My old school and my new school ... about 3km apart.
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Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
어 제 는 내 모든 근심들이 아주 멀리 있는 것 같았는데 예스 터 데 이 올 마이 트라플스 씸 소파어워이 YESTERDAY ALL MY TROUBLES SEEMED SO FAR AWAY 그 림
이제 그것들이 여기에 머무르려 하는 것 같네 나우 잇 룩스 에즈 또우 데이 히얼 투 스테이 NOW IT LOOKS AS THOUGH THEY’RE HERE TO STAY 그 림
오,나는 어제를 믿네 오 아이 빌리브 인 예스터데이 O I BELIEVE IN YESTERDAY 그 림
갑자기,나는 예전의 나의 반만도 못하네 서든리 아임 낫 핼프 더 맨 아이 유즈드 투 비 SUDDENLY I’M NOT HALF THE MAN I USED TO BE 그 림
내게 드리우는 그림자가 있네 데얼즈 어 섀도우 행잉 오벌 미 THERE’S A SHADOW HANGING OVER ME 그 림
오,어제가 갑자기 왔네 오 예스터데이 캐임 써든리 O YESTERDAY CAME SUDDENLY 그 림
왜 그녀가 가야만 했는지, 와이 쉬 해드투 고 WHY SHE HAD TO GO 그 림
나는 알지 못하네. 그녀는 말하려 하지 않았네 아이 돈 노우 쉬 우든 새이 I DON’T KNOW SHE WOULDN’T SAY 그 림
나는 뭔가를 잘못 말했었네 아 새드 섬띵 롱 I SAID SOMETHING WRONG 그 림
이제 나는 어제를 그리워 하네 나우 아이 롱 폴 예스터 데이 NOW I LONG FOR YESTERDAY 그 림
어제는 사랑이 그렇게도 하기 쉬운 게임인줄 알았는데 예스터데이 러브 워즈 서취 언 이지 게임 투 플레이 YESTERDAY LOVE WAS SUCH AN EASY GAME TO PLAY 그 림
이제 나는 숨어버릴 장소가 필요하네 나우 아이 니드어 플레이스 투 하이드 어웨이 NOW I NEED A PLACE TO HIDE AWAY 그 림
오 나는 어제를 믿네 오 아이 빌리브 인 예스터데이 O I BELIEVE IN YESTERDAY 그 림
이제 그것들이 여기에 머무르려 하는 것 같네 나우 잇 룩스 에즈 또우 데이 히얼 투 스테이 NOW IT LOOKS AS THOUGH THEY’RE HERE TO STAY 그 림
오,나는 어제를 믿네 오 아이 빌리브 인 예스터데이 O I BELIEVE IN YESTERDAY 그 림
갑자기,나는 예전의 나의 반만도 못하네 서든리 아임 낫 핼프 더 맨 아이 유즈드 투 비 SUDDENLY I’M NOT HALF THE MAN I USED TO BE 그 림
내게 드리우는 그림자가 있네 데얼즈 어 섀도우 행잉 오벌 미 THERE’S A SHADOW HANGING OVER ME 그 림
오,어제가 갑자기 왔네 오 예스터데이 캐임 써든리 O YESTERDAY CAME SUDDENLY 그 림
왜 그녀가 가야만 했는지, 와이 쉬 해드투 고 WHY SHE HAD TO GO 그 림
나는 알지 못하네. 그녀는 말하려 하지 않았네 아이 돈 노우 쉬 우든 새이 I DON’T KNOW SHE WOULDN’T SAY 그 림
나는 뭔가를 잘못 말했었네 아 새드 섬띵 롱 I SAID SOMETHING WRONG 그 림
이제 나는 어제를 그리워 하네 나우 아이 롱 폴 예스터 데이 NOW I LONG FOR YESTERDAY 그 림
어제는 사랑이 그렇게도 하기 쉬운 게임인줄 알았는데 예스터데이 러브 워즈 서취 언 이지 게임 투 플레이 YESTERDAY LOVE WAS SUCH AN EASY GAME TO PLAY 그 림
이제 나는 숨어버릴 장소가 필요하네 나우 아이 니드어 플레이스 투 하이드 어웨이 NOW I NEED A PLACE TO HIDE AWAY 그 림
오 나는 어제를 믿네 오 아이 빌리브 인 예스터데이 O I BELIEVE IN YESTERDAY 그 림
Thursday, January 14, 2010
A close encounter of the Wittgensteinian kind
So today I had a cool moment of sudden Korean clarity. The way I would put it is that something that I had been taking in unconsciously for some time suddenly came to my conscious attention. A close encounter with the LAD! The LAD is the mythical Language Acquisition Device that apparently lives in our brains like Douglas Adams's Babelfish lives in the ears of the fictional people in The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy. Why my inner lad would choose this moment of all possible moments to speak out and suddenly make meaning appear before me like a funny little green man from Mars is unknown. But it's good to know my lad is there, like a genie in a bottle. The thing is one can't always rub one's head and make the lad blurt out something useful. You just gotta keep feeding it and hoping it'll pipe up from time to time.
