Educate good times, come on!

George returned yesterday, proving it's never too early to create a tag for someone. I also got another 'I no speak English', proving I defy the god of CATI*, whom I've deemed Katy, and am some sort of Telephone Marketing Research messiah.

I'm now done with tutorials for the year; take that, people from Uni back home (depressingly, I don't think that there are any Edinburgh students reading this- you don't count, Dr. Fowkes, being a staff member and all). I have one more week of lectures and then I am done with Uni 2012, which is kinda scary. Thinking back to January this year, and how absolutely awful I felt about my course, I couldn't have imagined I'd actually be interested in what I was studying- but, looking over my Language, Society and Culture text book today, in preparation for my upcoming test, I was actually genuinely piqued by the ideas inside. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if I have a future in Linguistics, it's in Socio-**. Syntax continues to prove the bane of my very soul and the enemy of life itself, but I guess you can't have it all (and with Syntax, you really shouldn't have any).

I must say, I prefer the Australian school system- the idea of choosing modules (including some which aren't directly related to your major), and thus not feeling trapped into drawing upside-down trees for however bloody long, is much more condusive to work, if you ask me. If I ever have children, I'd want them to be in a university system like this (I believe the American system is similar), because it allows you to actually find out what you like, as opposed to the British system, which just tells you what to take, like it or lump it. And I lumped it. Of course, were I enrolled in Edinburgh this year (and when I eventually return), I would be given a degree of choice within my degree of choice, but I kind of see this as too little too late. Alack.

*Computer Assisted Telephone Interviewing
**Fuck you, James Reid.

Consistently congenial

Hey guys, just a quick note to let you know I had my first shift at work yesterday, and that there are a LOT of disconnected phone lines in Australia. I think about 40% of the calls I made came up with 'I'm sorry, the number you have dialled has been disconnected', a further 50% was answering machines and only about 10% got through to actual people...about one third of whom would actually answer my questions.
That's a 3% success rate. Go me. Also, interesting story, my first call ended in 'I no speak English', which I was told happens once in a blue moon- so I'm not expecting another one for another 1.7 years. Or until there suddenly appears before me the only one my arms will ever hold.

Not what I meant, but I'll take it.

In other news, this week is hellish. I'm working again tonight, have a class test tomorrow and a syntax assignment due on Friday. But then, on Friday night, something brilliant will happen. It will be my treat for surviving. For, on Friday, I will see Captain Barbossa perform live on stage. And he will be singing this:

 

Almost, almost, almost worth doing syntax for.

A series of unfortunate events

I've just completed a syntax assignment; it might not have been pretty, it might not have been clever, but I got it in and that's what counts (that's what he said).

It felt odd to be doing an assignment and not complaining to Becky about it. In fact, I had to do the entire thing without any of the regulars (yet again, totally what he said); Becky going on about how she'll fail and spectacularly failing to fail, Rosie not starting until a month after the deadline and breaking her foot, James knowing all the answers and not telling me AND seeing a point to studying syntax and not telling me.
Yes, much like the final season of house, all the regular characters and their endearingly frustrating antics were gone, leaving only one incredibly grizzled, beaten man to try and solve yet another pointless and nonsensical mystery on his own and pulling the answer out of his ass at the last moment.

I totally just compared myself to Hugh Laurie.

Above: me. Definitely.

Doing a syntax assignment usually comes with a sense of camaraderie; we were all storming the beaches of futility together and even if we weren't enjoying ourselves (except for Jimmy boy, being the rough and tumble scot that he is), we were at least together. Now, it's just me: I did speak to some others in the class about the assignment, and even tried expressing my disdain for it, but either ozzies are much more studious than Brits or I was talking to the squares because they simply didn't get me.
Alack.
The only comfort is that Becky will have to do an assignment without me...whining. That'll show her?


