To-do Lists

One of the great things about popular culture lies in its seemingly never-ending ability to provide speakers with references that encapsulate more than obvious meaning. Some movies enjoy popularity for a limited period of time, but contain images, pieces of dialogue or full scenes which prove to have true staying power. As a linguist, I am particularly fascinated by how an expression can gain a life of its own, enduring long after the film it originated from has faded into obscurity. Take the phrase "up to eleven", for instance. I'd argue that many people who use it don't know that it comes from a film directed by the recently deceased Rob Reiner: This is Spinal Tap (1984). Likewise, a number of young speakers today are probably not aware of films such as Groundhog Day (1993) and Catfish (2010) even if they understand headlines like Groundhog Day from Hell or statements such as "she catfished me". Bucket List (2007), another Rob Reiner movie, has also enriched the English vocabulary by offering a contribution which I find quite relevant at this time of year. Just bear with me for a couple of paragraphs.

At this point I think that we all understand what a bucket list is, right? It's a list of the things a person would like to do before they, you know, "kick the bucket".

What is great about it is that expression is that it show how changeable and dynamic a living language can be. Consider for a second the whole process. The old idiom to kick the bucket gave us the title of a movie, which, in turn, became the origin of the very concept of a bucket list and, by extension, the interesting noun phrase a bucket list moment. As the Jack Nicholson character would put it... "cutsey!"

Now, I don't know whether average people (whatever that might mean) concern themselves with bucket lists. I am aware that some people play it by ear. Others do what they're expected to do and some, not many, stick to what Heinrich von Kleist (1777-1811) called a Lebensplan, literally a "life plan". In case you're wondering, a life plan is a rationally devised "program" for one's life which is supposed to help you achieve happiness. Sadly, von Kleist did not live up to his own ideals unless suicide at the age of 34 was part of his original plan. Interestingly enough, though, his concept endured. Of course, anyone who learns about it is bound to face a question: Can we really plan out our lives? I think the answer is a resounding yes. Can we achieve every goal that we set for ourselves? Clearly not. But if you commit to a couple of worthy goals and manage to stay the course, you will one day earn the incredible feeling of checking off items on a list. The trick is to make sure that your goals aren't as ambitious as becoming the next pope or being the first astronaut to set foot on Mars.

Anyway, if you should want to discuss the very idea of attaining some form of success (personal or otherwise), you may find this vocabulary useful:

Nouns: fulfilment, gratification, attainment, accolade, vindication. (If you're feeling brave, you may even use eudaimonia and epitome)

Adjectives: tangible, profound, indelible. momentous, long-term, short-term

Collocations: To attain a goal, to reap the benefits, to actualize your (creative) potential, to live up to your potential, to focus on your objectives, to outline an action plan.

Consider this sentence:

The launch of the charity, which was the consummation of her vision, brought an indelible sense of fulfillment that transcended mere monetary gain.

Now, isn't that glorious?

Why do I entertain these notions? Because I like lists. I understand that some people frown upon von Kleist's idea of a well thought-out life plan (which, of necessity, entails a list of goals), but I know that it has worked for countless people that one day decided to learn to play the piano, go skydiving or spend Christmas in New York. What I'm trying to say is that I know that some people regard a bucket list as a ridiculous Hollywood gimmick. And it is true that it can be presented as a rather childish proposition. However, you are no stranger to "to-do lists". You probably make a shopping list before going to the supermarket and today you might also consider a couple of New Year's resolutions. A bucket list is just the same kind of thing. It does not consider what one would like to accomplish in a morning or a year, but rather in a whole life. The scale is different, the purpose is not.

I sincerely hope that a certificate in advanced English is one of your New Year's resolutions if only because holding that piece of paper in your hand will be an unforgettable bucket list moment.

Happy New Year to you all!

