dave prine

Where Languages Have Taken Me Now

If any of you know me even just a little bit, you know I love languages. Learning languages originally was a way for me to meet people while traveling. Well, actually, learning languages was originally a way for me to meet girls. And then it was a way for me to meet girls while traveling.

But after a while, I started studying languages for the fun of it. Sure, travel (and women) always added to the desire to learn—going anywhere for a few days was enough of a reason to learn 100-200 words in the local language. But since my traveling has *gasp* slowed down a bit, I don’t focus on just the languages I might need someday. Instead, I’ve been delving into languages just to learn them. Sure, I might never go to Mongolia, Myanmar, or Tuva, but that hasn’t stopped me from picking up a few words here and there.

In fact, my love of languages has slowly morphed into a passion for linguistics, and I’ve been looking into pursuing a Ph.D. in the Linguistics Dept. here at UCSB. Originally I wanted to work on a series of language books (phrasebooks and learning methods), and so I looked into a degree in order to get an added credential to help me be more publishable. And a part of me still plans to go the book-writing route, credential or no.

But as of late, I’ve discovered the world or Language Documentation, Endangerment, and Revitalization. It turns out that out of the 6900+ languages in the world (not including ones that are no longer being spoken), only about 500 or so (I’ve been told) have been properly documented in some way . And we lose a language on average every two weeks when the last speaker of that language dies. But languages don’t always die out naturally. Sometimes languages fade due to government oppression (many Native American languages withered this way). Other languages lose popularity with the younger generations who want to learn a more popular language and refuse to speak their native tongue. Personally, I’d like to see these languages continue to thrive.

So my latest focus on languages is in this area. UCSB has a great grad program for Language Documentation and Revitalization. But that’s a 7-year program, and I want to do stuff NOW! So while I’m still contemplating grad school, I’m also looking into raising awareness and working on being an advocate for causes I deem worthy of supporting. My first one is supporting Lost Words, a documentary about saving Native American languages. You can read how to help out at:

http://www.polyglotsanonymous.com/2012/02/help-support-the-lost-words-documentary.html

 

So you’ll probably be hearing a lot more from me regarding this cause as well as others regarding dying languages and ways to save them. You have been warned.

In the meantime, if any of you have any suggestions, advice, questions, comments, etc. regarding languages on the verge of becoming extinct or ways to keep languages alive, feel free to pass them my way!

Even Stupid People Need Love

My student assistant just acquainted me with a cute little Spanish expression concerning long-distance relationships:

 

Amor de lejos

Amor de pendejos

 

A loose translation would be "Love at a distance is love for morons."

True or not, I couldn't help but laugh...

 

Cleaning House (Guess Who's Ba-aaaaack?)

So...today’s an interesting day. A year ago today, I married two dear friends/ex-coworkers (I’m an ordained minister, not a polygamist). It’s the birthday of an ex I haven’t spoken to eons. This morning, I was standing about 50 feet away from a nasty accident involving a driver accidentally plowing into a parked car. (Luckily no one was hurt.) This happened right after I left my new apartment.

 

Oh, and it’s the first day I woke up in my new apartment.

 

Less than three weeks ago, I was given the boot from my old place. OK, that sounds a bit harsh. The reality is that my housemates were very cool about everything. They’re getting ready to start a family, and they’ve even scouted out bigger houses we all could live in. But since they couldn’t find anything decent, their only choice was to ask me to leave. But they were glad to give me plenty of time to find a new place. Truth be told, I couldn’t have asked for better housemates.

 

As luck would have it, I found a place right away, just five blocks from their place. It’s a 1-bedroom, $1050/mo. (an amazing price in Santa Barbara), month-to-month rental agreement (no long-term lease, although I can see myself living there for a long time), and it comes with lots of space and sunlight. Within a week of looking at the place, it became mine for the taking. Seems like it was meant to be.

 

While I’ve always wanted my own space again—it’s been almost eight years since I lived alone)—I’ve been reluctant to look for my own place. That is to say, I’ve been unforgivably lazy about it. And downright complacent. I got comfortable since I had a great deal on rent and utilities. Now, things will be a little trickier. My rent has doubled. I have to pay utilities. I have to feed myself every day.

 

Thank god.

 

Having to deal with this transition, I’ve come face-to-face with a bedroom and a garage full of my things: magazines I hoped to read; drafts of stories I promised myself I’d finish; mementos of relationships that no longer hold any sentimental value. Most of these items haven’t made it into the new place. Some have gone to Goodwill. Others got tossed in the recycling bin. Some even went straight into the trash. My apartment is a good size, and I could probably store everything I had in the old place. But I won’t. It’s my new home now. I can have guests stay when they visit. I can walk around naked. I can walk around naked when guests visit. (Ew.)I can bring dates home now. I can go on actual dates now. I WANT to go out on dates now. I haven’t felt this way in years! I can be as dirty and lazy as I want to be and scatter my books and clothes and dishes everywhere if I so choose.

 

But the best part is that I choose not to. I choose to make it not just my home, but a home I can be proud of. I have space for lots of shelves. I have furniture and dishes once again. I can make my home a place of order and organization, comfort and cleanliness, devoid of junk I’d do little more with than store in a box that sits in a corner indefinitely.

 

Sure, there are still a few frivolous things I’m holding on to. There are some books I just couldn’t rid myself of before reading them. Most of my rough drafts of the Great American Magazine Article Comparing Phrasebooks are still stashed in boxes. But now’s the time to work through all of that. Having no cable TV (and perhaps no internet, we’ll see if that’s possible to live without for a while) will give me a lot more time for languages, reading, writing, cooking...the list goes on. So far, I’ve finished a book I’ve been wanting to read for a year, and I’m getting through another one I don’t even remember when I bought it. I’ve got my Turkish language resources in one place, so I can start studying properly. There's a cabinet in my kitchen I'm using strictly for cookbooks whose spines will be cracked soon. And I’ve got a pile of old writing samples on my dining room table (“OMG! I have a dining room!” my inner voice squeals) ready to be edited and revised.

