Once again, I 'umbly apologise for the lack of updating over the past week and a half. Sadly, this is the nature of coursework: it brings us all to our knees at some point. Nonetheless, it is our responsibility to rise above it, and to continue as normal. In this way, we march towards the misty dawn, hoping for a new post. What I'm trying to say is that I've found some interesting stuff, and I'd like you to read it.
Today's word is a common one. I'm certain you use it all the time, so there's little explaining to do in terms of its meaning. What I'm concerned with, however, are its roots. Often paraded as it may be, it's not well known where it came from. That's where I come in. Behold as we push away the cobwebs to find the history of...
"author"
I told you it was common. If I have to explain its meaning to you, I'm surprised you're able to even read this. Standard usage has come to have an "author" as an alternative word for a writer. That's no bad thing, but it has, and has had, other related meanings. Allow me to show you what I mean.
An "author" doesn't have to relate to a writer, and we still use it (although a little less often) in different ways. I could "author" a plan, or a design. In its simplest terms, the word "author" comes to look a lot more like a creator of anything. In fact, it's sometimes used to talk about THE Creator. The Big Cheese, the Man Upstairs - "Author" of the Universe.
If you look at the word for a minute or so, it's really not surprising that "author" and "authority" have the same root. Their relationship is a logical one: if the "author" is the creator of something, then the "authority" is the person or organisation maintaining it. If we start thinking in this sense, we can spread into verbs, you could "authorise" access to a vault, perhaps. If you're unlucky, the government of your country is "authoritarian". Play around with the sound a bit, and you'll find a bunch of new words.
Go on, give it a try. I can wait...
Now, if you've done this long enough, I bet you got pretty close to the word "authentic" at some point. Sounds similar, yes, but does it have the same origins? It half does, is my cheekily avoidant answer to my own question. Both "authentic" and "author" come from the Latin word "auctor" (I bet that came as a surprise...), but then they split. In the case of "authentic", there's a Greek word for original very similar to "auctor", and the two got confused and ultimately mixed together. "Authentic", then, comes from "authoritative" and "original", which is pretty much what it means. See, all language is a mess at the end of the day. Consider me the research equivalent of a dustpan and brush.
So "authentic" wandered off down its own path of adventurous change and muddling, whilst "auctor" was still in use. As can be expected, it bumped into another similar word, but this time it was a local friendly Latin one: "augere", which kind of sounds the same a bit to a Latin scholar. Now, "augere" means "to grow", and when combined with a word meaning "authority", you get the beginnings of our modern "author".
It's the meaning behind that root which attracted me to looking into "author". If you really want to "author" something properly, you can't just be controlling and demanding. It takes a lot of care, and you have to actually grow the thing, it can't be forced. I know it's not the most pulse pounding adventure of a history, but maybe it's given you a little insight into the backstory of writing and creation - you have to let the creation do its own thing.
And so I authored this post, but I let it take me where it wanted to go.
TTFN
Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
In the News Today...
I've been away a bit, with little time to write or plan anything, but I did come across a charming news story today, regarding the good ol' English language. In this case, though, it's all about how it's getting in where it isn't invited. To understand what's going on, let's take a trip to Germany.
Imagine you're German, and you want to get on a train. When you get to the station, all of your signs are in English. If you've never learned to speak the thing, that's going to be pretty confusing. How's someone who doesn't use the language supposed to know what a service point is? At least, so goes the argument of Franz Aschenbrener, a retired head-teacher who'd had enough of "confusing English".
His point, to my mind, is a fair one. English is very much a foreign tongue in Germany, but it's easy to understand why the company's might have done it. What with history and industrialisation being on its side, English is widely regarded as the world's "business language". It's the language used to make deals, and to find a way of communicating between nations on opposite sides of the world. One day plenty of people have reasoned that Mandarin or Cantonese will take over, so get learning. In the meantime, speaking English to some degree is a very convenient thing indeed.
