White Winter Hymnal

After reading THIS article--a response to Francis S. Collins's book The Language of God--I wanted to post a long, drawn-out, atheistic rant.

But I decided not to.

Probably better for everyone, eh?

Revolver

After returning from London and Paris--two of the biggest tourist sites in the world--I feel obligated to funnel all of my anger about photography into a single entity.

You may be thinking "What's the big deal, Casey? Don't be such a prick!"--but I absolutely hate some of these twats that carry cameras around big cities.

First of all, I don't mind the occasional photo with your family. I might express a tinge of annoyance when my mom tells me to stand next to some monument, but it's all in good fun. I can understand how much it means to my mother. What I don't appreciate are the self-absorbed tourists that carry their video cameras around like a child. While I'm walking around the streets of London, the last thing I want to be worried about is whether or not I'm going to be seen in some future family video.

On that note--why do people tape absolutely everything?! I watched a family tape their entire stay in Westminster Abbey; are they planning on watching all of it at a later date? Will they sit down to later experience their entire visit to Poets' Corner? Mind you, they weren't even speaking: the father was just panning the camera around filming everything he deemed "cool."

I understand that we, as a society, feel the need to document every single moment of our lives--as evidenced by Twitter, Facebook status updates, and weirdly Orwell-ian Bluetooth tracking of concert-goers--but this is starting to get a little out of hand. I was routinely asked to step aside for picture of random shit in London. I'm not talking about memorials or landmarks--I'm talking about stores and streets. Excuse me for not wanting to step aside for your photo of a newstand--I'm trying to buy a fucking paper.

But--travelling even deeper into the unknown hatred of my mind--none of those minor twitches can compare to my ultimate pet-peeve: people who take pictures of art.

My family went to the Tate Modern, the Louvre, and the Orsay--and at each one there were dickheads who feel that their digitial camera can do a much better job of capturing Monets brush strokes or Van Gogh's color. I don't claim to know much about art, but I do know that it is supposed to be absorbed in person. If all you wanted to see was a picture of Van Gogh's self-portrait--then I have something to inform you of: Google Images.

GAH. I'm going to keep going: In the Louve--the Mona Lisa was made into a tourist attraction. I find that perfectly acceptable, as it is probably the most famous painting in the world--but the fact that there was a crowd of people around the frame taking pictures with flash absolutely infuriated me. Nobody I saw was simply standing there, admiring the painting. They must have felt that their camera phone could capture the moment even better than actual memories.

I'm reminded, once again, of the Bob Dylan quote my parent's used when I graduated high school.

Four Word Letter

As a future English major, I was very excited to witness, first-hand, all of the classic English being thrown around London. It felt a bit uncomfortable at first--as my American accent instantly labels me as a lazy, slobby, hick--but most of the people I met and spoke with were very forgiving. The awkwardness of having to ask "Could you repeat that?" did get a little tiring, and I was constantly looking at exactly which coins I had in my pocket--but, eventually, I was able to settle in and try to study exactly what makes the English language a little different.

Immediately after arriving from the Metro station, the change was particularly jarring. Instead of an "Exit" sign pointing us to street level--there was a "Way Out" sign. The obvious differences--such as the "u's" in "colour," "favourite," and "behaviour"--were all very apparent to me before I arrived, but I started to notice even more.

The English are obviously opposed to the letter "z." It is hardly ever used--except at the beginning of proper nouns, and even then I only saw it put to use twice. The letter is also omitted from usually simple words. "Recognize" and "energize" were the first two words I witnessed to become part of this phenomena--but anywhere where I've grown accustomed to a "z," an "s" has been substituted. The change wasn't as drastic as I had expected, but the sheer scale of the switch was quite amazing.

Rather than "line," the British use "queue"--which can also be turned into a verb, with the product being "queuing." This makes the entire process of standing in a line much more efficient--as the act itself has an entire noun, verb, and phrase attached to it.

One of the most surprising uses I noticed was the use of "suspension" as a noun. Rather than saying "No Parking"--a sign on the street would inform of a "Parking Suspension."

The language across the pond is definitely a bit more sophisticated. Simple signs that we take for granted, such as "Exit," are replaced with much more descriptive counterparts. This may have been the nerdiest blog you've ever read--minus all of that Harry Potter fan-fiction (you know who you are)--but, for me, this entire experience was extremely gratifying.

I made my literary pilgrimage to Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbet--where I was able to pay my respects to the authors I've practically worshipped over the years. Shakespeare, Wilde, Keats, Carol, Dickens, and Wordsworth were all memorialized (Did you catch the "z!") in Poets' Corner--and I felt honored to have the opportunity to show my appreciation. I just returned from a trip to the Pantheon, where I saw the graves of Alexandre Dumas and Voltaire. Before going off to college to study--just as these writers had done--I can safely say that I have made my trip to the Literary Mecca.