Daily Archives: June 26, 2007

Little phrases.

Standard

This week.

I just put that phrase in a sentence starting, “Whereas for quite some time this week I’ve had the ideas…”

But I didn’t mean this week. I meant, this-arbitrary-measurement-of-chunk-of-time-longer-than-a-day.

I could’ve said, the past few weeks, this month, the past few days, last month… those are all phrases in my repertoire for that kind of thing, and they pop out interchangeably.

This is, I suppose, one of the hazards of using and learning language by pattern. Especially when I’m tired, I’ll know which phrases “sound right” together, and “go right” together, but it’s really, really easy to forget to check them against what I’m actually meaning. So “some kind of chunk of time” simply becomes substituted with any chunk of time. A particular topic area gets substituted with its opposite without noticing, because both are connected in some way in the pattern system in my head.

And my speech seems irreparably that way, patterns devoid of internal meaning for the most part, or only tangentially tied to it. But somehow, even though I’m clearly using the same mechanisms while typing, they seem to be tied closer to thought and experience and so forth. Except when I’m tired or hungry or sick or overloaded or something, at which point things start falling apart more.

What people will notice if they see me type, is that while I make the usual kind of typos sometimes, the most common kind of typo I make is a whole-word or whole-phrase typo. My fingers will spit out a phrase that is not the one I want and I have to delete and go over it several times to get the one I do want. I’m not talking about subtle variations, either. I’m talking about things that change the entire meaning of a sentence, but that don’t have to sound as if they’re wrong somehow.

It seems like, there’s a phrase machine somewhere in my brain, and it spits things out without my thinking about it. It spits out words, or chunks of words, according to pattern, not according to tying back to something in my head or in my experience. It does this automatically and my job is to insert the right meanings so it doesn’t veer off course somehow.

It’s very easy to get it to veer off course, too. Consider the following sentences: It seems like, there’s a phrase machine somewhere in my brain, and it spits things out, because they’re supposed to be there. It seems like, there’s a phrase machine somewhere in my brain, and it spits things out, in order. It seems like, there’s a phrase machine somewhere in my brain, and it spits things out, that are closer to one thing than another. Those sentences are all of course demonstrations of the phrase machine in action. They make sense, but they’re not necessarily what I’m trying to get at at all.

I have noticed, though, that there’s a quality to this, that I can sometimes see in other auties, when they are struggling with language, yet still appearing fluent in whatever their preferred form of language (written or spoken) is at the time. One of the first signs I see is a sense of disconnection from the words in the person making them. Even if the words are the right words, the person somehow sounds far back in their head behind their voice, as if their voice is a wall in some respects rather than a messenger. There’s a distance there, and it’s even more obvious when the person is clearly using a lot of stored phrases. I don’t know how I hear those things in other people, though, I just do.

And that is the ramble I have created on the basis of a simple-looking time error in a sentence.