Phonetics is not a subject at school. Once in a while it may be touched upon by some eager teachers, but, to the best of my knowledge, most students graduate from high school without ever learning about devoiced consonants or central vowels. Yet, in English-speaking countries a version of phonetics is indeed taught to school children when they learn to read. They are told, for example, that the sequence[əʊ] is a "long vowel" and that the vocalic sounds in closed syllables like god or bed are "short vowels". Okay. That is clearly not the case. The dipthong [əʊ] obviously consists of two vowels, namely, a schwa [ə] and a "lax u"[ʊ]. Yes. Two vowels. *
However, English-speaking teachers customarily tell their pupils that a vowel is "long" when they pronounce the name of the letter. So, the vowel in the word name, for example, is "long" because the "a" is pronounced as [ei], whereas the vowel in tack is short. That clever rule of thumb doesn't always work, though. The wordgoat (pronounced[ɡəʊd]in the UK and [ɡoʊd] in the US) is spelled with two letters which, quite obviously, don't have one name. Still, the dipthong in the middle of that word is described as a "long vowel". Even if the explanation is quite messy (it mixes up letters and sounds), I understand that it can be useful in primary school classrooms. That said, to adults who are learning English in Italy or Spain, the whole thing can be extremely confusing.
And not only to foreigners. In a 2025 interview with Stephen Colbert, Daniel Craig was persnickety enough to point out that Colbert used to mispronounce his lastname. As you will hear in the video below, the correct pronunciation of the surname Craig demands that the speaker pronounce a dipthong [ei], not an "open e" [Ɛ]. However, Colbert finds (or pretends to find) the difference a little too "subtle". To me it's quite clear. Is it obvious to you?
Anyhow, if I'm blogging about this issue it's because there is a takeaway for all of you. Bear with me for a minute.
When English speakers learn Spanish they typically struggle to pronounce our so-called "clipped vowels". They tend to say [nəʊ] or [noʊ] instead of simply [no]. For the same reason they say ['balei] instead of [ba'le] when they learn French. How is this all relevant to you? Well, my dear Spanish speakers, you have the "reverse" problem. Most varieties of Spanish lack long vowels. By "long vowels" I'm referring to real long vowels such as the first [a] in the Argentinian pronunciation of Bárbara. Therefore a typical Spanish speaker will have serious difficulty pronouncing the English word father, whose vowel [a:] is slightly longer than the one we find in fad. ** Now, if you want to perfect your pronunciation you may have to polish your English vowels. I suggest you start by practising simple phrases, like let's go to a bar. Remember that the vowel in the word bar is a tiny little bit longer that its Spanish equivalent. I won't say anything about the quality of the vowel or the pronunciation or the [r]. This post is about vocalic length.
Does this make any sense? I certainly hope so. As ever, my advice is simple: practice the pronunciation of everyday words like car, bar or garden and one day you'll be able to deliver the legendary reveal in The Empire Strikes Back: "No, I am your faaaaather".
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* I know. I know. The term "lax u" is not scientific, but you will forgive me for not using the technical denomination. In my opinion mid-centralized close back rounded vowel is a bit of a mouthful.
** I know. I know. The "a" in fad represents a completely different sound, but I'm only talking about the length here.
In my previous post I dealt with gun and horse metaphors and insinuated that some idioms can become "dead expressions" insofar as they don't evoke a particular picture. That is most certainly the case of lexicalized metaphors. Unless you are an accomplished etymologist, you might not be notice that the very word metaphor is, in fact, a metaphor itself. It happens to mean "to transfer", which derives from meta (farther) and pharein (take). Similarly, when a computer programmer mentions a firewall or a political pundit refers to a cordon sanitaire, they are using lexicalized metaphors. You typically say those words without visualizing what they say or giving a second thought to their respective origins. And that can, sometimes, be problematic.
Indeed, sooner or later, an overabundance of expressions that revolve around one specific topic end up setting a particular tone which is ultimately perceived even by speakers with questionable metalinguistic awareness. You don't need to be a lexicographer to realize that many common expressions in the business world bristle with an unequivocally aggressive tone. And if you have never remarked that... just think about for a second.
