Pride, we all have pride. Just because you have fantasies about being sold as a slave or caned in a humiliating way doesn't mean that you don't have pride. Maybe it is because you have a little too much of that, that you have those fantasies. That could, very well, be true about me.
Growing older means, among other things, you see yourself a little clearer. Never believe you know completely what you are but it slowly becomes just a tad clearer with age. You begin to know what you are good at and what you are not so good at.
I am, for example, useless with complicated plot lines. Maybe that is why I don't like crime fiction and thrillers. It's sad when you sit and watch the great conclusion and don't understand what happened. 'Why was he so angry with the brother of his boss' lover because he had lost some money on the races and was that really a reason to kill the gardener's cousin?'
I am not so good at understanding long written texts, believe it or not. And I am useless with the remote controls of the things in our home.
I am, however, quite good with pictures. I recognise patterns easily and can have a guess at who painted a certain picture because I know their style. Despite the fact that I hate logic I am quite good at it, I have a maths brain but I prefer logic and maths when it is in pictures and not in text.
Another thing I am good at is to pick apart an argument and know what people really said and see the flaws and strength of it.
Back to pride. I am old enough to be proud of my achievements and to defend my position in subject areas I am passionate about. I wouldn't pretend to know anything about quarks or renaissance poetry but I have had a fair bit of education in Linguistics and Ancient History.
In fact, language is one of those things I am passionate about and I have read enough, studied enough, to have come across most of the main areas. I don't pretend to know the field but I have been around enough to know that when I do have an opinion I know it is well thought through. And when I am certain of a fact, I know why.
One problem with Linguistics is that everyone is an expert, everyone knows the language. To some extent that is true, the intuitive knowledge of how to communicate is the very basis for what we research within Linguistics. It doesn't automatically make you an expert on language history or typology or even formal grammar, though.
Mind you, it is not Linguists who pick on grammar and write complaining letters to the Telegraph. No, those are the language police, whose ranks are filled with over confident teachers and those who struggled through the old school only to now get the chance to pick on and bully someone else. Style in language is not the same as grammar.
The other day I found myself chatting online with somebody who I had experience of being quite insensitive and prone to saying quite hurtful things to me. But I had my reasons to give him another chance.
It all ended up in a silly discussion about the history of the English language. What is truth, one may ask? At least there is often an establish theory that is accepted within the research community and when I know what that theory is and agree with it it is hard to stand down when someone just tells you, you are wrong.
When that person tells you he is a public school boy and because of that he 'knows', it feels petty to point to your years of studies at the university. I don't claim that university makes you an authority, not at all. There is a tremendous number of idiots in academia and lots you could be ashamed of. No, it was just very tempting to hit back.
It is quite silly to row about something that is easy to check out – Wikipedia is a good start – and I don't know why I didn't stop it there. It became nasty. I like to stay on target and when I do, I don't like to be dismissed with 'do you know irony'. Bad cop out.
Anyway, this person is now deleted from my contact list and all is well with that. Why do I blog about this? Am I petty and whining? Well, yes, that is what I am. I am angry and hurt and this is my blog. I want to be petty.
Dear Readers, I guess I wanted a sympathetic ear or just wanted to get it off my chest. Thanks for listening. I know you to be very lovely people.
Just some advice for those who may be provoked by this. Don't say I play the dumb blond or call me a foul mouthed fish wife, ever!!