But that's not to say you should speak English. Useful as it may be for international purposes (not getting confused at a foreign train station being one), learning English certainly isn't compulsory for most walks of life. If you want to live and work in Germany, France, or anywhere else on Earth, why should you have to speak an unnecessary language fluently? It's too much hassle for most people, who'll just speak however they like.
In essence, this is one of the major reasons there is no "international language" as such. It's certainly been tried, and it's a topic that needs its own post or twenty, but the sad and simple truth is this: people don't go out of their way to learn a language. If something needs to change in the way they communicate, then it does so slowly and barely forcibly. That's how language works, it's fluid. If there's a big leap, from one language to another, people are bound to object.
That statement in itself is slightly flawed. Even the gradual change isn't always welcomed with open arms. I know for a fact that there are German linguists who are worried about "Denglish", the inextricable melding of the two languages, with speakers adopting pre-existing English words as opposed to new German ones, ultimately resulting in the extinction of German. In France, they have the Acadamie de Francais to decide what can and can't go into the French dictionary. Not that this has any impact on the real world, of course. They can shout from their ivory towers all they like, but too few people listen to change a thing.
What surprises me about this story is the lack of integration. Surely it would have made sense to put the signs in German perhaps with English underneath? That solves a lots of problems, in my mind. I'll give you an example of their English (or rather American) phrases: "kiss-and-ride", or "park-and-ride", to you and me. Now, nobody should expect anyone to make sense of phrases like that in a second language. Imagine if someone took it literally! The place would be littered with spotty 13 year old boys looking to get lucky!
I know this is an ill-planned post, but it needed it. Who ever owns the German railway lines needs to appreciate the difficulties in communicating to locals as wells as tourists, is what I think I'm trying to say. If they're going to put those signs up in one foreign language, let's make it Esperanto, and try to push the thing forward, most certainly a musing for another post.
Happy Pancake Tuesday,
TTFN
Imagine you're German, and you want to get on a train. When you get to the station, all of your signs are in English. If you've never learned to speak the thing, that's going to be pretty confusing. How's someone who doesn't use the language supposed to know what a service point is? At least, so goes the argument of Franz Aschenbrener, a retired head-teacher who'd had enough of "confusing English".
His point, to my mind, is a fair one. English is very much a foreign tongue in Germany, but it's easy to understand why the company's might have done it. What with history and industrialisation being on its side, English is widely regarded as the world's "business language". It's the language used to make deals, and to find a way of communicating between nations on opposite sides of the world. One day plenty of people have reasoned that Mandarin or Cantonese will take over, so get learning. In the meantime, speaking English to some degree is a very convenient thing indeed.
But that's not to say you should speak English. Useful as it may be for international purposes (not getting confused at a foreign train station being one), learning English certainly isn't compulsory for most walks of life. If you want to live and work in Germany, France, or anywhere else on Earth, why should you have to speak an unnecessary language fluently? It's too much hassle for most people, who'll just speak however they like.
In essence, this is one of the major reasons there is no "international language" as such. It's certainly been tried, and it's a topic that needs its own post or twenty, but the sad and simple truth is this: people don't go out of their way to learn a language. If something needs to change in the way they communicate, then it does so slowly and barely forcibly. That's how language works, it's fluid. If there's a big leap, from one language to another, people are bound to object.
That statement in itself is slightly flawed. Even the gradual change isn't always welcomed with open arms. I know for a fact that there are German linguists who are worried about "Denglish", the inextricable melding of the two languages, with speakers adopting pre-existing English words as opposed to new German ones, ultimately resulting in the extinction of German. In France, they have the Acadamie de Francais to decide what can and can't go into the French dictionary. Not that this has any impact on the real world, of course. They can shout from their ivory towers all they like, but too few people listen to change a thing.