When you "target a demographic" you are effectively directing a metaphoric weapon to that population and if you "launch a marketing campaign" you act like a field marshal during a war. In the business world intense competition is "cutthroat". When you finalize a deal you "go in for the kill". Hiring someone that is already working for a different company is called "headhunting" To motivate a team you "rally the troops". When you make progress against a competitor you "gain ground" (just like you do when you invade a country). To do something secretly you do it "under the radar". When you make a lot of money over a short period of time you "make a killing". And the list goes on and on.
So, if you would rather avoid belligerent vocabulary, you might be glad to learn that there are indeed plenty of alternatives you can use without sounding amateurish when you discuss business. Instead of "targeting a demographic", for example, you can "cater to a demographic" or "focus on it" or "engage with it", "appeal to it", even "seek to resonate with it". The list is not short. Having said that, I am aware that you can't really speak the professional jargon if you always avoid those well-established expressions. Such is life.
At any rate, it is not only war metaphors that can compel you to look for friendlier alternatives. Personal taste can also make you reconsider the use of certain idioms. And no. You don't have to be a hypersensitive snowflake to feel ambivalent about the sound of some traditional turns of phrase. Take the case of animal-related idioms. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that most people in 2026 don't like animals being mistreated. And yet, dictionaries are not always kind to our furry friends. A very popular expression goes like this: "there's not enough room to swing a cat". It is, of course, a colorful way of saying "this place is very small". Unfortunately it plants a mental picture that a cat lover might not appreciate. For similar reasons, someone who likes horses might take issue with the expression "it's like beating a dead horse" (meaning "it's useless") and so on and so forth. You get the picture.
Okay. Let's assume you don't like those expressions. What do you do? The answer is obvious: you use an alternative. Instead of mentioning any kind of cat-swirling you say "it's a bit of a tight squeeze" or "there's barely enough elbow room". As for the phrase about the dead horse, you can remain idiomatic and avoid the mental image of someone flogging a cadaver by simply saying "we're going in circles" or "we're spinning our wheels" or (should the context call for a more elevated register) "there's no need to labor the point". And, of course, you can always go idiom-free and say "this is pointless" or "this leads nowhere".
The bottom line here is clear: you should try and make sure that you have many options at the ready. That way you won't have to mention a dead horse when you find an activity pointless or refer to murder when you finally get a client to sign a contract. Also, by making personal decisions you will shape a speaking style that reflects your own worldview, which is what building an idiolect is all about: developing your own personality. Now, go out there and use some idioms. Happy practice!
A couple of weeks ago, when the Louisville police chief reported a significant drop in the city's 2025 crime rates, he said the following:
When we look at the end of the year last year compared to 24 you can see, when it comes to crime, we're down all across the board and that's exactly what we are shooting for. Homicide is down 21%, fatal shootings, non-fatal shootings, carjackings, all those are down. They're going in the right direction.
I'm not sure that a police chief saying "that's exactly what we're shooting for" displays good judgment (unless he's trying to be funny, which he probably shouldn't), but I understand that he was simply using a common expression. After all, when you go after something with determination, you "shoot for it" or even gun for it.
Still, I think we can agree that he could have gone down a different road. So... What could he have said? An obvious alternative would have been "this is what we were aiming for". Of course, if you're a little thin-skinned you may also object to that phrase given that you take aim at something when you mean to hit it with a stone, an arrow or a bullet. So, the question remains: can we have a non-ballistic, less hostile way of conveying the same meaning? Absolutely. How about "that was exactly our goal"? It is true that it lacks the punchy quality of "shooting for something", but it does get the message across. How about "that was the plan all along" or "that was our objective from the outset"or even "that's what we were going for from the word go". As you see, the options are always there.
Anyway, if I'm discussing that police officer's word choice is because it gives me us an opportunity to explore the wonderful world of metaphors. So, if you can spare a few minutes, bear with me as I look into gun-themed expressions, which are extremely popular in English. You won't regret it. I am well aware that some of you might be reluctant to use them, but the truth is you can't call yourself an advanced learner if you don't understand them. So, here goes.
Guns
The way I see it, a truly advanced learner should know that (in the U.S) the person occupying the front passenger seat of a vehicle "rides shotgun". Indisputable evidence is usually referred to as "a smoking gun". If you manage to avoid a catastrophe, you "dodge a bullet". If you decide to finally do something unpleasant that you have put off then you "bite the bullet". Someone unpredictable and dangerous is a "loose cannon". An attempt with low probability of success is "a long shot". If a person is honest and direct, they are "a straight shooter". If you start something before the appropriate time you "jump the gun". When you react without careful consideration you "shoot from the hip". The person who controls a situation "calls the shots". I could go on...
