I am being figuratively literal.

Don't worry. This post is not a rant over the misuse of the term literal, a phenomenon that has been better attested elsewhere (for exampe, here). Instead, I am returning to my nascent but neglected blog simply to muse on an earlier observation I have made regarding my children's use of the word "pause."

pause
— noun
1. a temporary stop or rest, especially in speech or action.

— verb (used without object)

1. to make a brief stop or delay; wait; hesitate.

Oddly (or appropriately) enough, neither my dilapidated Webster's on the shelf nor my newly updated dictionary app for the iPad records the use of "pause" as a transitive verb (i.e. used with an object). No doubt someone somewhere has recorded the now common transitive usage. Here are a few examples:

He paused the video game so he could make himself a another sandwich.

Agnes decided to pause the movie so Vince could flatulate from a respectful distance.

You'll notice that both examples involve electronics. Indeed, this may be the only context wherein the transitive verb form is (currently) applicable. This apparent correlation is, in fact, the impetus for my reflection.

My children, in years 7, 5, and 3 (respectively), frequently employ this novel form in ordinary contexts. Thus I may be reading a book to my daughter when she suddenly says, "Pause the story; I have to go to the bathroom." Or we might be playing cards when my son says, "Pause the game." Going potty is often involved in these instances, but I will presume so much as to regard that correlation as accidental.

As a literary and logical sort of fellow, I am inclined to interpret these uses as figurative applications of their primary experience with the concept; that is, their familiarity with the word "pause" derives almost exclusively from their understanding of how to suspend the progress of a video to suit their viewing convenience.

This relatively novel use, developed, it appears, from the concept of those pauses we know within ordinary life, is the primary, if not singular, mode of verbal commerce my offspring have experienced. The secondary application then, according to their understanding, is figurative in nature.

I suggest, therefore, that the extension of earlier uses (e.g., He paused to enjoy the sunset, or My aunt paused momentarily before she replied) to the use of electronics is figurative, given that it is our experience that we are interrupting, while the device in question is continuing to function as it was designed (in this case, to accommodate our will). If I'm right, then we have a figurative application of a figurative application. In short, the literal has been swallowed by the figurative because the figurative is now assumed to be literal.

To put it differently: my children seem to be using the functionality of electronics as metaphors for their own experience.

This fact disturbs me. I am not just making idle observations; this reversal of lived experience provides, by my estimation, a basis for new, erroneous intuitions that at present serve to bolster the unreflective assertions of mainstream attitudes toward human nature, morality, and knowledge. It seems to be a foregone conclusion of over-reaching fanciers of science such as Steven Pinker that the general public is content to view the human self as a product of natural forces and the human mind as analogous to a set of computer programs. (See here for Pinker in dialogue with his opposition and links to previous installments in the debate.)

If you take a moment to reflect, you will realize that almost every term applied within our computers's operating systems is borrowed from concepts that originate in a world the predates their existence. Even common computing words like download, upload, save, delete, file, and execute (to say nothing of memory, sleep, or bookmark) rely heavily on metaphorical extrapolations.

Now, lest I overly tax your attention (in this electronic format), I will end without further commentary. I will merely pose a few questions:

Do we want our children interpreting their experience of life and nature through their experience of technology? Wouldn't the converse be better?

Does the borrowed language of software programmers tempt us toward myopic understandings of human cognition?

Do all blogs make us all dumber or just mine?