What surprises me about this story is the lack of integration. Surely it would have made sense to put the signs in German perhaps with English underneath? That solves a lots of problems, in my mind. I'll give you an example of their English (or rather American) phrases: "kiss-and-ride", or "park-and-ride", to you and me. Now, nobody should expect anyone to make sense of phrases like that in a second language. Imagine if someone took it literally! The place would be littered with spotty 13 year old boys looking to get lucky!
I know this is an ill-planned post, but it needed it. Who ever owns the German railway lines needs to appreciate the difficulties in communicating to locals as wells as tourists, is what I think I'm trying to say. If they're going to put those signs up in one foreign language, let's make it Esperanto, and try to push the thing forward, most certainly a musing for another post.
Happy Pancake Tuesday,
TTFN
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
I Know the Answer, What's the Question?
I note that I've been neglecting my duty of exploring and explaining proverbs and phrases recently, and I'm back with an absolute cracker. As the title might suggest, it's easier to talk about the origins of this phrase than it is to talk about what it actually means, yet we use it all the time. After today, though, you'll be able to work out whether it's being used properly. Get ready to have your brain tickled, because here comes...
"It's the exception that proves the rule."
See? It's a very common little saying, I'm sure you'll agree. I'd put good money on you having used it before. However, should I ask you what it means, would you be able to tell me? You might have an idea in your head, and there's more than one answer you could give. Let's have a little look, and see what's going on here.
At first glance, your reply might be that the statement doesn't make any sense. After all, you can't have exceptions in a rule, can you? If you do, you certainly haven't proven the rule. On the contrary, you might as well throw the whole supposed rule in the bin. Well, don't be so hasty. If you've ever thought to talk about it with a learned English teacher (and I'm under the impression that there are a few reading this), you'd probably get an answer like this:
The problem here lies in our understanding of the word "prove". Naturally, we take it to mean something like "show for certain". That's blameless enough, it's pretty much the only common use we have for it. There is, unfortunately for you, a lesser known use of "prove". Yes, it can also be used as "to test/trial something". A "proving ground" is a place where you test yourself, not a place where you make yourself certain. If you do want proof you exist, read some Descartes. "The proof of the pudding is in the eating" means that we can only test a pudding by scoffing. It's easy to see how you might have thought otherwise, but you know better now.
Now, that's a very nice answer, and it deals with most of the problems with our original phrase. Luvverly. Alternatively, it has been argued that it isn't the word "prove" we're messing up with, it's "exception".
This is the brain busting bit, so bear with me. In this instance, "exception" doesn't mean that the rule has been broken or tested, but simply ignored. I'll try an example. To begin with, we need a rule:
"I'm usually at college in the week."
Bingo. Now, imagine that I make the claim "I don't have to go to college this week", and it happens to be true. Here, we're not putting the rule to test. I'm not trying to fight against the college, this is simply an irregularity. In the same way, it isn't proving that the rule's true or false, it's doing something else. By being this kind of "exception", it's demonstrating that there is a rule, and that it's simply being ignored. I suppose you have to consider a "rule" as something that doesn't have to apply. It's not a law. I could skip college whenever I wanted, the only downside being that my teachers probably wouldn't appreciate the *cough* artistic symbolism in my actions.
I'm going to keep this post relatively short, then, so I don't have to put a health warning at the top. By all means, read through it again, get confused, and leave a comment to query me. To sign off, you'll notice I haven't gone into the origins of the phrase, which is a kind of self-imposed rule for posts I set myself when I started. Does this, as an exception, prove that rule? I'm not sure myself any more...
TTFN
(P.S. It first came to to be of note English in the 17th century in a legal document, but with very similar phrases being used a hundred years previously. I couldn't help myself!)
"It's the exception that proves the rule."
See? It's a very common little saying, I'm sure you'll agree. I'd put good money on you having used it before. However, should I ask you what it means, would you be able to tell me? You might have an idea in your head, and there's more than one answer you could give. Let's have a little look, and see what's going on here.
