So now I have the most amazing binder ever, courtesy of my "Academic and Professional Writing" course. Printed on the inside is style advice.

The lectures so far have been great. I find the course's entirely pragmatic approach to writing refreshing, though the vague terminology-for-people-who-hate-
terminology can get a bit frustrating. A subject and a verb form a "core," the subject should be a "character" and the verb should be an "action."

The language geek in me yearns for a more complicated classifactory scheme.

Tuesdays in small group I'm perpetually on the brink of destroying all productivity with my love of grammar, and ignorance of the same. I know enough to formulate somewhat esoteric technical questions, but not enough to give a quick and concrete definition of what I'm talking about.

I suppose someone could accuse me of asking such questions solely to look smart, but since they tend to end disastorously — or die stillborn when I suddenly think of the answer mid-sentence — I don't think they make me look like the most super of geniuses. No, I really just want to know the nuts and bolts.

Also, recent documents suggest that my writing program, codename Little Red Schoolhouse, is trying to destroy the adverb "notwithstanding." I'll keep you updated.

In other word-related news: Americans are apparently offended by the word spaz, which I've been using since I was eight. The dictionary calls it offensive slang, and when Tiger Woods recently called himself a spaz, American news outlets refused to print it. What year is this?

It seems to me that the only person whom Tiger Woods could've offended with his comment was himself — but apparently the very sight of "spaz" sends readers in conniptions.

I haven't been so baffled since, well, last week, when the appearance of "scumbag" in the NYT crossword angered the etymology-is-destiny crowd.