Don't infer it if I don't imply it!

I was reading a news article this morning and made the mistake of simultaneously drinking a soda. I was forced -- yes, forced -- to spray copious quantities of Diet Coke out my nose when I came across my least favorite grammar error. I will have to paraphrase, because when I read it, and after I wiped the still-bubbling liquid off my keyboard, I closed the browser, threw my laptop against the wall, and promptly tried to forget what article I was reading. Aaaaaaauuuuugggghhhhh!

What got me so upset, you ask (yes, I know you're asking)? The gist of it was as follows: "I don't mean to infer that I don't care." What?????? What ??????? W H A T ? ? ? ? ?

Grammar 101 here. I can IMPLY that I don't care. I can IMPLY that the writer is stupid. I can IMPLY that I wished that the author of that sentence would have been fired before the puddle on my floor dried. Thus, I will have "stated indirectly" the preceding points. You, then, can INFER that I don't care. You can INFER that I think the writer is stupid, and you can INFER my hatred of the author. Thus, you will have "drawn a conclusion" from what I said.

Ack! This kind of error akin to those of people who can't tell the difference between "affect" and "effect," or "continual" and "continuous." Did these people not go to elementary school? (Or did they just have my high school "Honors" English teacher teaching them basic grammar?) These words are not fungible. They are not synonyms. There is a reason they are not the same word. Stop using them as if they were. Otherwise, you can infer from my upraised hand that I'm going to slap you.

Note to self: Future post on Ms. Batson, teacher of Honors English at Start High School, who regularly said: "Class, the bell already rung. Sit down." "Rung" was pronounced "wung." She also taught Animal Farm out of the Cliff Notes. I'm pretty sure she taught Honors English because they figured our class would be less damaged by her incompetence.

I'm just humbled that you'd read this post....

I was listening to Judge Sonia Sotomayor giving a speech after Pres Obama nominated her to the Supreme Court. One of the first things she said was that she was "humbled" to be nominated. What?? This is a common cliché used by politicians, awardees, etc. It must stop because it makes them sound stupid and uneducated.

According to Webster's Dictionary:

Main Entry: humbled
Function: transitive verb
Date: 14th century
1 : to make humble in spirit or manner 2 : to destroy the power, independence, or prestige of

And, because Webster's can't be bothered to define a word without using that same word in the definition, we must look up "humble" as well:

Main Entry: hum·ble
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin humilis low, humble, from humus earth; akin to Greek chthōn earth, chamai on the ground
Date: 13th century
1: not proud or haughty : not arrogant or assertive2: reflecting, expressing, or offered in a spirit of deference or submission 3 a: ranking low in a hierarchy or scale : insignificant, unpretentious b: not costly or luxurious

So Sotomayor was saying that receiving this awesome appointment -- surely the dream of judges throughout the country -- has made her "not arrogant?" Or has made her "insignificant?" Or has destroyed her power and prestige??? This makes absolutely no sense. I can be humbled by having a blatant error or embarrassing secret made public. I can be humbled by losing everything and having to start over. However, I cannot be humbled by being told how awesome I am. Neither can she.

I understand what she was trying to say. But if this woman is possibly going to be writing decisions that will stand for centuries and will be interpreted, reinterpreted and relied upon for the most important matters, she needs to learn to use the English language properly. Maybe if someone points this out to her, she will be humbled.

Stuff that doesn't bug me

I have good friends. Despite my horrible experience last Friday, I really, really appreciate Harley's Mom for rushing home from the salon to take me to the ER. You da best!!

Health, doctors and medicine

Last Thursday, I went home from work with a migraine. A bad one. Friday, I went to the Emergency Room because the migraine was much worse, and I lost the vision in my right eye. About 45 minutes after arrival, I was hooked up to an IV and drugged up with morphine. The headache started to ease. About 2 hours later, I went home, groggy, headachey, and getting my vision back. I slept a while, and then the itching kicked in. I'm assuming that not everyone gets this reaction to morphine -- given the number of people addicted to it and Oxycontin and all the other heroine-related drugs. 26 hours of almost unbearable (but better than the full migraine) itching later, I was feeling better. Headache almost gone, itching gone, mood improved.

I get it. I have a chronic migraine condition -- 8-15 migraines a month. I know some of my triggers and avoid them. Others are a mystery to me. I just have to live with it. What I shouldn't have to live with is stupid doctors.

The ER doctor did what she was supposed to do. She took the edge off the headache and sent me home. My frustration is with my regular doctor and the various "specialists" I've seen. Migraines are not new. Their cause is not well-known, but there are lots of aggressive treatments being tried by different doctors throughout the world. Not mine. Mine want to give me some abortive drugs (stop it when it starts) and send me on my way with a pat on the head. Um, how about trying to PREVENT the damn things?? I've seen 3 neurologists and several GPs, none of whom has been willing to work with me to find the cause. My acupuncturist has done more to help prevent them than the guys with the fancy degrees!!