A rich tapestry of traditions

At this point I think we are all well aware of what cultural syncretism is, right? Some traditions just merge with others and wind up morphing into something utterly and completely different. Halloween, for instance, used to be a sacred Celtic festivity. Now it is a fun child-centered celebration vaguely associated to spooky imagery. Somewhere along the way the religious aspect of that festival simply got eroded, then watered down and eventually lost altogether. And this is not a unique case. Carnival is another case in point. Up until recently, it was inseparable from the observance of Lent. Now it is celebrated by people who don't even know the word Lent. For better or worse, Christmas is no exception to this phenomenon. As the holiday evolved alongside other midwinter festivities, Christmas adopted a few (let's say) "secular" elements that, quite ironically, now define the season.

If you think about it for a second, you'll soon realize that the most obvious symbols of present day Christmas are not Christian at all: The Christmas tree, the yule log, the wassail, the festive wreaths and the mistletoe are some of those elements with obviously pagan roots. And some of the most popular Christmas songs today don't even mention Christ (Jingle Bells, All I Want for Christmas is You, Last Christmas, White Christmas, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, etc.). Nevertheless, I suspect that the one element that best exemplifies this phenomenon is Santa Claus.

Indeed. We have come to accept Santa as the very emblem of Christmas. Yet, he's not exactly a Christian figure.

The official origin of his legend is most definitely religious. It harkens back to Saint Nicholas, a 4th century Greek bishop of Myra (in present day Turkey) who used to give presents to children at Christmas. Somehow his fame transcended the confines of the Byzantine empire and eventually reached Western Europe, where he received different names. In England he was first called Sir Christmas, then Old Christmas and finally Father Christmas. In Germany he was known as Sankt Nikolaus. The Dutch, however, preferred to call him Sinterklaas, a dialectal adaptation of Saint Nicholas. The first Dutch migrants who ventured to North America (remember New York's first name was New Amsterdam) took the tradition with them and, thus, it came to pass that the name Sinterklaas became Santa Claus, which is fair enough. But the proverbial wheels soon came off the wagon. Quite quickly, a branding operation was underway. In 1849 an obscure writer called James Rees invented a Mrs. Claus in his story A Christmas Legend. Soon after that Santa employed a small army of helpers dressed up as elves, acquired a little herd of eight flying reindeer and set up home in the North Pole. Around 1870 Thomas Nast, an American cartoonist, established the bright red suit and, some decades later, in 1939, Robert L. May invented the ninth reindeer: my dear namesake Rudolph. By then, the standardized iconography had largely crystallized into the version that we know today.

It can be argued that some other traditions may have converged to form the modern celebration of Christmas. We know, for example, that Odin, the Norse god, used to lead a ghostly procession across the sky on his eight-legged horse called Sleipnir. We also know that the Roman festival of Saturnalia, which celebrated the Winter Solstice, entailed the exchange of gifts. The extent to which these pagan traditions exerted an influence on our holiday season cannot be easily determined, but I think that non-Christian elements should not be dismissed out of hand.

Anyhow, if I am writing about the history of Christmas it is because, in an interesting way, the fates of once-sacred traditions mirror what actually happens to most languages.

Typically, a language originates in mysterious ways (the beginnings of Proto-Indoeuropean are lost to the mists of prehistory). Then it branches off into dialects which, over time, become languages in their own right. Inevitably, contact with other cultures brings about a series of transformations to grammar, syntax and vocabulary so that, a thousand years after its first babblings, a language has changed beyond recognition. If you managed somehow to travel back to the 10th century you would not understand a single word of the language spoken in England. You don't believe me? Listen to some Old English in this short clip and then be honest with yourself. Do you understand a single word of it? Don't despair. You're not alone. To modern English speakers the language of their ancestors, the "original" tongue is utterly incomprehensible. The post that you are reading right now is the result of a myriad of factors: some homegrown, some quite alien. In my opinion, nothing explains this process more succinctly that the title which John McWhorter chose for his 2009 book: Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue.

But I digress...

I was supposed to discuss Christmas. How is this all relevant to you? Well, I think it's eye-opening to realize what a rich tapestry of influences a language can be. It can help you understand change and even human nature. Everyone of us is the end result of a trillion factors. Don't you think?

