Wednesday, June 29, 2011

#26: Redefinition Builds Character.

Listen up, everyone: impact is a noun. It is not a verb. You do not impact something, you have an impact on something. That is what the word is. That is how it is used.

I stand by that. I have said it for years, often yelling it at talking heads on television, for whom the incorrect use of this noun seems very impactful (That word, actually, would be correct, though that doesn't save it from being ugly. Interesting how correct doesn't mean good.) and so they use it frequently. I started griping about this mainly as a lark, claiming this as a pet peeve; it is to a certain extent, though I mainly claim it and react to it because I am expected to get irate about some linguistic or grammatical errors. Comes with the territory of being an English teacher, and also with being a true lover of the English language. And though it really isn't a big deal, it does actually annoy me to hear the word misused; the sentence, "We have impacted the youth of this nation with our programs." makes me shudder a little bit with rage. Because impact is a noun.

So is text, by the way. You do not text someone, you send them a text message. You can drop the "message" part, but the verb is send, not text. Look at the button you press to perform the act; the button knows. And even clearer evidence is found in the past tense: try saying "texted" out loud and you'll understand that text is a noun, one that doesn't lend itself to becoming a verb. It is a solid thing, not an action. That one riles me up, too. Because I do genuinely love language, especially the English language, and I hate when people fuck it up, when they change it for their own selfish reasons.  They take some of the beauty out of my language for the same reason that people tear down the beauty of nature in order to build a strip mall or a McDonald's-feeding cattle farm: because it's convenient. It's easier to graze cattle on land that used to be a rainforest, and it's easier to say "Text me!" than it is to say "Send me a text!" I hate that, and I resent it, and I fight it whenever and however I can.



And that's why people oppose gay marriage. Because to call it marriage, when you (and I shouldn't use that pronoun, because I would assume most people reading this do not oppose gay marriage and thus do not want to be referred to as one who holds this opinion. But my other pronounial option is "they," which just makes me sound all conspiracy-theory and wacky. So suck it up, you.) think of yourself and your opposite-gender spouse and your church wedding when you think of that word, feels like misusing the word. Which makes people irate: because you love the institution and the state of marriage, and you love your church and your God and your Bible, and you think homosexuals using the term "marriage" to define their relationships is making a mockery of what you hold dear. Just like I snarl when one of my students says, "I texted him back, and I'm all like, 'Texting is the sheezy, yo!'" (That's a direct quote.) But there it is: why people oppose gay marriage as an inappropriate and insulting redefinition of a term that they think is important, and thus shouldn't be changed or redefined.

And here's why New York, and the five other states that have legalized gay marriage (If you're wondering, like I was, it's Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Iowa, and Hawaii. Maine had it but repealed it. California's fight goes on.), are right, anyway.


World English Dictionary

text (tɛkst)
— n 1. the main body of a printed or written work as distinct from commentary, notes, illustrations, etc
2. the words of something printed or written
3. ( often plural ) a book prescribed as part of a course of study
4. computing the words printed, written, or displayed on a visual display unit
5. the original exact wording of a work, esp the Bible, as distinct from a revision or translation
6. a short passage of the Bible used as a starting point for a sermon or adduced as proof of a doctrine
7. the topic or subject of a discussion or work
8. printing any one of several styles of letters or types
9. short for textbook
10. short for text message
— vb 11. to send a text message from a mobile phone
[C14: from Medieval Latin textus version, from Latin textus texture, from texere to compose] 'textless — adj Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition
2009 © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009
Source


(Emphasis added; I also wanted to point out that the word's etymology springs from a Latin verb. So turning "text" into a verb is just bringing it back to its roots.)


text (tĕkst)
noun
a. The original words of something written or printed, as opposed to a paraphrase, translation, revision, or condensation.
b. The words of a speech appearing in print.
c. Words, as of a libretto, that are set to music in a composition.
d. Words treated as data by a computer.

The body of a printed work as distinct from headings and illustrative matter on a page or from front and back matter in a book.
One of the editions or forms of a written work: After examining all three manuscripts, he published a new text of the poem.
Something, such as a literary work or other cultural product, regarded as an object of critical analysis.
A passage from the Scriptures or another authoritative source chosen for the subject of a discourse or cited for support in argument.
A passage from a written work used as the starting point of a discussion.
A subject; a topic.
A textbook.

transitive verb text·ed, text·ing, texts


To send a text message to: She texted me when she arrived.


To communicate by text message: He texted that he would be late.


Origin: Middle English texte, from Old French, from Late Latin textus, written account, from Latin, structure, context, body of a passage, from past participle of texere, to weave, fabricate; see teks- in Indo-European roots.


The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th edition Copyright © 2010 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.

Source



That's right. Text, thanks to the overwhelming popularity of text messages and mobile phones (A light-years better phrase than "cellular phones," by the way.  Actually describes the phone in a useful way, rather than making them sound all biological and cyborg-y and creepy.), is now become a verb. And the past tense is texted. And yes, I hate it: but I understand it. There's no particular reason to insist on using the verb send rather than text; the phrase "Text me!" is much shorter and simpler and to the point. Really, I only do this because Nero Wolfe, one of my favorite literary characters, corrected his assistant Archie Goodwin when Archie used the word quote as a noun, as in "That's a nice quote from Einstein!" Actually, Wolfe, told him (and me -- because who knows all these ridiculously obscure English rules?) the noun form is quotation; to quote is only a verb. I thought that was cool, because I think Nero Wolfe rules. I admire his genius, his misanthropy, his arrogance and egocentrism, and his unapologetic curmudgeonry. But wanting to be like Nero Wolfe is not actually a good reason to yell at people who use text as a verb. My cantankerousness aside, even the ugliness of the word isn't as bad as some, like moist or pus or squirt. And those never get my disapprobation like someone does who uses text or impact as verbs. I never yell at people for saying "And then it squirted moist pus everywhere."

