Dialects With Armies And Navies

| 🇺🇸/🇬🇧—Native | 🇫🇷—B1 | 🇩🇪—B2 | 🇷🇺—A1 | Learning French for school and the other two out of self-hatred and masochism. Just random stuff for my TLs.

[to-be-or-not-b2]

Welcome to my blog!

I’ve never made an introductory post before, so if it shows… yeah, sorry. I’ll try to keep this short and helpful.

This is going to be a langblr blog, obviously. Anything vaguely relevant has a chance of being posted, because I’ve never been accused of being organized or having vaguely competent curational abilities. Resources, reviews of resources, random information about my target languages, etc.

My native language is English, American dialect. Woo hoo, I preserve the subjunctive! I’ll probably also post about my NL, because it’s a topic I’m also passionate about. Honestly, I’m passionate about Germanic languages in general.

TL 1, the one I’ve been learning longest, is French. I presume I’m being taught whichever dialect is considered standard in France—Parisian, maybe? My French is at about B1 (low intermediate) level. I’m learning it in school, and not much can be said in favour of the American public education system’s teaching of foreign languages. I have been learning for four years.

TL 2 is German, specifically Hochdeutsch. I’m at B2 level (high intermediate). I’m currently learning through the Goethe-Institut’s online classes. Goethe offers pretty excellent German instruction, in my opinion, and I reserve a specific affection for the German language. I have been learning for three years.

TL 3 is Russian, presumably the standard dialect. I would put myself at A1, because this language is HARD, man. I’m learning through a tutor with the direct method and supplementing with all sorts of random things. I’m learning Russian because it remains the lingua Franca among many post-Soviet countries, not because I’m, like, in love with the Russian government or something. I feel like that’s something I have to clarify. I have been learning for one year.

Also, I enjoy listening to music in my TLs. For whatever reason, I’ll listen to one specific genre that I think sounds best. For French, it’s pop music, like Françoise Hardy, although I comparatively don’t listen to that much French music. In German, I enjoy metal. In Russian, I like rap/hip hop—as in, guys declared anti-state agents, not, like, Shaman. If anyone has any music recommendations, I would appreciate them.

If you made it this far: I purposefully haven’t disclosed my exact age, pronouns, etc, because I’m a minor on the internet and not completely stupid. You can use any pronouns on me. I will say I have been diagnosed with ADHD, which is why this post is all over the place.

Yeah, I guess that’s mostly it. I don’t think writing a DNI is necessary because I doubt this will get much traction. But just in case, Nazis, MAGA-maggots, etc can piss right off.

[upstairsatels]

kolya go serve some cunt in heaven for me

[to-be-or-not-b2]

You can and WILL make the alveolar trill

Of all the phonemes out there, I think the alveolar trill--that rolled r you hear in Spanish, Italian, and several Slavic languages, among others, created when your tongue vibrates against your alveolar ridge (the hard part on the roof of your mouth near your teeth)--is one of the most sought-after for English speakers. Something about it is less intuitive than the uvular trill (according to the podcast Glossonomia, at least), and English speakers, like myself, struggle with it big time.

Part of the issue, in my opinion, is that there's a large body of false information regarding the alveolar trill. Some people think they're physically incapable of doing it, like, that their tongues are too short, or whatever. For the vast majority of language learners, this is untrue--just because you haven't produced the phoneme yet, doesn't mean you can't. Some people think that the alveolar trill is created by you yourself mechanically hitting your tongue against your alveolar ridge, which is also not true. That's a good exercise to figure out the placement of your tongue, I guess, but you're never going to be physically capable of forcing your tongue to move fast enough on its own to make a trill.

I think part of the problem is that this is a very challenging sound for language learners and they generally turn to native speakers for advice, which is a much worse idea than it sounds. Natives don't think about what they're doing when they make a sound--they just do it. For example, I would never assume that, unless I had extensive phonetic knowledge, I could teach an English learner the "th" sound. I asked an Italian friend how to make the trill and she mostly was confused why I couldn't say it.

However, I could get it eventually, and that's why you will, too. You need to have the tip of your tongue relaxed against your alveolar ridge, although still positioned in a way that some air leaves your mouth when you exhale. The exhalation is key. That is what causes your tongue to vibrate against your alveolar ridge and what creates the sound. Obviously, this is easier said than done. I've seen some people write that you should try lying on your back or hanging your head or whatnot to make sure your tongue is suitably relaxed, although I can't personally attest to the merits of that. The advice that made it all click for me was someone writing that you should make a bilabial trill and move it backwards in your mouth until it becomes an alveolar trill. That is to say, make motorcycle noises/blow a raspberry with your lips and move it backwards.

