Monday, June 24, 2013

BTW, Harriet, Fan Speak is Dead

 
My ninth grade English teacher had a poster like this hanging in the back of his room. It always bugged me. AFAIC? DAMHIKT? Nobody actually texts like that.
If I know my message will fit well under 140 characters, I'll use proper capitalization and punctuation. If I'm pressed for time or space, I'll sacrifice those but stick to correct spelling. The only time I use acronyms is in gmail chat. I know my friend's staring at the screen and they shouldn't have to wait forever for my reply. Even then they're simple ones-brb, btw, g2g. Blogger's spellcheck doesn't even underline those last two. They're widely accepted (unlike gmail, apparently).
There will always be idiots on the Internet, and you can't blame those all on youth. Ten year olds often spell better than their parents. They get weekly spelling tests. On paper. With pencils. Somehow they've got it drilled in their heads that spelling is important.
But the truth is, acronym texting could die off. Phones have qwerty keyboards now. It's not as inconvenient to type out a six letter word with three vowels.
Which is why those posters bug me. 
Today I learned that hand fans were used as a means of communication in the Victorian era. Fanning yourself slowly means you're married. Fanning quickly means you're engaged. Touching your fan to your right eye means, "When can I see you?"
I think it's fascinating. I'd buy a lace fan and learn it, but it would probably turn out like the time I taught myself Morse Code. Besides, it's not very subtle. Anybody in the ballroom could glance over and know Miss Harriet is engaged but Mr. Stratton still wants to meet her in secret. I thought, "If only those Victorian girls could text."
That's when I realized texting and fan language have something in common. They're both forms of communication closely tied to technology. Air conditioning killed fan language. Improved phones are making text speak obsolete.
The Victorians were serious about fan speak. They published etiquette books so Miss Harriet could study up on the proper way to flirt with Mr. Stratton. I wonder if any parents moaned about this. "What is this newfangled notion? Now Harriet can plan her scandalous affairs right under our noses. Next thing you know, they'll be giving women the right to vote so they don't have to listen to their fathers and fiances. I'd better get my lacy gloved hands on one of those fan language guides."
I bet people came up with their own specialized signals. Just like our texting posters, those books weren't entirely accurate. Give it another century. The only people who'll pay those posters any mind will be oddballs who think they're quaint and cryptic.
Technology moves fast. Enjoy it while it lasts.



 

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

How to Survive a Family Reunion

Family reunions can be dull. Same boring people, same boring food, same boring questions. Here's some tips for teenagers to shake things up a bit.
1. Bring a friend, someone your immediate family doesn't know. Convince everyone you have a new cousin. Bonus points if you're not the same ethnicity.
2. When your great-aunt peers at you and asks, "Who do you belong to?" smile and say:
"You know what I like about this country? It's free, which means I can be free too. I'm not owned by anybody."
3. When someone asks your age, answer, "Older than I look but younger than you think I am."
4. When someone several decades older than you asks your age, tell them and then ask for theirs.
5. Ask for theirs first. If they only give you a decade, tell them you're somewhere in your teens.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Your Parents

