Category: rules

Word of the day: Obdurate

ob·du·rate   [ob-doo-rit, -dyoo-] –adjective

1. unmoved by persuasion, pity, or tender feelings; stubborn; unyielding.
2. stubbornly resistant to moral influence; persistently impenitent: an obdurate sinner.

Ah obdurate. How I embody you so.

This word crossed my path again yesterday while watching an episode of Jeeves & Wooster, a fun British show that dates back to the early 90’s. The PG Wodehouse books date back much farther than that, some written in the early 1900’s and now in public domain (thus all loaded up on my Kindle!).

The Good Man introduced me to Jeeves & Wooster and I’m now hopelessly in love.

I love language and words, and Wodehouse certainly had a way with the Queen’s English.

So I sort of chuckled this morning when I turned to my blog idea generator, and this was the suggestion:

“When other people tell me what to do….”

Answer: I become obdurate.

I’m not proud of it. It’s just in my nature.

As the third of three kids born to a very smart and very in control family, I was “the baby” and thus everyone just, you know, told me what to do.

This certainly got me past many a hazard in my infancy, but there came a time, I don’t know what age, when damnit, I was tired of being told what to do!

So much so, that being told what to do made me act out.

It’s a trait that’s carried through to adulthood. In fact, it only became more deeply entrenched an increased in velocity.

One would think that this would make me a very bad employee. Actually, when it comes to managers I like and respect, I have no trouble being told what to do in the workplace.

No, Madame Obdurate is more of a home life kind of gal.

Which makes friends, family and loved ones *ever* so happy.

I find my tendency to dig in when someone tells me what to do really isn’t all that unique. It’s pretty much a go-to for most of us.

Because we’re all special little snowflakes, we want to do things our own damn way and I don’t care what you say and pa-tooey!

Yeah.

As I often say to my friends, you don’t have to be free of your emotional baggage, you just have to be self-aware about it.

See how I reel ’em in? Look at that face? Would she harm a fly? No, I don’t think so. But tell her what to do and WHAMMO! Obdurate all up in your grille!

Seeing myself in a new way

You know, looking at a photograph of myself is always an interesting and somewhat humbling experience.

In a photo, I never quite look the way that I imagine I look.

Where did those lines around the eyes come from? Do my hips really look like that?

Ah well.

The other day, I received an interesting photograph that surely has me pondering some things.

Here, I’ll share the photo with you, my fabulous readers, so you can see what I’m talking about.

It is a fun photo of me driving! Isn’t that neat! A perspective one doesn’t often get.

Look at me…intense expression on my face. Hands firmly at ten and two. Or maybe more like eleven and one, but no matter.

That’s a concentrated and skillful driver, no?

Yup, that photo was kindly mailed to me by the Superior Court of the county where I live.

Wasn’t that sweet?

It appears they are of the belief that I didn’t stop fully before making a right turn at a red light into a very busy intersection.

And so for the luxury of a faboo photo of me behind the wheel, I was charged $500.

I’m *ever* so pleased about that. Tickled pink. And other euphemisms I can’t think of right now to sarcastically convey that I’m not very pleased AT ALL!

Next step: onward to driving school. Yay me.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate red light cameras? Oh I really hate them.

If you hear a tiny *pop*

…it is the sound of my mind being blown.

*pop*

Yesterday, I talked about this whole period-space-space thing.

So today, I’m going to take on a few grammar rules. I am breaking Sister Mary Margaret’s ruler right over my Strunk and White. Oh yes I am!

(That sounds kind of….naughty! heh heh)

Ok, confession time: I didn’t go to Catholic school. APS was a-ok.

Apparently middle school is much on my mind this week. Likely reflective of my mental age right now…but I digress.

Today we speak of Mr. Parker. Oh yes, another educator that saw my brother and sister pass through the doors of his classroom before I came along, all impressionable and scared.

Mr. Parker was, to put it mildly, a grammar Nazi.

(Yes, that’s putting it mildly! And no I am *not* prone to hyperbole! Quit taunting me!)

Mr. Parker was all about forcing us to diagram sentences at the chalkboard.

(For the younger readers, yes, we used actual chalk in those days. And we had to walk uphill both ways to get to school.)

Mr. Parker would rattle off a sentence, and then we had to diagram the damn thing.

If you got stuck, he’d make sarcastic comments. Occasionally singing a little ditty meant to embarrass you. And then he’d tell you how you blew it. Because we always blew it when it came to diagramming sentences.