At first glance, your reply might be that the statement doesn't make any sense. After all, you can't have exceptions in a rule, can you? If you do, you certainly haven't proven the rule. On the contrary, you might as well throw the whole supposed rule in the bin. Well, don't be so hasty. If you've ever thought to talk about it with a learned English teacher (and I'm under the impression that there are a few reading this), you'd probably get an answer like this:
The problem here lies in our understanding of the word "prove". Naturally, we take it to mean something like "show for certain". That's blameless enough, it's pretty much the only common use we have for it. There is, unfortunately for you, a lesser known use of "prove". Yes, it can also be used as "to test/trial something". A "proving ground" is a place where you test yourself, not a place where you make yourself certain. If you do want proof you exist, read some Descartes. "The proof of the pudding is in the eating" means that we can only test a pudding by scoffing. It's easy to see how you might have thought otherwise, but you know better now.
Now, that's a very nice answer, and it deals with most of the problems with our original phrase. Luvverly. Alternatively, it has been argued that it isn't the word "prove" we're messing up with, it's "exception".
This is the brain busting bit, so bear with me. In this instance, "exception" doesn't mean that the rule has been broken or tested, but simply ignored. I'll try an example. To begin with, we need a rule:
"I'm usually at college in the week."
Bingo. Now, imagine that I make the claim "I don't have to go to college this week", and it happens to be true. Here, we're not putting the rule to test. I'm not trying to fight against the college, this is simply an irregularity. In the same way, it isn't proving that the rule's true or false, it's doing something else. By being this kind of "exception", it's demonstrating that there is a rule, and that it's simply being ignored. I suppose you have to consider a "rule" as something that doesn't have to apply. It's not a law. I could skip college whenever I wanted, the only downside being that my teachers probably wouldn't appreciate the *cough* artistic symbolism in my actions.
I'm going to keep this post relatively short, then, so I don't have to put a health warning at the top. By all means, read through it again, get confused, and leave a comment to query me. To sign off, you'll notice I haven't gone into the origins of the phrase, which is a kind of self-imposed rule for posts I set myself when I started. Does this, as an exception, prove that rule? I'm not sure myself any more...
TTFN
(P.S. It first came to to be of note English in the 17th century in a legal document, but with very similar phrases being used a hundred years previously. I couldn't help myself!)
Saturday, 6 February 2010
A Most Humble Apology
Dear readers, I must apologise. I've been in London town the past few days, stranded without internet access. Thus, the blog has been desolate, frightened and alone in the ever expanding ether of the internet. More importantly, there's been nothing new for anyone to read on here, which fills me with more shame than a puppy on a damp carpet. So, in order to try to make up for my inexcusable tardiness, I present you with this post. After all, some of you may want to consider me worthless after my absence and I have to perfect word you can use to do so...
"floccinaucinihilipilification"
Yup, that's right. There's no typo here, it's all one word. Is it new? No, it's from the 18th century. Is it a real word? Yup. How the hell do you pronounce it? flok-ki-naw-ki-nahy-hil-uh-pil-uh-fi-kay-shun, or something similar. It means to deem some of little or no value, which means you can also make it into a verb by saying "floccinaucinihilipilificate". But where does such a beautifully complicated word come from?
To answer that, start by looking at the word, and breaking it up into little tiny bits. "Flocci", "nauci", "nihili", and "pili" all come from Latin words which mean "nothing". Well, I say that, but "flocci" comes from "floccus" which means a bit of wool, and "pili" is the plural of "pilus", which means hair, but both are used to suggest a quantity so small it's not worth bothering with. It's a lovely notion, because it leaves you with "not worth it - nothing - nothing - not worth it - fication", in a literal sense.
So we've got a gratuitously long word based almost entirely in Latin. Clearly, it's too long for practical use, and so we need to find some jokers trained in the classics, if we're to find those responsible for this word. Because we're looking at around the first half of the 1700s, they'll be childish, Latin-speaking (i.e. rich), and probably quite influential, seeing as how it got in to the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Where, then, could such a word have come in to this world except for Eton College?
