Ring rubber bells, beat cotton gongs, strike silken cymbals, play leathern flutes. The cats and cans and you and I and all such things with souls, We shall hear: “Walter Paisley is born.” And the souls become flesh. Walter Paisley is born!
Well. When I first arrived here, the site has asked me for a handle, a new user name, then it used my very real name. I didn´t wanted to show it here, so I choose a new one ObakeNeko. Now I was a kind of supernatural, ghostly cat. But I was afraid to be not recognized by the friends I made in the late BBS. So I added the baka to my name. Now I am a kind of silly supernatural cat. Probably my brother in law would say I am creating a personal new kind of japanese grammar…
I’d be interested to know how that happened. Did you sign up through an SSO like Google/Facebook/Twitter? I’m not interested in anyone’s actual name, so if there’s something I can do to remove that prompt, I’d like to understand so that I can make people feel safe when signing up.
Here’s what the prompt looks like when I click sign up in a private window:
Moro is associated with Tampere. Hei, moi, terve etc all work for one or many.
minä - me
sinä - you
hän - s/he
me - us
te - y’all
he - them
Of course word like minä actually is also minun, minua, minut, minussa, minusta, minuun, minulla, minulta, minulle, minuna, minuksi & (minutta) + regional and slang variations. Like I would say mää as I am from the west the more common southern word mä has invaded most of the country.
I think that’s due to the default theme of the interface… which threw me off a bit at first. So dark, so dark… Until I thought of looking for the option to change it, duh.
Not that there is anything wrong with brown as such, it’s just a bit weird.
When I signed up with Google for the BB-BBS it automatically took my real name and put it on the account, with no ability to change it. Here it filled it with my real name, but offered me to edit it before continuing.
And another, albeit smaller, group developed various forms of frustration hysteria—ranging from mild unhappiness to complete catatonic depression—over the difficulties presented by a language whose every verb was irregular, and whose myriads of prepositions were formed by noun-adjective combinations derived from the subject of the previous sentence. But, eventually, eleven human beings were released, to blink madly in the sunlight as certified interpreters of Troxxt.
I could almost always pick up just enough tourist-level of a local lingo for the basics, but Mongolian, Finnish and for some reason Portuguese escaped me. The first two… maybe Uralic ain’t my thing. Portuguese is going better these days, but that’s mostly due to a Portuguese neighbour and a really nice Portuguese bakery near the train station… but I digress…