TEXTING ENGLISH, ETC -

i tried replicating this on my cellphone and literally went incredibly crazy trying!!!!

hi gd am b at u soon
or if I get a txt from the pi - gud am kmsta kyo

Now, look, I can read and write cursive in a language or two, but I have to admit that I sometimes get lost in "txtglish, txtgalog, txtikano, txtanish, etc."  I thought it was bad when I would get stuff like, ROTFLMAO, or maybe even just LOL to say nothing about what might be the difference between :) and :-) or even ;-) or :o.

i have been falling into the habit of not punctuating anything and just rolling along writing away with not a capital letter not a comma or anything just plain old words strung together for the recipient to decipher and if you think that it makes it hard for you to understand the string of thought or maybe i should say thread as is the present custom you should try me in french with no accents and no cedillas and it gets even worse in spanish with no til on the n and no accent on the verbs to differentiate for the tense and the mood o yeah grt stuff ohhh!!!!~~

Back to normal, if you don't mind.  This all got started in me when I ran into a piece on the Internet about the deterioration of the English language as it used to be called back about 50 or 60 years ago.
The author was talking about how words today don't mean what they used to mean even though they are still described in the dictionary the way they were back then.  He gave the word "literal" or "literally"as an example.  Then as I was reading another article, not a satire like the first one, I ran into the word "incredible" used in the wrong way, just as the word "literally" is used the wrong way so often.  My example was like, "He was incredibly old."  Hmmm, sounds like me.  Except I am credibly alive, so something, somewhere has to be out of sync here.  Besides, my birth anniversary is just around the corner, and that is a real and credible date.  It says so right there on the calendar.  So there.
But my incredibly, literal favorite is when I am filling out a form and the information to be provided is "Gender."  There is never enough room to write "masculine."  By the same token, there is never enough room to register the complaint that I am not a grammar classification.  Nope, not me.  I am a real, no holds barred hot blooded French Canadian male with the attributes to prove it.

So, my 21st century friends, neighbors and relatives, you have to bear with me because I am not going to stop punctuating my writing.  I am going to try to be true to the grammar rules like I know them.  I do not use plural pronouns to signify singular antecedents and when I want to use a relative pronoun, I will still use "who" for people, and not "that."  Believe me, I don't care what you think about that. My numb and arthritic fingers make touch errors, but my mind is still clear and I strive to keep it under control...and I tell you that sister Mary of the Holy Guardian Angels never taught me anything but right grammar, French or English.  So there.

So, all of you, have an incredibly great time, and I mean that, literally.

IF YOU THINK THIS IS SOMETHING NEW, YOU'RE NOT OLD ENOUGH

I have to tell you a funny story.  It's not a belly buster, but it is funny.  It is all the funnier if you know me a little bit.

About six months ago we bought a combination Internet Modem/Router. It's an "all in one" piece of electronic equipment and it works very well.  About two weeks ago the family bought me a new computer and it too works very well.  It is a little disappointing because you really have to look around some pretty nasty corners if you're going to find the DOS command center.  I found them, so we are quite comfortable electronically speaking.  

You have to know that because this is a story about human foibles and the desire that certain people have to try to make human foibles a thing of the past.  If not that, then some try to make them a thing monopolized by a certain age group.  So down to here you have the foundation for what comes next, that is, the "Rest of the Story."

One day we came home after spending the weekend in San Diego, some 100 miles away.  We settled in for a quiet Sunday night with pictures of work plans for tomorrow dancing in our heads. Truth to tell, it was a great night, and in the morning, after the usual rituals, it was time to attack the work.  Well, as it turned out the only thing I was attacking was the electronic equipment.  I could not get the Internet to come alive.  I kept getting the message that the router was denying access.  I tried everything that I knew how to do and everything that the machine would allow me to do as the "administrator."
NOTHING!
So, I decided to resort to the telephone and fight the impatience that always attacks me when I have to be put on hold forever while I wait for a technical expert to walk me through the fog of ignorance that has overtaken me.  Believe it or not I had to talk to the cable provider, the computer geeks and finally the router manufacturer before getting any satisfaction.  But I did get satisfaction.  In fact, two doses for the price of one impatience attack.  I didn't even have to show any special discount card or anything.  It was great.

