Language Of Confusion: Prefixes, Part II

More prefixes! Yay!
 
Re-
This one thankfully is less complicated. Re- means again, or undoing, and often it’s just used as an intensive. It showed up in the thirteenth century (I think that’s the first date we’ve had for one of these) from the Old French and classical Latin versions of the prefix. Not much else is known about this one, although I’d like to point out that it’s also red- in front of vowels, so something redact is actually re- + act. Yet it’s not react. Just… just don’t think about it too hard.
 
A-
A- the prefix is really three different prefixes, so we’re starting with confusing right off the bat The first of them is actually related to on, and it’s what’s in front of words like ahead and asleep—although it also can mean of, as in anew, and it can also also be short for ad- (to/toward) and ab- (away). The origin of this a- is unknown, but it is Germanic in some way. The second a- means away—much like the previous a-, and it comes from the classical Latin ab, away or from. The final a- prefix means not or without—like in amoral, you’re without morals. This one is actually Greek in origin, as a- meant not there, and it comes from the Proto Indo European ne-, not. And as I mentioned last week, that’s the origin word for un-. Well, one of the un-s.
 
Apo-
Apo- means of, from, or away from—which means apologetic is literally away from (apo-) collection (-leg), and no, that makes no frigging sense, but whatever. This isn’t about that word. Apo- is from the Greek apo, from, which is from the Proto Indo European root apo-, off or away. Any time a word begins with apo-, it means away from something.
 
Anti-
I don’t think this one is going to be much of a surprise. Anti- means opposed to or against, and is also just ant- in front of vowels. It’s from the Old French anti-, from the classical Latin anti-, from the Greek anti, and those all just mean anti. And it’s from the Proto Indo European… anti. Meaning against. Seriously, this word barely changed over thousands of years and through probably hundreds of languages.
 
Ante-
The almost homophone for anti-, ante- means before or in front of and comes from the classical Latin ante, before. And that word is from… the Proto Indo European anti-. Yes, it’s from the same place as anti-. The only difference is that this one never went through Greek before it came to English.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

From The Spamfiles

Let’s see what stupid things I’ve received this week.

Wait until I explain to them that I’m not gay. That’s going to be an awkward conversation.

So many questions here. What is with that number? Why does it have a lowercase i stuck in there? What the hell is “amazonaws” and why do they think putting that in there makes it more legit???

It’s categorically cleared! I’ve been waiting forever for it.

I laughed way too much at someone with the name of “Flink”. That’s definitely the winning name of the week.

This feels like the digital equivalent of a cut and paste ransom note.

That’s Warren Buffett for you, always giving out money to random people he emails.

Outside Cat

This happens every day. Multiple times. She frantically scratches at the door, desperate to get out, and then…

It is a frigid sixty degrees out. You can’t expect cats to survive in such weather!

Language Of Confusion: Prefixes, Part I

I’ve actually already done some of these, so this is a little bit of a redux. But there are a lot of prefixes I’ve never looked at, so let’s get to it!
 
Ex-
Ex usually means out of or from, but can also mean upwards, completely, deprive of, former, or without. No, nothing contradictory there. It’s from the classical Latin ex, which means from, and that can be traced to the Proto Indo European eghs, out. If it’s out in some way, it’s ex-.
 
Dis-
Dis- (or dif-, or just di- in front of some consonants) tends to mean one of three things, lack of/not, opposite of, and apart or away. It’s from the Old French des- and classical Latin dis-, which also means apart. It goes all the way back to the Proto Indo European dis-, which is just apart or asunder.
 
De-
De- generally means down, from, or concerning, although it does occasionally act as an undoing of something, like in defrost, a holdover from how it’s used in Latin. In Latin, de means about, and it’s from the Proto Indo European de-, which also happens to be related to the origin word for to. Basically, everyone used de- in their own way, and English has traces of all of those.

Sub-
Sub- generally means under, behind, or from below, which makes sense, since sub means under in Latin. It shows up in more words than you might think, as the b tends to be dropped, or sometimes it’s replaced with an r. It’s from the Proto Indo European (s)up-, which is from the root upo, under or up from under.
 
Com-
Com- is another prefix that can be different depending on which letter it’s in front of. In some places it’s co-, in some it’s con-, and sometimes it’s col-, cor-, or cog-. But they all come from the same place and mean with or together. They’re from the classical Latin cum, with, which is from the Proto Indo European kom-, beside, near, or with. In spite of not being able to make up its mind what it wants for its third letter, it’s pretty straightforward.
 
Un-
Un- is actually weird because there are actually two versions of it that seem related, but aren’t. The first one is negation—like unheard of or uncalled for. It’s from the Old English un-, from the Proto Germanic un-, from the Proto Indo European n-, meaning not. The other un- prefix means reversal or removal—like undoing or unbuttoning. While these two un-s seem very much related, they’re not. This un- comes from the Old English on- (to be fair, that could have also been spelled un-), and that’s from the Proto Germanic andi-, and that certainly won’t be confused with un-. That’s from the Proto Indo European anti, facing opposite, before, or against. And if you’re thinking that sounds a lot like anti-, that’s because that’s where it’s from, too.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English

From The Spamfiles

Here we go again!

