The Benefits and Downsides of Intermingling Languages Essay Example for Free

The Benefits and Downsides of Intermingling Languages Essay While bilingualism has always been an object of interest and thorough research for scientists of various fields, mixing languages had been, until the last few decades, cast aside as its defective by-product. However, recent linguistic studies show that intermingling languages should not be considered an ill-conceived overlapping tendency that implies carelessness and a improper use of language, but a linguistic phenomenon with its own intricate rules and purposes. The addition of objectivity towards this subject has enabled linguists to describe in length the downsides and benefits of intermingling languages. None of the pros and cons can be treated with absolute certainty as language mixing itself is often subject to different interpretations. The term ‘intermingling languages’ is sometimes replaced with ‘code switching’ or ‘code mixing’, and the latter two treated as synonyms, although their meaning differs in multiple aspects. Code switching implies that the alternation between languages takes place after longer periods of time. Since code-switch mostly occurs at a clause or sentence boundary, it is referred to as intersential switching. According to the Sridhar brothers (1980) code mixing comprises of changing languages after shorter utterances within a single sentence, and can therefore be considered intrasential. Unlike code switching, it is not accompanied by a shift in speech situation. Code mixing also differs from borrowing, which is a less comprehensive form of using multiple languages in a short period of time. Code mixing, unlike borrowing, is not necessarily caused by a lexical gap in the host language. Neither are the mixed elements limited to a collection of terms accepted by the speech community. The mixed sequences are longer than single words (as is immanent to borrowing), but they are not always assimilated into the base language according to usual grammatical rules. The greatest difference of the two linguistic devices is probably the fact that code mixing is inevitably the result of bilingualism, however, borrowing can also occur in monolingual speech. (Sridhar Sridhar 1980) Despite the availabilty of aforementioned precise definitions numerous studies use code/language switching, mixing and intermingling synonymously without notable deficiency in the results, since these definitions tend to not hold a high level of importance when it comes to analysing the reasons, benefits and downsides of mixing languages. Contrary to popular belief, code mixing is not necessarily a sign of improperly acquired languages or inability to switch from bilingual to monolingual mode. Instead, the contradicticting mixing occurs when the usage of a single language no longer efficiently conveys meaning that is appropriate to a certain situation. According to Crystal (1987 cited in Rezaei Gheitanchian 2008) the benefits of code-switch become apparent when solving co mmunication problems in three types of situations. The most obvious reason for a switch in languages being the difficulty in expressing oneself due to a deficiency in the base language. This shortage of a lexical item may come about because the expressed concept has no equivalent in the culture of the other language, or simply because of a momentary inability to remember said term in the host language. This type of code switching is especially prone to happen when the speaker is upset, tired or distracted in some manner. Work related mixing also falls into the ‘lexical gap’ category. For example, code switching becomes a useful tool when individuals lack the appropriate jargon while speaking about a particular topic. One may mix languages when talking about work because the technical terms associated with work are only known in one language. The second important cause in switching is the wish to ensure social belonging. An individual my want to express solidarity with a particular social group. In this case rapport is established between the speaker and the listener if the latter responds with a similar switch. Code mixing may also be used to exclude people from a conversation: for example, when travelling companions switch to their native language when mentioning things they do not wish to convey to the surrounding people; or when bilingual parents mix languages to keep their monolingual children from understanding private conversations. Thirdly, the reason for switching may be result of the wishing to convey one’s attitude towards the listener. Whereas monolinguals can express attitudes by means of variation in the level of formality in their speech, bilinguals have an extra device in this situation – code switching. When two bilinguals are accustomed to communicating in a fixed language, switching to the other is thought to create a special effect. This idea suggests that code switching can be used as a socio-linguistic tool, that aids bilinguals to emphasi se a particular point in a sentence. While these benefits have been pointed out only during the last few decades of language studies, the downsides of code switching have always been an emphasised parallel to bilingualism research. The most common allegations have been the inability to fully comprehend either language; delays in thinking, speaking and understanding; language pollution and deterioration. The notion that intermingling languages is a results of insufficient knowledge of either of the languages, their grammatical structures and syntax, can be dismissed with the aid of the Equivalence Constraint by Poplack: â€Å"Codeswitches will tend to occur at points in discourse where juxtaposition of L1, and L2 elements does not violate a syntactic rule of either language, i.e., at points around which the surface structures of the two languages map onto each other.