January 2012
38 posts
The thing I love about studying linguistics is that I appreciate regional dialect wherever I go. Even in my hometown, I find the most intriguing accents, and all I want to know is their origins, how they ended up in Detroit, and how they kept a portion of their original dialect. Unfortunately, the sale always ends and the customer is always on their way.
Most of all, I love that cute Michigander accent.
“…Take a cue from Ted Ownby, who studies Southern culture at the University of Mississippi. His state came up highly neurotic — and he suspects his neighbors would be proud. ’Here in the home of William Faulkner,’ Mr. Ownby said, ‘we take intense, almost perverse neuroticism as a sign of emotional depth.’”
For the past couple of days, my eyes have been noticeably bloodshot. I’m pretty sure people mistake me for high in several daily instances and most likely at work.
I’m not sure what’s making my eyes continuously appear this way. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s being cooped up inside with all the dust, maybe it’s the clouds of smoke that constantly surround me for one reason or another.
I had often thought that all of that smoke may have muddled my vision, so much that I couldn’t even see what I was doing myself. Now that I actually have time to think, it’s turning out to be true.