It was also odd to not be on facebook during an assignment- just as workplaces have coffee breaks, assignments have facebook breaks; but, having kicked the metaphorical caffeine habit, I resorted to the much more productive les mis breaks, where I would watch the trailer for the upcoming film:

and then one of the songs, chosen at random from the jauntier numbers:

and I'd pantomime along. Of course, I had to be silent, still being in the Rowden White.

In my defense, it's a really good trailer, and the soundtrack is possibly the best of any musical ever. The sad thing is, this lead to me singing 'I dreamed a dream' to myself, and several accused me of wanting to be Susan Boyle.
Shame on them. This song existed long before the scotswoman claimed it as her signature, and I've had it stuck in my head (rotating with 'Kiss me' and Invocal's back catalogue) since I was in a production of this stirring show, what, eight years ago? Damn. Let's have a moment of silence for my adolescence, shall we?

Anyway, the outcome is I'm super-excited for the new Les Mis film and everyone in the Rowden White thinks I'm a loser, which I guess is better than narc.

In other news, after finishing the ordeal, an ordeal being the collective noun for syntax questions, I treated myself to some ice cream from the student union and then went and sat in the sunshine to enjoy it. As I merrily licked away at my treat (Oreo flavoured, you know) what should descend upon me but a dire raven?

Not pictured: The dire raven. P.S. Got to watch some of TWWOO to try and screencap the raven (failed miserably), but it still makes me so very happy to watch that video. I love you all, wherever you are.

This thing was huge; the ozzie everyman who happened to be sitting opposite even felt compelled to comment on it. It landed next to me, more vulture than bird, and set its beady eye upon me and, more importantly, my ice cream. And then this happened:

I jest. It flew off. But I was kinda concerned with said ozzie said, quite cheerfully, 'he'll 'ave your eye out, no bother'. Thanks. I really wanted to know that, mate.

And then, after finishing the ice cream, I treated myself to some democracy. Yes, I voted in the student elections. I'll spare you the tedium, except for one piece of trivia which I want to share: you weren't allowed to vote for the 'Queer Officers' unless you identified as queer. I have no idea how they planned to enforce this (penile pathismograph?), but it was there, written on the paper. Also worth noting: the woman on the desk told me that I should just skip the Queer officer page, as it wouldn't apply to me.
The Aussies really aren't that good at guessing.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, mis padres have been reading and accused me of poor mathematics; I claimed I was here for eight weeks on 30th August, and they said it was six. Well, sucks to be both of us, cos it's actually seven. The difference between you and me, dad? I don't use maths for my job. Learn to count.

The shit, the fan, the whole damn thing

My last post concerning syntax was accidentally deleted by my own hand; at first, I thought this to be an act of providence, as it would save potential frictions twixt me and Caroline, who, as previously mentioned, was instrumental in getting me here.
However, today we had our first tutorial on x-bar theory 'proper', and all my resentment bubbled to the brim once more. Now, let me not be the proverbial stubborn mule- I kindly asked the tutor if she could explain the reasoning behind adding in an extra X' after every P (if you don't know X bar theory this will make no sense to you- and so you'll be in the same position as those who do); she launched into a long-winded and frankly disorienting diatribe which, if my understanding is correct, which is by no means certain, came down to 'because other phrases can be inserted into this phrase'. I fail to see how this is not accounted for in regular syntax trees, and, Lord knows, I never thought I'd be defending the common garden syntax tree.
And, guess what, later in the tutorial, the tutor herself expressed her distaste for the theory, exclaiming, and I quote

"But why?! When I'm talking to my friends I don't say 'this is the specifier and this is the NP, so there's an N' and....ARGH!"- My tutor, today ALSO Anyone studying x-bar, ever