† (1979 cited in Sridhar Sridhar 1980). This means that when the two languages have very different syntactical rules, the mixing is done in a way tha t switches occur in those parts of the sentence that allow the presence of a foreign word without causing grammatical discrepancies. However, when this is not possible the following principle of linguistics minimises the incongruity of the situation: â€Å"Dual Structure Principle: the internal structure of the guest constituent need not conform to the constituent structure rules of the host language, so long as its placement in the host sentence obeys the rules of the host language. † (Sridhar Sridhar 1980) Another problem associated with intermingling is the claimed time delay that occurs in switching. However, Gollan and Ferreira (2009) suggest that bilinguals switch languages only when non-dominant language responses are easily accesible and the switching does not occur with the price of accuracy, or if the switches improve accuracy. Furthermore, if the switches are not forced, bilinguals can actually make up for some of the costs linked with language mixing, including the small costs in time. The uncertainties that bilinguals experience when expressing emotions can also be considered a problematic asp ect of language mixing. The common belief that emotions conveyd in the mother tongue have the most strength and sincereness, implies that code switching somehow lessens the truthfulness of one’s emotions. In contrast, Grosjean (2008) points out that the notion of bilinguals always expressing their emotions in their first language is a myth. The opposite can be true when a childhood in one language lacked affection or had an abundance of distressing events – in that case, the second language may be used more often as it has stronger reaffirming emotional tones. Despite the emergence of the previous pattern, there are instances where a person might benefit more from using an emotionally less-dominating language. For example, code switching is sometimes strategically used in psychological counseling. This can be accounted to the usefulness of speaking in a second language when trying to distance oneself from emotional events. Language switching becomes a defence mechanism because of usaging a language that is not associated with such a broad range of emotions (often L2). (Altarriba Santiago Riviera 1994 as cited in Altarriba, Heredia 2001). Language mixing is an important aspect of bilingualism, and a natural occurence the conversations of bilinguals. Some linguists see it as a polluting factor which indicates the lack of language proficiency. This notion is supported by findings alike the apparent delays that switching has shown to occasionally cause in speech formation and comprehension. The claim of language mixing resulting in improper use of syntax has been counteracted with proving the well-formed and grammatically correct unwritten rules of code switching. Therefore, most of the downsides of code mixing have either not found enough proof or are minimised by counteractive processes. Analysing the reasons for language mixing has enabled us to point out its benefits. Intermingling may be induced by a simple lack of a lexical term, the need to build rapport with a fellow bilingual, a wish to restrict the conversation from surrounding monolinguals or the necessity to convey a different tone or opinion towards what is being expressed. When the problemic conditions that triggered code switching are solved this linguistic devices proves its usefulness. Keeping these notions in mind, it is easy to agree with practitioners, who despite some downsides, see language mixing as an inevitable linguistic occurance that enhances communication rather than decreasing its quality. Intermingling strengthens the content and the essence of the message, thus becoming an important social funtion of communicating. References Altarriba, J. and Santiago-Rivera, A.L. 1994. Current perspectives on using linguistic and cultural factors in counseling the Hispanic client. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 25, 388–397. Altarriba, Jeanette and Heredia, Roberto R. 2001. Bilingual Language Mixing: Why Do Bilinguals Code-Switch? Current Directions in Psychological Science, 10: 15, 164-168. Crystal, D. 1987. The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge. Gollan, Tamara H. and Ferreira, Victor S. 2008. Should I stay or should I switch? A cost-benefit analysis of voluntary language switshing in young and aging bilinguals. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 35: 3, 640-665. Grosjean, Francois. 2008. Studying Bilinguals. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Poplack, S. 1979. Sometimes I’ll start a sentence in Spanish y termino en Espanol: Toward a typology of codeswitching. Linguistics, 18: 7-8, 581-618. Rezaei, Seyyed Hassan Seyyed and Gheitanchian, Mehrnaz. 2008. E-proceedings of the International Online Language Conference (IOLC), 61-67. Sridhar, S.N. and Sridhar, Kamal K. 1980. The Syntax and Psycholynguistics of Bilingual Code Mixing. Canadian Journal of Experimental Psychology, 34: 4, 407-416.