Okay, really I would yell at someone for saying that.

I learned in my college Linguistics class that there are two schools of linguistic thought: prescriptive and descriptive. Prescriptive linguists are the ones who determine the use of slang as incorrect, and the use of "proper" or "formal" language, which conforms to the language's codified rules of grammar and syntax, as correct. Nero Wolfe is a prescriptive grammarian. So was my grandmother, who held two Master's degrees, spoke four languages, and could fill in crosswords without even looking at them. ("Grandma, what's an eleven letter word for 'Active at dusk?'" With no discernible pause: "Crepuscular.") We call these people "grammar Nazis." They are the ones who tell you, "No no -- that should be 'to whom am I speaking.'" Those people are deserving of the most cantankerous hatred you can bring up out of yourself. They are the ones who should get squirted with moist pus. Pardon me: whom should get squirted with moist pus. I do not want to be like these people. Not really.

I think of myself, and describe myself, as descriptive when it comes to linguistics. Descriptive linguists do not think of language as being correct or incorrect; simply as used, or not used, to communicate meaning. If the word, the sentence, the gesture is used and it successfully communicates meaning, then it is language; simple as that. So: when someone says "I'll text you later," do I understand their meaning? Was communication successful? Yes. And that's why, when I peel away the amusing layers of prescriptive grammar-Nazi crankitude which I wear to A)cover up my occasional feelings of inadequacy as a language expert (Of course I feel inadequate sometimes. Have you met my grandmother?), and B) keep away people that I dislike, which is sometimes (okay, often) all of you, I don't actually think there's anything wrong with using text as a verb. Sure, it annoys me regardless of correctness or communicated meaning, just because it annoys me; but then, I don't text, so what the hell does my opinion matter anyway?

That's why I don't oppose the redefinition of marriage, as New York just passed into law, to include homosexual couples. Because that redefinition is appropriate in this time and place. The use of the term "marriage" is the correct one to communicate the actual message people want to give to each other and to the world in describing their relationship; the mealy-mouthed second-rate "civil union" is not. It creates a distinction between relationships that should not exist, because the relationships are not clearly distinct. I am married: I live with my wife, whom I love, and who loves me (If you're wondering, both "who" and "whom" in that sentence are used correctly. I asked my grandma). We have no children, and we will never have any children, but we will be together until we die. We were married by a judge, in a courthouse, with not a single religious trapping -- not even a gown and veil and tuxedo and all that. Our relationship is identical to that of a gay couple's: the only difference is in the individuals in the relationship, not in the relationship itself. So creating a second term to distinguish between my relationship and a gay couple's relationship is not fair, and thus not acceptable.

The only way "civil union" is acceptable is if EVERYBODY defines their relationship as such, since everybody who has a state-issued marriage certificate does, in fact, belong to a civil union. So if we stop saying "marriage" in reference to all legal relationships, then fine, use the term "civil union" to describe the relationship between legally bound homosexuals, and between legally bound heterosexuals. But until then -- and of course, that will never happen because the word "marriage" is far too entrenched in our language and our society -- then the word "marriage" should be redefined to include everyone who has a relationship that matches our understanding of what a "marriage" is. As New York did, to their credit, and as my current state of residence failed to do, to their shame.


Oh yes: one other point about people who oppose the redefinition of marriage to include homosexual couples. It is not, in fact, a redefinition of marriage. There's nothing in the term marriage that would necessarily imply a single man and a single woman in a God-fearin', child-rearin' relationship; we use the terms marriage and husband and wife to describe polygamy, to describe oaths sworn by women to incorporeal beings (as Catholic nuns are described as "brides of Christ"), even to describe people with unhealthy obsessions ("He's married to his work.") and to tease children who play house together, and we always have. The idea that the term marriage is reserved for one man and one woman wed before God is a reactionary ideology invented and propagated by people who want to think the term means that and only that. But it doesn't.


Just like impact, though it saddens me to say it, is actually -- and always has been -- a verb.

Merriam-Webster's Dictionary
Im`pact´
v. t.1.To drive close; to press firmly together: to wedge into a place.
[imp. & p.p. Impacted; p. pr. & vb.n. Impacting.]
2.To affect or influence, especially in significant or undesirable manner; as, budget cuts impacted the entire research program; the fish populations were adversely impacted by pollution.
3.To collide forcefully with; to strike.

n.1.Contact or impression by touch; collision; forcible contact; force communicated.
The quarrel, by that impact driven.


World English Dictionary
impact
-- n 1. the act of one body, object, etc, striking another; collision
2. the force with which one thing hits another or with which two objects collide
3. the impression made by an idea, cultural movement, social group, etc: the impact of the Renaissance on Medieval Europe
-- vb 4. to drive or press (an object) firmly into (another object, thing, etc) or (of two objects) to be driven or pressed firmly together
5. to have an impact or strong effect (on)

[C18: from Latin impactus pushed against, fastened on, from impingere to thrust at, from pangere to drive in]

Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition
2009 © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009
source

It's even the first freaking definition in Webster's. Man: I suck as a grammar Nazi.

But at least I'm not a homophobe.

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