Now this is an interesting one. I’m sure you’re all aware my name is not Sara, though I’m really curious about something called the “Professor Jim” project, I mean, what even is that? I’m not really sure what the scam is here. I wonder what would happen if I emailed them back and told them I was Sara.

I always love when they email you from one address and then give you another email to respond to them with. Like, that’s a perfectly normal thing that people do all the time.

Wait… am I unsubscribing from the Unsubscribe TEAM? Why do you have bell emojis???

Guys. Guys. Congadulation.

At least this one didn’t misspell a common word. I’m sorry, I’m just still not over congadulation.

The Royal Bank of Canada gives great massages. Being certified is actually a requirement for working there.
 
Congadulation.

Movie Night

It was better than the last movie my mom picked out, “Burnt Offerings” which had no burning and no offerings.

Ninety percent of it was a woman walking around naked. And somehow that was the least stupid part of the movie.

Language Of Confusion: Strict, Redux

Yeah, doing another one of these. I have a lot of old posts that irk me.
 
Strict, without any prefixes, showed up in the early fifteenth century, where it meant narrow or small. Its meaning shifted when it started to be used in a legal sense—a narrow reading of the law became a strict reading of it, and from there it came into common usage that way. Strict comes from the classical Latin strictus, which means narrow, coming from the verb stringere, to draw tightly, and before that the Proto Indo European streig-, to rub or press. And that’s actually the origin word for strain, which showed up in the fourteenth century from stringere (by way of the Old French estreindre). It first meant to tie or fasten as well as to put through a filter, then to tighten or make taut, and then overexert yourself, then to exert something to its limit. Yeah, quite a journey on that one, although it does make sense.
 
Constrict showed up fairly late, in 1732, though constriction actually showed up in the fifteenth century, while constrain actually showed up much earlier, in the early fourteenth century. Actually, constrict actually comes from constriction, which is from the classical Latin constrictionem, restraint, from constringere, to tighten. And that word is where constrain comes from, too. The con- means together, and stringere is to tie. Constrict is to tie tight. And so is constrain.
 
Restrict showed up in the early sixteenth century, about the same time as restriction did. The words come from the Late Latin restrictionem, which is from the classical Latin restringere, to restrict. Restrain showed up earlier, in the mid fourteenth century, also from restringere. Not really a lot changed about these words. Anyway, the re- means back, so to restrict/restrain is to tie back.
 
Finally today, district. It showed up in the early seventeenth century, meaning a territory, from the French district and Medieval Latin districtus. That comes from the classical Latin distringere, which actually means distrain, which I didn’t know was even a word, but it is, and it means to seize someone’s property if they owe you a debt, a bit like a lien, I guess. The dis- means apart here, so the word literally means to draw apart. No, I don’t understand it in the least, but that’s how it is.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Orbis Latinus

From The Spamfiles

This should be fun, right?
 
Right?

I love how reminder is in quotes. Is this some sort of ironic reminder? Is it?

Yes, diplomats are always in charge of outstanding payment bank drafts converted into ATM Master/Visas. Not a single thing suspicious about this.

Aw. He will like to be my friend.

I guess the International Monetary Fund World Regulatory Office International (how redundant can you get) does not believe in lower case letters.

Is this the same SUPPORT TEAM from before? I mean, I guess so since that was the “third reminder” and this is the “fourth reminder”. And it’s still apparently very ironic.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November. 2017, when Saudi authorities arrested dozens of the kingdom’s royal whatevers. We all know this is the opening line to a scam, right? It’s like telling someone you have a gold mine to sell them. Obviously it’s fake. Though sometimes you want to go along just to see just how stupid they think you are. Spoiler alert: insultingly so.

The Lennon Sisters

Time to start having outside time again.

 
Don’t go for normal. It never works.

Language Of Confusion: Pulse, Redux

Time for another redo! This one’s pretty old, so it could definitely use an update. It bothers me when old things aren’t done up to my current standards. I’m sure by the time I finish updating them, I’ll have a whole new way of doing these.
 
The core word, pulse, showed up in the early fourteenth century as a noun (well, actually, there was a pulse in the thirteenth century, but it means peas, beans, and lentils and is totally unrelated to this pulse) meaning a throb, beat, or stroke. It comes from the Old French pous/pulse and classical Latin pulsus, which means drive, beat, or push. That’s from the verb pellere, to beat or to drive, which can be traced to the Proto Indo European root pel-, to thrust, strike, or drive. It actually makes sense, right?
 
Impulse showed up in the early fifteenth century, coming from the classical Latin impulsus, which means things like to push, to urge, or even to shock. It’s verb form, impellere, is really just to impel, or to push against, with the first part coming from -in, in, and the rest coming from pellere, obviously. To impel is to drive in—an inward drive. Sounds about right.
 
Repulse showed up in the early fifteenth century, as did repulsion, coming from the classical Latin repulsus (take a guess what that means) and its verb form repellere, to drive back. The re- means back, and pellere… well, obviously. It also might be obvious that this is the origin word for repel. That word showed up at the same time as repulse, although it did have the influence of the Old French repeller. To repel is to drive something back, and really, that’s what repulse means, too.
 