The Truth About Serial and Mass Murders Essay -- different police prof

A murderer is a murderer. There is no doubt about it, a person like that deserves to be punished for the crime they committed. However, not every killer is the same; there are some who are mass murderers who go on killing rampages for reasons of their own, and then there are the serial killers that love to kill people because it makes them feel some sort of emotion. People often mistake these killers as one and the same, but in reality they are completely different in the ways they are profiled by the police, how they commit their murders and the effect they have on the community and the nation. Granted mass and serial murders are both killers, the police profile them differently. Even though they each have a different style of killing, both serial killers and mass murderers follow patterns. In an article written by R.M and S.T. Holmes they say that â€Å"the mass murderer is perceived as a demented, mentally ill person†. As the quote in the book says Prendergast was obviously mentally ill as are most other mass murderers. In the book, The Devil in the White City, Larson says that â€Å"Holmes was warm and charming and talkative, he touched the women with a familiarity that while perhaps back at home would have been offensive, now seemed quite alright in the new city of Chicago† (Larson, 245). R.M and S.T. Holmes observe that â€Å"serial killers give themselves no discernible traits form the other people in society; they walk into the lives of many, invited then fatally dispatched with little concern.† Just like Larson said Holmes invited himself into t he lives of many, and while he may have stood out in the way he touched them, I'm sure it wasn’t a big factor because this was the beginning of a new era and younger people were behaving with mo... ...is committed, it is tragic, no matter the type of killer, but it is important to know the difference between a mass and serial murderer. Figuring out their patterns can possibly help the law enforcers catch them before things get out of hand. It can also help police understand what makes the murderers the way they are, so the police can possibly stop the things that trigger tem to become the killers that they are. These murderers are different because of the way they the police see them, the way they kill their victims and the way they scare they community and the nation. â€Æ' Works Cited Holmes, R. M., and S. T. Holmes. (n.d.): n. pag. Rpt. in Federal Probation. 1st ed. Vol. 56. N.p.: n.p., n.d. 9-53. Ebsco Host. Web. 21 Feb. 2013. Larson, Erik. The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America. New York: Crown, 2003. Print.

