Anti-Phonetics

I have come to the bitter conclusion that I loathe phonetics... and frankly anyone who likes it on any level... It's like a communist plot where people are forced to analyze the inner-workings of vocal sound and use the research to turn us all into mimicking clones... Not only that, but there's a subtext of convoluted intonation, using a complicated map of intricate symbols to interpret strange guttural noises that evoke meaning from nonsense...

Ok fine, I've now gone from bordering the ridiculous to jumping over the line with a flying leap right into the netherworld abyss of absurdity. But there are times when simple little things grate on your nerves and promote that metaphorical finger nails scraping on a chalkboard sort of feeling... Times where you feel like no matter how much you stare at an equation, the answer will simply not be discovered, for no other reason than that the angsty roots of your heart refuse to let it be so. In laymen's terms, this could perhaps be called stubbornness or petulance. For me? It's more a matter of dire will power to overrule anything and everything that makes my head want to spin off its access and fall to the floor in a heaping mound of fury and despair. Phonetics is the chamber of darkness... the place where you go to ponder things like "financial planning" or "technical jargon" or "hipsters"...

Am I being dramatic? Well duh... A completely irrelevant nonsensical arbitrary issue wouldn't be a completely irrelevant nonsensical arbitrary issue without a little drama. But waking up at 6:30am to be at phonetics class at 8:30am will do that to a person. The French take pride in their pronunciation and I can respect that. Being understood leads to communication which leads to humanity which leads to life. The problem emerges when your brain has no interest in processing the difference between an upside down e and a capital E and the girl sitting next to you is nodding at every other word as if the Dalai Lama was confessing the meaning of life and then proceeds to ask the dumbest question in the history of mankind amidst a halo of feigned euphoria. I'm anti-phonetic, I admit it. As much as I love the sound of the French language, I find that the more I analyze it, the less beautiful it becomes. The melancholy fate of over-analysis...