Now this particular close encounter with meaning is straight out of Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations, in which he talks about 'language games'. Language games in this technical Wittgensteinian sense is a scene or script played out in real life where the rules of interaction, or discourse, are widely known ... to native speakers. So here is the tiny little drama that unfolded before my eyes:
Scene: Me, on the bus, half-asleep as usual, especially now with winter in Korea bringing inner bus temperatures up to the setting 'cozy and drowsy'. The bus stops at a bus-stop, the door opens, and a gaggle of girls board. The girl in the lead says to the driver 'se myeong'. Suddenly, I understand exactly what she means: se means three (hana, dul, set) and myeong means persons. Three persons. Now I had never before understood that it is possible for the driver to click a button on his bus-driver console, or whatever it's called, that lets the little instant card reader multiply the bus-fare by however many. But of course, looking back now, it's logical, and I've probably seen it being done a hundred times. Because you can't pay for your friend's bus-fare by 'swiping' your card twice. The card reader won't let you. It will think you are trying to get off at the same bus-stop where you're getting on. So the script for the language game called 'getting on the bus with your friends and paying for them with your bus-card' is as follows: Before you swipe your card you say to the driver: "x persons" with x = one of the pure Korean numbers and 'persons' not being said as 'persons' like in 'saram-dul' but the counter for persons, which is myeong. I've been finding these Korean counters very annoying until today, when I actually understood the meaning instantly due to the context. The busdriver clicked something, the girl swiped her card, and she and her two friends went and sat down. The two friends didn't swipe their cards of course, because all the busfare had been taken off the first girl's card. Elementary! But an unconscious mystery until now. I mean I have NO doubt that I have seen this happen a zillion times, but just today, for some reason, it all came together. It's an example of context, and familiarity with context, making a language suddenly come alive. So cool. My lad is probably gonna go back to sleep now for another century. If only I can figure out how to prod him awake more frequently! Watch this space : )
Now this particular close encounter with meaning is straight out of Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations, in which he talks about 'language games'. Language games in this technical Wittgensteinian sense is a scene or script played out in real life where the rules of interaction, or discourse, are widely known ... to native speakers. So here is the tiny little drama that unfolded before my eyes:
Scene: Me, on the bus, half-asleep as usual, especially now with winter in Korea bringing inner bus temperatures up to the setting 'cozy and drowsy'. The bus stops at a bus-stop, the door opens, and a gaggle of girls board. The girl in the lead says to the driver 'se myeong'. Suddenly, I understand exactly what she means: se means three (hana, dul, set) and myeong means persons. Three persons. Now I had never before understood that it is possible for the driver to click a button on his bus-driver console, or whatever it's called, that lets the little instant card reader multiply the bus-fare by however many. But of course, looking back now, it's logical, and I've probably seen it being done a hundred times. Because you can't pay for your friend's bus-fare by 'swiping' your card twice. The card reader won't let you. It will think you are trying to get off at the same bus-stop where you're getting on. So the script for the language game called 'getting on the bus with your friends and paying for them with your bus-card' is as follows: Before you swipe your card you say to the driver: "x persons" with x = one of the pure Korean numbers and 'persons' not being said as 'persons' like in 'saram-dul' but the counter for persons, which is myeong. I've been finding these Korean counters very annoying until today, when I actually understood the meaning instantly due to the context. The busdriver clicked something, the girl swiped her card, and she and her two friends went and sat down. The two friends didn't swipe their cards of course, because all the busfare had been taken off the first girl's card. Elementary! But an unconscious mystery until now. I mean I have NO doubt that I have seen this happen a zillion times, but just today, for some reason, it all came together. It's an example of context, and familiarity with context, making a language suddenly come alive. So cool. My lad is probably gonna go back to sleep now for another century. If only I can figure out how to prod him awake more frequently! Watch this space : )
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
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