I think this is a pretty good visual.

And here's a really good guide to it for further reading: https://ai.glossika.com/blog/how-to-roll-your-rs

[to-be-or-not-b2]

Names in Russian Lit Aren't That Hard

So I see a lot of things online where it's talking about how insane the names of characters in Russian lit are, how hard it is to keep track of diminutives, how 50% of the male characters are named Ivan, etc... and this is lowkey in my experience just not true. So I figured I could make a post about it.

So the first thing I'd like to say is that in all the translations I've read, they include a guide to the characters' relationships with their full names. Like they have the name in Cyrillic with the stressed syllables marked (!!!) and everything. These are great. Definitely check if your book has one.

But that wasn't really here nor there. This is mostly a post about Russian naming conventions, when I come to think about it. So as a total foreigner to this stuff, I can say that Russian names have three parts: the first name, the patronymic, and the surname/family name. This is straightforward enough, as far as I can see. Obviously, the first name is self explanatory. The patronymic is the name derived from the father--the "middle" name ending in "-vich" or "-vna" depending on whether the person is male or female, meaning son/daughter of. The surname is, of course, the family name. The endings of the surname, like the patronymic, vary by gender. If the name ends in "-v" or "-in", the person is male, while if the name ends in "-a" or "-ya", the person is female.

So let's take the name Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov as an example. Ivan is his first name; simple enough. Ivanovich is his patronymic, meaning that he's the son of another man named Ivan. Ivanov is his surname--this one literally means "of Ivan", I think.

By the way, in respectful contexts in Russian, people don’t really refer to each other as Ms./Mr. [surname]. Instead, they refer to one another using the first name and patronymic. So if Ivan is my coworker but we aren’t particularly close, I’ll call him Ivan Ivanovich.

But you're probably wondering how the famous diminutive factors into this. I'm pretty sure most people are already familiar with, for example, Sasha being the diminutive form of Aleksandr (why is this is ubiquitous diminutive for anglophone authors???). The diminutive seems pretty random for the name at hand, until you consider--according to Reddit--that Aleksandr transitions to Aleksasha and then to Sasha. Many diminutives seem pretty similarly inexplicable to an outsider looking in. Writing this just now, I realize that diminutives could have an entire other post of their own, so I'll cut it there. Basically, it's a form of the first name used in contexts of increased and varying intimacy, depending on the form of the diminutive at hand. Or at least I'm pretty sure.

So circling back to the topic: essentially, our man Ivan could be referred to as Ivan, Ivan Ivanovich, Ivanov, or Vanya (or another diminutive depending on the person addressing him) depending on the context. To keep track of all of this, you just have to keep in mind that what he’s being referred to as is context dependent. It isn’t challenging if you’re familiar with it.

So there’s that, unless I’m completely wrong (which may very well be, because I wrote this at 10 at night while procrastinating on AP Lang, forgot about it, and posted it the next day), in which case don’t listen to me.

[to-be-or-not-b2]

German Language Camps: Humboldt-Institut v.s. Goethe-Institut

When I got really serious about learning German, I realized that I wanted to do a language learning camp. I'd been learning with Goethe for a while by that point, but I still wasn't aware of the differences between the camps that these two organizations offer. ATP, I've attended both camps, so I can offer a comparison that I hope will help others. Also, I had a way better time at the Goethe camp, so I'm a bit biased. I'll try to keep this as a simple comparison.

Food: the food at Humboldt was definitely better. I was expecting it to be bad, and it was pretty edible, so I was pleasantly surprised. By contrast, the food at Goethe was atrocious. The chefs certainly tried to be accommodating and asked us what sort of food we would like, but it was really terrible.

Accommodations: IMO, Humboldt also had better accommodations. The room I was situated in was pretty spacious and I only had one roommate. The rooms were also cleaned pretty regularly, well ventilated, and the beds were pretty good. By contrast, the beds at Goethe were TERRIBLE. I say this with all the love in my heart, but it was like sleeping on rocks, and the room was like a furnace, to the point that I hopped over to DM and bought some melatonin. Also, you are more likely to have multiple roommates at Goethe than at Humboldt.

