Wow. I am incredibly bad at keeping to a blogging schedule. Well, any schedule, really. I keep trying to trick myself into routines and they never stick. (Bring it on, future babies! Who needs sleep?)
Speaking of no sleep--Ricky and I stayed up to watch the Curiosity (Mars rover) landing last Monday, and it was amazing. Sure, it was 1:30 a.m., which meant we didn't get to bed until 3:00, but it was so worth it! The most astounding part was that we had images (from SPACE) only 14 minutes after the rover touched down. That's faster than NBC could show the Olympics happening in another country, people.
We were watching on the NASA TV channel on our Roku, and when the rover touched down, the whole control room in Pasadena went nuts. Awkward scientist high-fives? Tearful hugs--real ones, not the back-slapping bro ones? Yes and yes. Ricky and I cheered and high-fived from the distant comfort of our living room, because science is seriously cool. (We went to see a shuttle launch last summer. NASA events are like our Christmas.)
And while I'm watching 20-somethings at their control stations, landing a freaking robot on a freaking foreign planet, my scumbag brain (insert meme here) decides to remind me that I got my degree in English. (Jerk.) Now, I'm usually the first person to grab a pitchfork at the slightest sign of humanities-bashing, but sometimes I really wish my literature-studying compatriots and I had something more to show for our efforts. History and language tend to be pretty organic. People use language to communicate every day, so they don't think it's worth studying; they don't look at The Iliad with the admiration they reserve for an iPad. (For the record, that's still a stupid name for an electronic. Not that I'm bitter.) They can read English, but they can't read code or formulas, so the things they don't understand take on a bit of a magical quality.
(Know, of course, that when I say "they," I include myself--see above-reference science jealousy.)
What a lot of people don't think about, though, is that the written word used to be mysterious and magical. Oral cultures didn't understand how squiggles on a page could be used to convey an exact and literal meaning, just like I don't understand how a series of 0s and 1s makes this post readable. Language isn't just an art; it's a science. A social science, sure, but it's still inventive and fundamental and world-changing. Am I biased? Sure! Am I trying to make myself feel better for not knowing how to build a Mars rover? Absolutely! But I think I need to sometimes, because as firmly as I defend my area of study, it's pretty hard to keep the chinks of "What are you going to do with that? Teach?" and "Well, it's a good thing you married someone with a useful profession!" out of your armor.
It's frustrating when people devalue something you've dedicated years of your life to exploring, and when they don't see its importance. For me, studying language and literature--not just reading books, because that's not what it is--has smoothed the rough, intolerant edges formed by modern culture; has made traveling more poignant and exciting; has made political rhetoric more transparent; has helped me to understand both sides of the story; has taught me that "good" and "evil" is really just "us" and "them"; has shown me the importance of thoughtful (and clear!) written communication; and, most importantly, has affirmed that people have been the same forever.
(Bad transition:)
When Ricky and I were in Charleston for the 4th of July, we found ourselves sipping delicious non-alcoholic drinks at The Speakeasy at Light, this charming little bar off of the harbor, with our friends Thomas and Laura. At one point in the conversation, Laura asked me about the origins of modern English, and I laughed it off; I thought she was joking. When she kept looking at me expectantly, it threw me off: "Wait--seriously? Was that a serious question?" I asked, which got a laugh from everyone else, but it really took me by surprise. And then everyone at the table gave me their undivided attention while I gave the Sparknotes version of the Celts and the Angles and the Saxons and the Romans and the Normans (etc.) and of how their languages eventually made it down on paper as an early form of English. It was awesome. (Laura, if you're reading this: I like you.)
It was a nice reminder that I know things. Cool things. Things that shaped the entire Earth, even if they don't directly shape Mars...yet.
I still want to be a rocket scientist, though.
Speaking of no sleep--Ricky and I stayed up to watch the Curiosity (Mars rover) landing last Monday, and it was amazing. Sure, it was 1:30 a.m., which meant we didn't get to bed until 3:00, but it was so worth it! The most astounding part was that we had images (from SPACE) only 14 minutes after the rover touched down. That's faster than NBC could show the Olympics happening in another country, people.
We were watching on the NASA TV channel on our Roku, and when the rover touched down, the whole control room in Pasadena went nuts. Awkward scientist high-fives? Tearful hugs--real ones, not the back-slapping bro ones? Yes and yes. Ricky and I cheered and high-fived from the distant comfort of our living room, because science is seriously cool. (We went to see a shuttle launch last summer. NASA events are like our Christmas.)
And while I'm watching 20-somethings at their control stations, landing a freaking robot on a freaking foreign planet, my scumbag brain (insert meme here) decides to remind me that I got my degree in English. (Jerk.) Now, I'm usually the first person to grab a pitchfork at the slightest sign of humanities-bashing, but sometimes I really wish my literature-studying compatriots and I had something more to show for our efforts. History and language tend to be pretty organic. People use language to communicate every day, so they don't think it's worth studying; they don't look at The Iliad with the admiration they reserve for an iPad. (For the record, that's still a stupid name for an electronic. Not that I'm bitter.) They can read English, but they can't read code or formulas, so the things they don't understand take on a bit of a magical quality.
(Know, of course, that when I say "they," I include myself--see above-reference science jealousy.)
What a lot of people don't think about, though, is that the written word used to be mysterious and magical. Oral cultures didn't understand how squiggles on a page could be used to convey an exact and literal meaning, just like I don't understand how a series of 0s and 1s makes this post readable. Language isn't just an art; it's a science. A social science, sure, but it's still inventive and fundamental and world-changing. Am I biased? Sure! Am I trying to make myself feel better for not knowing how to build a Mars rover? Absolutely! But I think I need to sometimes, because as firmly as I defend my area of study, it's pretty hard to keep the chinks of "What are you going to do with that? Teach?" and "Well, it's a good thing you married someone with a useful profession!" out of your armor.
It's frustrating when people devalue something you've dedicated years of your life to exploring, and when they don't see its importance. For me, studying language and literature--not just reading books, because that's not what it is--has smoothed the rough, intolerant edges formed by modern culture; has made traveling more poignant and exciting; has made political rhetoric more transparent; has helped me to understand both sides of the story; has taught me that "good" and "evil" is really just "us" and "them"; has shown me the importance of thoughtful (and clear!) written communication; and, most importantly, has affirmed that people have been the same forever.
(Bad transition:)
When Ricky and I were in Charleston for the 4th of July, we found ourselves sipping delicious non-alcoholic drinks at The Speakeasy at Light, this charming little bar off of the harbor, with our friends Thomas and Laura. At one point in the conversation, Laura asked me about the origins of modern English, and I laughed it off; I thought she was joking. When she kept looking at me expectantly, it threw me off: "Wait--seriously? Was that a serious question?" I asked, which got a laugh from everyone else, but it really took me by surprise. And then everyone at the table gave me their undivided attention while I gave the Sparknotes version of the Celts and the Angles and the Saxons and the Romans and the Normans (etc.) and of how their languages eventually made it down on paper as an early form of English. It was awesome. (Laura, if you're reading this: I like you.)
It was a nice reminder that I know things. Cool things. Things that shaped the entire Earth, even if they don't directly shape Mars...yet.
I still want to be a rocket scientist, though.
People at SVU used to always say, "Eww, science", whenever I mentioned I was a bio major. Science is cool and I'm glad you realize that. On the other hand, we wouldn't have all these cool, magical professions without the most basic study of them all, language. So, I am absolutely glad that there are English nerds out there, correcting us on our overabundance of commas. Seriously.
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