So here I am on the telephone with the cable router manufacturer's geek after about 45 minutes of dead-end efforts.
Me: I can't get on the Internet.
Him:  Hmmm, sounds like bad news.
Me: It is.  I can't work at my telecommuting job.
Him: I'm sorry.
Me: I'm not looking for sorry, I'm seeking a solution for a mysterious problem.
Him: Yes,sir, so I've heard.  I think I know what will solve the problem.  First you have to promise me one very important thing.
Me: Sounds like the Voice from the Kitchen.  I don't promise her anything.  But, hey, if it's going to help get to work, let's give it a try.
Him: Ok.  Here we go.  Whatever I tell you, no wise cracks, no threats, no guffaws and no gutter language.  Got that?
Me: Sounds great!  Yeah, Got it.  Let's go with it.
Him: Good.  Write the name of the router in the address bar.
Me: Check.
Him: Go to router number 123456.
Me, (to myself):  How the hell does he know that?
Me, (to him): Check
Him: Go to Password.
Me: Check.
Him: Write zyxwvu9876ABC
Me, (to myself): Holy...?
Me, (to him): Check
Him: Go to parental control
Me: Ahhh?  Is this where I am supposed to follow the behavior instructions?
Him: Yes, sir. (Notice the "sir," there?)
Me: OK. Check.
Him: Click on the little box in front of the words "Parental Control."
Me: Check.
Him: Good.  Now click the box in front of the word "ON."
Me: Silence.  Choking noises.  Horrible case of the giggles.
Him: Sir! Remember the deal.
Me: Oh yeah, right.  
Him: You have not yet clicked to turn "Parental Control" on.
Me: No ...!
Him: Sir, the FAA can get you for that.  I knew this would happen.  Most people cooperate.
Me: Oh, OK.  There! I clicked it.
Him:  Hmmm.  I'm testing it.  Sir.  I will stand by now while you try to get on the Internet.
Me: (One minute passes) ...Well, I'll be...?  Yep, there it is.
Him: This is a rare case, but we see it about once or twice per month.  We don't know why.
          Enjoy the Internet, sir.  You can go back to work now.
Me: Hmmm...Ahhh, thanks, I think.  Have a good day.

This was three months ago.  I have not had a problem since.  Clean living, I guess. :-)

Oh, the twofer one reward:
1. The router works and is reliable.  Yes, I still get risque images on Google.  Go figure.
2. A good laugh for my trouble.  Parental control, indeed.

BE MY FRIEND ON "-----????" HUH? WHO ARE YOU?

http://jenniferluitwieler.com/slideshow/soli-deo-gloria-retreat/

This  a celebration of the 500th "Thought."  The "Thought" is one that I have had for about five years now.  I have not considered it for publication here because I find it difficult to keep my "cool" when I entertain it.  It usually wins that battle, and IT entertains ME.  Since this is not a forum for my rants, I have stayed away from it.  Not any more, because something happened today to cause a conversion.  You know what Catholics say, "There's nothing worse than a convert!"  

With one eye on the picture above and a corner of your brain on the words, here we go.

Like I said, about five years ago I got a thought because it was fired across my bow, so to speak.  An individual who was taking part in an Internet discussion made the mistake of calling me "friend" because he had what he thought was important personal information about me.  I fried his eggs in a nano second and I haven't heard from him since.  Much to his relief, I am sure.  I sure don't miss him, whoever he may be.  The essence of my convictions about friendship is: If I don't know you, we are not friends. That was five years ago. 

I remember it like it was yesterday.  The reason why it is so vivid in my memory is because a blogger whom I respect and appreciate has shut down.  Because of this, there is a large void inside of me.   When I analyze my feelings I find a couple more people in the ethereal world with whom I really relate on a couple of meaningful levels without ever having laid eyes on them.  These are not "casual" acquaintances.  They have been around in my life for at least two or three years.  If they shut down, I would have the same forlorn yearnings for their return as I do for the person who left yesterday.

In case that you may be wondering, I will tell you that "Yes, it does work both ways."  I have come to dislike certain pixelated personalities and dismissed them early on as fools "up with which I would not put." [Winston Churchill]  This too is a part of my conversion.  If I can learn to dismiss you from my life, I should be honest enough to accept the fact that I can also welcome you into it.  

Yes, even over the Internet.

I have at least one example of each. 

A young man who is quite outspoken [I like that] and seriously intellectually honest [I like that] and I have come to like and respect one another.  It is not because we are "sweet" with one another.  On the contrary.  We have polarized views on many things, mainly religious things.  We are "birds of a feather."  What comes out of our mouth is what comes out of our brain and heart without embellishment.  Take it or leave it.  We both soon found out that neither was offended by what the other postulated.  We have met in person a time or two and we really do like one another, besides and plus, respecting one another.  It all happened over the Internet. 

A woman who is also quite outspoken [Ad hominem and defensive] and I, no longer bother to communicate because it is no use.  There are many reasons for this.  The core of the reality is in the first sentence.  Oh, we did give it a half-hearted try, but I decided that I did not want to suffer it any more.  Done.

I have come to accept the fact that is possible to achieve a certain depth of friendship on the Internet.  It is also possible to develop an "esprit-de-corps" on the Internet as well.  For the past five months I have been working for a company that is based in Brussels, Belgium.  It is a company that provides professional translations in many languages.  I have qualified for certain pairs of languages and I do translations and proof reading for the enterprise.  Over the five months I have come to "know" the team and they have to "know" me.  I have also come to "know" certain translators and vice versa.  If I am in the throes of a serious conversion it is greatly due to my experience with this richly international community of cosmopolitan individuals.  