Location: Goethe wins this one. The Goethe camp I attended was in Bremen and the Humboldt camp was in a tiny town in B-W called Bad Schussenried. The Goethe camp was also specifically hosted at the Lidice house, which provided a degree of emotional, if not physical, comfort. I don't think I need to go into detail on why a city was more pleasant to be in than a tiny town; there's simply way more to do and see in Bremen.

Staff: Goethe is again the victor. The camp was much smaller, so there were fewer Betreuer*innen than at Humboldt; however, they were also vastly different in attitude. In general, I found the Betreuer*innen at Goethe to be much more pleasant and invested in ensuring that the stay at the camp was enjoyable for the students. As a side note, they were all German or Austrian, while the staff at Humboldt came from across Europe. For a student who isn't comfortable with English, Humboldt may be preferable, because it is more likely the staff will speak your language.

Lessons, teaching, and quality of instruction: I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear that the Goethe-Institut, centered upon learning German with internationally recognized certifications, was better. I was in the B2 class and I literally can't even describe how great my teacher was. Seriously, he was amazing; we spent time discussing philosophy and culture alongside learning grammar. It felt like learning divorced from the unpleasantness of the classroom. By contrast, the classes offered by Humboldt were, like, ok. We did grammar and vocabulary, nothing really all that exciting, and learnt Passiv, which seems to be something all German students must continuously learn until the day they die. It didn't make a difference to me, but if it matters to you, I'll note that the teachers from Goethe were native German speakers and that the teachers from Humboldt, including my own, generally were not. Also, interestingly enough, the lessons at Humboldt were actually longer and had the added element of homework, which was essentially sitting in the classroom and doing a worksheet without the teacher and with a Betreur*in who wasn't allowed to help you watching you.

Activities: this is kind of a tie for me. The activities at Goethe were varied and creative, but I personally didn't find them very interesting, since many of them were mandatory social activities. Honestly, my favorite part of the day was the lessons. The highlight was that you were allowed to go into the city unaccompanied if you had at least two friends with you on any day you wanted, whereas at Humboldt you could only go into town on specific days. At Humboldt, what I mostly liked was that I could sit in Kreativhaus for like thirty minutes and then leave and hide in my room.

Overall environment: Goethe wins this by a long shot. The couple running the camp were intensely helpful and friendly to the point where I began truly questioning how the stereotype of Germans being cold originated. There were also far, far fewer students at the Goethe camp, which meant that all the people working there knew the names of the students and generally provided a more intimate vibe. Also, the people at Goethe seemed more invested in making sure the students were comfortable; when a few students casually employed a racial slur, they shut that down. This attitude makes sense, given the significance of the Lidice house--there were brochures on antiracism, avoiding antisemitism, and avoiding homophobia in the main hall.

Conclusion: I obviously preferred the camp offered by Goethe, but it ultimately comes down to personal preference. Just choose what sounds better for you and is more feasible.

[german-enthusiast]

Doch - one of the best German words

"Ich habe deine Mutter nicht getötet" - Doch!

"Ich habe nicht gelogen" - Doch!

"Du wolltest doch nicht mitkommen" - Doch!

Doch has many meanings, among the best is used above. Duden calls this usage:

"als gegensätzliche Antwort auf eine negativ formulierte Aussage oder Frage in Konkurrenz zu „ja“ bei einer positiv formulierten Frage und in Opposition zu „nein“"

(as contrary answer to a negative statement or question..."

So what does "Doch" mean here?

You say doch when someone makes a negated claim (I didn't kill your mother; i didn't lie; you didn't want to come with) and you want to say that in fact they DID/you DID

-> it's negating a negated statement/question

Doch can also be used in different ways (though not as fun):

"Es wird doch nichts passiert sein?" -> strengthens the question, similar to "surely...?"

"Das ist doch nur dumm!" -> fortifies unhappiness or frustration in a Statement/question, similar to "straight up, simply..."

"Ihr kommt doch heute Abend?" -> fortifies hope in a statement/question, like "you ARE coming, RIGHT?"

(you tell the two apart by overall mood of the person speaking)

"Wie ging der Text doch gleich?" -> implies the person knows the thing they ask about but can't recall at the moment

"Sie kommt doch nicht mit" -> confirms something that had been a theory up until then, similar to "after all"