Nonfiction Piece

Essay ProposalThis piece draws a portrait of a stranger in a coffee shop. Offering a kind of weekly enigma to me, she has come to represent the constant allure of mystery in the seemingly trivial. This essay focuses on that enigma, and the possible answers I have for them.I start the essay with a snapshot of what this woman is. What does she look like? What does she do? In giving a descriptive appraisal at the beginning, I lay the foundation of the mystery. I note her gestures – the faint inclination of her head when she looks at her watch, the expectation apparent on her face when someone walks through the door, and the inevitable disappointment almost every time – and raise the question that would bring us closer to â€Å"solving† her mystery: Why? Why does she look the way she does? Why does she act this way? Why is she there? In this part of the essay, I create the mythos I have woven about her through the answers to these questions.In this essay, I depict he r as I see her – the woman waiting. Because of the questions she has raised in me, I have assigned her an identity.  This essay presents her as what she seems to be, and then seeks to go further, bringing both reader and author along for a venture into who she is, or at least, what she might be. In writing this, I thrust the philosophy that everyone really has a story. The natural inclination of the curious man is to find out. And if one cannot know, then you can always let your imagination run free.Literary Nonfiction EssayThere she is again, alone in the table at the far corner. Today, she has brought books with her: sonnets by Pablo Neruda, a creative writing textbook, and a discredited memoir. The book of poetry has been opened, and rests on her lap. A notebook, bound in leather, lies open on the table. A pen rests on the stark whiteness of the pages. She is looking at none of these. She smokes bent cigarettes every five minutes or so. She drinks her coffee as she glanc es at the door, trying not to look as if she were truly alone – that by looking at the doorway once in a while, she can pretend (and the world with her) that someone is coming to meet her.  Her cellphone, too, lies open. She takes a bite from her slice of lemon cake. The phone's screen remains dark, no matter how long she stares at it.Outside it is raining.She looks up, scans the crowd, most of whom are oblivious of her presence. I cannot be. I have known her for far too long. No, I do not know her name, and I do not think I will ever ask. But I have seen her so many times before, her presence is more familiar than a stranger’s should be. Today, I have positioned myself only two tables away from her. Because I know I can never march up to her and demand what she is, I content myself with absorbing everything I can of her. I have sat closer to her today. I cannot help this fascination. I simply want to know.Her gaze finally rests beyond me, towards the door. I see her face more clearly than I ever have before, after all these weeks. Oval, and wan – her forehead is high, her eyes wide and dark. It is not a delicate face, for perhaps the prolonged sadness has seeped into her bones that her face has toughened, has become stronger. Her cheeks jut out and her lips are thin and pale. Her mouth is arranged into its usual tightness. She sighs when the door opens, then closes, and turns away. She looks at her watch. She sighs once more, leafs through the open book of poetry.When will she realize that she is the only woman in a cafe of lovers? Or has she always known? She has one mug all to herself, the others have to share. One cup of coffee, one white porcelain rim, for two bleeding mouths of bleeding hearts.  Inevitably, I think of the possibility of the reluctant lover. Every week, I see her here, always alone. I have never seen her leave with someone. I have never seen anyone, man or woman, stride over to her table, hold her hand, to lead he r outside.Perhaps she has waited with the smallest of hopes that soon, someone would come to end the waiting. But perhaps the reluctant lover roams now the asphalt streets, in a suit and tie, a briefcase hanging from one hand as though it is an extension of his body. And this woman, with her poems and novels and empty notebooks – she is here, waiting, being watched by a person who has seen enough of her to realize that she is waiting.  Another woman – more of a girl, really – is at another corner. But she smokes her cigarette with the ease of one who knows that someone will meet her. Soon she will be gone and this woman, this woman, would light another cigarette and turn another page of one the books she has brought.I see her cellphone buzz, vibrating on the surface of the table. She twitches, then snatches it. Her eyes run over the illuminated screen, taking in the message quickly. Then, her lip curls, and she tosses her cellphone back to the table.Has she be en told that she has to wait longer?She returns to her book but her gaze is blanker now. This book she has been reading has quite possibly turned out to be a chore and all too soon, the words blur until they are white. There is too much of her coffee, and the crystal grains of sugar have refused to melt. The lemon cake crumbles. Even her cigarette offends her, and she puts it out, only half-consumed.  