There are so many resources for parenting. Books. Articles. 10-step plans. But what about us? No one tells us how to manage our parents.
I don't know much, but I'll share a few tips.
Communication
Parents view everything as it relates to them. If you have a horrible day at school and you just can't bring yourself to lie through your teeth and say it was "Fine, just fine," when they ask, their first thoughts aren't for you. They're concerned about how you blew them off. If you break down and tell them the secrets you can't tell your closest friends, they're busy, you're whining, and you need to shut up.
Parents are emotional creatures. They focus on your tone and word choice instead of the raw, basic information you're trying to convey. Say what you have to say in the simplest words possible, but find good synonyms. Paraphrase yourself several times until they get the message. Pick a tone that matches what they want to hear. Make yourself sound more relaxed or less intelligent if it suits your goals.
Letting it Out
You can't go on like that forever. You're in a cycle. First, you hold back what you really want to say.  It's amazing what you can hide just by putting on a smile. But with time your facade will crack. You get brave and stupid. You decide it's worth the risk, so you yell and cry and tell your parents exactly what you think of them. Let yourself explode.
They won't understand. But you've said it.
Breathe in. Breathe out. You need to do this every once in awhile, it's all part of the cycle. Soon, you'll be afraid again. Soon you'll bite your lips and remember to cry quietly. That's why you need to make the most of it while it lasts. Practice what you want to say in your head so it's not a ramble. Again, wait for the right moment.
Crafting an Image
Do you have a brother or sister who gets away with everything? There's a reason for that. As toddlers, they showed your parents who was in charge.       Younger siblings have more luck with this. After a few years of being a parent, they give up and take what they can get.
Picture a white sheet. No lace, no designs, and definitely no stains. There are few things more boring than that white sheet. Bland. Neutral. Default. Normal. But once you spill something on that sheet, it doesn't matter that it's 99.99% perfect. You've stepped away from the normal.
That sheet is your 4.0, your nonexistent criminal record, your clean social life, that good child image you never really worked to build.
If you know in the future you'll want to do something big, you can't rush into it and count on your snow white record to save you. It doesn't matter if it's your only blemish. They'll look at you and see a blemish.
Let them adjust slowly. Learning happens line upon line, precept upon precept. Show them you capable of acting and, more importantly, thinking for yourself.
If you want to start a revolution and you do it by rolling a tank down a quiet suburban lane, interrupting everyone's Monday morning, people will be scared. You're evil. They'll call in a bigger tank to blast you off the map. There's a subtler side to revolutions in propaganda and word of mouth. Take a look at the most frightening takeovers throughout history, like the French and Russian Revolutions, and they all started with changes in the mindset. Let them realize they can't control you.
Note: Don't really try for revolution. Unless you're somehow reading this from Syria. In that case, I'm glad you have Internet but why are you using it read my blog? You know more than I do and you have real problems to take care of.
Also, this is completely metaphorical. I'm not fan of communism or guillotines.
Getting What You Want
First, let's focus on what you want. Is it tangible or intangible? If you want an object that costs money or you need to get somewhere, you'll have to ask your parents. If you have two parents, learn which one to ask. Wait for an opportune moment when they're not grumpy, busy, or exhausted. Just because you can catch them off guard doesn't mean they'll happy later when they realize what you pulled. Make it sound as if what you want will benefit them. "If I had a car, I could drive Sam to football practice without leaving you stranded here."
If it's something intangible-they can't snatch it from your arms and take it away-freedom, responsibility, knowledge, empowerment-get it yourself. Simplification is the key.
When I was twelve, I realized I needed an email account. I'd done without one in the past. If I wanted to sign up for a website, I'd enter my parents' email and wait for them to get home and activate my account.         But now I was on my middle school newspaper and my editors needed to send me assignments. I put down my parents' account, but I knew it wasn't practical for them to call me over to the computer every time I had an article deadline.
So I asked nicely. They told me I could have one if I kept a 4.0. So I did all my assignments, turned in everything on time, and had an emotional breakdown when one assignment pulled my math grade down to an A-. Luckily, my grade went up and I got a 4.0 that quarter. And the next quarter. But they didn't know how to set up an account, so I waited until my brother came home from college for Christmas.
Fast forward one year. I'm fourteen and I decide I want a blog. My parents had told me "we'll talk about it first" if I ever wanted a facebook account. But they'd never said anything about blogs.
So I made one.
Three days later, my mom came through the garage door and saw me on the computer. A shelf blocks her from seeing the screen.
"What are you doing, Eliza?"
"I made a blog."
She was upset at first, but now she recommends it to complete strangers.
Don't over complicate things. If there's a simple way of solving your problem you don't need to ask for help.
To You, the Parents
I know some parents will read this and scowl. "What do you know, snarky teenager blogger? You've never raised a teenager."
I've done something more. I am one. And I didn't write this post for you.
Last week my mom took me to get my learner's permit renewed. I pitied the woman sitting behind the desk living out another day of her dull job. Until she started talking. She read off the rules and restrictions, and then said, in the same dull voice, "If you don't like her skinny jeans, boyfriend, or GPA, you can march in here and revoke her permit."
It's easier on your side. You're bigger, you can hit us. You have legal and financial authority over us. You can take away our cars and money so there's nowhere left to run. But you don't even need that. You tell us to sit down and shut up and we have to obey.
We've been alone. We've been beaten down. We've been powerless. And we can only take so much of that before we need to fight back. See my previous post on Machiavellian parenting.
"But, I know exactly what it's like to be a teenager! I did it for a few years back in high school. I know what I'm doing."
Uh-huh. Just like you can pick up a 1993 computer manual and use it to operate a modern laptop. It could help. Somewhat. The basics are the same. Your memories are faded and outdated. But try to make the most of them and don't be afraid to ask someone younger and wiser for help.
 You aren't perfect. Treat your parent-teenager relationship the same way you would a marriage. In married life you have to make compromises or your partner will leave you. We can't do that. Most of us have nowhere else to turn. Anybody can bring a child into this world, but it takes a real man/woman to raise one. Congratulations, you're a parent. Now let's see you act like one.



