Linguafarm Machinery

If the man weren't so endearing I might have shoved my vitamin bottle in his mouth and strapped his hands to his thighs. We received the first online submission to the journal today. The Good Doctor, as I may have mentioned before, is not in any way technologically savvy. In no particular dialogic order:

Me: No, no, scroll up, the link on the left, the blue text, click on it, no don't hit "back", ok now scroll to the right and click on "history", no scroll back up, now at the top of the page, I'll check on that, now click on...

Him: Look there are already problems...

I actually began losing my voice trying to explain on repeat what can and can't be done on repeat on repeat on repeat. He is feeling hesitant about the new online system. Nevertheless, I began our letter to our audience, "We are delighted to...".

***

I saw Finding Neverland yesterday. As forecast, it brought tears to the eyes of me, Mark, and his dad. It got me thinking about how much the way we speak has changed since the time when people were very formal with one another. There was a scene in the movie where it took a good several minutes at a dinner party for two people to express that they were happy to be there together and how they should have gotten together sooner.

That kind of talk is no longer necessary. It's implied in the history of communication that we grew out of. What's up?-What's up? Or 'Sup.-'Sup. Or less, a back-nod of the head. I still have anxiety in hallway courtesy-talk. It seems too insignificant to deliver honestly, yet I don't have an alternative. I see the purpose of hallway courtesy-talk; it tempers the silent cold, offering a soft rapport between people. I would like an alternative. This morning The Good Doctor's secretary saw me from the end of the hallway. I waved and she asked, How are things? I don't believe it was practical to have hollered down the hallway how I was really doing. Probably I should have made it more of an exchange and extended my wave to a How are you? But I didn't. I was at the other end of the hallway in a doctor's office in a hospital, and this person is more an acquaintance than a friend to whom I most certainly would have hollered down the hallway. (I throw my arm up Hitler-style to one of the resident doctors when I see her in the hallway; it is our little joke.) There was an awkard pause after I answered The Good Doctor's secretary: All right. I think I shall never master the silk of hallway courtesy-talk.

I'm glad we're no longer required to use twenty words to say what we could say in two, just for the sake of being formal. At the same time, the kids in Finding Neverland (yes, I know they're just characters; I'm using them as models) showed much better respect overall for people, speaking formally and respectfully to adults, where kids today in general (what am I, 65?) show little respect for anyone no matter the age, and are often reluctant to do anything that doesn't directly benefit them. I think this has a lot to do with the way they speak, and the way they're brought up to speak by their parents, their teachers, and, most frighteningly, television. Intelligently written and delivered shows must be sought out, and most people just flip on the tv and settle.

This is a rich topic, however, that I must leave right here. I have to go edit an article about obstructive sleep apnea (OSA) now.