Given the number of real injustices and outrages in the world, it's probably wrong of me to flip out about grammar and word usage.
Especially since I am far from perfect myself, in both speech and writing.
But a few days back, the phrase "on accident" hit my brain again, and I cringed.
I've always, always used "by accident" and "on purpose." For the vast majority of English-speaking people, "by accident" is considered correct. You will scarcely ever see "on accident" in print or on TV, unless you're watching a reality show.
But "on accident" is slowly creeping into use in both American and British English, and although I can't find much evidence north of the 49th parallel, I'd be very surprised if it isn't already embedded here in Canada, too.
I hate this phrase. Every time I hear it, it's like steel wool being rubbed across my exposed brain.
This then forces me to confront the fact that I have absolutely no good reason for my seething, almost violent rage on this subject.
English changes. It grows, it branches, it sprouts dialects that wither and die or are absorbed back into the main branch of the language. I know this. Regional change, and change over time, are constant. Compare Jane Austen to Mark Twain, or Charles Dickens to Raymond Chandler, and you'll see radically different styles and word choices evolve over a few decades and a switch in continents.
I also know I'm being irrational, because some differences in word usage don't bother me at all. I grew up saying "pop" when I wanted a carbonated sugar-laden beverage. That's the most common usage across much of Canada, and a kid saying "soda" is looked at askance. But on TV, we saw nothing but "soda," as that's the common usage in California, where most of the network TV shows are written and produced.
Pop versus soda is highly variable across North America, with much of the south preferring to use the word coke, as in "What kind of coke would you like?" "I'll have an Orange Crush."
Similarly, we've reduced other brand names to common nouns, from kleenex in North America to hoover in the U.K.
None of this leaves me the slightest bit upset. Let others use their idioms, and I'll use mine.
Then I'll hear an American describe a group of friends as a clique, and pronounce it "click," or say that they've found their niche, pronounced "nitch."
The rage comes right back, and I have to fight the urge to strangle someone while screaming "It's pronounced 'cleek', you moron, it's FRENCH!"
Canadians, with their exposure to French words, French class in schools, and Quebec accents on the news, are much more likely to go with the correct pronunciations than Americans.
Why do some words or sentence structures sound so wrong, and why do others sound right? And why do I get so angry about it when I hear the wrong words used?
It isn't like this sort of thing hasn't happened before. "May I?" and "Can I?" used to be distinct ideas, with "May I?" asking permission, while its sibling asked if something was possible. "Can I?" has swallowed up the former, and I'm sure there were some grammar grumps who raged against it as much as I do against "on accident."
I'm not sure which I want more: to win the fight and banish "on accident" to the remotest inner circle of hell, or to find the ability to calm down and understand that it really doesn't matter that much. English is going to change whatever I want, and most of those changes will be by accident, rather than on purpose.
Not that I'm ready to change yet.
Matthew Claxton is a reporter for the Langley Advance.