Anyway, if it is vocabulary that you are interested in here you have some idioms that we owe to Christmas:

• To light up like a Christmas tree (to be very happy)
• Like the turkeys voting for Christmas (to go against one's interests)
• To be like a kid at Christmas (to be extremely excited)
• Don't be a Scrooge / a Grinch (to be a killjoy at Christmas)

Except for the last one (which only makes sense at this time of year), you can use those expressions all year long. And if you're not in the mood to learn idioms, you might appreciate this epic rendition of the famous Carol of the Bells, another great Christmas song that, of course, did not originate as such. It was written by Mikola Leontovych, a Ukranian composer, over one hundred years ago. The original lyrics dealt with the celebration of New Year, but an American musician of Ukranian heritage chose to reimagine the melody as a Christmas carol and wrote new lyrics to suit the holiday season. Now this hauntingly beautiful song is something of a classic. I hope you enjoy this version. I know I love it.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Jaywalking

These days I am discussing legal issues with my C1 students and I must say that it's been great fun so far. We have gone over some advanced collocations (to issue an indictment, to enter a plea, to serve time, to repeal a law, pass the bar exam, etc.) and, inevitably, we've had to deal with a lot of legalese (parole, deposition, verdict, etc.). We have also looked into specific crimes, some of which (such as identity theft or carjacking) have a distinctly exotic flavor while others (like bribery or abuse of office) feel sadly more familiar. Furthermore, we have tried to find answers to some relevant questions: What exactly qualifies as sexual harassment? What is the official definition of mass shooting? Is surrogacy legal in the U.K.? Today, however, I would like to center on an infraction that just about every country acknowledges, but very few take seriously: jaywalking.

Jaywalking is neither a crime nor a misdemeanor, but rather a simple civil violation. I would argue that most of us do it without giving it a second thought. Yet, it is technically illegal and can be a contributing factor to avoidable traffic accidents. I believe that there is a cultural element to people's general disregard for the laws against it because, at lesast in my experience, attitude change across borders. German pedestrians, for example, tend to comply with jaywalking regulations, whereas in France, Italy and Spain... well... not so much. I know it sounds like a massive stereotype, but, like I just said, that's my personal perception and I happen to have actually lived in all those countries. Still, just a couple of years ago, Bilbao City Hall launched a campaign to highlight the dangers of jaywalking and promote compliance with traffic signals and I can imagine that other European cities must have taken similar measures so that pedestrians learn to wait for the green light. Despite these efforts, though, the general attitude has not changed significantly. People still cross the streets where they are not supposed to. In other words, the laws remain rather pointless. So, it should come as no surprise to learn that New York officially decriminalized jaywalking last year. I imagine some of you may find the decision objectionable or unwise, but the truth of the matter is that the law against jaywalking was rarely enforced and clearly failed to work as a deterrent. In a way, it was like one of those silly laws or ordinances that are in effect but only theoretically. You want an example? In the state of Massachusetts, playing or singing the national anthem as part of a medley or adding to it dance music can result in a fine of up to $ 100. Yes. It is a real law. And in the Spanish city of Vigo, since 2022, it is illegal to relieve oneself in the sea or on the beach. Fines can reach up to € 750. One is left to wonder: have those laws ever been enforced?

Anyway, below these lines you have a great explanation of what jaywalking is and the sneaky reason why it came to be called like that. Enjoy!

_____________________

N. B. By the way, Hannah Fry is a professor of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge. In my opinion, she's a brilliant, eloquent thinker whose command of the English language should inspire you to improve your oral skills. 😎

Words of the year 2025

Here we are again. The year's close is imminent, and already, the major dictionaries have followed tradition by announcing their words of the year. Since these choices usually offer a glimpse into the world that we inhabit, I think it's worth taking a glance at their picks.