With her, this woman, her waiting – things pale and darken at the same time. Knowing these things are just distractions, something to pass the time that just seems to crawl slower and slower that it sometimes falls still: the coffee cannot be finished, the cigarette doesn’t burn, the page goes on and on and on. Something has cloaked her – is it the knowledge that all these are things she'd rather not be doing? Shouldn't be doing in the first place?She must finish her coffee, and only crumbs should be left on her plate. The book, open on her lap, can be replaced. There are two other books in her bag, and she takes them out: poetry speaking of a requited waiting.  She must think now: all this talk about unrequited love, when poetry should be made about unrequited patience: waiting for the phone to vibrate, waiting for the crumbs to settle, waiting for the coffee mug to empty, waiting for the cigarette to turn into ash, waiting for the books to turn to the last page, waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for the clock to strike ten, waiting for someone to come through the door with the spaciest of smiles just for her. Waiting, waiting, waiting.If she wrote – and I have feeling that she does, in spite of the blankness of her notebook now – how many times has she written about women like her?  She looks at her watch. Her phone vibrates one more. Listless, she picks it up, punches at the buttons. In but moments, her face clears, she sags in her chair. She is starting to smile.  I wonder then: the reluctant lover (but only in h er mind, only when they are not together.) Has the un-reluctant lover tells her that he is near? Would Neruda, then, glow again?Because she is a woman who waits diligently albeit unwillingly, week after week, later, she will be disgusted with how much everything makes sense now. Even waiting in a parked car, while errands are run, will make her smile. The rain will fall harder. The drops will be opaque against the windshield and yet it shall leave shadows on her jeans.Oh, that smile.And she will think: Everything should be a familiar novelty, a novel familiarity. Yes, even waiting for him to come back with a bag or two of bread, while a Japanese love song drifts from the radio. She will think the song talks of a fulfilled longing, of a waiting ended.  But now, she is still waiting. But now she is sure that someone shall come for her.  She looks at me, sees me watching her. The smile she gives me is fleeting, the token nicety for strangers who stare too long at you. I smile back at her.She looks at the doorway, but it seems more out of habit, than anticipation.One last look, then it is time for me to go. Nonfiction Piece Essay ProposalThis piece draws a portrait of a stranger in a coffee shop. Offering a kind of weekly enigma to me, she has come to represent the constant allure of mystery in the seemingly trivial. This essay focuses on that enigma, and the possible answers I have for them.I start the essay with a snapshot of what this woman is. What does she look like? What does she do? In giving a descriptive appraisal at the beginning, I lay the foundation of the mystery. I note her gestures – the faint inclination of her head when she looks at her watch, the expectation apparent on her face when someone walks through the door, and the inevitable disappointment almost every time – and raise the question that would bring us closer to â€Å"solving† her mystery: Why? Why does she look the way she does? Why does she act this way? Why is she there? In this part of the essay, I create the mythos I have woven about her through the answers to these questions.In this essay, I depict he r as I see her – the woman waiting. Because of the questions she has raised in me, I have assigned her an identity.This essay presents her as what she seems to be, and then seeks to go further, bringing both reader and author along for a venture into who she is, or at least, what she might be. In writing this, I thrust the philosophy that everyone really has a story. The natural inclination of the curious man is to find out. And if one cannot know, then you can always let your imagination run free.Literary Nonfiction EssayThere she is again, alone in the table at the far corner. Today, she has brought books with her: sonnets by Pablo Neruda, a creative writing textbook, and a discredited memoir. The book of poetry has been opened, and rests on her lap. A notebook, bound in leather, lies open on the table. A pen rests on the stark whiteness of the pages. She is looking at none of these. She smokes bent cigarettes every five minutes or so. She drinks her coffee as she glances a t the door, trying not to look as if she were truly alone – that by looking at the doorway once in a while, she can pretend (and the world with her) that someone is coming to meet her.Her cellphone, too, lies open. She takes a bite from her slice of lemon cake. The phone's screen remains dark, no matter how long she stares at it.Outside it is raining.She looks up, scans the crowd, most of whom are oblivious of her presence. I cannot be. I have known her for far too long. No, I do not know her name, and I do not think I will ever ask. But I have seen her so many times before, her presence is more familiar than a stranger’s should be. Today, I have positioned myself only two tables away from