Obviously, every language has its own preferences and built-in biases, which typically crystallize in proverbs, idioms and all kinds of expressions. I, for one, have always felt that colloquial Spanish has a penchant for religious references, whereas in German there is a surprising number of everyday expressions that mention farm animals. Why that is the case I honestly don't know. After all, religion and farming have been central to the histories of both Spain and Germany. Whatever the reasons behind those preferences might be, the fact of the matter is that a competent Spanish speaker is expected to understand the expression "he is not a saint I pray to" and an advanced German learner should also know what "I've had pig" means. In case you're wondering, "no es santo de mi devoción" means "I'm not a fan of his" and "Ich habe Schwein gehabt" is a colloquial of saying "I got lucky".
Being aware of such biases gives you the chance to consider alternatives, enrich your vocabulary and shape your own a personality in English, which ideally will also make you aware of the areas where we can all meet. One such case is the expressions that revolve around horses.
Horses
Spanish is, indeed, packed with horse metaphors ("perder los estribos", "ser ligero de cascos", "dar rienda suelta a tus pensamientos", "atar en corto", etc.) and, guess what, so is German ("arbeiten wie ein Pferd", "Rossnatur", "das Pferd von hintem aufzäumen", "mit ihm kann man Pferde stehlen", etc.). Unsurprisingly English is also no stranger to that vocabulary area. In fact, we can find a myriad of horse-themed expressions. Check out this sample list:
to eat like a horse
to come down to the wire
neck and neck
to put the cart before the horse
get off your high horse!
straight from the horse's mouth
don't look a gifted horse
to be a dark horse
hold your horses
to horse around
a one-trick pony
I don't have a horse in that race
Even an expression like to win "hands down" (which I mentioned in my previous post) is connected with horse races. How? When a jockey is really far ahead the rest of the horses, he or she can drop their hands and relax the reins way before reaching the finish line. They literally win (with their) hands down. Interesting, right?
And while that particular horse expression is only used in English, many others have enjoyed a kind of success that might feel even excessive. Take the English proverb "never look a gift horse in the mouth". I really don't know where that saying originated, but I know for a fact that it is now ubiquitous. We find it in Spanish ("a caballo regalado no le mires el diente"), in German ("einem geschenktem Gaul schaut man nicht ins Maul"), in French ("à cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents"), in Italian ("a caval donato no si guarda in bocca"). In fact it pops up in just about every European language. And if you're skeptical about it, take a peek at this website from Centro Virtual Cervantes, where you can see that very expression in up to 22 languages.
So... horses, unlike guns, feature prominently in day-to-day conversations in many European countries, which should come as no surprise given that horses have been a part of most Europeans' lives for centuries. I suppose that Arabic and Urdu must have their fair share of horse idioms. Anyway, the great thing about horse expressions is that they offer a common ground to all of us. They make up an area we can always rely on. They also remind us that languages are complex, multifaceted systems, which over time become the memory of a whole culture. And English metaphors deal with all kinds of areas: sports, music, physics, mythology, war, pop culture, plants, you name it... So, if you should find an English expression that feels a tad too "exotic" or that makes you uncomfortable (for whatever reason), just remember that you can always find an equally valid alternative to paint a different picture.
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to stop blogging and grab some breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Oops...
At this point I believe the whole English-speaking world is well aware that the United States of America have a president whose vocabulary rarely ventures beyond the basic level of competence. His battleships are big, very big, the biggest you've ever seen and the bills he wants Congress to pass are, well... big and beautiful. Literally. The thing is... even if you state that a warship is huge, colossal, gargantuan or gigantic you'll be using A1-level grammar (i.e. it is). Are those adjectives "advanced"? Absolutely. Does the whole sentence sound advanced? Not really. Not to a discerning English teacher, anyway.
