One day last summer while my gaze was fixed firmly on my bellybutton (apparently there’s a word for that) I threw some of the stuff I had written (everything I had ever written for this blog, for example) into an on-line text analysis tool. (I’m not sure but I may have used this one.) It told me a bunch of things. It told me that my ‘average’ sentence has just under ten words. (I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.) It told me that my text isn’t particularly easy to read. And it told me that I write like an annoying ten year old kid. (Well, it didn’t actually use the word ‘annoying’ and didn’t say ‘ten years old’ — it said ‘grade five’. I’m just reading between the lines and remembering what I was like in grade five — I was ten yers old and annoying. Heck, my grade five teacher — the large-glassesed Miss C — tried to strangle me one day. I don’t remember why, exactly, but I probably deserved it. It may have had something to do with politics. Yeah, right…)
Tonight I did it again.
Sort of — I looked for different information since I already ‘knew’ a few things. I asked it what language I write in — it said English with a zero percent chance of Hungarian. (Reassuring.) I asked it what topics I write about; it said Arts and Games. (That’s not what I would have said but what the hell do I know?) I asked it about mood; it said I was upset. (Well, I do rant a lot.) I asked it about sentiment; it said I was mostly negative. (No surprise there.) I asked it about gender and age.
It said I write like a woman in the age range 65-100.
So I’m a negative female senior citizen who babbles angrily about ‘the Arts’ in English at a fifth grade level.
Not entirely correct, but interesting.
At least this week there was no goo.