On Witz & Wams

I'm sorry, Internet.

I was going to have another grammar post for you on Monday, but what I thought was Date Night turned into Engagement Night. I trust you will forgive me for the delay in posting and for the non-grammar topic that follows. (The banner at the top there does say I might talk sports 'n' love sometimes.)

On Saturdays, Aaron and I wear our white and blue, shriek as Penn State runs it up the middle on third-and-long, and roar heartily when our defense pounces. On Sundays, he dons his Cunningham shirt and I my Polamalu jersey. The dog is smart enough not to choose sides — given her name, though, I think we know her leanings — and we constantly check our fantasy teams' stats.

My name is Monica Witzig, and my fiancé is an Eagles fan.

And we tag-team dinner. And we read in bed. And we scream-laugh at Archer. And we put whiskey in our tea. And we find General Sherman look-alikes at baseball games. And we go hiking. And we sing to Metallica in the car. And it's perfect.

On abbreviations, initialisms, and acronyms

Abbreviation, initialism, and acronym are frequently used interchangeably, but the terms are not identical in meaning and function.

If you abbreviate something, you shorten it. We see this most often in addresses: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue becomes 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Your old basketball coach, who was an admiral in the Navy, is Adm. Lippert. You probably abbreviate Latin terms every day, with et cetera used as etc. Abbreviation can refer to any shortened form, so initialisms and acronyms are also abbreviations.

Where it can get hairy is in distinguishing initialisms from acronyms, but this is because most people were never taught the difference. When you use a letter from each word of a lengthy organization or term (Young Men's Christian Association, chief executive officer) and actually pronounce each as a separate letter (YMCA, CEO), you have an initialism. An acronym is the word resulting from combining the letters of the abbreviation: NASA. Sometimes, these acronyms become so commonly accepted that they are recognized as words, e.g. scuba.

Stephanie McMillan's cartoon displays "The Initialism Of Wretchedness." (And don't call it an acronym!)

On "verbal" vs. "oral"

We see this everywhere, most especially in job descriptions: "We seek someone with excellent written and verbal communication skills."

What the employer really wants, though, is someone who can both write and speak well: "someone with excellent written and oral communication skills."

The difference between verbal and oral is this: Verbal involves words, as opposed to actions, photos, substance, etc.; oral involves the mouth, speaking.

[If you want to talk about the noun "verbal," we can do that some other time when we're diagramming sentences. In the meantime, you keep your gerunds to yourselves.]



Remember, on your SATs, that you were graded separately on the math and verbal sections. The math was, well, numbers — and the verbal was reading, writing, vocabulary: words. I'd be willing to put money on it that you didn't talk during your exam. This section was aptly named. Good on ya, SAT.

Anything to do with words is inherently verbal, but if you specifically reference speaking, make sure you recognize that it is oral. That said, saying someone is funny is an instance of verbal, but laughing is not —although laughing could be considered an oral response. Have I confused you yet? Laughing didn't involve words, written or oral, so it was not verbal. It is almost one of those "a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not a square" situations: "You're so funny!" is verbal because it's words, but if you send that as a text to Dad instead of saying it to Dad, it is only verbal and not oral.

[Thanks, Towson, for the image.]

On "feel bad" vs. "feel badly"

Thanks to a well-publicized grammatical mistake by the head of the U.S. Department of Education, I've been fielding quite a few inquiries about "feel bad" versus "feel badly."

I understand the penchant for "feel badly." It sounds formal, making sure you use the -ly adverb. It's wrong, though.

It comes down to if feel is a linking verb or an action verb in your use of it.

I feel badly.

This use is an action verb, requiring an adverb, literally meaning there is something wrong with your sense of touch. You are having trouble putting your fingers on someone. A little awkward, I know.

I feel bad.

This is what you probably mean. Feel here is a linking verb, requiring an adjective. This is about your state of mind, your emotions. Something upsets you. Maybe you feel sorry for the schoolchildren in Texas. (Yes, this is what Arne Duncan meant.)

"Grammar, schmammar," Duncan said, but you all know better.

As an aside to journos out there, should this misstep by Duncan have been such a focal point of articles? Did reporters have to use that quote? What about letting the public notice it in the oft-accompanying video instead? Isn't the substance of his remarks more important than one grammatical gaffe?

On shared space

We don't live separately anymore. It's not even "two of us in my place" anymore. Goodbye, bachelorette pad. Hello, truly shared space.

I think it's really coming along. In fact, I think it's really looking good. My assessment of looking good, though, involves being thrilled with the IKEA, REI, and Urban Outfitters got drunk together and forgot to clean up vibe.

It's amazing what a simple rearrangement (the kitchen table is actually in the kitchen!) and a summers-off-teacher-boyfriend (stuff's built by the time I'm home from the lab!) can do for a place. And, yes, those exclamation points were totally necessary.

The rumors are true: We do now have a futon, a TV, and a food processor, in addition to some other exciting acquisitions that include a table for the fish tank, a desk and chair, a bureau, a wheeled kitchen island, and bunches of extension cords someone so skillfully hid around the apartment. It all seems so basic, right? How did we not have these things before?

It was pretty easy to clear my laptop off the dining table when it was time to eat. I don't really watch TV, so MLB.tv on my computer on the coffee table was perfect. One couch was all I needed. The problem, really, was pesto. I got tired of using a hammer to make it. (You all really, really hope I'm kidding about that. I'm not.)

Yes, and because of the dedicated pesto hammer, Aaron and the rest of his stuff moved in, and now I have a TV. That may not quite be the precise cause-and-effect, but it makes for a good story, anyway.

A couple months after taking the plunge and living in sin, we've actually made our little Cap Hill apartment downright homey.