It's generally agreed that "floccinaucinihilipilification" is the invention of some Eton boys, although we can't say exactly when, because they wouldn't have been writing it down much, unless they wanted to explain it to their tutors, and by "explain to" I mean "get thrashed by". We do, fortunately, have a letter from 1741 by a chap named Shenstone where he says,
"I loved him for nothing so much as his flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication of money"
Clearly he was up on his Eton lingo, because he managed to get the spelling right (try it without looking at any other copy, it's a nightmare!). I'm also told that the composition of the Latin grammar in the word is typically Etonian, but I wouldn't know, not being made of money or scholarships.
Nowadays, "floccinaucinihilipilification" sees little use, except when people are trying to find examples of long words, or just plain showing off. I remember finding it by luck when my sister claimed she could spell out any word I cared to mention, and I opened the dictionary on its entry (the fun we have!). There was, though, an American senator in 1999 who used "floccinaucinihilipilification" in a speech he gave to congress, but I suspect he was just being a show-off with big words.
I say that like it's a bad thing, but that's what it's there for. "Floccinaucinihilipilification" exists purely to be an overly complicated word. It's a schoolboy joke, it's fiendishly hard to spell, and it makes you look clever. Just mentioning it is over the top, let alone trying to put it into context. So, I won't complain over its use. I never would, actually. If I ever got that, in full, in a text, it would make my day. So, what say you? Shall we carry on what those bally boys of Eton started 270 years ago? If people are going to moan about English getting dumber, let's prove them wrong! Let us floccinaucinihilipilificate their claims!
TTFN!
"floccinaucinihilipilification"
Yup, that's right. There's no typo here, it's all one word. Is it new? No, it's from the 18th century. Is it a real word? Yup. How the hell do you pronounce it? flok-ki-naw-ki-nahy-hil-uh-pil-uh-fi-kay-shun, or something similar. It means to deem some of little or no value, which means you can also make it into a verb by saying "floccinaucinihilipilificate". But where does such a beautifully complicated word come from?
To answer that, start by looking at the word, and breaking it up into little tiny bits. "Flocci", "nauci", "nihili", and "pili" all come from Latin words which mean "nothing". Well, I say that, but "flocci" comes from "floccus" which means a bit of wool, and "pili" is the plural of "pilus", which means hair, but both are used to suggest a quantity so small it's not worth bothering with. It's a lovely notion, because it leaves you with "not worth it - nothing - nothing - not worth it - fication", in a literal sense.
So we've got a gratuitously long word based almost entirely in Latin. Clearly, it's too long for practical use, and so we need to find some jokers trained in the classics, if we're to find those responsible for this word. Because we're looking at around the first half of the 1700s, they'll be childish, Latin-speaking (i.e. rich), and probably quite influential, seeing as how it got in to the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Where, then, could such a word have come in to this world except for Eton College?
It's generally agreed that "floccinaucinihilipilification" is the invention of some Eton boys, although we can't say exactly when, because they wouldn't have been writing it down much, unless they wanted to explain it to their tutors, and by "explain to" I mean "get thrashed by". We do, fortunately, have a letter from 1741 by a chap named Shenstone where he says,
"I loved him for nothing so much as his flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication of money"
Clearly he was up on his Eton lingo, because he managed to get the spelling right (try it without looking at any other copy, it's a nightmare!). I'm also told that the composition of the Latin grammar in the word is typically Etonian, but I wouldn't know, not being made of money or scholarships.
Nowadays, "floccinaucinihilipilification" sees little use, except when people are trying to find examples of long words, or just plain showing off. I remember finding it by luck when my sister claimed she could spell out any word I cared to mention, and I opened the dictionary on its entry (the fun we have!). There was, though, an American senator in 1999 who used "floccinaucinihilipilification" in a speech he gave to congress, but I suspect he was just being a show-off with big words.
