Tuesday, September 18, 2018

The Loneliest Number

There’s an apple tree outside where I live, and when it’s sprayed properly for bugs, it produces a nice amount of apples (in some cases, A LOT).

This year… not so much.

(Excuse the poor quality; I need a new camera) 

That’s it. That’s all that survived except for one that was so rotten that it wasn’t edible. What happened to the others? Groundhogs. Woodchucks. Whatever you want to call them. Needless to say, I am very disappointed about this.

I need a fence.

Saturday, September 15, 2018

Donut Worry

Another true story in the ever increasing list of “Oh my god, Peaches, what have you done now?”

She chewed and licked almost an entire box of donuts. I’ve bought these before and left them on the counter and this hasn’t happened. I don’t know what got into her, but she went nuts for them this time. And the box I got to replace them, which I wisely kept in a drawer.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Language of Confusion: -Text, Part I

Now, I did the word text over five years ago when I did the word test, because it turns out, yeah, they have the same origin. But I neglected to go over the prefixed versions of the word, and now is as good a time as any.

To refresh your memories, text showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French texte and Old North French tixte, which mean text. Before that, it was the Medieval Latin textus, which could mean the Scriptures or just plain text, but meant written account in Late Latin. The classical Latin version of the word is textus, which meant “texture of a work” and literally meant “thing woven”. It’s from the verb texere, to weave (and the origin of test), which is traced back to the Proto Indo European root teks-, to weave, fabricate, or make.

Context showed up in the early fifteenth century meaning a composition, not, well, context. The classical Latin version is contexus, context, from contexere, to weave. The con- prefix means with or together, so this word is “to weave together”. Funny how we never use it to just mean a composition anymore. It went from being basically another word for text to the literal meaning of its prefix and suffix.

Pretext showed up in the early sixteenth century from the French prĂ©texte and classical Latin praetextum, which meant pretext or excuse. The prae- is from pre-, in front and with texere, it’s to weave or fabricate in front of. Which is a good explanation for what an excuse is.

Subtext is much more recent, having only shown up in 1950 (!) in reference to acting. Sub- means under, because the times it was used before becoming official in 1950 was to mean “text appearing below other text on a page”. Subtext was once literally under-text. Hypertext is common these days and also very recent, although since it first appeared in 1969, it might be a bit older than you think since it predates the internet. Hyper- is the opposite of sub-, meaning over or above, so hypertext is text over the other text. Just like all these web links I’m giving you.

Texture first showed up in the early fifteenth century, but back then it meant a network or structure, from the Middle French texture and classical Latin textura. Textura has a few different meanings, including texture, workmanship, and a web. It didn’t actually start to mean the texture of something in English until centuries later, if you can believe that. The word textile didn’t show up until the early sixteenth century, although at least it didn’t have some wildly different meanings compared to today. It’s from the classical Latin textilis, woven or textile, which… yeah. That’s what a textile is.

TL;DR: Oh, what a tangled web we weave.


Tuesday, September 11, 2018

September Goals

How are we in September already? Ugh. UGHHHHHHHHH.

Just fifty more weeks until my birthday.

August Goals
1. Work on the new idea rolling around in my head.
I didn’t do as much as I would have liked. Maybe it was just August, but I was feeling especially lazy.

2. Don’t do anything on the WIP. I need a break from it. I know it seems weird to have not doing something as a goal, but I keep feeling tempted to tweak it some more.
Well, I did this. It was pretty easy. But not as easy as…

3. BIRTHDAY! Birthday birthday birthday. Have I mentioned it’s going to be my birthday?
Not enough cake, if I’m being honest.

All right, what do I need to do this month?

September Goals
1. Prepare my WIP (and myself) for beta reads. I cannot believe this is happening.

2. Work on the notes for my new idea.

3. Update my etymology page. It’s been at least three months since the last one.

So that’s what I want to do this month. What are you planning?

Saturday, September 8, 2018

No Kill Like Overkill

Oh, right. Now I remember why I needed a break in the first place.

Then, I don’t know, cause the sun to go nova or something.

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Language of Confusion: Flect

I got the idea for this one during the whole -leg thing. At least this one isn’t going to last forever. I hope.

Deflect showed up in the mid sixteenth century with pretty much the same meaning as today. It comes from the classical Latin deflectere, which could mean deflect ordetour, and it’s a mix of the prefix de-, away, and flectere, to bend. To bend away. Hey, it makes sense! A miracle!

Reflect showed up in the late fourteenth century meaning turn or bend back, then to divert or turn aside. It comes from the Old French reflecter, which is from the classical Latin reflectere, reflect or bend back. Which is literally what it meant. Re- means back and flectere is bend. But that’s not the end of the story.

Yes, reflex is from the same place. But where did that X come from? Reflex first showed up in the sixteenth century meaning a reflection of light, and it came from a verb form that meant refract or deflect—the whole body reflex thing didn’t come around until the nineteenth century, when it was called “reflex action.” The X apparently comes from Late Latin, where the word was reflexus, a bending back, a noun taken from the abovementioned reflectere. Weird how reflex used to refer to light, and now reflect is the one that mostly refers to light.

This word’s mixed up in here, too. Genuflect literally means “to bend the knee”, and it showed up in the seventeenth century, while genuflection showed up earlier, in the fifteenth century. It comes from the Middle French gĂ©nuflexion and Medieval Latin genuflectionem, which is from genu flectere, to bend the knee. Because genu means knee in Latin. And seriously, any Game of Thrones references and you’re not invited to my word parties anymore.

Orbis Latinus

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

One More Day Of Laziness

Meh, wasn’t quite ready to do my goals for this week yet. At the time I’m writing this, it’s almost two weeks ago (hi, future me!) so I’m not quite ready to think about September yet.

So this is really just filler until I can get my brain back into work mode. But at least there will be a post for Thursday. Etymology! Aren’t you excited?

Hello? Anyone there? Is this thing on?