Language of the modern age, part I

I was talking to a friend recently when she compared her relationship with her boyfriend to Ross and Rachel's. She made no reference to who Ross and Rachel were, no acknowledgment that they were characters in a television sitcom (NBC's Friends). It was a seamless transition from reality to fantasy and back to reality, and I realized in horror that I had followed and understood without the slightest pause.

I can't deny that I've watched the uber-successful yuppie saga, but I would not consider myself an expert in any respect. And yet I accepted the allusion as though it were real, as though Ross and Rachel were two of my very best friends.

It occurred to me then that what she said should have meant nothing to me. I don't even know anyone named Ross. In fact, I became frightened at my ability to unwittingly confuse fact and fiction, and moreover, recognize instantaneously the most cryptic reference to pop culture. I had once thought something like that was beneath me; apparently it wasn't.

The incident and the resulting eerie epiphany led me to examine the gibberish that we young adults use to communicate with one another. Half of what we say is essentially inane, and I must say reflects quite poorly on us as a whole. I hate to think that the word I most associate with our generation is whatever.

Consider the following words and phrases: SUV, fo' shizzle, Slater pants. All parts of the modern vernacular, and all inherently silly. Regardless, they mean something to us, and their significance extends beyond definition.

They are representations of a common symbolism. Ours is a vocabulary of shared experience. And one salient theme threads its way through this lexicon of lingo: consumption. The terms that bind us together are underscored by a culture of TV, technology and commerce.

The personalities that invade our thoughts are not just politicians, artists and scientists. Quite the contrary, a great many people who come up in daily discussion aren't even real. They are figments of Hollywood's imagination, and yet pillars of our collective existence. We have so many friends in common whom we will never-and, indeed could never-meet. Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski. Brenda and Brandon Walsh. Billy Madison. Ren and Stimpy. The list goes on.

The interaction of movie magic and some wondrous obsession with the unreal has allowed us to adopt these fictional characters into our national community. And many probably don't realize they're doing it. (I didn't.)

Meanwhile, new technologies become increasingly pervasive, and new vocabularies grow out of our familiarity with them -- and dare I say dependence on them. Computers have spawned a language all their own. From hard drive to dot com to download, computer and internet technology are augmenting English with its novelty and complexity.

Even within the simple concept of instant messaging, a new way of speaking has been invented. LOL, brb, ttyl, g2g and countless other alphabetical experiments are replacing the words we all relied upon until now.

But a vocabulary based on computer or computer-esque components is nothing new to us. Think video games. Since grade school, gamers great and small have struggled over ways to "beat a level" or "get another life." The meanings of words we already know have changed dramatically and we haven't seemed to notice.

Have you ever stopped to think how perverse it is to lose a life and just keep going? Scary to think, and yet in the world of Mario and Luigi (our old buddies), a life is a precious commodity only when you don't have ten more stored as backups.

And as children have access to such technologies at younger and younger ages, they are growing up more and more comfortable using this video game parlance. My two younger brothers, 18 and nine years old, respectively, have become hooked, as of late, on Dead or Alive (DOA), a martial arts fighting game for the new X-Box. Their mastery of button combinations to create specific attack and defense moves makes their discussion of the game entirely indecipherable to an over-the-hill layman like myself. "Up, right, up, b, x, down, a, y" actually means something to them. Go figure.

Meanwhile, technology-based vocabulary has even changed with the times according to the evolution of certain products. The Sport Utility Vehicle (SUV) is not a new concept, but the terms we use have changed. When we were younger they were Jeeps. Then four-by-fours. In fact, if you watch Goonies, the '80s classic adventure, you'll hear them say ORV -- off road vehicle. But now they're SUVs. Period.

It's funny to think that once BetaMax was a symbol of modern advancements in film and video viewing, when now the term has been relegated to the ranks of dinosaur and punchline.

What does this say about our society? I shudder to think. But truth be told, there's something to be said for a language that transcends time and space, that ties me to my contemporaries. So to Bart, Doogie, Screech, Yoshi and all the other luminaries of my formidable years, I say, thank you, and peace, I'm outty.