I say that like it's a bad thing, but that's what it's there for. "Floccinaucinihilipilification" exists purely to be an overly complicated word. It's a schoolboy joke, it's fiendishly hard to spell, and it makes you look clever. Just mentioning it is over the top, let alone trying to put it into context. So, I won't complain over its use. I never would, actually. If I ever got that, in full, in a text, it would make my day. So, what say you? Shall we carry on what those bally boys of Eton started 270 years ago? If people are going to moan about English getting dumber, let's prove them wrong! Let us floccinaucinihilipilificate their claims!
TTFN!
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
iPhone Compatible, By the Way
I'm down with the kids, I know what's happening, and I can most certainly keep it real. I stay on the raw edge of things, typing in my comfy chair listening to my folk rock. Yeah. Ok, maybe not, but what I can do is things with words. So, I'm going to keep myself updated as to the oddities we get around us today, and that starts here.
The thing I want to look at today is a prefix. For those of you who don't know, that's a thing that can go at the beginning of a word to change its meaning, like UNhappy or DEcompression. I need you to understand the jargon before I blow it out of the water. Y'see, the prefix one that applies specifically to concrete nouns (that's actual things you can touch), as opposed to abstract nouns and verbs. As a result, I'm in two minds as to whether it's really a proper prefix. Even the Oxford English Dictionary has yet to comment. No matter, we shall be the first! Together! So, our topic is this:
"i-"
Ok, so you can go to the OED and look up some versions of "i-" that are already in there. Those aren't the ones I'm talking about, though. No, mine refer to words like iPod and iplayer. That "i-" has yet to get its own definition, though I've no doubt it's work in progress (they're like linguistic ninjas, I swear).
The root of this prefix (let's just call it that) can probably be traced to the iPod, the iMac, the iPhone, that sort of thing. Apple products. If it were confined to a marketing brand, we could leave it at that. Once upon a time, that's all it was, and of little importance. Nowadays, if we take a closer look, we can see it's getting bigger.
Kids, go talk to your grandparents. Ask them what life was like in the early days of the internet. They'll go on about things you won't have heard about, like "dial-up" and "Internet Explorer". Ignore those bits, and see if you can draw any jargon from the depths of their knowledge. Chances are, the nitty-gritty bits will have the prefix "e-". You still use it for email, if you still use that slow stuff, as opposed to Twitter (oh yeah, check the lingo!). It stands for electronic, electronic mail, and was pretty common. But where's it gone?
Nowadays, in what we here call Web.2.0, we've got the "iplayer" and similar complicated programs, not just HTML. Shouldn't that be "eplayer"? What's happened? Well, when it comes to technical wizardry, especially in the realms of film and music, who do we turn to for our portable devices? Cassettes? Hah!
Here's where I stand on the matter: Apple have a monopoly. It's like those years before big consoles, where we only had Nintendo. Then Sony crept in, and the analogy breaks. My point, though, is that they have such an influence, that their products are synonymous with the market they fill. Anyone else, like the BBC, who wants to get in on the act, doesn't stand a chance unless they look as cool (!) as Apple, so they've started using the same sort of language. Easy peasy, really.
It won't last. The iPod won't always be the cool thing. Some other company will take over, and the things they say will be gospel (my current guess is with 3D companies). Then everyone will start to follow them, and it'll go on forever. Maybe that's why there's no OED entry. Maybe they reckon it's just a fad, too.
There ya go, folks, a little bit of history for our generation. These are the words we have, so enjoy them while they last. It's nice knowing where they come from, and I look forward to witnessing the next lot step up to the podium!
TTFN!
