On lingo gibberish and plain English

Every discipline has its own lingo, its own private language. There is ethnomusicologish, folklorese, birdlish (just ask my sister), Christianese, and so on. It takes a certain insider’s knowledge to follow the conversation and contribute to it. I can talk about emic and etic, transcription of pentatonic scales, and the differences between “the public,” “a public” and “publics,” but not communicate anything at all to my sister. She, in the meantime, can talk about twitching her nemesis the BUOR and talk on while I'm completely lost. Likewise, Christians have their own catch phrases like being “sanctified by the blood of Christ” and “listening to the spirit to discern answers to prayer.” These lingos are gibberish to someone unfamiliar with the discipline or the faith.

In-grown lingos are not a bad thing. In fact, they are quite necessary and come in great use when, say, ethnomusicologists are talking to each at a conference or in class, or when birders meet together for a 24-hour birding survey. There’s a certain comradeship that comes in speaking a lingo learned through the hard work of reading disciplinary histories and theories and spending time with the people you enjoy being with.

However. There is also a danger involved in the insular nature of these lingos. The lingo can be a crutch for a concept that isn’t actually understood. When the time comes to talk to an Outsider about your passions, you’re left with unintelligible phrases and theories that you can’t distill into plain English.

Say I’m doing a research project and want to ask a question that will address a complex theory. Do I understand ethnomusicologish well enough to ask it in plain English? The danger of lingos is that they can leave us (ok, at least this happens to me) stammering for another way to explain complex esoteric issues we don’t actually understand in the first place.

Then try explaining it to someone who’s just learning English. I was constantly confronted with this in Vietnam. If I used those big words that sound so impressive, all I’d get back would be stares and more questions. How do you explain something like “atonement”? I found that I didn’t actually understand it myself. Ouch.

If we don’t truly understand the language, it’s pretty easy to fake it within the in-group. When I talked with people in Vietnamese, I found I could keep a conversation up pretty well by just repeating the last few words of what someone told me.
Friend: “The market is just up the road to the right, after the light.”
To myself: “I didn’t understand a word of that.”
Out loud: “Oh ok, after the light.”
And, done.

But the trouble came when I was asked to explain something in my own words. In Vietnam, this came with questions.
Friend: “Do you know what’s to the right?”
To myself: “Uh-oh, that sounds like a question that needs a response.”
Out loud: “No, but I’d like to know where the market is.”
And then a look of confusion.
To myself: “Oh crap, wrong answer.”
Out loud: “I mean, yes, I know, thanks for your help.”

I’m drawn to journalism (and fieldwork) because it challenges me to write (and, therefore, to think) in plain English. It forces me to write articles and reviews in ways that avoids the in-grown language of my disciplines. To do that, I cannot pretend like I understand. I actually have to get inside the theories well enough to explain them simply.

I could go off on a rant on the writing style of academics who don’t seem to know the difference between their lingo and "plain English," but I’m afraid I sometimes do the same myself. Like this blog post, which upon re-reading seems a bit academic itself. Did you, my dear reader, even make it this far?

2008 in Review: A Year in Pictures

2008 was quite the year, full of new experiences, travel, challenges, goofy fun, and big transitions. I started it living in Hanoi and ended in Bloomington, but there was a whole lot of living in between. Enjoy this selection of pictures!

JANUARY

Working on a photography exhibition at Action for the City, the creative urban living organization I worked for in Hanoi.

After my knee finally healed, I couldn’t be happier to be back on my bike, even in crazy Hanoi traffic.

FEBRUARY

Tết is the biggest holiday of the year and is like three American holidays put together. Here’s my wonderful host family (minus Em Thuy, who is driving me on a motorbike) on our way to an extended family gathering.

Tết is all about getting together with friends and family and, therefore, eating a lot. My good friend Cường invited me to his countryside home.

MARCH

Taking lessons on the Vietnamese flute was challenging but really fun, especially when I got to play along with other superb musicians.

Naps after lunch are a wonderful, wonderful Vietnamese tradition. Here are my MCC (Mennonite Central Committee) mat buddies!

APRIL

My mom and dad came to Viet Nam for a visit and braved the traffic on bikes! We visited the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, where his (real) body is on display.
Hanoi International Church had a women’s retreat in a beautiful town outside of Ha Noi. It was so good to play flute.

MAY

Laos was an amazing, beautiful country that I highly recommend for anyone traveling to SE Asia. Thank you MCC for sending us on a retreat there!
23rd birthday party with many dear friends at my host family’s home.

JUNE

The beauty of Sa Pa, in northern Viet Nam, rendered me speechless. I traveled there for a few days with some dear friends.
My lovely host sisters at an aquarium in Nha Trang.

JULY

Back on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire, where everything you need to know about life can be learned on a sailboat.
Friends old and new in Liverpool.

AUGUST

The Batcheller cousins with grandparents. Long Island, New York.
The Bloomington, IN move-in squad. Ready for grad school!

SEPTEMBER

The first-year MA and PhD students in the Department of Folklore and Ethnomusicology. The School of Journalism is much bigger, and it’s fun being a part of both groups.
Kneeling together in prayer at Bethel AME Church, where I’ve been going to services.

OCTOBER

There’s a group that contradances every Wednesday night. “Swing your partner, allemande your neighbor, and do-si-do!"
The band Funkadesi performed at Bloomington’s Lotus World Music Festival. I helped work backstage.