When it comes to descriptions, one of the obvious advanced skills consists in choosing the right synonym for the right term. So, a majority can be vast, a distance astronomical, the universe immense, an appetite gargantuan, a struggle titanic, a dose massive, and so on and so forth. It would be weird to say that your appetite is vast and your weight is astronomical. How do you know which collocations work and which don't? At first, you just don't, but after stumbling across one adjective a number of times a pattern typically emerges and oft-repeated combinations become recognizable. That is what conventions are all about. If you want to be a writer you'll have to steer clear of those shopworn phrases, but an English learner should not attempt to "go creative". If your ultimate goal is the C2 certificate, then you're only expected to master the conventions. I am well aware that the process is quite time-consuming, but, trust me, there is no other way to learn lexical conventions. You just bump into them and then start using them.
Today, though, I'd like to point out something a lot easier than getting exposed to thousands of collocations. I only want to show you how you can turn a simple phrase into a truly advanced expression just by adding a couple of words. Don't believe me? Check out the examples below. The sentence in bold is basic (A2), but the text in brackets elevates it to C2 heaven.
He fought (tooth and nail)
He lied (through his teeth)
She passed the exam (with flying colors)
She is the best (hands down)
I'm waiting (with bated breath)
They fell for it (hook, line and sinker)
Do you see how simple it can be? The words in brackets add spice, vividness and, of course, meaning. Think about the first one. "He fought" is a neutral statement. "He fought tooth and nail", however, gives a completely different vibe. It forces you to picture the desperation and intensity of a visceral struggle. You've got no other weapons but your teeth and fingernails. That's a back-against-the-wall situation. In Spanish we happen to have the same idiom: "luchar con uñas y dientes" and a phrase which evokes a similar vibe: "defenderse como gato panza arriba".
I hope my point is clear. Anyway, the next time you come across a sentence with a similar "add-on", remember that those extra words truly make the difference between A2 and C2.
J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings (1955), created the Elvish languages Sindarin and Quenya specifically to sound beautiful. Marc Okrand, however, developed klingon with a radically different intent. Harve Bennett, the producer of Stark Trek: The Search for Spock (1984) had asked him to create an alien tongue that met two criteria: it should sound both extraterrestrial and ugly. Twenty years later, during the pre-production of Avatar (2008), linguist Paul Frommer was commissioned to engineer another language. This one should be both alien and beautiful. Na'vi was the result of that request. Whether their endeavors were successful or not is a matter of debate. I suspect, though, that most opinions probably concur. Sindarin and Na'vi do have a nice feel to them whereas Klingon sounds quite aggressive to most ears. Needless to say the members of the Klingon Language Institute find their favorite tongue quite appealing and, conversely, some people unfamiliar perhaps with the Avatar universe might question the beauty of Na'vi. As the saying goes, there is no accounting for taste.
Natural languages, though, also elicit all kinds of reactions. Obviously, they were not developed with an intention to sound ugly or beautiful. Yet, they are often perceived in those terms. We know that the alleged aesthetic virtues of a language are not necessarily connected with the language itself, but rather depend on personal feelings about the culture that these languages happen to represent. The Hebrew language, for instance, is often described as "beautiful" by deeply religious people, whereas more impartial observers might struggle to appreciate its supposed euphony or even distinguish its phonetic profile from that of other Middle Eastern tongues. Similarly, French has been consistently associated with glamour and sophistication and the loanwords that English has borrowed from French are a testament to that attitude. Is the phrase joie de vivre truly more complex that the analogous "joy of living" or "gioia della vita"? For equally arbitrary reasons we find a host of deep-seated stereotypes around other European languages. Thus we often hear that German is harsh, Italian is sweet and Russian is serious. And while those opinions might be innocuous, the associations that they entail are most certainly not.
An accent that is perceived to be unfriendly will be a liability at a job interview and one that is typically linked to a lack of sophistication will be uncommon at the reception of a five-star hotel. The traits of the speaker's alleged culture are magically transferred onto the pronunciation and intonation of the dialect that he or she speaks. And this happens to accents within a language and, of course, to accents that come from outside the English-speaking world. I know. It's not fair.
Regional and social accents
In the U. S. accents are, by and large, geographical. In the United Kingdom, though, things are a lot trickier. Accents can indeed be regional, but also social. And by that I mean that your consonants and vowels can be deemed to be working class, middle class, upper-middle class or insufferably posh. And if you think that I'm exaggerating, I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken. British politicians of patrician origins have been rumored to take elocution classes to soften their elitist accents in order to be more appealing to voters of less privileged backgrounds. I don't know how much of that is true. It is not an unreasonable notion. After all, an Oxbridge accent is far from relatable to the average waiter or mechanic. The crazy thing about it is that sometimes differences between accents may come down to individual sounds.
