She got up at five because it was Thursday and made the porridge because HE wanted eggs. But eggs were bad for you, and she would only make them if HE started liking porridge, to reward HIM. She did not think that, but it was true. She did not think that because she was not-thinking. She sat alone in the corner of the room and did not turn on the ( Read more... )

The subject line says it all. I'd much rather write about the lighter side of being, quite honestly. Who said Wednesday's child is full of woe?

The one I just finished is called The Ring of Words and is written by 3 OED editors about the history of the OED, Tolkien's participation in it, the roots of certain words he invented, as well as the utterly ( Read more... )

How would I know she is a lawyer from her writing, she wants to know.

So she is reading Tam Lin (she asked for something special), just your basic Celtic legend. And then she puts together a summary of the story, your basic stock-in-trade for narrative and writing skills, etc. And here is what we get:

... the man appeared to present himself as an elf ( Read more... )

Vengeance is probably sort of addictively bitter, like Campari or some of those icky olives that come from Greece or somewhere where people like a bit of quinine aftertaste with their food. It would hardly be sweet; although I’m one of those people who finds it tough not only to hold a grudge but to even remember having one once a bit of time has ( Read more... )

Here is the thing. I don’t believe in the coming of the machines, but I do have to start wondering whether those tests are content-based. Because I just ran a piece of text from this blog through one of those “you write like...” quizzes, and it turns out I write like H.P. Lovecraft.

Squamous. Just squamous.

Figuring out a gadget related issue:

“... So I guess that rules out laptops for you. Didn’t you say you’ve got an iPad?”

“Nope, that’s my bro.”

“Well, I guess you could try stealing it from him...”

She slaps her forehead, “Oh right! I did!” and pulls her brother’s iPad out of her bag.

2 new students, end of class, assignments being handed out; the first ( Read more... )

Texts and emails from students (mostly this week):

... the girl is stranded in Greece all alone and I can’t see how she can get away with passing herself off as Simon’s girl.

Oh I really want them to get together but they are both so stiff-necked and she is what, 500 years old? Elves shouldn’t fall in love with humans and he is a knight... They are ( Read more... )

How did he know you’d been to the tropics?

I half ten.

Sorry, I just...

Half ten! Half ten!

No, I still... Half ten, why are we talking about the time? It’s half eleven actually...

No no, I half ten, brown!

Ten brown what? Oh...

It’s not even the pronunciation; but the dream that someday she might believe that a/an/the actually serve a higher purpose. She ( Read more... )

Waiting for a student to pop up in Skype (we occasionally do that when there is a scheduling snafu or something). She is running late, so I text her. She texts back:

Skype dosnt exceptmy password.

I'm kinda with Skype on this one.

Sometimes you just can’t pin it down. Like this gal and her ch- /tʃ/, she says much, chat or check when I ask her to repeat them after me. She is fine with the similar sound (the first one, that is) in Russian. But the moment she starts talking, it’s tin, tat and tech. The worst part is that she can’t do any of the deep vowels reliably either, ( Read more... )