NOVEMBER

I did a photojournalism project with a woman who teaches old-time square and line dancing in public schools in Indianapolis.
A fun reunion with Wheaton HNGR housemates in Portland, Orgeon for Thanksgiving.

DECEMBER

This Christmas was quite different from my last one in Hanoi! Here, making gingerbread cookies with my niece Lily.
The whole family together for Christmas!

ethno what?

When meeting new people, I often have a conversation something like this:

NP: Oh, you're a grad student! What are you studying?
AB: I'm doing a dual master's in journalism and ethnomusicology [always "journalism" first so people get through that before being tripped up].
NP: Ethno... what?
AB: Ethno.music.ology. It's like a combination of music and anthropology.
NP: Right, anthropolani.
AB: Um, like the study of music in culture.
NP: Oh, ok. And journalism. Well that's an... interesting... combination. What do you plan to do with that?
AB: Well [see previous blog post], I'll find out in three years...

It's a peculiar feeling to devote myself to a discipline (or idea) that most people have never heard of before. They can't say, "Right on, ethnomusicology. My great aunt Bertha was a ethnomusicologist. One day she..."

It's even more disconcerting when that discipline doesn't even know what to call itself. I just read an article titled, "Ethnomusicology, Alterity, and Disciplinary Identity; or, 'Do We Still Need an Ethno-?' 'Do We Still Need an -ology?'" Scholars say maybe we're actually all musicologists. Or maybe we truly belong in anthropology. Or maybe just "music scholars." I wrote in the margins, "And we take ourselves way too seriously." Some of this writing is so convoluted it's like reading words through the church potluck fruit Jell-O. If I ever wrote like that for a newspaper article, I think I'd be fired.

So who are we, anyway, these so-called (ethno)(music)(ologists)? Let me take a stab:

• We study how music is used in cultures.
• We do a lot of research--usually first-hand, primary information gathering--in places that we find interesting (sometimes a foreign country, sometimes home communities).
• We are not necessarily musicians. We can spew out a great deal of theory on musical practices, but don't ask us to actually perform them. That said, many do learn new instruments and styles in the process.
• An example: if you say you like folk music, an ethnomusicologists might ask, "Who (what?) are (is?) the 'folk'? What prompted the emergence of this music? Who practices it and why? What impact does folk music have on the way people think about politics or religion?" The questions could go on and on.
  

And about me, specifically?

• I'm interested in two major areas: medical ethnomusicology (health and healing with music, especially in the HIV/AIDS crises) and applied ethnomusicology (working outside academia and using my knowledge and skills to help people, otherwise known as advocacy).
• I want to research in, I think, Uganda (where I lived in 2006).
• The journalism angle gives me practical skills in addition to the more theoretical and prepares me to, say, write for an arts column or create documentaries on musical practices.

So next time you meet someone who says they're an ethnomusicologist, you can say, "Right on. That's cool. So what's your research in?"

window reflections

I was driving up to Hood River in Oregon last week with some dear ol' Wheaton housemates, past gorgeous mountains and rushing rivers. I began looking out the window silently and was transported to another time and another place. It was a land of memories, a place of unanswered questions, where I wander, lost in a forest of uncertain decisions. Looking out windows tends to take me to this place. I'm sure I'm not the only one.

But then the car stopped at a glorious overlook and when I climbed out, the wind blew straight into me, as if singing--Anna, you are HERE, here in Oregon, in this beautiful creation, here at this time with your lovely companions, and it is beautiful and it is good.

I was snapped back to the moment, back to Oregon, and it was beautiful and it was good. It was good to be me, be there, at that moment.

Our next stop was at a winery. We took small sips of 14 different wines, all unique in their flavors, smells, and even colors. It was a spiritual experience, in a way. Each day brings its own flavors--here a sweet cherry, there a smokey oak. They mix together and present the palette with a rich aroma and full flavor. I sip and try to taste each ingredient, each moment of this crazy life. Sometimes life gets confusing and the flavors of the wine are too strong and bitter. Yet I bring the glass to my lips and drink.

My companions seemed to be living full lives, enjoying the richness each day brings. I began thinking about how future-focused I am, constantly planning the Next Step and asking other people what their plans are. This is how I grew up--just ask my dad. And people ask me all the time what my plans are after this grad school deal. But truth is, I don't know. I give a different answer to each person, hoping that I'll verbally stumble onto something that sounds perfect and then have a definite goal to work towards. But hell, I simply don't know where I'll be three years from now, and I'm not sure I want to know. I'm enjoying school, here and now, and that's sufficient. Maybe I don't need answers about the future. This is what I'm doing now and, well, that's that.

"Be patient towards all that is unsolved. Try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms, not seek the answers that cannot be given because you would not be able to live with them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then, gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." (Rilke)

"to remove a wrinkle or not" (or, "ethics of light and photoshop")

Here are two examples of photography ethical dilemmas which border the ridiculous and the hilarious (brought up in my photojournalism class):

The first: You'd think people would be upset for magazine covers being over-manipulated. But here Fox is infuriated with Newsweek not touching up its cover of Sarah Palin:



The second: Photographer Jill Greenburg gets grilled for unprofessional behavior at a photoshoot with John McCain for The Atlantic, where she manipulated lighting to cast McCain with horror movie shadows. Again, Fox reports:



Sorry to overuse Fox... I'm not such a fan of their reporting, but find the ethical issues wrapped up in these interviews fascinating.