I have read many of the postings here regarding the recognized characteristics of a «sociopath» (a.k.a. «antisocial personality»). I googled the term «sociopath» because I was in search of the definition of a sociopath, and whether I might be one. Several postings go on about the individuals in their life that they have determined to be sociopaths, as a consequence of some failure or setback in the development or success of their relationships with the individuals that are the targets of the appellation; still others self-portray themselves as «sociopaths» simply because some other the criteria embedded in the «accepted» diagnosis models fit what they perceive to be an integral part of they personal make-up. I think by and large that the latter individuals are a product of their own making; and the former individuals may or may not be in the grip of what is a very «human» need to assign fault to or in a deeply disagreeable situation.

What I have discovered in this attempt to bring understanding to the complexity of my life’s experiences, in connection with my relationships with other human beings, is that «sh** happens!» It is a biological circumstance of necessity for both personal relief, and continued development. I read somewhere (or heard it expressed) that «life» is a cycle of «waiting for stuff to happen,» «dealing with (or suffering with) stuff as it happens,» and «making stuff happen.» Of the 6 Billion people mentioned that occupy this planet, rarely (at any given time in history, at present, or in the future to come) is anyone immune to this consequence of living.

True some people experience far more of one or more of the elements of that cycle than others, and might wonder why (as is a natural response). The bottom line however is, as individuals occupying this realm of existence there will be points in time where we all experience and exhibit personality traits that are anti-social to someone or even a host of someone’s. For payday loans in South Carolina those of us that seek to modify or minimize the negative impact these occasions have upon ourselves or others (which it even appears the self-proclaimed «sociopath»‘s among you attest to having done, or are doing), the success or failure of the endeavor is not as fundamentally substantial as the acceptance of the reality that we are «individuals» subject to the cycles of our life’s individual experience; and as such, to find personal peace in the realities that comprise you, in a world where it may not always be fashionable Just2BMe. Peace. anon133

I’ve seen many use lower case I’s as they describe their antisocial nature

To all who have either thought they are a sociopath or have shared why they believe they are, I say you are not. A true Sociopath doesn’t care whether they are or not and they don’t care what you think. A true Sociopath would not use anything but upper case I’s. Many of you believe lying is a big reason. It isn’t. My mother is a sociopath and doesn’t lie, she doesn’t need to.

It’s all about them and how great their accomplishments are

If you are a sociopath, you would be trying to tell us why you do the things you do, not stating symptoms and how they match your personality. A sociopath is the pedophile, the emotional abuser and the stalker. They don’t care what their victim feels, they don’t care that your best friend just died, and they don’t care if you return their advances. Everyone else is chopped liver to them. They may or may not be abusive.

La entrada Funny thing is, now that I recognize and stop avoiding dealing with the truth my anxiety has already substantially diminished se publicó primero en PatricioElIas dot COM.

Dan Jurafsky is a professor of linguistics at Stanford University whose speciality is the application of heavyweight computing power to vast bodies of writing such as restaurant menus or online reviews. In The Language of Food (Norton, 2014, Amazon UK | Amazon US) he explores the etymology of food-related words – ketchup, Turkey, ceviche – and, in so doing, the shared origins of apparently divergent foodstuffs. Ketchup, for example, he traces back to dirt ditches full of fermenting fish in South East Asia, making it a cousin of Chinese soy sauce and Indonesian arrak, which itself begat rum.

[The] Hebrew word sheker had a continued life as the meaning ‘fortified beer’ generalized to refer to any kind of strong drink. Saint Jerome in his fourth-century Latin Bible translation, the Vulgate, borrowed it into Latin as sicera, which he defined as beer, mead, palm wine, or fruit cider. In the early Middle Ages… the word sicera, now pronounced sidre, became the name of the fermented apple juice that became popular in France, especially in Normandy and Brittany. After 1066 the Normans brought the drink and the new English word cider to Britain.

There is also an entire chapter that draws heavily on research by him and his colleagues into reviews on RateBeer and Beer Advocate. It turns out that people have much richer vocabularies when it comes to slagging things off than for being positive about them:

[Reviewers] tended to describe the way they were ‘bad’ by using different negative words for different senses, distinguishing whether the beer smelled or tasted bad (corny, skunky, metallic, stale, chemical), looked bad (piss, yellow, disgusting, colorless, skanky), or felt bad in the mouth (thin, flat, fizzy, overcarbonated). By contrast, when people liked a beer, they used the same few vague positive words we saw at the beginning of the chapter-amazing, perfect, wonderful, fantastic, awesome, incredible, great- regardless of whether they were rating taste, smell, feel, or look.

That word ‘awesome’ also gets a bit of personal attention: I now know that the process of taking a word originally intended to describe something HUGE and IMPORTANT (the awesome power of the ocean) and applying it to something small and trivial (this lager is awesome!) is called ‘semantic bleaching’. Worth knowing if you want your fings-ain’t-wot-they-used-to-be grumbling to sound more intelligent.

And there are many more passages that, even if they don’t refer to beer, clearly apply to it. When he mentions, in relation to the habit of eating meat with fruit, that seasonal food is often a reminder of what was everyday behaviour hundreds of years ago, old ales and winter warmers come to mind. In a passage on the ‘grammar of food’ he argues that the reason people like putting bacon in ice cream these days is ‘not because this is necessarily the most delicious way to serve bacon but, at least in part, because it breaks the rules, it’s fun, it’s rebellious’ – does that also apply to the appeal of sour, hazy beer in today’s craft beer culture? (Yes.)

Jurafsky’s concluding arguments certainly apply to beer – think India Pale Ale in its http://rapidloan.net/payday-loans-ms/ many guises, or Imperial stout, or Gose:

The foods we eat and drinks we drink – our cultures – are the same, only different

All innovation happens at interstices. Great food is no exception, created at the intersection of cultures as each one modifies and enhances what is borrowed from its neighbors.

I don’t think it will be for everyone: despite Jurafsky’s best efforts to find an over-arching narrative, and to personalise the text with mentions of his grandmothers and in-laws, it is really an information dump with periodic conclusions

If all that sounds a bit heavy, the book is also a goldmine of quotable not-so-trivial did-you-know trivia – I was saying, ‘Huh, fancy that!’ every other paragraph, in a way anyone who follows or on Twitter will recognise. But that very much works for me.

La entrada BOOKS: The Language of Food by Dan Jurafsky se publicó primero en PatricioElIas dot COM.