See? This woman, who has a PHD, IN SYNTAX, cannot fathom the reasoning behind this stupid theory. Wanna know why? Cos there isn't one. It's not based on reason. It's not only illogical, but anti-logical. It goes against commonsense and scientific theory at the same time: it complicates something relatively simple and it changes the data to fit the theory, not the other way around. Because, guess what, THERE ARE NO X BARS IN SPEECH. YOU MADE THEM UP. THEY DO NOT EXIST.
Syntactitians added them to the subject some time ago to try and make drawing syntax trees look like an academic pursuit when it is nothing more than a particularly pointless and ugly form of calligraphy. It's ludicrous, but they've managed to get away with it because the only people in a position to realise this, i.e. linguistics students, the only people who ever use syntax trees and even then only because they're made to, are powerless to stop them because they can just fail us.
I'm telling you, one day Panorama's gonna stop ignoring my letters, investigate this shit and blow this whole industry of terror and frustration wide open.

Yet again, Professor Heycock, I apologise for any offense caused.

For Daniel For Reals

Did you really not see this coming?

Sorry about the other post.

For Daniel

Two professionally drawn syntax trees:

I just hope he doesn't notice that he asked for bigger trees; also, that these aren't legible.

The Four H's

Before coming here, I had to attend a lecture wherein I was told that I would go through the four stages of exchangeitude, called the four H's, these were:

• Honeymoon period- where everything is great, all the songs on the radio are about you and you're getting near constant lovin' (mom, dad please stop reading)
• Homesickness- you start to miss your friends, family, more reasonable prices, less noisy birds, more comprehensible accents, shorter games of cards, properly labelled Rice Krispies...
• Hostility- this university is silly, why can't they do more like Edinburgh does? I mean, that's the better system, clearly, so just stop being so contrary, Australia and just do what we tell you!
• Happiness- ok, it has its flaws, but at least there are no squirrels to worry about. I'm content.

I don't know which H I'm in- obviously, I'd like to say happiness, but I don't remember going through hostility ('cepting X-bar, but that's hardly Melbourne-specific), and I'm definitely not homesick (see below), meaning I must be in the Honeymoon period. This is worrying because it means all that other stuff's still to come. I can't imagine what I'll get homesick over (the last time was my bathtub), because I've pretty much replaced all my friends- I just need a Rik and a proper Daniel (Darryl has an accent, but that's pretty much where the similarities end). And hostility seems outlandish- I love it here! The lectures are more engaging (yet again, barring syntax), the campus eateries are more varied...writing this out has made me realise I am definitely in the honeymoon period. Well, damn. However, this does have an upside- I should have a bit of honeymoon left when the Pliant one begins his, meaning I won't feel miserable by comparison. Huzzah.

Quick side note: I skyped the 'rents yesterday, and it was exactly the same conversation we have when I talk to them back home: my mom worries I'm not getting out enough, my dad worries I'm spending too much and they both agree I don't contact them enough. If I'd recorded the conversation and bleeped out proper nouns (oh god, I'm flashing back to X-bar) it would have been indistinguishable from the dozens of other times I've skyped them. But, more to the point, we hadn't spoken for 34 days, and the conversation lasted 47 minutes. My mother said she felt it lasted long, but that it was only because we hadn't spoken for so long. By this mathematics, my mom wants us to talk for 98 seconds every day. Half that, and you've got yourself a deal, mother.
Of course, I shouldn't be so harsh, they are, after all, paying for me to be here (mum's defense, not mine). This, however, will not stop me being so harsh. Huzzah.

There once was a man from Nantucket

My Australian friends took their first look at this little ol' blog of mine a couple of days ago and seemed to take it with good grace; I take this as a sign to continue updating in the relatively candid manner in which I have been doing.
So, to what has your beloved wizard been getting up, I hear you ask. Well, as those of you who follow my twitter will have heard, but probably not comprehended, I 'won free internet using my poetry'. Allow me to elaborate:

'Twas the night of the quiz night

And all through the house

The tension was palpable-

A fire that one couldn't douse

We split into teams, and

Oh me oh my

Two teams wanted a piece

Of the old wizard pie

I had to decide

Between my fellow exchangers

and the rec room 2 crew,

to whom I wasn't a stranger

I chose rec room 2

Since I wanted to seem

Like a genuine Australian

Like one of the team

The prize was quite good;

An internet bundle,

worth thirty five dollars-

It merited a trundle

The competition was fierce,

And I answered a few,

But the exchangers were on fire

And there was little we could do

The foreigners won, 

and my team came third-

For this we got nothing,

Which I felt was absurd

The prizes rewarded;

But there were bundles to spare,

They could still be won

In a classic talent fair

Four of us stood,

Determined to please,

The contest began

When a girl walked on her knees

Both Shane and Logan

Elected to quote

Their beloved Game of Thrones,

Which they've both learnt by rote

But Shane sadly faltered,

His tongue got most tied,

Logan breezed on,

Took it all in his stride

I was next to the bat,

I looked at them all,

Then launched into 'chickens',

And left them in a thrall

It was time for the judging-

"Cheer for your fave!"

They read out my name

And the sound roared like a wave

I couldn't believe it!

My fortunes reversed!

Where once I was a loser

Now I was first

I was elated

As ever I was

Certainly a victory

For the wizard in Oz

And that's how it happened. They like me, they really like me!

What else? Well, I've just come back from a trip to the 'mana bar' (a videogames bar) and a club with the rec room 2 crew. I also went to a hipster bar with Manthy and Milly on thursday; I quite liked it, since the music was halfway decent, even if the drinks were overpriced- however, I don't think it was quite what the two Ms were wanting. I'm also really enjoying my classes at present- all my lecturers are engaging, and the courses they're teaching are really quite interesting. We were talking in Language, Society and Culture about how 'no homo' has allowed young men to express their feelings without being seen as gay (finally!), and Second Language Teaching has been telling me about behaviourist theories and Language Acquisition, which I've always enjoyed. Even Syntax hasn't gotten onto X-bar theory yet, though I'm not hopeful for when the shit hits the fan.
So far, Australia's pretty fly.

It's delovely

So O-week is over and today I started classes. I was in a game of assassins where I lasted a day before I was ousted by a team-up of Logan and someone I've never met before named Dan (who masqueraded as my target, James). Goddamn. All in all it was a successful week, I feel: I made some friends, had some laughs, got some free food and managed to assuege the gnawing solitude I'd been feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Worth the $35, I feel.
Of course, now the real work begins in the form of lectures- I started off with syntax, which is never a good sign and he mentioned X-Bar theory which is ALWAYS a bad sign, but it was mainly an introductory lecture, telling us where fire exits were and who to talk to if our Grandmother dies, etc. The jury's still out, but this is my third time trying to conquer the cold, cruel climate that is syntax and I hope to Helena that third time's a charm, lest I end up feeding myself to a croc. I have another lecture in two hours, which will no doubt be another introduction, but is on a subject that actually piques my curiosity, so my spirits remain elevated for the time being.
What else bears reporting? Hmm. My laptop charger is broken (again) so I'm writing this from the Rowden White Library, which I can't help but feel is a wee bit bohemian. You're allowed to sleep here, should you wish, and they're playing snow patrol, and, shock horror, the librarian's hair is dyed a non-natural colour, so I'm half-expecting to be called a nark any moment.
In terms of typical aussie animals that I've glimpsed, I can add kookaburra and possum to my bingo card, the former gossiping and guffawing around a birdbath and the latter staring down at me from a tree late on friday night. Quite unnerving, actually. I'm also encroaching on two weeks without facebook, which I feel is impressive, as the entire earth is geared towards it, it would seem. (Seriously, my lecturers are encouraging us to use it.) I remain resolute, but I wonder how long this will last. Alack. Anyway, I want to go explore this new library I have found and people are glaring at me for having been on the computer this long. I think I just heard 'nark' being whispered somewhere.
The wizard is out.