 

And hey! I even have a blog post up.

 

Granted, not a great one. A bit rushed, and somewhat contrived. It rambles on humorlessly. And if I had the time to proofread this, I’m sure I’d find typos galore. Let's face it, it's about as compelling as something John Grisham would write if he were dead. But it’s a start.

 

Here’s to the first of many. Blog posts, that is. And new starts.

 

Why I Hate To Blog (or rather, Why I Suck At It)

As many of you noticed, I’ve had a series of blogs over the years but have had limited activity on each and every one of them. I can’t say I’m surprised when I’m constantly being asked the same thing by friends and family: “Are you really going to wear that outfit in public?” And then, if they have the time or interest, they ask me, “When are you going to post something on your blog?” I find I always give the same response: I shout “Look over there,” point to an imaginary centaur (or imaginary condor, depending on my mood) and then run away, often while giggling softly.

The truth is—and this is very embarrassing to say coming from an up-and-coming travel writer—I hate to write. I love (love love) coming up with something creative, crafty, or (and some say this has yet to happen) humorous. I enjoy when the perfect combination of words comes to mind (specifically to my mind). And I roll around the floor in an intoxicated stupor like a tabby high on catnip whenever I see my words reproduced on the printed page, or even online. Of course, it’s most rewarding when someone else chooses to publish my words, but even a self-posted blog entry is an ego boost.

The Inauguration of President Obama and the Promise of Change

I watched the inauguration today. I’ll see it again tonight at a friend’s house. ‘Twas truly amazing watching history being made. I’ve never been horribly interested in politics, but after the last 8 years, it’s hard not to take an interest in what’s going on in D.C.

So the overall feeling—not just for me but for thousands of others, it seems—is a sense of imminent change and improvement. But while these sentiments are for the country, I can’t deny that I feel a drastic need to improve myself. Now more than ever.

Every year I make resolutions, and every year most (if not all) get broken, if only briefly. Some resolutions are easy to restart, and others get derailed completely. But this time there’s greater motivation for me to live better, to get a better job, to save more money. To lose my gut, to travel more and to get more travel writing published. To be healthy, to make smart decisions, to be a better person. To truly realize my potential. And to blog more.

Maybe it’s temporary inspiration, and perhaps the momentum will fade as it often does with resolutions. Perhaps my inspiration will rise and fall with the successes and failures of the President. Or perhaps, once I’ve overcome the initial inertia, I’ll find the energy to keep going. After all, the hardest thing about getting a rock down a hill is the initial push. A body at rest tends to stay that way, a body in motion tends to keep moving. Where the difference lies, I’m hopefully going to find out.

Welcome, everybody, to the start of an amazing year. For me. And for all of us.

Back on track

Hi everyone,

Just a quick note to say I'm back and writing again after a long hiatus. I'll post a longer letter this weekend, but I wanted to get a post in today since my usual blog-week runs Fridat-Thursday. Hope you all are well, and you'll be hearing from me soon!

Hugs and kisses (but I want to blog other people),

~dave

Dave's First Article on Indie Travel Podcast

Hi Everyone,

Just a quick note to let y’all know that my work is now being featured on Indie Travel Podcast! Here is my essay, The Birth of a Traveler, the first of many articles to be featured on their site.

Craig and Linda, the folks who run ITP, had asked me to join their list of writers after reading my blogs and learning that I’m planning to do more travel writing. While I’ve only corresponded with Craig via e-mail, if you listen to any of their podcasts, you’ll probably suspect they’re some of the friendliest and most easy-going people around, as did I. (Or is that “easiest-going”?)

Meme, Myself and I

OK, I got memed by my good pal Chryss. For those of you new to the meme game, it’s basically a chance to talk about myself (i.e. it’s all about me-me). Here are the rules:

1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about himself or herself.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1) Ten years ago I was...

Letter to Family & Friends—May ‘08

Hi everyone, and greetings from Santa Barbara! Yep, I’m still here, although once in a while I still threaten to leave in order to travel around the world. Some day…

Anyway, there’s not too much to tell if you’ve spoken to me in the past few months. Still here, still working, still hoping to get more travel stuff written and out there. And I’m still unclear how Facebook works. Really, I tried to hug someone and I ended up offering a tequila shot to my friend’s 17-year-old daughter. (Of course, these are merely “cyber actions,” but still…) Does that make me old when I can’t understand the trendy stuff? Well, at least I can program a VCR clock.

Whataya mean no one uses VCRs anymore? What the…? Where’s the love?!

LA Times Festival of Books Comes to LA (hence the name)

Bibliophiles take note: this coming weekend (April 26th and 27th) UCLA will once again be home of the LA Times Festival of Books. Hundreds of publishers, authors, book sellers, and other book-related organizations will pack the campus. There will also be panels and book signings aplenty. And a chance to get some books at discounted prices. (We call this “How Dave blew his most recent paycheck.”)

In attendance will be Julie Andrews (a Festival favorite), T.C. Boyle, Ray Bradbury, Cheech Marin, Arianna Huffington, Pico Iyer, Henry Winkler, Marlee Matlin, Leonard Maltin, Gay Talese, The Doodlebops (I kid you not), Valerie Bertinelli, and many many others. (I’m sure Miss Bertinelli will be glad to be listed after The Doodlebops. No offense, Val!)