That should go over on the thread discussing grammar whereon some have suggested that a grasp of porper grammar isn't necessary for good writing.
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About 40 years ago in Dublin, mother to her young child on board a bus: Don't say "ha'?" Say "wha'?"
Or a grasp of proper spelling, either.
Not so much a spelling problem as a keying problem in my case. Ah, the challenges of the fast freaky four-finger method of typing.
Want some fun?
Look up English As She Is Spoke, a 19th-century book trying to translate English into Portuguese. The author could not speak English, but he could speak French. So he translated the English into French and the French into Portuguese.
This led to some unintentionally hilarious translations such as:
- Is sure the road? (Is the road safe?)
- That not say a word, consent. (He that is silent consents).
- What do him? (What does he do?)
- That pond it seems me many multiplied of fishes. Let us amuse rather to the fishing. (That lake looks full of fish. Let's have some fun fishing).
... and so on. My hovercraft is full of eels!
Louanne Learning
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I went out shopping with my mom this afternoon and finally got my waterproof raincoat for Ireland! I love it! I was looking for black but came across this colour that I have never really seen before. My mother says it is red, and I say it is orange. In any case, I just had to have it!
Is it vermillion?
Is it vermillion?
You're both wrong. It's green. Duh.
It is remarkable. People will sit up and take notice when you wear it.
My grandson is red-green colorblind. Once in a while, I explore his reality by pointing out colors and asking how he perceives them. His world is his world and he isn't bothered by it, but it hurts my heart that he will never see a truly brilliant red or verdant green. Sometimes I wonder what colors I'm not seeing that are perfectly apparently to angelfish and redwood trees.
PS I'd call it blood-orange just to be dramatic.
My grandson is red-green colorblind. Once in a while, I explore his reality by pointing out colors and asking how he perceives them. His world is his world and he isn't bothered by it, but it hurts my heart that he will never see a truly brilliant red or verdant green. Sometimes I wonder what colors I'm not seeing that are perfectly apparently to angelfish and redwood trees.
PS I'd call it blood-orange just to be dramatic.
I don't have a signature on here. What the hell?
Louanne Learning
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A really interesting condition is synesthesia. What would it be like to have your senses all rolled into one explosive experience?
One of my dancers perceived music as color and used to choreograph dances accordingly. Also met someone who heard color; she said she occasionally had to leave art shows because the colors were too loud. My version is experiencing sound as physical sensation and knowing exactly where in physical space all the months of the year are in respect to me. Right now, November is directly behind me and March is slightly behind and to the left of my left shoulder.
I wonder if synesthesia is more common than generally believed. I was grown before I realized everyone didn't feel sound. It was my normal so I never thought to bring it up.
I wonder if synesthesia is more common than generally believed. I was grown before I realized everyone didn't feel sound. It was my normal so I never thought to bring it up.
Louanne Learning
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New meaning to "trust your senses"
To me, it looks like the same color a Switch joycon has—neon red.
Louanne Learning
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It's a rainy day here. Supposed to rain all day.
I'd suggest 'Plays jaws theme while moderating'.
Ideas for Book III are slowly coming together. Last month I wrote a synopsis for the same. Having a generalized roadmap helps in that I do know where I'm headed, but the beginning is less clear than the ending. Book II was 127,000 words, but I think this one will be closer to 100,000 unless an unexpected sub-plot arises. Subplots are like that, though...
I think it's that new color "Thanks vermillion."
And pigs have more sensory nerves in their noses than we have in our eyes, as one medical student told me. So they can smell better than we can see.
I had a boss at a hang glider factory who was red-green colorblind. When we made stock gliders, we designed the color scheme for the sails. After Marty tried his hand at it, with disastrous results, the sail loft manager whose job I took over said to me, "Don't ever... ever... ever let Marty pick sail colors." I have a feeling that Marty's design decisions were overruled before the sails were actually made, because Marty was one of the most agreeable people I ever met.
Not orange. Orange is a kind of taboo color in Eire, because it's linked to the old conflict between the Republicans and the Royalists, a conflict that resulted in the split of the country into Eire and Northern Ireland.
I knew a family that bought a new VW camper every couple of years, picked it up in Europe, and toured with it before bringing it home. One year, they chose an orange one and traveled around Eire, but found that it was an unfortunate color choice.
My ancestors include both native Irish and what came to be known in the US as Scotch-Irish. When my daughter and I visited Ireland in 2007, a nice young couple in Clifden asked us if we had connections to Ireland. When I said we did, they asked about surnames. Collins... "ah, County Cork." Yep. Delaney... "County Laois." Yep. McCorkle... "Um, I'm not sure that is actually Irish." I said, nope, they were Orange as pumpkins (actually, those ancestors emigrated to North America at least half a century before the Orange Order was formed). The delightful young man burst out laughing and said, "Ah, what does it matter? They're all Celts."