The thing I want to look at today is a prefix. For those of you who don't know, that's a thing that can go at the beginning of a word to change its meaning, like UNhappy or DEcompression. I need you to understand the jargon before I blow it out of the water. Y'see, the prefix one that applies specifically to concrete nouns (that's actual things you can touch), as opposed to abstract nouns and verbs. As a result, I'm in two minds as to whether it's really a proper prefix. Even the Oxford English Dictionary has yet to comment. No matter, we shall be the first! Together! So, our topic is this:
"i-"
Ok, so you can go to the OED and look up some versions of "i-" that are already in there. Those aren't the ones I'm talking about, though. No, mine refer to words like iPod and iplayer. That "i-" has yet to get its own definition, though I've no doubt it's work in progress (they're like linguistic ninjas, I swear).
The root of this prefix (let's just call it that) can probably be traced to the iPod, the iMac, the iPhone, that sort of thing. Apple products. If it were confined to a marketing brand, we could leave it at that. Once upon a time, that's all it was, and of little importance. Nowadays, if we take a closer look, we can see it's getting bigger.
Kids, go talk to your grandparents. Ask them what life was like in the early days of the internet. They'll go on about things you won't have heard about, like "dial-up" and "Internet Explorer". Ignore those bits, and see if you can draw any jargon from the depths of their knowledge. Chances are, the nitty-gritty bits will have the prefix "e-". You still use it for email, if you still use that slow stuff, as opposed to Twitter (oh yeah, check the lingo!). It stands for electronic, electronic mail, and was pretty common. But where's it gone?
Nowadays, in what we here call Web.2.0, we've got the "iplayer" and similar complicated programs, not just HTML. Shouldn't that be "eplayer"? What's happened? Well, when it comes to technical wizardry, especially in the realms of film and music, who do we turn to for our portable devices? Cassettes? Hah!
Here's where I stand on the matter: Apple have a monopoly. It's like those years before big consoles, where we only had Nintendo. Then Sony crept in, and the analogy breaks. My point, though, is that they have such an influence, that their products are synonymous with the market they fill. Anyone else, like the BBC, who wants to get in on the act, doesn't stand a chance unless they look as cool (!) as Apple, so they've started using the same sort of language. Easy peasy, really.
It won't last. The iPod won't always be the cool thing. Some other company will take over, and the things they say will be gospel (my current guess is with 3D companies). Then everyone will start to follow them, and it'll go on forever. Maybe that's why there's no OED entry. Maybe they reckon it's just a fad, too.
There ya go, folks, a little bit of history for our generation. These are the words we have, so enjoy them while they last. It's nice knowing where they come from, and I look forward to witnessing the next lot step up to the podium!
TTFN!
Friday, 22 January 2010
What's in a Name...
Well, it seems my current rambling style seems to take up quite a bit of cyberspace, and cutting it down to one word really hasn't helped. At the suggestion of my peers, then, I've decided to start doing a little name-trawling, digging up what I can about the roots of the things I shout across rooms to those I know. Without delay, I present you with the only logical choice for my beginning...
"Rebecca"
It's a wonderful name, is it not? Most delightfully concise when shortened to "Becky", but never "Becca". Perhaps there are reasons for this set deep in the aesthetic structure of the two words, or perhaps I've been conditioned over quite some time to NEVER use the latter over the former. EVER. Bias aside, mind, once I started digging, the name got interesting.
The name, y'see, is Hebrew in origin, which is a great place to get your name from. After all, the noble "Matthew"'s of history have all trodden the same path. It is well worn. It is sturdy. It is mine. Bias really, really aside, it does make it an old name. So old, in fact, that there are Rebeccas (or Rebekkas) in the Bible itself. If you're the sort who cares for these things, she's the wife of Issac, who's the son of Abraham (but, good Christian schoolkids as we were, we knew that anyway...).
The fact we can pinpoint one language of origin so neatly means we can, and will, find the meaning very quickly. On the face of it, Rebecca might have an unusual meaning, but we can soon get to the bottom of that, right? Before we can do that, we need to know what it is: to tie firmly. Now, some very clever people who've studied more Ancient Hebrew than I have reckon this equates to "Rope with a noose". Grim? Think again.