Let's start in the UK. The lexicographers that curate the Cambridge Dictionary have chosen the adjective parasocial as the word of the year. In my view, this speaks volumes about the impact of social media on our workaday lives. How could a person possibly have a real emotional relationship (on some level) with a person they don't even know but feel close to? How about a personal relationship with a fictional character or a chatbot? All of a suddent I feel that the 2013 movie Her was eerily prescient. Anyhow, the Oxford Dictionary has also chosen a term which smacks of digital technology: rage bait. It is defined as "online content deliberately designed to elicit anger or outrage". So, basically, stuff posted by trolls on social media. The fact that speakers feel the need to name that reality is, in itself, another sign of the times, wouldn't you say? And finally, we have the Collins Dictionary, whose wordsmiths have opted for yet another term with a technological flavor: vibe coding. As it happens, it describes an AI-assisted programming technique.

Given this rather grim state of affairs, most of us would have welcome a refreshing change of tack coming from the United States. Unfortunately, the prestigious Merriam Webster Dictionary's pick does not stray from the domain of technology. Its word of the year is slop, which, as we know, refers to "low-quality AI-generated content". And I get it. It should be acknowledged that slop has indeed become ubiquitous. These days whenever I log on to YouTube I am flooded with tons of AI-generated crap: videos depicting a fake animal rescues, singers with perfect voices but no discernible soul or ads for questionable online fitness courses. And separating the wheat from the chaff can often be exhausting.

But let's go back to new dictionary entries. This year has seen the rise of quite a few new terms mogging (to outclass or look better than someone), rizz (abbreviation of charisma), delulu (funny version of delusional), doomscroll (to waste time scrolling on social media), sigma (independent and cool), etc. It remains to be seen whether those neologisms really have any serious staying power. Some of them will inevitably fall by the wayside, just like so much teenage slang from previous decades.

What I find truly bewildering, though, is that my favorite dictionary has also incorporated a nonsensical expression that only Alpha-Gen seems to use: "six seven". Yes. You read right. 6-7. If you're an adult you don't really need to understand it or worry about it because, let's face it, the fad will soon be yesterday's news, but, for the time being, it is alive and kicking and still going strong. As far as linguistics goes, it is an intriguing phenomenon. After all, it's not every day that a literally meaningless expression becomes so disproportionately popular. Those two numbers really mean nothing. Apparently its origin can be traced back to the lyric to a song by artist Skrilla, but it really doesn't mean anything at all. I suppose it's quite telling that a big part of its success can be put down to this random video:

For reasons beyond my ken, that clip went viral and turned the phrase into a global trend. These days many young kids shout "six seven" every time those figures are mentioned. And, believe it or not, they don't try to say anything at all. They just yell "sin seven" for the sake of it. Really. It's the ultimate nothing burger. I suppose this is the world we live in: a technology-obsessed reality in which Artificial Intelligence is used to create garbage and even preposterous expressions enjoy public approval... for no particular reason.

How to be polite

Seasoned travelers recognize that cross-cultural politeness norms vary and respect is manifested through diverse expressions. Thus, members of cultures where communication is more direct are usually perceived as blunt or unrefined by those who have been raised in communities that value the so-called soft skills. Conversely, what is regarded as civil expression may be considered superpolite in societies which value group harmony and avoid direct confrontation.

In Spain, for example, much of the meaning of an oral message is often derived from non-verbal cues, shared understanding and context. Instead of resorting to phrases such as could you possibly...? would you be a dear and...? speakers will typically state what they would like and use few softening expressions, if any at all. Roughly speaking, in Spain we prefer honesty to extreme politeness, but there is an obvious downside to our frankness. Oftentimes we come off as abrupt or impolite to members of cultures in which courtesy is a top priority. Personally I think that a tactful opinion uttered with an unsmiling face defeats its very purpose and, conversely, a friendly tone can sometimes (not always, though) make up for a slightly harsh statement. Still, you're probably reading this post because you want to know how you can be polite in English. Unfortunately, there are no hard and fast rules regarding manners, at least none that can be applied universally, but as an advanced learner you should have options.

