The Linguists

Today I joined a William & Mary linguistics class' viewing of The Linguists, a documentary showing "David and Greg [...] circle the planet to hear the last whispers of a dying language." That's the official website's catch-line for the film, and it sounds more theatrical than documentary. It's an apt description, however, because the presentation of the featured languages resembles the Food Network's approach to regional cuisine. I have learned more about a culture and people from Fight Quest than this documentary. This isn't to say that The Linguists should be about people and culture, but if a series about fighting styles around the world can understand the integral role of culture to combat, then it's fair to expect a documentary of this nature to do the same.

Unfortunately, the film does not make up for this glaring omission by giving greater attention to the technical aspects of language documentation, nor the character and nuances of the featured languages. Maybe this comes from an executive decision to produce the film for a general audience. But that seems to both insult and misidentify one's viewers. First, the average viewer can handle greater technical depth than the documentary provides. And second, the "general audience" who watches a documentary film about language extinction isn't the same "general audience" that Hollywood caters to.

The redeeming qualities of The Linguists come from the nature of field of language documentation. That is to say, it's a mediocre presentation of an enthralling subject. I wish it had done more, and maybe I'd be happier with the film if I didn't think that The Linguists could have been so much better.

Putting In Work

It's been over five months since I started work as a cook. Shit can be hectic, and I rarely have time in the kitchen to stand still - nevermind sit down. It reminds me of what I wrote when I started judo, about the need to be both calm and fast at the same time. Back then, I thought of how that same "mode" is important in boxing and classical guitar. Now I see it as crucial to any skill.

Two Bobs, one E and one D, responded to my original post, pointing out the role of technique and practice. In the case of cooking, however, I never had a chance to practice. Instead, I needed to be fast right away or I'd be fired. No hard feelings - the people need to eat. So even though I've certainly become faster and more efficient with experience, I think there's a certain temperament or mental "mode" that is just as important as practice.

Panic never seems to help people, especially when they're trying to unlock their car door because a serial killer is quickly approaching. Or when they fall into a bog, as Bear Grylls demonstrates. But not many of us can practice evading serial killers or escaping bogs. Instead, we can practice a mindset that stays both relaxed and responsive. Like a samurai.

Haters Gonna Hate

I remember an interview with Celine Dion, around the time of Titanic's success, in which she stated that it's impossible to have everyone like you. And she would know. In the face of that, however, I've also thought that it's impossible to not want everyone to like you. Who doesn't want to be universally accepted and appreciated? Alack, two inevitables in conflict.

Fortunately for me, I'm getting better, with age, at paying less mind to whether people like me. For example, there's a jerk who works at the recycling center in town. Whenever I roll in on my bike to drop off recycling, he's resting his overweight, lazy self on the back of his pickup. I imagine he eyes me and thinks to himself, "damn long-haired (to be fair, I should cut it) yankee (he's seen my NH plates) and his stupid hippie (recycling) ways."

He has begrudgingly spoken with me a couple of times, usually to point out the station's policies, and I was certainly polite at first, saying "hello, sir", following his directions, and all that. I may have even been tempted to somehow demonstrate that we're not so different, to strike up a conversation. Now, though, I want nothing to do with that self-righteous, working-class identifying layabout.