The rest of the words are pretty similar, although they don’t really have pulse forms. Compulsion and expulsion showed up in the early fifteenth century, though compel and expel showed up a bit earlier in the fourteenth century. Propulsion was a bit later, showing up in the early seventeenth century, and back then it meant driving away, not meaning driving forward until 1799. Propel is also a bit later than its -pel counterparts, having shown up in the mid fifteenth century, and again, meaning drive away. But then sometime in the mid seventeenth century, it started to mean drive forward, which obviously spread to propulsion. It’s actually weird when you realize pro- means forward, so propel literally means drive forward, we just weren’t using it that way for a while. As for the others, com- means with, and ex- means out, so the words are to drive with (yeah, I kind of see it) and drive out (I definitely see it).
 
Words!
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

April Goals

Well, March 2021 definitely gave March 2020 a run for its money. Ugh. I can’t even remember what I was supposed to be doing this month.
 
March Goals
1. Actually work on those damn notes!
Ha ha, no. This was not a successful month in a lot of ways.
 
2. Work on some non-writing projects to try and recharge my creativity.
I did do this, although my creativity and desire to write still seem to be at a nadir.
 
3. Work on some new ideas I have floating around.
I did this, too, although I’m not sure when I’m going to actually work on them.
 
Goodbye, March, and get the hell out, no one wants you here. Now for April…
 
April Goals
1. Work on one of my project ideas. I have so many, it shouldn’t be this hard.
 
2. Update my etymology page. It’s been months!
 
3. Actually work on those notes! I think we can all guess how this is going to go.
 
Fingers crossed I can actually get something done this month. What about you? What do you want to do for April?

Achievements

 This is an exaggeration, but I won’t tell you if it should be more or less.

Still haven’t gotten that achievement, though.

Language Of Confusion: Tracts, Part IV

Last one! Finally! None of these words actually have tract in them, but they are all from the Proto Indo European tragh-, to draw or drag something along. Let’s see how they got from there to here.
 
First of all, trait. Yeah, as in a characteristic. It showed up in the late fifteenth century meaning… shot or missiles. Seriously. It morphed from that into meaning a short line in drawing and somehow from there began to mean a characteristic in 1752. No idea how it got from a line in drawing to a characteristic. It just did. Trait comes from the French trait, which yes, can mean characteristic, but can also mean line, stroke, or feature. It’s from the classical Latin tractus, which I’ve mentioned before as meaning drawing something along, from the verb trahere, to pull, and that one’s from tragh-. I guess because a line is a feature of a drawing, it’s now just a feature in general? Oh, and for the record, traitor is not related to these words at all. It’s from treason, not trait.
 
But you know what is related? Train. When it first showed up in the early fourteenth century, obviously it didn’t mean a train that people rode on. It meant a delay—like drawing something out—and then a train like an article of clothing that trails out behind you (i.e. a bridal train). In the late fifteenth century, it meant a progression or continuous course, and then in the early eighteenth century, a locomotive with a series of cars “training” after it was a train. Plus there’s also to train something or someone. That version of the word showed up in the mid sixteenth century, in the sense that training was “drawing out” a desired outcome. At least these versions of train are related. They come from the Old French train, tracks, the trail of a gown, or the act of dragging. It’s from the Vulgar Latin traginare, from the verb tragere, which is from trahere. Things dragging after something are trains.
 
And as I mentioned trail, it’s time to look at how that word is somehow from tract. It showed up in the fourteenth century, where it meant something similar to train, as in clothing that trails/trains behind you. It wasn’t until the late sixteenth century that it meant a track left by an animal. It comes from the Old French trailer, which could mean to tow or to track prey, from the Vulgar Latin tragulare, to drag. It’s from the classical Latin tragula, which actually means javelin—specifically a javelin thrown by a strap. I don’t know how that would work, but something being pulled along by a strap makes sense for these words. Tragula is (probably) from trahere, and that’s why we have that.
 
Next, distraught. It showed up in the late fourteenth century as another way to say distracted, which we already looked at. Originally, distraught was the past tense of distract, but for some reason people gave it the -ght sound instead of -ct, and then people started using it slightly differently from how they used distracted. Distraught came to mean distressed, while people started saying distracted for the past tense of distract, which is much more sensible—almost too sensible for it to be etymology. As I mentioned with distract, the dis- prefix means away, and the rest is from trahere, to pull. Distraught is pulled away.
 
The last tract word we’re going to look at is retreat, which shouldn’t be much of a surprise since treat was here a few weeks ago, although a retreat is something quite different from a treat. Retreat showed up in the fourteenth century meaning a step backwards, and a little later withdrawing. It’s from the Old French retret and its verb form retrere, and that’s from the classical Latin retrahere, which meant things like withdraw or draw back. The re- means back, and trahere is draw, so there’s nothing unexpected about this one. Though it is related more closely to tract than it is to treat. That’s typical etymology weird.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Encyclopaedia Britannica