Words: A Thought-streamLast night I was watching “Cities of the Underworld” on the History Channel. The episode was profiling Cairo and, of course, the pyramids.
At one point the host is inside the Step Pyramid of Djoser, in Saqqara along with his guide. They are discussing the hieroglyphics on the walls of the burial chamber.
I was intrigued by the fact that this particular pyramid was over 4,000 years old; the writings were still clearly etched in the walls of the chamber though the paint and decoration had long since faded. Words. 4,700 year old words. Still in existence, though not for the public to see (unless of course you happened to catch this particular episode or one like it on the History channel).
What intrigued me most about that idea is that here we are in the modern world, broadcasting our thoughts and words via the internet. But 5,000 years from now, what will remain of our written words? It’s not as if this or any other journal is being etched for millennia upon the wall of some great tomb to be discovered later. Our words and ideas are fleeting; they last only as long as this whole blogging (dare I say it?) fad lasts, or until the server hosting this site crashes, or we move on to some other form of written communication and no longer maintain those we currently have. Google and the internet are great, but they are no Library of Alexandria. And the internet, like the Library of Alexandria, may be the current repository of all knowledge of that which is considered to be the modern world, but the Library did burn down. Is the internet doomed to suffer it’s own equivalent fate?
I have no grandiose ideas or suppositions that my words are worthy of being etched into a tomb’s wall to be saved for posterity. Quite the contrary. Not much of what I say is really more than my own stream of consciousness. This is to me is what the basin was to Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: a place to put all of my random thoughts so they no longer clutter up my brain and take up valuable headspace. To paraphrase the comedian Ralphie May, this is my way of defragging my head.
My thoughts—represented by these words—are essentially fleeting, and will be forgotten and ultimately disappear. Unlike those words etched into the walls of a tomb some 4,700 years old.
At one point the host is inside the Step Pyramid of Djoser, in Saqqara along with his guide. They are discussing the hieroglyphics on the walls of the burial chamber.
I was intrigued by the fact that this particular pyramid was over 4,000 years old; the writings were still clearly etched in the walls of the chamber though the paint and decoration had long since faded. Words. 4,700 year old words. Still in existence, though not for the public to see (unless of course you happened to catch this particular episode or one like it on the History channel).
What intrigued me most about that idea is that here we are in the modern world, broadcasting our thoughts and words via the internet. But 5,000 years from now, what will remain of our written words? It’s not as if this or any other journal is being etched for millennia upon the wall of some great tomb to be discovered later. Our words and ideas are fleeting; they last only as long as this whole blogging (dare I say it?) fad lasts, or until the server hosting this site crashes, or we move on to some other form of written communication and no longer maintain those we currently have. Google and the internet are great, but they are no Library of Alexandria. And the internet, like the Library of Alexandria, may be the current repository of all knowledge of that which is considered to be the modern world, but the Library did burn down. Is the internet doomed to suffer it’s own equivalent fate?
I have no grandiose ideas or suppositions that my words are worthy of being etched into a tomb’s wall to be saved for posterity. Quite the contrary. Not much of what I say is really more than my own stream of consciousness. This is to me is what the basin was to Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: a place to put all of my random thoughts so they no longer clutter up my brain and take up valuable headspace. To paraphrase the comedian Ralphie May, this is my way of defragging my head.
My thoughts—represented by these words—are essentially fleeting, and will be forgotten and ultimately disappear. Unlike those words etched into the walls of a tomb some 4,700 years old.
Letters: A cynical rant
I was recently discussing interpreter certification with a consumer of mine. We Sign Language interpreters have a new national credential, that breaks our skills down into what is essentially “Well, it’s a start,” “You had a good testing day,” and “I guess you had a really good testing day.” Cynical, much? Just wait—I’m only getting warmed up.
My profession irritates me—I have a complete love/hate relationship with it. I realize the political issues behind credentialing, and I support the theory (hence the reason for being an LTA). I even have a couple of the national and state credentials, and am considering taking the newer versions of the evaluations because I am a huge credential whore and I want to be able to say, “Yes, I played by your rules and passed the test (literally and figuratively).”
That being said, I find our whole credentialing process to be a complete joke. Every few years, “the profession” gets some harebrained idea that the current system isn’t good enough and that it ought to be overhauled. A cursory glance at our professional website lists a complete alphabet soup of letters that an interpreter might be able to get to put after his/her name. If one stops to read the description on a great many of them, they say “No longer offered” at the end of the paragraph. There are even a couple that to outsiders might beg the question of, “But what about a level I or II?” Then, to add obfuscation to confusion, many states offer their own state level of certification.
But really, I think the whole system should be scrapped. Go back to CSC and MCSC… you know: the two original certifications that, while valid, are “no longer offered." If you are a certified interpreter you from now on and hence forth are a CSC. And if you are one of the lucky few to have the “new and improved” (ahem) credential of NIC: Master, then congratulations, you get a gold star next to your name, and you get to call yourself MCSC.
My profession irritates me—I have a complete love/hate relationship with it. I realize the political issues behind credentialing, and I support the theory (hence the reason for being an LTA). I even have a couple of the national and state credentials, and am considering taking the newer versions of the evaluations because I am a huge credential whore and I want to be able to say, “Yes, I played by your rules and passed the test (literally and figuratively).”
That being said, I find our whole credentialing process to be a complete joke. Every few years, “the profession” gets some harebrained idea that the current system isn’t good enough and that it ought to be overhauled. A cursory glance at our professional website lists a complete alphabet soup of letters that an interpreter might be able to get to put after his/her name. If one stops to read the description on a great many of them, they say “No longer offered” at the end of the paragraph. There are even a couple that to outsiders might beg the question of, “But what about a level I or II?” Then, to add obfuscation to confusion, many states offer their own state level of certification.
But really, I think the whole system should be scrapped. Go back to CSC and MCSC… you know: the two original certifications that, while valid, are “no longer offered." If you are a certified interpreter you from now on and hence forth are a CSC. And if you are one of the lucky few to have the “new and improved” (ahem) credential of NIC: Master, then congratulations, you get a gold star next to your name, and you get to call yourself MCSC.
God, I love you! :)
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