Friday, June 7, 2013

What's the Appeal of High School?

Who's seen these at Target? I can't seem to avoid them.

Monster High in all their ghoulish glory
Target Audience: 8-12
They call them 'dolls'. Personally I think they're spindly insects who escaped from the Amazon, crawled through a nuclear waste deposit, and settled down in a high end department store. My friends' little sisters have them. They scare me. The limbs snap off because either
1. Some of them are zombies
2. All of them are made in cheap Chinese factories
Apparently infesting the world with radioactive fashion bugs isn't enough, so Mattel's releasing a sister franchise.
Left to right: Briar Beauty, Apple White, Raven Queen, and Maddie Hatter
This seems much nicer. The characters are fairy tale creatures, so none of them have stupid names like Draculara and Venus McFlytrap. Although I'm not sure Apple is an improvement.
I did play with dolls up until around twelve, but they were more...how shall I say this? Human. Most of the girls I see with Monster High are six. They barely know what kindergarten is. Why, I wondered, do they want to play with high school toys?
Then I remembered my own childhood.
This began as a movie. I won't even get started on it because none of the actors were high school aged.
Target audience: 8-12
Then it spawned dolls.
Target audience: 8-12

High School Musical: The Junior Novel
And look, literature.
Target Audience: Guess

From the time I was eight, I read books and watched movies about teenagers. The cheerleaders. The jocks. The geeks. The outcasts.It gave me a warped idea of high school. I expected a soul-crushing universe where everyone's organized into a caste-like system based on grades, money, and letterman jackets.
When adults think of teenagers, they imagine someone who can drive a car and flip burgers for minimum wage. Books, movies, and toys, regardless of which demographic they're pandering to at the moment, are all about high school. That's only the upper half of adolescence. The lower grades, especially that 12-15 gap, are invisible. They push the message that "Older is Better". High school is a glamorous world of tryouts, sweet crushes, prom, and cutthroat locker room conspiracies.
Let me say it. High school is exactly like middle school, but with more people and more homework.
I've always been an avid reader, but I could only find one book about middle school that was actually meant for middle schoolers. There have to be more out there, but I looked.
Oh well. There's always those little pink Candy Apple books.
They sell these at Justice next to the sparkilicious lip gloss.
Target Audience: 8-12
Technically middle grade encompasses those first few years of middle school, but as you can see, the franchise doesn't always hit the target audience.
So I read up. Just like everyone else. If you want quality entertainment, you're forced to look elsewhere.


Thursday, June 6, 2013

Drive Like a Teenager

My friend Esme was walking home from school a few days ago when a woman in a car pulled out of a parking lot. Actually, pulling out isn't the best way to describe it. Part of the car's in the road, part on the sidewalk, and part back in the parking lot. And then she stops.
Esme didn't feel like getting run over that day, so she stopped too. She had no idea what this woman was planning. Eventually she rolled down her window.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you," Esme told her.
"Go in front of me."
"You'll pull forward."
"Go behind me."
"You'll back up."
So she narrowed her gaze and locked eyes with Esme. For the next ten minutes. Hundreds of other drivers with places to be went by. Esme pulled out a book and sat on the sidewalk. About ten minutes later, the woman gave up and made a left turn.
I'm sixteen, she's fifteen, we know what a driver's license is supposed to mean. If you can't drive with the common sense of a teenager trying to pass a test you shouldn't be on the road. 

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Parent Power/Teenager Tips

I've been thinking a lot about authority lately, specifically parental. Why should you obey your parents? I've come up with two reasons.
Authority comes from obedience. Obedience comes from respect. And respect comes from one of two sources-fear or love.
Governing a single person isn't too different from governing a nation.
"It is better to be feared than to be loved, if you cannot be both."
-Niccolo Machiavelli
If you parent Machiavelli style, your power is much more secure. It's not that you're less at risk for rebellion. You've seen rebellion before and you know how to counter it. You're also a horrible parent.
If your parents are Machiavelli wannabes, if you only respect them because you fear for your physical, sexual, spiritual, emotional, social, or financial safety, then you have every right to disobey them. They're tyrants. Just be careful how you do it. Calculate the risks first. Chose your battles.
If you're in serious trouble, here's a hotline.
Or you can govern by love. This is how my parents usually do it. I grew up with strict rules. I couldn't drink caffeine or glance at celebrity magazines in the checkout line. Internet, TV, and non-religious music were prohibited on Sunday. I never saw a PG-13 movie until I was 14.
But they're not big on punishment. If I use the computer on Sundays, nothing will happen. I only keep their rules because I love them. If I didn't, they'd fight me and I'd have to fight back. We'd be in Machiavelli territory. I try my hardest to stay on the safe side of the line.
If your parents govern by love, the best thing you can do is keep them happy. Fake a smile when you're falling apart on the inside. Use kind words when you need to scream. Say "I love you" when there's nothing else you can say. Calculate the risks first. Chose your battles.





