One of my favorite things about driving home to Chicagoland is looking out the window as the bus chugs down the Expressway. Although the view is mostly farmland, there are always amusing billboards to look at to keep entertained.
Usually, the amusing billboards are the ones advertising adult enterntainment stores or Amish villages. They seem more earnest and real, unlike the corporate ads that pop up every five feet once you hit the outskirts of the city.
But this Friday, the most amusing billboard I saw came from the unlikliest of places.
There was a picture of a little girl, and the caption said "Diana vs Leucemia."
Immediately I did a double take. But since we were driving, I couldn't exactly look back to see if I saw what I thought I saw. But I was fairly certain they spelled Leukemia wrong. How could they do that? What kind of bozos don't check the spelling of a cancer billboard? It's one thing to misspell something in a beer billboard, but cancer?
When I got home, I looked online to see if I was correct my spelling of Leukemia.
Yes, I was correct.
But I was wrong about the billboard. In fact, Leucemia is an alternate spelling of Leukemia.
Whoops. Apparently I shouldn't have patted myself on the back after all.
But it reminded me of an article I read last year in the Chicago Tribune about a group of friends whose hobby was to drive around Chicago and find all the grammatical errors on signs, billboards, businesses, etc. They took photos and created a website to document it and, and for the life of me, I can't find it.
Anyway, back to my Leukemia/Leucemia problem. I think that more people refer to the disease with a "k" instead of a "c." I must admit that I'm partial to it, since people often think my last name starts with a "c."
Regardless, if there are two common spellings, how do you know what to refer to it by? The AP Stylebook doesn't have a Leukemia/Leucemia entry, so are both correct? I suppose they are. But perhaps diseases should be dealt with differently, since spelling it two ways may make it seem as if you're talking about two different diseases. Who knows...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
I want to be a detective!
Although I couldn’t have been more wrong, it was fun editing the astronomically incorrect story of the bus and car crashing. Who would’ve thought that four letters (east versus west) would change the entire meaning?
As the copy editor, I love/hated that activity. Part of me wants more stories like that; then again, my job would’ve – and should’ve – been easier if the reporter was correct.
Still, I find myself rooting for stories to be terrible. Is that bad? I want to seethe through text like a detective mulls over evidence, knowing that something is clearly wrong, but not knowing what, where, when, why or how the heck it got that way. It’s kind of a thrill.
But I have a hunch that if I become a professional copy editor, I won’t want the thrills. Unlike editing in a classroom, there’s a lot on the line in the real world of actually having people read your work.
Editing in class is like driving the simulator in Driver’s Ed. You don’t have to worry about running over the pedestrians, since they’re all wearing bell bottoms and tweed jackets… oh, and they’re not real. If I make a mistake in editing class, it’s not like I’d be throwing the integrity of a news organization out the window. The worst case scenario is that I get points docked from my grade. Or I fail the class, which would kind of mean that I won’t be able to graduate…Oh well. At least there is no publication getting publicly humiliated because I spelled Whicker with an “h” instead of a “k.”
Although I doubt copy editors truly feel as if they’re detectives trying to track down killers, or hard-nosed cops testing the witness’ story to see if has any faults, perhaps they should. It might make them have more careful eyes. Although it sounds silly, getting into the mindset that reporters and/or sources are either trying to pull fast ones on you, or accidentally doing it, will never hurt. It should be an automatic part of the job description. Pretending that all stories are surrounded by clouds of mystery will just ensure that copy editors maintain that.
And if the editing becomes extremely dull, by pretending that all stories are surrounded by clouds of mystery that only you can clear up and bring to justice, you might actually have fun looking up someone’s name in the phone book.
As the copy editor, I love/hated that activity. Part of me wants more stories like that; then again, my job would’ve – and should’ve – been easier if the reporter was correct.
Still, I find myself rooting for stories to be terrible. Is that bad? I want to seethe through text like a detective mulls over evidence, knowing that something is clearly wrong, but not knowing what, where, when, why or how the heck it got that way. It’s kind of a thrill.
But I have a hunch that if I become a professional copy editor, I won’t want the thrills. Unlike editing in a classroom, there’s a lot on the line in the real world of actually having people read your work.
Editing in class is like driving the simulator in Driver’s Ed. You don’t have to worry about running over the pedestrians, since they’re all wearing bell bottoms and tweed jackets… oh, and they’re not real. If I make a mistake in editing class, it’s not like I’d be throwing the integrity of a news organization out the window. The worst case scenario is that I get points docked from my grade. Or I fail the class, which would kind of mean that I won’t be able to graduate…Oh well. At least there is no publication getting publicly humiliated because I spelled Whicker with an “h” instead of a “k.”
Although I doubt copy editors truly feel as if they’re detectives trying to track down killers, or hard-nosed cops testing the witness’ story to see if has any faults, perhaps they should. It might make them have more careful eyes. Although it sounds silly, getting into the mindset that reporters and/or sources are either trying to pull fast ones on you, or accidentally doing it, will never hurt. It should be an automatic part of the job description. Pretending that all stories are surrounded by clouds of mystery will just ensure that copy editors maintain that.