In Ian McEwan's novel What We Can Know (2025), the narrator of the second part says the following:
At last, the boy lifted his drooping and well-fingered companion closer to his chest. It was a green lizard with red spikes along its spine. "I'm waiting for my mummy." In that English way, I automatically registered the fully enunciated "t" and was already placing him in a social order, I disliked myself for it.
Think about it for a second. Just the pronunciation of one consonant can place you in a social hierarchy. Imagine what type of impact full sentences may have on a casual listener, let alone someone working for a recruiting firm.
Learners of English
To you, avid English learner, regional accents are probably not a major concern. Still, I believe that you should strive to achieve an accent that is, first and foremost, understandable and then (in so far as possible) close to some standard variety of the language, be it general General American, standard British English or, even some form of International English. Why? Because a speaker with a strong foreign accent will inevitably trigger unconscious ideas of unsophistication, not to mention the various prejudices that the culture in question entails. A native-like accent, on the other hand, brings about a priceless sense of at-homeness amongst competent speakers. Now... I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with having a foreign accent. I'll repeat that. There is nothing wrong with having a foreign accent. That said, we must acknowledge that not all accents are perceived equally and many of those reactions tend to be shaped by factors that are beyond your control. That much should be uncontroversial.
Also remember that two non-native speakers that use English as a lingua franca will have serious difficulty understanding each other if they don't try and find some common ground (i.e. some kind of standard pronunciation). Just imagine a Cambodian and an Italian having a conversation in English. If they stick to the phonological inventories of their respective mother tongues misunderstandings are bound to ensue. I still remember the case of a Spanish student of mine who was vacationing in Thailand with a group of friends. One day my student picked up the phone, called the front desk and requested two cars. As it happens, the group had decided to spend the day driving around the countryside. Minutes later a hotel employee showed up at the door holding a sugar pot. Two cars. Sugar.
Interestingly enough, the consequences of having a marked foreign accent can be quite unexpected. Actress Sofia Vergara, for example, speaks English with a strong Colombian accent that has served her well in Hollywood. Americans love it. They find it cute and sexy. Film director Wener Herzog, however, has a German accent that can sound unappealing or even intimidating. But that's not all. Sometimes identical accents can elicit strikingly disparate reactions. Thus, Slavoj Žižek, a well-known public intellectual who speaks with a pronounced Slovenian accent, comes off as likeable whereas Melania Trump, another Slovenian with a heavy accent, is generally perceived as unsophisticated despite the fact that she used to have a glamorous job and is now the first lady of the United States of America. I suppose that blunders such as her notorious mispronunciation of the word corps while addressing a group of marines at a military base haven't helped much.
It can be argued that, more often than not, it is the personalities of the individuals that determine how their respective accents are perceived. After all, Sofia Vergara is funny and sexy and Werner Herzog can have a menacing gaze. And, obviously, Slavoj Žižek is a philosopher who often displays cognitive resources that Melania Trump doesn't seem to possess. To all that, I would counter that prejudices die hard. Part of a person's reaction to a foreign speaker does indeed depend on their personal qualities, but there's a part of that first reaction that has little or nothing to do with the speaker's demeanor and a lot with how they say things. And if we are to believe that the first cut is the deepest, then we should consider the very first thing most people think about when they hear a random stranger speak with a thick foreign accent. Usually it's not the complexity of their grammar or the accuracy of their vocabulary, but rather the culture associated with that particular accent.
If you are still skeptical about all this I recommend that you watch the video below in which English actress Miriam Margolyes (of Harry Potter fame) explains why she sometimes chooses to speak with a Scottish accent. That says all you need to know about accent-related biases.
These days everyone seems to have an opinion about a surprisingly wide range of topics. I suppose that some version of this has always existed. But a couple of years ago came the game changer. The advent of digital platforms elevated individual thought to surreal heights as a result of which personal views now reach audiences in a way that was unthinkable before the digital revolution. These days we all get to see, hear and read opinions on all kinds of subject matters divulged by phony polymaths. In English there is a word for those individuals: ultracrepidarian. I know. Nobody knows the term... Still, the ironic consequence of this state of affairs is that most of those who engage in dialogue don't seem to perceive the difference between idle chatter and a truly productive exchange.
