Tuesday, September 17, 2019
Today I am grateful for phonetics. Why on earth did anyone ever go away from this when they created the English Language? Or probably any language.
I don’t have a natural gift for learning languages, like some people do. I can say the words pretty well and sing the music of them, but I I guess you need to understand the structure of your own language before you can understand a foreign one. Since I still can’t diagram a sentence in English and have long stopped caring whether I can or cannot, I’m doomed.
Unless everything was phonetic. “Wie gehts,” (how are you in German) would be spelled, “vee gates.” We could drop a whole bunch of silent “h’s” from the Indonesian language and wouldn’t need the squiggly lines over the “n’s” in Spanish. See how technical I am?
No wonder I’m a mess when I have to spell or try and think of a word that is lost in the bowels of my brain. It’s usually in there, but I’m too fast at the keyboard to go searching so I make up my own. What a treat for you. I’m going to diphthong you into madness right along with me. Both diphthong and madness came up on my spell check. I knew nothing about the “h” after the p and I swear I put two “d’s” in the other every time.
Why do we have words that sound exactly the same, yet are different? I don’t get it. Were the people who created the language as lazy as me? Why not just pick another new word? Who needs there, their, they’re? I don’t know why they have to exist, but I use them correctly. . .most of the time. It makes me crazy when others don’t, but I get it. It’s too much.
Then there is than. How’s that for a segue which the grammar check hates? In Pennsylvania a lot of people use “than” when they mean “then”. But why are there two m’s in grammar? I’m sure someone knows, it’s just not me.
Today I was talking to my sister on the phone. It has been suggested to her that she use her vast brain and join a class, so she’s been searching for the right thing. See there, I almost used “write” instead of “right” but I caught myself.
“Someone suggested that I take a writing class,” she says. “There’s one connected to the play doh group where my husband participates.” I didn’t know he was into that sort of thing, but good for him. It’s creative and gushy and colorful.
“That sounds great,” I say, always wanting to encourage anything anyone wants to try, especially writing because I need all the help I can muster. Besides, I really like play doh and have been caught playing with it when there is no child present. “Will they provide it or do you have to bring your own,” I ask.
“Provide what?” she asks right back at me, which is not unusual since we’ve been doing this for the 69 years I’ve been on earth annoying her.
“The play doh.” She’s older so I figure her hearing is going. Ha-ha.
“It’s not called a play doh club!” Now she is laughing like we were in a fitting room together when I was trying on dresses. “It’s the Plato Club!” The smart guy! Aka/not me! Swell.
FYI-When I went searching for pictures to use, I realized I had been spelling it play “dough” so I had to go back and change them all!
Phoenetics! Jist wen I think I have it al figerd out, I git in a restling match wit Plato over Play doh! It’s madddddennnninnnngggg.