UBC Housekeeping pulled through this morning -- my Fairview unit has been deemed the training zone for this summer's crop of university sludge-busters, which means those toilets I really wasn't looking forward to cleaning now don't have to be cleaned by me! Not that I mind housework, but our bathrooms really are war zones.
On a more theoretical bent, I'm beginning to see the greater applications and implications of Saussere's signifier-signified theory of language. Language, Ferdinand argues, really is just a system of signs; arrangements of letters (the "signifier") that point towards the idea of an actual thing (the "sign"), even though the letters themselves have nothing really to do with the thing itself. A classic example: the Latin word arbour, and the concept of a "tree". Arbour refers to a tree, but isn't a tree; it's just a name for the idea(l) of the tree, which incidentally is an ideal that a real tree never quite stands up against.
Saussere's theory has been roundly criticized by a load of theorists, but I like it for its directness. My take on it is that language (whether cultural language, body language, verbal language, etc.) inspires us to be dissatisfied with our lives in that our quality of life can never approach the ideals conjured up by the very words we use to think about reality. The Boy and I are no longer "dating" -- what the heck does that mean? -- but are as close, if not closer, than before; any name we have for a feeling, like love, happiness, sadness, anger, or despair, cannot also consider the constellation of interactions and variations on the human experience. Language can be such a confining and disappointing thing.
Isn't it great that I still dwell on stuff like thing after having handed in the thesis and now sit before my laptop essentially free from having to think about theory for the next four months or so? The sun shines, my fridge waits to be defrosted, and I'm looking forward to a nice little brain holiday once May hits. The violets from Patti and Quinton's wedding are in full bloom again, and I stayed up until 2 AM watching the Space Channel. Sweet.
On a more theoretical bent, I'm beginning to see the greater applications and implications of Saussere's signifier-signified theory of language. Language, Ferdinand argues, really is just a system of signs; arrangements of letters (the "signifier") that point towards the idea of an actual thing (the "sign"), even though the letters themselves have nothing really to do with the thing itself. A classic example: the Latin word arbour, and the concept of a "tree". Arbour refers to a tree, but isn't a tree; it's just a name for the idea(l) of the tree, which incidentally is an ideal that a real tree never quite stands up against.
Saussere's theory has been roundly criticized by a load of theorists, but I like it for its directness. My take on it is that language (whether cultural language, body language, verbal language, etc.) inspires us to be dissatisfied with our lives in that our quality of life can never approach the ideals conjured up by the very words we use to think about reality. The Boy and I are no longer "dating" -- what the heck does that mean? -- but are as close, if not closer, than before; any name we have for a feeling, like love, happiness, sadness, anger, or despair, cannot also consider the constellation of interactions and variations on the human experience. Language can be such a confining and disappointing thing.
Isn't it great that I still dwell on stuff like thing after having handed in the thesis and now sit before my laptop essentially free from having to think about theory for the next four months or so? The sun shines, my fridge waits to be defrosted, and I'm looking forward to a nice little brain holiday once May hits. The violets from Patti and Quinton's wedding are in full bloom again, and I stayed up until 2 AM watching the Space Channel. Sweet.