Suppose a friend wants your opinion about their objectively horrible sweater, what should you do? Lie? (I think it is nice) Tell the truth? (You look silly in that thing). Be sarcastic? (It definitely sets off your eyes). Avoid a real answer? (It's very you). There is no clear-cut response. You may argue that it all depends on individual speakers, that everybody is different, that some people are diplomatic while others don't hold back. And all that is most definitely true. However, not everything depends on individuals. Whether we like it or not, we must accept that certain cultures promote certain modes of expression and if you're learning English you should not dismiss cultural conventions that happen to be prevalent in most English-speaking communities. Needless to say, there is significant variation among Anglophone people from different cultural backgrounds.

Generally speaking, Americans tend to be more verbally direct than British people. That doesn't mean that British people are more polite than the Americans. It simply acknowledges a proclivity. How can I help you? is a polite question you should expect on both sides of the Atlantic. That said, what do you need? is a colloquial alternative in the U.S. Likewise a statement such as Netflix needs to fix this problem is more likely to be heard in Wisconsin than in Dorset. Of course, when a speaker says that someone needs to do something they know that there is no pressing need involved. The speaker is simply voicing a opinion in a way that feels casual and "normal" in their dialect. A British speaker, however, might typically opt for a softer approach: I think they should fix that problem. Note that the second option includes two filters: I think (=it is my opinion) and they should (=it is my advice / they don't really have to do it). Now, being too courteous can also be problematic. Much like excessive irony, which morphs into sarcasm, politeness can become hypocrisy or involuntary self-parody. Also, is it fair to force your interlocutors to decode your constant euphemisms, understatements and white lies? I know that, to a language learner like you, tentative language can be tricky, but don't worry. Even Americans and Brits occasionally misinterpret each other. Their brands of irony, in particular, are poles apart.

Whatever your thoughts might be on the tricky question of politeness, I believe that an advanced English speaker ought to be attuned to the nuances distinguishing a pressing demand from a tactful suggestion. Play it safe and try to use polite expressions. So, when you're asking for a favor, for instance, remember that the phrase I need shows little consideration for the interlocutor and reveals a certain sense of entitlement. You can use it in certain contexts, of course, but it probably shouldn't be your default option if you're telling someone what you would like them to do. Just consider the difference between what you want is... (which is a casual way of giving advice in the U.S.) and if I were you I would.. (which reveals a more tentative approach).

The video below is a tongue-in-cheek explanation of how British manners work. Personally I find it delightful: the actor's tone, his voice, his over-the-top RP pronunciation. Everything is perfect. And even though it's obviously meant to be funny, there is a real message in it.

German words in English

A couple of days ago I was reading What We Can Know, the latest novel by Ian McEwan, when I came across the word zeitgeist, which, as you know, is a term I use quite often in my classes. Inevitably, I thought of Susana (not her real name), a friend of mine with whom I had been discussing that very word. At the time she was reluctant to believe that such a German-looking word was really used in English. After a brief explanation on my part she was ready to concede that it was an English word, but speculated that it might only be popular among language freaks... Bizarrely enough, the day after our conversation, she heard the word zeitgeist in a Spanish TV series and simply couldn't believe it.

I must confess I was surprised myself. The presence of zeitgest in English harkens back to 1835. So it is safe to say that it is well-established in the language. In Spanish, however, the term is still restricted to the elitist spheres of academia... or so I thought. Its appearance in a TV show might be a sign that the tide is turning. Who knows?

Anyway, zeitgeist is, by no means, the only loanword that English speakers have taken from German. Wunderkind, for instance, is a noun that you may stumble upon every once in a while. A wunderkind is, essentially, a child prodigy. This should surprise no one, since Wunder means "wonder" and Kind is, of course, the German word for "child". So, now you may wonder (pun intended) why an English speaker should feel the need to employ such a foreign word. Don't we already have the expression whizz kid, which means the exact same thing? The answer to that question is pretty obvious. We sometimes prefer loanwords because their impact on the listener or reader is different. Rendevouz and tryst have the same meaning but feel different. Consider the differences between lingerie and underwear, safari and journey, or aficionado and devotee.