I am thankful that this is happening to me.  It helps to make me realize that my life has taken on a dimension of outreach that I never expected could or would ever happen.  This simple blog alone is read every day in ten countries that I know of.  Every day I work with people in at least five countries, simultaneously, when the small window of congruent waking hours is open, of course. 

Given all of this, I still have one question: Why am I still not sold on Facebook? 

SYNAESTHESIA -- HUH?

How someone with synesthesia might perceive certain letters and numbers.

Hey, I am here in full and living color.  I have to start by saying that I don't remember ever promising that I would delve only in 65 year old thoughts.  The interesting thing about this word is that about seven or eight years ago I read an interesting study about the phenomenon that it names.  The name of it, synaesthesia never appeared in the article I read.  In fact, in the article that I read today it is stated that the majority of people who experience this condition do not know how to name it.  Of course, with a spelling like it has, can you blame them?  Another interesting aspect of this condition is that it is estimated that there is a probability of its occurring at some degree in about 1 out of every 23 people.  If you, dear reader know where this is coming from or where it is going, you no doubt fall within the parameters of probability that I just mentioned.  That means that there could be 4 or 5 of you who know what I am talking about.
I know, you're thinking, so tell us the definition, air head.  OK, here goes:
SYNAESTHESIA: "...condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway."  People who have this condition are called "synaesthetes."  
Now, the curious part of this condition is that it affects people in different ways.
The first time I read about it was in an article saying that certain people see colors when they listen to music.  They have sound:color synaesthesia.  Others have the species of synaesthesia which causes something similar to the picture at the top of this page, called, oddly enough, numerical:color synaesthesia.  There are more, but the one among the rest that intrigues me is lexical:gustatory synaesthesia.  Words that are heard or read result is causing food tastes to occur in the mouth of the synaesthete.


I am offering you this because of the underlying reason why I did not pay much heed to the information I received some years ago.  Yep, I got it on the Internet.  It was there as an interest piece and as interested as I was, I did not give it credence.  It just did not seem possible.  There were no references in the article and it was a Saturday.  I didn't forget it, but I didn't much believe it.  Then today I fell upon a blog that had the word in its title.  A Catholic blog.  That's what got me going.  
I followed the nudging of my curiosity and I found references and some scientific writing.  It has been quite an experience.  The fact that I have an underlying distrust of the Internet makes me leery of what I find.  Every now and then, I find some satisfaction.  This has been one of those moments.  I hope that you've had some fun with this.  
By the way, here's something else I found:  What is it that occurs once every minute, twice in every moment and never in a thousand years?
I may see you tomorrow.  I promise I will make an effort.  France beckons.

AMANUENSIS? EXHIBITIONIST? VOYEUR? READ ON...

AMANUENSIS

I like that word.  It tells you a lot about me.  It describes me quite well, but not too many people know the word any more.  It is one of those old fashioned realities that  have gone bye-bye and only show up in blogs by pseudo intellectuals.
It is a Latin word that has been adopted by many languages to mean what it says, a worker-at-hand.  In French and English it generally means one who is adept with language and hired to write from dictation or hard copy so that the originator of such dictation or copy can continue producing at a higher level and better quality things.  It is also generally applied to a person who assists an author, a scientist, a composer who is incapable of writing things down because of some physical incapacity.  As for me, I am my own amanuensis.  Mainly because I can't afford to hire one.
Along the road of life I have often asked myself what it would take to write a book.  At one point I knew that I wanted to write a book, but I didn't have the foggiest notion of how to even begin.  At another moment I was able to ask an internationally well known theologian and author how he had written so many books.  He said that it was simple.  He said that he could never write just one book at a time.  He had such a head-full of ideas that instead of keeping himself focused, he just let'er rip and filed them in writing rather than silencing  those that did not fit. He was, he said, always simultaneously writing at least four books. All this time I was asking myself if people who write a lot are really exhibitionists.  So full of themselves that they had to keep themselves out there in front of everyone.
At one point, I asked myself why it is that I read books like "Vanity Fair", "Pride and Prejudice", "le Misanthrope", "Tartuffe", "King Richard III" and many more.  I often asked myself if I am really a voyeur, prying into the lives of the authors.  I am convinced that when it comes to Umberto Eco, I am definitely a voyeur.  I am also a voyeur when it comes to Moliere.
What does that say about me, the writer and the reader?  I love blogs.  I love the Internet.  Everyone who writes on the Internet has no clothes on.  I have to admit, amid all that nudity of heart, soul and mind, you still can't give yourself the comfort of trying to deceive the players by putting a bag over your head.  That's the way it is on the Internet.  We're all Voyeuristic Exhibitionists, or vice versa.  
Therefore all of you who read and don't write, know that we who write also read and we know why you keep coming back.  The raw personal unveiling that takes place here is too much to ignore.  It is down right
interesting and enjoyable at the same time.  
I am glad I have lived this long.  This one thought of mine has found a place to rest.  There are many more denizens of my cerebral cortex (vortex??) who are still restlessly bloodhounding their way around in search of the prize of firm conviction which brings comforting satisfaction.  
Join me.