To those who argue that Duke is divided, segregated, and aching in bits and pieces where it ought to be whole, I offer not a rebuttal but some small comfort: all sorts of genial quirks unite our student body.
For example, convenience sampling shows that for black and white, guys and girls, arts and sciences majors alike, the iamb is king (like óh my gósh I cán't believe her nérve).
In fact, I will argue that in general, specialized language is crucial to our sense of shared identity. The sophistication of our speech borders on unintelligibility in the outside world-but no matter. Exclusivity makes for tight-knit family. Our only concern should be that our favorite discourse markers are gaining speed elsewhere. The language that defines us is in danger of becoming standard. Like-litter isn't special anymore; it's gotten commonplace-and that's just downright annoying.
Like-litter refers not to a word but to a lifestyle. If after witnessing a student presentation, you come away with not the vaguest idea of the topic discussed but instead a precise count of the doomed similes strewn among facts and figures like body parts on a battle field, you are probably One of Us. Perhaps your sympathies lie with your latest kindred spirit as he or she slinks to the back of the room, the only person unaware that the said speech was most memorable for 63 lapses into valley girl lexicon.
For the edification of the older set, I present an abridged guide to the most common forms of like-litter.
"Like" as a stall for specificity: when the speaker attempts to get to the point by means of tedious de-generalization. Allows the speaker to cite all those things associated with the main idea with ever increasing but never exacting relevance. Variations found everywhere in nature, human and otherwise. For a visual representation, consult a cross section of a tree trunk or trace the circles on a dartboard, inching toward but never hitting bull's eye.
"Like" as a means for skirting the issue: when the speaker describes everything that the moral of the story resembles, but is not. Should be differentiated from the stall for specificity; not by the wildest stretch of the listener's imagination can the speaker be credited with logical progression of thought. Disguises the fetus of an opinion as a fully formed position. Facilitates talking for the sake of speaking.
"Like" as a verbal laxative: when the preposition in question serves no identifiable purpose for the listener. A sentence greaser. Indicates real or imagined dependency on the part of the speaker. Requires smooth insertion; side effects include the total absence of pause for breath before and after application. Resulting speech is fluid, rhythmic and nearly not distracting. A waste of breath but an effective stimulant for the otherwise conversationally constipated.
"Like" in conjunction with "You know what I mean": when the speaker transitions into a tacit confession, i.e., I don't really know what I mean, but do you? A devious turn of phrase that subtly shifts the burden of understanding from the flustered speaker to the sympathetic listener. Forces the listener to either affirm a clear grasp of the undisclosed knowledge in question or risk sounding insensitive, slow, indifferent or all of the above.
Here I should note that the marriage of "like" and "you know what I mean" has produced the most virulent critics of like-litter. These detractors of our language pounce upon so-called symptoms of its usage. Self-doubt and self-abnegation. Waffling and wondering. That endless, transparent search for outside affirmation and approval.
But for those of us who like to think nothing of use is without its merits, three defensive questions detonate inside our hardy heads. Is language the cause or the effect? If our words are but a reflection of the spirit, is not like-litter a reflection of the spirit of our times? You know what I mean?
If you suspect you are a like-litterer, fear not; we have established that we are first and foremost victims. Attempt personal reform if you must; spend an entire conversation biting back every other word. Keen self-consciousness will rattle your esophagus, only to be replaced by the latest like-gosh-like-wow news. Over years we have mastered like-litter's complex functions, and in mere minutes do we shrug off their implications.
Struggle not with meaning. For we are the like-litter generation, the guardians of like, not dark, like, not death, like, not carb-filled sustenance. Before you ask "like, what?"-reread; believe me, you'll know what I mean.
Jane Chong is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every Wednesday.
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