Remember that, at the advanced level, the semantic content of an expression is only part of the full meaning it conveys. A sophisticated speaker is expected to think about the register of a word as well as its connotations and even its phonetic associations. Wunderkind happens to carry a certain sense of excitement and marvel that "whizz kid" just doesn't have. It is more dramatic and, let's face it, slightly literary. You can use it to refer to someone young (not necessarily a child) who excels spectacularly in areas such as chess, finance, music, literature or sports, but if you don't usually discuss young little geniuses you might not need to use the term.

Other German words that you may come across in English are:

• Doppelganger (from Doppelgänger:"a person who looks exactly like someone else")
• Delicatessen (literally "fine foods")
• Angst ("anxiety and insecurity" as in the collocation teenage angst)

One that I frequently use is flak. I know. It looks like a typo or a misprint, but it is an actual word and it is quite popular in the media even if it has a rather sinister origin.

Flak is an abbreviation of FLugAbwehrKanone (or FLiegerAbwehrKanonen), which means "air-defence cannon". These days it is mostly used to refer to heavy criticism directed at some public figure. You can say, for instance, that "the president took flak for her recent comments on immigration". If you don't feel comfortable with an expression that originated in WWII, just remember that the English alternative also happens to have militaristic overtones. Indeed, you can come under fire for doing or saying the wrong thing.

Is that it? Of course not.

In scholarly contexts you may come across a panoply of German words. Off the top of my head I can think of Weltanschauung ("worldview") and Ursprache ("ancestral language"). However, you don't need to be an intellectual to make use German vocabulary. In certain areas of the Unites States loanwords from Yiddish are quite common. Terms like schmuck ("unpleasant idiot") or shtick ("comic performance") don't feel foreign anymore while others (schlep, schmoe) will be easily understood in New York, but might raise eyebrows in Ireland or New Zealand. I know what you're thinking. Yiddish is not German. And you are right. It is not even a dialect of modern standard German. That said, it shares a lot of its vocabulary with German and has .

The great thing about the German influence in the English language is its pervasiveness. In the U.S. the German word for "health", Gesundheit, is sometimes said when someone sneezes. Wanderlust (not frequent in present day German) designates the "desire to travel". The English word foosball (futbolín in Spanish) is actually an adaptation of Fuβball, which is what Germans call "football". And I don't need to explain words like kindergarten, poltergeist, kitsch or Oktoberfest, right?

One German export that some people seem to overlook, though, is the prefix über-, which English speakers use as a glorified version of "super-". Its first use was rather academic and referred to the Nietzschean concept of the Übermensch, the notorious Superman (or super person, to be more exact), but these days you can be übercool, for example, if you're too cool for school, or über-stylish if you're some kind of trendsetter. Similarly, something can be über-secret. It definitely sounds cooler than top secret, doesn't it? The prefix looks less intimidating when you realize it's the German equivalent of "over". By the way, the name of Uber, the famous transportation company, is precisely a version of this prefix. Understandably, the marketing department of the firm chose to dispense with the foreign-looking umlaut (¨). I can't blame them. The very word umlaut is German!

Anyway, my favorite German / Yiddish word in English is mensch. As I have mentioned above, it means "person" in modern German. In modern English, however, it keeps the other meaning it has in Yiddish. A mensch is "a person of integrity and honor". Isn't that a word we should use more often? Come on. Help me make it more popular. Go out there and mention mensch 😜

Spain's Music Day

 Hi you all!

I am aware that International Music Day is October 1. However, I grew up in Spain, where Music Day is observed on November 22nd, in other words, today. So I've decided to celebrate this special day by sharing an a cappella cover of a song that I happen to like. And, yes, there's a didactic side to it. The song deals with one of the experiences that most humans can relate to: breaking up with a romantic partner, which is something we discussed in a recent C1.2 class. Allow me to refresh your frazzled memory... We talked about the perils of the current dating scene, one of them being the dreaded experience of getting ghosted. Remember? No? Seriously? You don't remember I played Someone That I Used to Know by Gotye?

Anyway, the song you're about to listen to is about just that: being "erased". Enjoy the Havard Opportunes performance of Lizzy McAlpine's 2022 hit Erase Me and you'll understand that pop music can indeed be glorious. It just doesn't get any better than this. Absolutely mind-blowing.