since I started seeing my girlfriend a little over two years ago (20 February 2006, to be precise) I have made it absolutely clear to her that I would not treat Valentine’s Day any different than any other day. This isn’t much a statement, of course, since we have our anniversary less than a week later but still. I hold my position.
‘this’, ‘here’, etc.
Stop it. Now. I don’t want to have to look at the status bar to get an idea of where I’ll be going by following your link. And if you have to use such idiotic link descriptions, please apply a title. Please.
(This was spurred by Sam Ruby’s Open Standards in which he uses this unreadable format. And I actually like Sam’s writings as a whole.)
On Charity ∼
Seth Godin talks about marketing, and the paradox of it being a bargain hunt, where it really should be an attempt to overbid each other.
Likewise, I have never seen the reason for having contributors to charity enter competitions or what not — if you personally gain something, where is the charity part in it? You should be donating to charity for every other reason than your own personal well-being; except perhaps your conscience.
Vacuum Cleaners
My cousin once said, “the purpose of exhaust hoods is to be switched of”. Sitting here, with a vacuum cleaner as the unpleasant background noise, I’m led to believe there are other electronic items for which this apply.
The day the music died ∼
Wonderful piece by Mark Pilgrim on the danger of letting someone else control your music through encryption. As he so nicely puts it:
[T]he left hand knows exactly what the right hand is doing: they’re both giving you the finger.
And yes, this does include iTunes. Plus or not, they still con you, although they are admittedly a bit more fair in their approach.
Open Letter to All Twitters
Stop bloody quoting yourself on your blog. Please.
Grammar is more than plain purity
I am infamous amongst my acquaintances for being pedantic, especially when it comes to language. For quite a long time, I would correct — and enjoy to do so — my teacher, if he or she would have a left out a comma.
And for the longest time, most people I knew hated me for it.
I have since all in all left this practice behind (although I still get the urge, I try to suppress it. And yes, I do make this sound worse than it is.)
So, it seems I have overcome the worst, and should just leave it all behind me, and get on. The truth is, however, I still stand by the goal of what I did — achieving better and more accurate language, particularly with regards to spelling. The only reason I do not do this anymore is I try to be less of a prick.
The thing is, I really do feel we need to stress the importance of proper grammar and reduce typos etc. as much as humanly possible1. Because I think proper grammar is essential to getting your message through.
I have at many times been called arrogant, asserting that everyone can uphold a language of the standard I myself hold2. I understand this concern, and I want to stress that do not assert this. I have a large deal of respect for people who suffer from dyslexia; I know I would personally hate suffering from this.
This is not directed at those unfortunate souls; this is directed at those who are simply too lazy to re-read their writings, to check for errors. I believe that is arrogant. To have the ability to do something which is arguably better than not doing it, and then choose not to do it.
I believe this shows a lack of respect for the intended audience of one’s writings. I believe it is arrogant — yes, indeed so — to put unnecessary trouble on the shoulders of people one wants to read what one have said. I do not demand perfectionism from others; all I long for is effort, that people put enough into what they want others to read, that they will want to read it.
This is not about wonderful, varied use of language. I realise that not everyone was born to be a great writer, but that some will still need to write something, occasionally. When you are not a great writer, the very least you can do is make sure that what you write is still readable, if not necessarily a joy to read. Doing otherwise is arrogant.