Naturally, your first thought's going to be of hangings, but that's not the case at all. In fact, the current reasoning is quite new. Until recently, lots of people thought that the rope referred to snagging men in a lasso, a rope of love, that sort of thing. Convenient as that would have been for me, it makes it a very unlikely contender for the name of one of the Bible's Good Girls. "What then", you cry, "is the current theory, oh mighty man of words?"
Because of all this biblical malarkey, some of these clever and well-practiced language chappies now reckon the rope and noose refer to leading cows about, and herding. "What?" You (especially if you're Becky) shout, "That's a weird thing for such a popular and awesome name to have come from!" Well, it is, if we take it literally, but that's never fun to do in these situations. What seems to be the interpretation of this image is one of guidance, of herding, and control. We're given the image of confused little animals being shown where to go, looked after, and comforted by something greater than they are (this isn't just my interpretation, seriously!). We get a person who knows what they're doing, and sees the bigger picture. Not some whore using a rope to catch men. Ew.
To finish this post, Rebecca means, if we're being direct, Tied Up. Nobody, though, looks at their name literally. What Rebecca really means is Security, Comfort, and Kindness. Now, dear reader(s), go and snuggle up by the fire.
If your name's not Becky or any variant therein, please feel free to request an audience with the Wordy Wookie, and I'll do all I can to turn your name into an exciting (!) blog post. That'll be something to tell the grandchildren about.
TTFN.
"Rebecca"
It's a wonderful name, is it not? Most delightfully concise when shortened to "Becky", but never "Becca". Perhaps there are reasons for this set deep in the aesthetic structure of the two words, or perhaps I've been conditioned over quite some time to NEVER use the latter over the former. EVER. Bias aside, mind, once I started digging, the name got interesting.
The name, y'see, is Hebrew in origin, which is a great place to get your name from. After all, the noble "Matthew"'s of history have all trodden the same path. It is well worn. It is sturdy. It is mine. Bias really, really aside, it does make it an old name. So old, in fact, that there are Rebeccas (or Rebekkas) in the Bible itself. If you're the sort who cares for these things, she's the wife of Issac, who's the son of Abraham (but, good Christian schoolkids as we were, we knew that anyway...).
The fact we can pinpoint one language of origin so neatly means we can, and will, find the meaning very quickly. On the face of it, Rebecca might have an unusual meaning, but we can soon get to the bottom of that, right? Before we can do that, we need to know what it is: to tie firmly. Now, some very clever people who've studied more Ancient Hebrew than I have reckon this equates to "Rope with a noose". Grim? Think again.
Naturally, your first thought's going to be of hangings, but that's not the case at all. In fact, the current reasoning is quite new. Until recently, lots of people thought that the rope referred to snagging men in a lasso, a rope of love, that sort of thing. Convenient as that would have been for me, it makes it a very unlikely contender for the name of one of the Bible's Good Girls. "What then", you cry, "is the current theory, oh mighty man of words?"
Because of all this biblical malarkey, some of these clever and well-practiced language chappies now reckon the rope and noose refer to leading cows about, and herding. "What?" You (especially if you're Becky) shout, "That's a weird thing for such a popular and awesome name to have come from!" Well, it is, if we take it literally, but that's never fun to do in these situations. What seems to be the interpretation of this image is one of guidance, of herding, and control. We're given the image of confused little animals being shown where to go, looked after, and comforted by something greater than they are (this isn't just my interpretation, seriously!). We get a person who knows what they're doing, and sees the bigger picture. Not some whore using a rope to catch men. Ew.
To finish this post, Rebecca means, if we're being direct, Tied Up. Nobody, though, looks at their name literally. What Rebecca really means is Security, Comfort, and Kindness. Now, dear reader(s), go and snuggle up by the fire.
If your name's not Becky or any variant therein, please feel free to request an audience with the Wordy Wookie, and I'll do all I can to turn your name into an exciting (!) blog post. That'll be something to tell the grandchildren about.
TTFN.
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