And if the editing becomes extremely dull, by pretending that all stories are surrounded by clouds of mystery that only you can clear up and bring to justice, you might actually have fun looking up someone’s name in the phone book.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Language Log blog
The Language Log was started out of the Univeristy of Pennsylvania, so, naturally, the bloggers all have Ivy League vocabularies. In fact, it seems as if each post serves to remind readers just that. So, I don't recommend perusing the Log unless you enjoy reading the dictionary in your spare time. I have nothing against the dictionary; but as I read the articles/blogs posted to the website, I found myself wishing that I had gotten to know Webster better. Oh well.
Anyway, the main reason the Log seems to have created is to dissect every phrase, jargon, and misused word. There are definitely some interesting parts to some of the posts, but for the most part, it was hard for a mere journalism student to sit through. Perhaps that has to do with how nearly every blogger subscribes to the same blog structure: Slab huge chunks of text from another author and write a few lines about how a word on the 17th line was the subject of a heated debate. Then, talk about something completely different than what you originally intended. I suppose bloggers are allowed to do whatever they want, but still. Don't intentionally try to lose me, so that only the best and most dedicated language freaks survive the entire post.
still, there are some definite interesting things about the blog. For example, I learned a new slang term from reading one blogger's take on "salted.” Apparently, it’s a third-party insult used by school kids exclusively in the Boston area.
Here's how I think it's supposed to be used:
It’s kind of amusing; I think I may use it myself. But that's not the point of the post. The cool thing was how the blogger used the observations of another author to comment on the slang. The blog's author, Benjamin Zimmer, talks about how the author of the article commenting on "salted" is essentially stroking the egos of Bostonians. I agree. Boston seems to pride itself on having a weird lexicon, so by pointing out how different they supposedly are, the author feeds their egos. Zimmer says of the author whose story he is referencing:
“Baker, however, wants salted to say much more about ‘this city, its people, and our wicked sense of humor.’ Investing so much revelatory power in one particular word can make for a compelling magazine article, but it's another form of pop-Whorfian reductionism nonetheless.”
So basically, the Boston kids who use the term “salted” don’t actually know what the word they’re saying means and from where it originates. And by acting like they are so special, Bostonians are trying to create their own self-fulfilling prophecies. If we tell everyone we're different and unique, maybe people will believe it!
Although i agree with Zimmer, he took way to long to say that. The part I quoted was the last bit of his rather long entry.
my favorite post was talking about how German uses ridiculously long compound nouns. Take Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen for example. Mark Twain says it means "General-statesrepresentativesmeetings." Twain was pretty much the entire post, which was great, but kind of defeated the purpose of having a blog by a bunch of U Penn grammar crazies. Still, someone's gotta be the language police.
Anyway, the main reason the Log seems to have created is to dissect every phrase, jargon, and misused word. There are definitely some interesting parts to some of the posts, but for the most part, it was hard for a mere journalism student to sit through. Perhaps that has to do with how nearly every blogger subscribes to the same blog structure: Slab huge chunks of text from another author and write a few lines about how a word on the 17th line was the subject of a heated debate. Then, talk about something completely different than what you originally intended. I suppose bloggers are allowed to do whatever they want, but still. Don't intentionally try to lose me, so that only the best and most dedicated language freaks survive the entire post.
still, there are some definite interesting things about the blog. For example, I learned a new slang term from reading one blogger's take on "salted.” Apparently, it’s a third-party insult used by school kids exclusively in the Boston area.
Here's how I think it's supposed to be used:
LITTLE BOBBY
(to Little Joey)
You smell!
Little Joey fights back tears.
LITTLE HORATIO
You got salted!
It’s kind of amusing; I think I may use it myself. But that's not the point of the post. The cool thing was how the blogger used the observations of another author to comment on the slang. The blog's author, Benjamin Zimmer, talks about how the author of the article commenting on "salted" is essentially stroking the egos of Bostonians. I agree. Boston seems to pride itself on having a weird lexicon, so by pointing out how different they supposedly are, the author feeds their egos. Zimmer says of the author whose story he is referencing:
“Baker, however, wants salted to say much more about ‘this city, its people, and our wicked sense of humor.’ Investing so much revelatory power in one particular word can make for a compelling magazine article, but it's another form of pop-Whorfian reductionism nonetheless.”
So basically, the Boston kids who use the term “salted” don’t actually know what the word they’re saying means and from where it originates. And by acting like they are so special, Bostonians are trying to create their own self-fulfilling prophecies. If we tell everyone we're different and unique, maybe people will believe it!
Although i agree with Zimmer, he took way to long to say that. The part I quoted was the last bit of his rather long entry.
my favorite post was talking about how German uses ridiculously long compound nouns. Take Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen for example. Mark Twain says it means "General-statesrepresentativesmeetings." Twain was pretty much the entire post, which was great, but kind of defeated the purpose of having a blog by a bunch of U Penn grammar crazies. Still, someone's gotta be the language police.
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