Abstraction

Babies with baggies are particularly unwelcome.

My sporadic blogging oflate is due to a major change — I’m transitioning jobs, having finished my last day with my previous employer Friday only to get on a plane Saturday, fly to Ireland, and begin my first day with my new employer (based in Dublin) on Monday.

It’s been an amazing experience, not least because the trip has occasioned my first experience driving on the “wrong” side of the road. I’ve been nervous about it for some time; I imagined that I’d arrive in Ireland and my jet-lagged mind would turn the wrong way at the first intersection I encountered.

Well, so far so good. I rented my car, got lots of insurance, pushed and shoved my (modest) suitcase into the smallest car I’ve ever seen, much less driven, and started driving around on the left side of the road.

It’s an odd experience for two reasons. First, I’m not used to *thinking* about driving. It’s something for which I usually rely on muscle memory, saving all other cognitive processes for grumpily judging other drivers.

Second, the muscle memory is still very much there. I’m experiencing a kind of dual-mind in which I’m intellectually telling myself “stay left,” but every unconscious process I have is simultaneously pulling me the other direction. This duality really freaked me out when I was driving down a road and someone pulled onto the road from an intersection ahead of me. The other car turned to travel toward me, and my intellectual mind said “they are turning into the right lane,” but my body erupted in alarms “YOU’RE IN THE WRONG LANE! GET OVER!” My little car began swerving slightly to and fro as I fought with myself, but I made it through without driving off the road into the trees.

Only four more days to go, then I have to try and switch back to driving the “right” way. Ugh.

There’s a fine line with cursing.  Used skillfully, cursing is akin to a kind of salt in the sense that it can emphasize  meaning almost magically.  Jokes are funnier, anger better expressed, disappointment and dispair made richer.  In fact, the enhancing effect of this “salty language” (if you’ll forgive me) is so ingrained that many people tend to over-use it, with ruinous consequences.  Who isn’t familar with the person whose frequent curses are an uncomfortable non-sequitor?  
Anyway, three cheers for Steve Pinker, author of some of my favorite books, including the Blank Slate and The Language Instinct.  His new book includes a fantastic exploration of that most favored of hobbies, cursing:

The strange emotional power of swearing–as well as the presence of linguistic taboos in all cultures– suggests that taboo words tap into deep and ancient parts of the brain. In general, words have not just a denotation but a connotation: an emotional coloring distinct from what the word literally refers to, as in principled versus stubborn and slender versus scrawny. The difference between a taboo word and its genteel synonyms, such as shit and feces, cunt and vagina, or fucking and making love, is an extreme example of the distinction. Curses provoke a different response than their synonyms in part because connotations and denotations are stored in different parts of the brain.

I don’t know about you, but I find this stuff pretty fucking interesting. 
The subtle emotional coloring of words reminds me of a friend, fluent in Japanese, who described to me the subtle nuances of speaking Japanese in a business environment.  “English,” my friend told me, “simply doesn’t have the variety of ways to express heirarchy and respect that Japanese does.”  He explained that this difference makes it difficult for a non-native speaker, even if fluent, to successfully negotiate formal conversation in Japan without offending someone.
I took that at face value until I was waiting to board a plane to Tokyo.  In announcing that the plane was ready for boarding, the Japanese attendant flicked on the P.A. system and said “Thank you for waiting, UA803 is ready for boarding.  First class, YOU GET ON NOW!”
Now, I’m not sure there is a literal difference between saying “We invite our first class passengers to board at their convenience” and “YOU GET ON NOW,” and I’m sure the distinction was lost on the attendent (he certainly didn’t mean to sound rude). The point, though is that English has subtle emotional shadings as well.  It actually made me feel better to have the opportunity to be an offended English speaker.  Now, if ever I’m able to get into first class, I’m prepared. 

Not only do I work in the software industry, I work in the geekiest corner of the software industry, the one decorated with discarded Mountain Dew cans, one-serv microwavable containers of Beenie-Weenie, and life-size Judge Dredd cut-outs.

Nevertheless, I believe there are people in the world even geekier than I. As evidence, I offer the following:

This man is writing email on his laptop while energetically using a stationary cycle at the local gym. The laptop, balanced on his open left hand, wobbles precariously as he furiously pedals and taps at the keyboard with a single finger.

One can only imagine what he’s writing:

Dear colleaggeegess—

My wwwkeekly uppdat for thehe Cissco accnnnt ffollos…