Driving back and forth to my Rhode Island Writing Project Summer Institute this week has brought back the opportunity to re-imagine the language often trapped in my iTunes account. When Regina Spektor’s song “Eet” came on earlier this week I looped it. Take a listen:
I always wondered what "eet" really was, but never took the time to explore. To me it was likely just a continuation of the “beat eet eet “of the song, but I remember of a student of mine mentioning how she learned that “eet” was the button that typed over a mistake on old typewriters. While it couldn’t delete in a modern way, it allowed for a letter to type over the original error. After searching for validation of this, I found an urban dictionary entry and this instruction manual but not much else for “proof.” We English peeps don't settle for this.
But I’d like to float around in the less certain to which I referred to at the start of this post. I’d like to reflect on “eet” in the typewriterly sense. What I like about the idea of the “eet” button is that it—rather than deleting—leaves a mark where a writer decided to acknowledge a misstep, to make a change, to move in a new direction. It’s not a whiting out or erasing. It leaves a reminder.
Unlike a Google Doc where once you make a change there is only a trace of it buried in layers of cyber soil, the “eet” button reminds you of where you changed. You stopped and went back in order to change.
I am naming my blog “eet” for this reason. And I love it for its ambiguity and its potential and I love that I can add my own acronym as an ever-evolving teacher, and enter into a professional community of others to help me acknowledge my missteps, to make change, to move in new directions.
"What I like about the idea of the “eet” button is that it—rather than deleting—leaves a mark where a writer decided to acknowledge a misstep, to make a change, to move in a new direction. It’s not a whiting out or erasing. It leaves a reminder."
ReplyDeleteI love this! Our missteps are as much a part of us as are our successes.