her. Because I know I can never march up to her and demand what she is, I content myself with absorbing everything I can of her. I have sat closer to her today. I cannot help this fascination. I simply want to know.Her gaze finally rests beyond me, towards the door. I see her face mo re clearly than I ever have before, after all these weeks. Oval, and wan – her forehead is high, her eyes wide and dark. It is not a delicate face, for perhaps the prolonged sadness has seeped into her bones that her face has toughened, has become stronger. Her cheeks jut out and her lips are thin and pale. Her mouth is arranged into its usual tightness. She sighs when the door opens, then closes, and turns away. She looks at her watch. She sighs once more, leafs through the open book of poetry.When will she realize that she is the only woman in a cafe of lovers? Or has she always known? She has one mug all to herself, the others have to share. One cup of coffee, one white porcelain rim, for two bleeding mouths of bleeding hearts.Inevitably, I think of the possibility of the reluctant lover. Every week, I see her here, always alone. I have never seen her leave with someone. I have never seen anyone, man or woman, stride over to her table, hold her hand, to lead her outside.Pe rhaps she has waited with the smallest of hopes that soon, someone would come to end the waiting. But perhaps the reluctant lover roams now the asphalt streets, in a suit and tie, a briefcase hanging from one hand as though it is an extension of his body. And this woman, with her poems and novels and empty notebooks – she is here, waiting, being watched by a person who has seen enough of her to realize that she is waiting.Another woman – more of a girl, really – is at another corner. But she smokes her cigarette with the ease of one who knows that someone will meet her. Soon she will be gone and this woman, this woman, would light another cigarette and turn another page of one the books she has brought.I see her cellphone buzz, vibrating on the surface of the table. She twitches, then snatches it. Her eyes run over the illuminated screen, taking in the message quickly. Then, her lip curls, and she tosses her cellphone back to the table.Has she been told that she has to wait longer?She returns to her book but her gaze is blanker now. This book she has been reading has quite possibly turned out to be a chore and all too soon, the words blur until they are white. There is too much of her coffee, and the crystal grains of sugar have refused to melt. The lemon cake crumbles. Even her cigarette offends her, and she puts it out, only half-consumed.With her, this woman, her waiting – things pale and darken at the same time. Knowing these things are just distractions, something to pass the time that just seems to crawl slower and slower that it sometimes falls still: the coffee cannot be finished, the cigarette doesn’t burn, the page goes on and on and on. Something has cloaked her – is it the knowledge that all these are things she'd rather not be doing? Shouldn't be doing in the first place?She must finish her coffee, and only crumbs should be left on her plate. The book, open on her lap, can be replaced. There are two other books in her bag, and she takes them out: poetry speaking of a requited waiting.She must think now: all this talk about unrequited love, when poetry should be made about unrequited patience: waiting for the phone to vibrate, waiting for the crumbs to settle, waiting for the coffee mug to empty, waiting for the cigarette to turn into ash, waiting for the books to turn to the last page, waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for the clock to strike ten, waiting for someone to come through the door with the spaciest of smiles just for her. Waiting, waiting, waiting.If she wrote – and I have feeling that she does, in spite of the blankness of her notebook now – how many times has she written about women like her?She looks at her watch. Her phone vibrates one more. Listless, she picks it up, punches at the buttons. In but moments, her face clears, she sags in her chair. She is starting to smile.I wonder then: the reluctant lover (but only in her mind, only when they are not together.) Has the un-reluctant lover tells her that he is near? Would Neruda, then, glow again?Because she is a woman who waits diligently albeit unwillingly, week after week, later, she will be disgusted with how much everything makes sense now. Even waiting in a parked car, while errands are run, will make her smile. The rain will fall harder. The drops will be opaque against the windshield and yet it shall leave shadows on her jeans.Oh, that smile.And she will think: Everything should be a familiar novelty, a novel familiarity. Yes, even waiting for him to come back with a bag or two of bread, while a Japanese love song drifts from the radio. She will think the song talks of a fulfilled longing, of a waiting ended.But now, she is still waiting. But now she is sure that someone shall come for her.She looks at me, sees me watching her. The smile she gives me is fleeting, the token nicety for strangers who stare too long at you. I smile back at her.She looks at the doorway, but it seems more out of habit, than anticipation.One last look, then it is time for me to go.

10 Things You Should Know About the Sun