This morning I awoke to find my siren of a journal staring at me square in my face before I could even say “Journal, you know, it’s not you it’s me. I’m just not at the point in the morning where I can properly write in you. I hope you understand… No, I’m not seeing other journals! Well, yeah. I guess I have been quite the tramp, flirting with my blog, but that’s besides the point! Really! Don’t leave!”
But that’s (sort of) besides the point of my blog entry today. As you know, I’m what you’d call a dork of ridiculous linguistic proportions. Crushes on Henry Higgins of “Pygmalion”, tirades about etymology (cough, cough. My birthday is in 2 months) are not unusual for me.
Just the other day I met a few of my New College’ friend’s friends from other schools and asked which ones they went to. It was not very shocking to my other New College friends in the same room when I finally said “Marina (my New College friend), you have good taste in friends. Two of them go to the best schools for linguistics in the country’”.
So it was not out of the ordinary when I used one of my most commonly used phrases this morning when I wrote in my journal and it turned into a 2-page digression within one set of parentheses. I beat my record for digressing and I was pretty proud indeed.
So without further ado, here is my 2-journal pages’ worth of a digression, parentheses and all. Enjoy 🙂
….to be quite frank (I feel bad for anyone named Frank.. Seriously. For all of the people out in the world with such a common name as Frank, it must be very annoying to have to hear people on a near daily basis starting sentences with the introduction of “To be Frank…”. It must be hard to be around people with such identity problems that they have to resort to be Frank. Especially if you are an unfrank Frank. Many times I catch myself in these thoughts of my language dorkdom trying to play in my interactive version of the online etymology dictionary, like it’s a game of Scrabble or Pictionary; drawing a picture of how I’d like to envision a phrase, either in the shoes of whoever formed the idiom phrase (I’d personally want to have BFF necklaces with whoever formed the phrase ‘Meanwhile, back at the ranch’) or a literal, humorous vision of the phrase.
‘To be Frank’ consist of a balding, severely bored, businessman circulating around the room at his business firm’s or whatever’s ‘holiday- christmas-hanukkah-non-denominational mixer party’, when finally all of his pent up feelings about his inner existential crisis, his ongoing feud with his company’s printer that is commonly flighty, and the fact that his floozy of a wife has already gotten snockered on office punch is for some reason pacing back and forth past the mistletoe-covered entrance, like a cop on the streets of Compton, came out.
[As a sidenote, I think the sentence above is the longest run-on sentence I’ve ever written. Gold star, Mackenzie!]
But he’s trying not to pay attention to the latter two problems. He’s too occupied with his co-workers, other penguin-suited men like himself standing around in a random party hall, nursing spiked egg-nog as they listen to Mariah Carey squeak out a holiday tune. In between their slurps of egg-nog, they divulged in ever-so-scandalous office gossip; the secretary with the nice legs, the near constant paper jams in the printer, “scandals of the office” (the manager treated the secretary to drinks on Fridays, amongst other things!)
All of these topics started by the men (none started by Frank, he knew exactly who he was at the time), began with the phrase “Well, to be quite f/Frank..” as they divulged in their sudden f/Frankness.
In my ideal etymological fantasy, the usual, peaceful Frank would assume the role of a feisty woman on an episode of ‘Maury’ and snap his fingers up and down, yelling at the top of his lungs at each of the men “YOU AIN’T ME! YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE!!”.
And it makes me happy. Very, very happy. Like only digressions barely contained in parenthesis can)