Opinions
Indeed, the borders between meaningful conversation and small talk have been blurred to the point where many speakers simply can't tell them apart. And you don't need to be a specialist in epistemology to realize that many internet pundits that actually interview guests on their channels are dismally ignorant of the art of conversation and, therefore, ill-equipped to attempt any form of debate. Nevertheless, some of those individuals (usually self-styled influencers) keep posting, tweeting, podcasting and often talking to interesting thinkers in the delusional belief that their views are just as valid as those of bona fide experts. Some of them go so far as to join panel discussions and debates!
I understand that some public speakers give off a certain aura, a charisma (that most intangible of qualities), which, in the eyes of unenlightened observers, can make up for their lack of substance. However, when it comes to serious subjects, a person's good looks, sophisticated manners, personal style and the number of followers on Instagram become utterly irrelevant. We need more. After all, an opinion is not worth much if it is not backed up by facts.
Debates
And yet, countless videos depict interactions where speakers simply disagree. The titles of these clips often use the term 'destroy' (as in "[Name of Random Guy] Destroys [Name of Celebrity]"), implying that one debater has left the other speechless. In reality, these exchanges are frequently just a clash of views with no actual debating.
Contrary to some people's assumptions, debating does not consist in simply opposing an adversary's views for public entertainment. It is supposed to be a regulated discussion. For starters it requires factual information. That much should be obvious. Before someone forms an opinion about the rate of unemployment, for instance, they ought to know the actual rate of unemployment. The figure in question (11.5 % in Spain at the time of writing this post) is objective, the debater's opinion, by definition, is not. Debating also demands that a participant be ready to concede a point, that is to say, to acknowledge the merit of someone else's views and contemplate the possibility of being wrong. So, if you are not prepared to be fact-checked or proven wrong, you should probably steer clear of debates and stick to casual banter and private conversations.
Conversations
Why? Because conversations are far easier. They don't need rules, timers or moderators. Like a debate, though, a good conversation does entail the use of some objective information and/or references that go beyond personal anecdote. Still, it is a flexible category. Two good conversationalists may well exchange experiences and points of view, but will ineluctably gravitate towards a discussion that, of necessity, involves arguments. And it's there that things get slightly hairy. Arguments are based on facts, which, of course, are articulated by logic. Therefore a misinformed speaker with a feeble grasp on the basics of logic is, quite simply, not a good conversationalist.
What I'm trying to say is that verbal interaction based on personal views is fine for a quick coffee, but a real conversation is a little bit more demanding than that, and a debate is probably best left to the experts.
At any rate, whether you're just chatting to pass the time or striving for self-enlightenment, I think you should ensure that your arguments are always anchored in fact. Otherwise your words will not be worth much. Sadly, though, (and this is clearly my opinion) we live in a society in which a shocking number of people seem to disregard facts, which probably explains why the term post-truth was chosen as the Oxford Dictionary word of the year in 2016. To me that symbolic decision was, in itself, an indictment of the increasing irrelevance of facts in public discourse. These days, it is common for people to gloss over their own ignorance. When confronted with facts, they will typically deflect, trivialize objective data and elicit emotional responses from listeners who also run roughshod over reality. It's a lose-lose game.
On the opposite end of that spectrum we find Sam Harris, a well-spoken public figure who excels at crafting coherent thoughts and compelling arguments. He routinely uses complex syntax and precise vocabulary in an effortless way, which is a far cry from the proverbial word salads that fill the speeches of many self-appointed experts. That alone should be a good enough reason to listen to him.
In the video below Sam Harris offers great material for any advanced English learner: an efficient analogy (tennis), interesting terms (diverge, intent, align, tap out) as well as a useful collocation (to pressure-test one's views). Not bad for a 60-second clip, right? Also, the point he makes is thought-provoking: if you're not prepared to find common ground or be proven wrong, you should not engage in any form of debate. Chit-chat is probably your trade.
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)
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 people who one day decided to learn to play the saxophone, go skydiving or spend Christmas in Beijing. 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, at first, it may seem like 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.