Fun.

So Mr. Parker’s waltzing, melodic teasing is in the back of my mind as I read this article:

Three grammar rules that are okay to break.

Doh! That’s wickedly delicious, like getting caught smoking out behind the portable buildings!

(Not that I did, I was am a painfully rules compliant girl)

Here we go:

1. Feel free to boldly split infinitives.

They quote the famous Gene Rodenberry line, “To boldy go where no man has gone before” as evidence that this is ok.

Hmm. Not sure “Star Trek” is the high water mark for grammatical correctness. Then again, maybe I could get into this.

Problem is, it’s also been drilled into me that adverbs should be kept to a minimum, under which “boldly” would qualify.

So…to capriciously break the rules, seems…well, I just did it, that’s not so bad.

Oh yeah, I’m turning to the dark side!

(Mixing metaphors too! Oh, I’m naughty!)

2. Ending a sentence with a preposition is nothing to worry about.

Ok, I admit it, I already do this. And I hear Mr. Parker in my head when I do, but damnit, I do it anyway.

But I’m not going to stop!

At least until I get in trouble and then I’ll be very compliant and mild.

3. Is it even okay to use sentence fragments? Yes.

Yeah, ok, fine. I do this. A lot. With frequency. And I’m not going to quit!

If loving sentence fragments is wrong, I don’t want to be right!

I often get that green squiggly underline in Word that says “sentence fragment, consider revising.” To which I reply, boldly: “NO!”

Then click ignore. It feels so good to click ignore.

You wanna know what else?

I also dangle my participles. I do and I’m not sorry.

Oh I’m grammatically running amok now!

Whoooooooo!

I fought the law…

…and the law will probabaly win.

Ok, not me, but a man named Dave Vontesmar. Mr. Vontesmar lives in Arizona. Phoenix, to be exact.

And Mr. Vontesmar has to commute daily for his job at Sky Harbor airport.

Mr. Vontesmar is not a fan of the recently installed cameras that Phoenix has been using to catch speeders (and, let’s be clear, raise revenue).

It is, as this article describes, a “photo-enforcement gantlet (sic) on Interstate 17, Arizona 51 and Interstate 10.”

Mr. Vontesmar IS, however, a fan of going in excess of the speed limit.

And so the perfect solution is born.

Dave Vontesmar wears a monkey mask when driving. Sometimes a giraffe mask, but mostly a monkey mask.

And when the tickets, some 37 so far, totaling fines upward of $6,500, show up at his home, he says:

“‘Not one of them there is a picture where you can identify the driver,’ Vontesmar said. ‘The ball’s in their court. I sent back all these ones I got with a copy of my driver’s license and said, ‘It’s not me. I’m not paying them.””

Well ok. I guess they use the car registration and the driver’s license photo to id the drivers and issue the ticket.

So Vontesmar is working a loophole here.

Except…

“…officers sat outside Vontesmar’s home and watched him drive to work. ‘We watched him four different times put the monkey mask on and put the giraffe-style mask on,’ Officer Dave Porter said. ‘Based on surveillance, we were positive that Vontesmar was the driver.'”

So fine, he’s probably not going to get away with this, but damn…you gotta like his style!

File this under: hot desert sun does something funny to folks.

Photo from azcentral.com

Dear Canadian Hiring Managers:

It’s ok. Unclench. You might like it.

“A telephone survey of 100 senior Canadian executives showed that more than a fifth of executives said a single typo on a resume or cover letter could cost a potential employee a job, while 28 percent said two mistakes would kill their chances.”

Wow, really? I’m a hiring manager. I went through a two year period where I was constantly hiring. I’ve probably looked at over a thousand resumes. All were done to greater and lesser degree. Yes, some were so sloppy it wasn’t worth taking a look, but a minor error here or there, especially if it’s a common typo, teh for the, for instance, is certainly acceptable.

I agree that job seekers need to put a best foot forward all of the time. I agree with polishing the resume, having someone else read it, making it clean and crisp. This is your sales pitch and you need to get it right.

But for me and for the hiring managers I know, one typo doesn’t kill anyone’s chances. Unless this is a job for the typing pool where accuracy matters, it’s more about the qualities of the person, not their keyboarding skills. I think if that’s the view the company takes of minor human error, then who would want to work there anyway?

Source.