So, doctors suck. If you've had any sort of ongoing or chronic condition, you know what I'm talking about. They don't get it, and they aren't really concerned about getting it. My worst doctor experience was when a neurologist sent me to a neurosurgeon because he had discovered I had a brain tumor. The neurologist was an ass, and refused to give me info about the tumor, saying that the neurosurgeon would do that. Of course, I had to wait two weeks for that appointment. The neurosurgeon said, "You have an acoustic neuroma brain tumor. You can have it removed by surgery or radiation. Which do you prefer?" Ummm, let me see.... Having my head cut open sounds gross. Having my head irradiated sounds gross. Yeah, thanks for helping me make the choice. What a dufus. As if he had been asking "Coffee or tea, which do you prefer?" Fortunately, the internet has vast resources, and I was able to find lots of info and support groups to help me decide. Doctors suck.

Know who else sucks? People who pretend to have "migraines." Seriously. I have a coworker who walks around wearing sunglasses, going out to lunch with friends, and joking around the law cafe, having a "migraine" that is preventing her from working. Gah! Migraines aren't just crappy headaches. They are a debilitating condition with a headache like you've never experienced, nausea, and a whole host of other symptoms. You don't walk around and joke and laugh. Wearing sunglasses doesn't cut it. Stop using them as an excuse to leave early. Stop using them as an excuse to get out of work. Stop using them as an excuse to be a goof off. You're making it harder for the rest of us who are actually suffering with the disease.

Ok, off my pain-induced soap-box. I hate doctors.

Life at Widget Co

Widget Co is a rather odd place to work. Don’t get me wrong, I really like it here. I work with great people who make it fun to come to work everyday. Well, at least, I'm sure it's more fun than mining coal 200 feet underground in earthquake country with nothing but coal-dusty gruel to eat and one’s own urine to drink.

Today was a typical Wednesday. I got up, got dressed, came to work, and turned on my computer. I got some work done on a filing, answered some emails, and before I knew it, it was 11am. Time for the Widget Co Law Department Country Western BBQ! Of course!

I went downstairs to the little park area that separates the reserved parking lot (the gold-paved lot, lined with cherry blossoms and roofed by rainbows, where senior attorneys such as Yours Truly get to park) from the lame-o parking lot (made of loose gravel and surrounded by a flaming moat full of snapping turtles) where the riff-raff (including lesser attorneys) park. Down in the park, there was a lovely BBQ set up, with long tables lined with burgers, hot dogs, chili, cookies, fruit, lemonade, baked beans, potato salad, etc. A very nice assortment of quite yummy food.

After collecting my food, I went over to a table my friends had staked out. I noticed that, like always, the attorneys sat with attorneys, the staff sat with staff, paralegals sat with paralegals, etc. Very self-segregated. It always reminds me of 4th grade, when I learned that boys have cooties, and thus girls only sat with girls and boys were left alone to pick their noses elsewhere. Of course, in 4th grade, I was confused about why cooties were bad (I knew they were by how others said the word, but...), because we used to play this family game called Cootie, and they were adorable. For those of you who were children in the 70s:

Anyway, once most people were served, the line dancing started. Yes, line dancing. With an instructor. In the parking lot. I like to be a participator in things (because I know I'm a dork, and if you're gonna be a dork, you might as well enjoy yourself and embrace your dorkitude), so I danced a couple songs, sweating like a pig and moving like a fat tired cootie covered in molasses and thumb tacks attempting to swing dance in an ultra-high gravity environment. Fun, but ugly.

Fortunately, as far as I know, there is no video of the spectacle. The same is not true for my coworker. I took my camera, with it’s crappy video capability, and made sure that his endeavor in work-related line dancing would live ... FOREVER!. I even arranged for it to be posted to the Law Dept. intranet. I know, I’m evil. I give you Connor, the whiter-than-me Irishman dancing a line dance. He’s now been nicknamed “Shimmy.”

Of course, it’s not all fun and games here. We also work. And we take things – especially safety – very seriously. Leon, one of the managing attorneys here, just got back today from vacation in Mexico. Yes Mexico, home of the chimichanga, tequila, and the swine flu. Of course, several of his colleagues made sure that it was safe for him to return to work. I’m not sure what all the exam entailed, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. Poor Leon. Welcome home, guy! Hehe.
Now, back to work. I’m pretty sure I can get something done in the remaining hour before I leave early.