Adventures in Awkward Conversations

Me: Why hello, you gorgeous blog!  It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance!
Blog: Uh, Janice, we’ve met before. 
Me: No, that’s impossible!  How could I forget such delightful humour and stunning punctuation!?
Blog: It’s me, Adventures in My Shoes… we spent seven years together.  Then you just disappeared without so much as a farewell keystroke!
Me: Oh, ummmm, we did? I did? I guess I’ve uhhh… been …. busy?
Blog: Yeah, busy updating your facebook status and composing e-mails and crafting academic papers.  Writing all over the place in fact – everywhere but here! 
Me:  Sorry about that.  Really, I am.  I think I kind of liked you.  So…uh, do you wanna hang out again?

Adventures in Sheepish Confessions

My plans last night fell through, so instead of going out, I stayed in.  I sat for a while listening to the pouring rain, the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets…then I got bored listening to the rain, frogs and crickets, and I let my mind wander.  When left to its own devices, there are a few well worn paths down which it wanders.  The History Path is one of them, and that’s where we found ourselves last night.  After finding some rather ghastly information on-line regarding health care and childbirth in the 19th Century, I eventually stumbled upon a decidedly less horrific subject: how women managed to get all those curly tendrils without the use of hot irons. The secret?  Brown paper!

I just happened to have a pile of brown paper hanging around doing nothing, since I had forgiven my orchids and bought them a proper vase – wrapped in brown paper.  “Hmmmm”, I thought to myself, “maybe I could…” I hesitated though; after the disastrous results of my 1940s hairstyle reproduction attempt, I had vowed to avoid any further …ahem …entanglements. However, the rain, frogs and crickets had lulled me into a bit of a dozy trance, and I thought I could handle it.  Half an hour later, I was desperately hoping that there would be no reason to evacuate the building during the night, because I looked like this:  



 After a good night’s sleep, I pulled out the papers this morning, curious to see what was atop my noggin.  I tried coaxing the curls into a passable Regency era coiffure, but the result would have mortified Jane Austen, and I won’t even post the picture here it was so bad. Once I shook out the historical horror though, the curls actually weren’t so bad.  While the experiment failed miserably as an 1810 ‘do, it was passable as a 2010 one:

 There you have it…I sheepishly confess that this is what I do when left to my own devices for an evening. 

Adventures in Punctuational Pet Peeves… (Part II)

After enjoying a lovely weekend, and breathing in the brisk September air, some of my tiradical tendencies have been whisked away like an autumn leaf. Nonetheless, I’m still going to wrap up my piece on the misuse of quotation marks. I’m sure both of my readers are thrilled.

For some unfortunate reason, a remarkably large segment of the population seems to think that quotation marks aren’t just for indicating reported speech or sarcasm anymore. Somewhere along the line, this unassuming, straightforward and highly functional piece of punctuation has been stripped of it’s crown of coherency and assigned to take over the roles of underlining, italicizing and large print to indicate emphasis. In a fit of indignation, I did a quick Google search looking for examples of misused quotation marks.

My search took me to this website which, as Jennifer pointed out in her comments on my last post, is a fantastic site dedicated to the indignities the poor quotation marks have suffered over the years and across the globe. Diving into that site, I found my way to Jocelyn Noveck’s article in the Washington Post on September 21, 2007. In that article, I discovered a fabulous quote that sums up my sentiments quite succinctly:

“I have a thing against overuse of quotations, period,” says [Pat] Hoy,
director of the expository writing program at New York University. “Whether
in academic or bureaucratic writing, it’s giving up responsibility for what
you’re writing. It’s a pushing aside of the responsibility to be the major
thinker in the piece.”

Bravo, Pat Hoy, Bravo!! Take note BBC correspondents! I implore you to step up and take responsibility for your writing! Throw down your useless, deceptive, misleading, annoying, random inverted commas. Cast off the chains of wishy-washy, pudding-brained, over-punctuated, wimposity!! (I can still make up my own words, since I’m not being paid to be a leader in maintaining high standards in the written word.)

Whew, have you ever noticed that when you’re on a roll, it’s easier to write with an impassioned indignation that you don’t really feel? In my head, when I see misused quotation marks, I think “Humph, that’s irritating”, but when I start writing, I suddenly find a dusty old soapbox to stand on, metaphorically shaking my fist at the sky.