Tuesday, June 4, 2013

What's an Adult?


I found this on facebook and it got me thinking. First about the meaning of the word man. Easy enough. Male adult. And woman? That's a female adult. Easy enough if you understand gender. But what's an adult?
For starters, it's one of my least favorite words in the English language. Maybe someday I'll come up with a stupid euphemism like "differently aged". But until then I have to use it because the only synonym is grown-up, which makes you sound like a toddler.
Adult is the root of words like adultery and adulteress. Adult video. Adult content. Adult audiences only.
So adult means sex.
But then I hear it used to mean mature or competent.
So adult means capable.
I've consulted several dictionaries, and if you care enough you can consult them too. As far as I can tell, adult is a noun meaning "one who can have sex without looking like an idiot in front of society."
Sound off in the comments if you disagree.
I'm sixteen. A woman in the technical, biological sense. I could go make babies right now if I felt like it, but I won't. I don't feel like it. And I don't think it's right. Not now and not when I'm twenty six.
I'm old fashioned. I believe that sex outside of marriage is wrong, partly because of my religious background and partly because I've seen it screw up so many lives.
But most people don't care. Go ahead, you can watch adult videos with adult content for adult audiences only. So long as you're an adult. 
I don't like porn. I don't believe it's appropriate for anyone. You can't use the maturity argument here. You can't say hormones affect a teenager's perception of porn the way you say cognitive abilities affect our perception of driving. And please, don't try to use the "We're more experienced" argument.
Maybe the word adult doesn't mean anything. Just because you're capable of creating a child doesn't mean you're capable of raising one. It doesn't mean you're capable of driving a car. It doesn't mean that you're smarter than this woman.
It doesn't mean you can do an honest day's work like the guy on the left.
So you decide. Who is the real man?



 

Monday, June 3, 2013

Completely Irrelevant Post

I did a post on my homework bonfire last year, so I thought I'd show you this year's fuel. Last year I had a full nine inches. Sophomore year was harder, but since I took a computer class and my math teacher never hands back assignments, I had a lot less this time around.
Before:
photo 1.JPG
View from the top
 
photo 2.JPG
Side view

photo 3.JPG
Marker shown for scale


photo 4.JPG
My AP European History vocabulary cards. I had somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000 of them. Halfway through the year I spilled lotion on some and had to throw them away. This is all you get to see.

photo 5.JPG
Fun with camera angles.
 
After:
Apologies for low photo quality.


 Me, Esme, some friends, and a random photobombing brother attacking bush.
I'll do a real post later. It's summer time. 

Saturday, June 1, 2013

We Get It

I'm getting sick of comics like this:



We get it. Now come up with a new comic idea.
Teenagers like technology for the same reason anyone else does: communication, employment, and entertainment. The level to which we do these varies person to person, not age to age. A few months ago, I saw a middle aged mother trying to take a picture of her teenaged son with a man who had to be at least eighty. Her son's phone was giving her some trouble. So the man took his arm off the boy, helped the woman, and stepped back into the picture. He also laughed.
Any of you adults out there want to know our secret?
1. Push buttons
2. See what they do.
It's not really that complicated. Some of the buttons even come with labels.
I helped my mom (I'm obliged to call her my beautiful, fabulous, and wonderfully talented mother) with gmail yesterday.
Fabulous Mother: Help! I need to send this email and I can't get it to work!
Me: You need to send an email?
Fabulous Mother: Well, she sent something to me and now I have to respond.
Me: So you want to reply.
Fabulous Mother: Yeah.
Me: Click reply.
Fabulous Mother: Where's that?
I scrolled down and showed her. Why is it that watching somebody wiggle the cursor around the screen is more annoying than being a backseat driver? I wonder how I'll be with the Internet when I'm a mom with teenagers. Will I stay up to date or keep my skills at the level they are now?
Bill Gates was born in 1955. He's still on top of things.