Language Of Confusion: Apo-logies

 This week, we’ll look at words related to the prefix apo-, which can mean of, from, away from, separate, apart from, or free from, and comes from the Proto Indo European apo- or ap-, which means off or away. Now, I’ve gone over some of the words that begin with the prefix, like apocalypse and apology, but there are tons of other words that are actually from apo- without just being attached to the prefix. And we’re going to check them out!
 
First, of, which I think I’ve gone over before when I looked at prepositions. It comes from the Old English of, which, in a shocking twist, means of. It comes from the Proto Germanic af, which is from apo-. Off is actually from off, believe it or not. It showed up in the thirteenth century, also coming from the Old English of, meaning of and off were the same until English split them up!
 
Next, after, and of course aft. After comes from the Old English aefter, which, you know, means after, though it originally referred to time, as in being behind or later (so what we know it as). But after… happens to also be from the Old English of. They just added -ter to it. Funny enough, aft actually comes from the Old English aeftar, which means behind, but that’s just from of (or aef as it was also spelled).
 
There’s also ebb, which comes from the Old English ebba, which means ebb, or low tide, also thought to descend from the Germanic af. I mean, there have been much crazier words. Like overt, which I did when I looked at words related to were-, as the o- comes from apo-, or aperture, from pretty much the same place.
 
But the really weird one? Awkward. No, that isn’t an attempt at a joke. Awkward showed up in the mid fourteenth century meaning in the wrong direction. Then it started to mean clumsy, then embarrassed or ill at ease, which is what we know it as. The suffix is from the same place as inward and outward (but not any other ward). But the prefix, awk, also meant turned the wrong way when it showed up in the mid fifteenth century, coming from the Old Norse afugr, Proto Germanic afug-, and finally, the PIE apo-. We haven’t used it that way since the seventeenth century, but that’s where it comes from.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
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
Old English-English Dictionary

Hornworm

All of my mom’s stories tend to be like this.

From what I gather, it was a pretty big worm.

Language Of Confusion: -Press, Redux, Part II

The rest of the words related to press! Some of them actually have the word in them!
 
Oppress first showed up in the late fourteenth century, and it follows the same pattern as last week. It’s from the Old French oppresser, Medieval Latin oppressare, and classical Latin opprimere, to crush. That’s a mix of the prefix ob-, against, and premere, to press, so oppressing something is pressing against them. But, like, really hard.
 
There’s also suppress, which showed up in the late fourteenth century, but meant to be burdensome, not meaning what we know it as until the early sixteenth century. It’s a mix of the prefix sub-, below or under, while the press is of course from premere, so to suppress is to press from below. Kind of weird etymology there.
 
Finally for -press words, repress showed up in the late fourteenth century, meaning to check a sin or error, or to subdue. It’s from the classical Latin repressus, repressed, from the verb reprimere, to check (as in to hold something in check). The re- means back, so to repress something means to press it back.
 
Now it’s time for the more WTF ones, like print (which is even more appropriate with the other definition of press). Print showed up in the fourteenth century as prente, and it meant a mark made by impression, usually by a stamp or a seal. It’s from the Old French preinte and its verb form preindre, which is from premere and its Proto Indo European origin per-, to strike. And imprint is from the same place, having also shown up in the late fourteenth century with pretty much the same definition as print—the only difference is imprint kept that meaning. The in- prefix means into or on, so it’s to print in.
 
And how about reprimand? You can actually kind of see it related to premere from the spelling, more so than any of the press words. It showed up in the early seventeenth century from the French réprimande, from the classical Latin reprimenda, being repressed, which is also from reprimere.
 
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

Restricted Item

I definitely didn’t run into this the last time I bought superglue.

I’ve heard of people huffing glue to get high—somehow—but I never encountered restrictions on it before.

Language Of Confusion: -Press, Redux, Part I

Yes, another redo! I think the last time I did this one, it was only one week and I missed some words, so it’s worth doing it up to my current standards.
 
Press showed up in the fourteenth century as both a noun and a verb, with the verb meaning to press against something, while the noun meant a crowd. It also started to mean a machine for printing in the sixteenth century, and then printed matter, and then by the nineteenth century also referred to journalism as well—a rather sensible evolution. The word comes from the Old French presser, from the classical Latin pressare (to press), past participle of the verb premere, to press. Confusing, yes, but basically it’s like pressare is to pressed, if you get my meaning. It’s from the Proto Indo European root per-, which has many homophones, including the origin of per-, but in this case means to strike. I guess when you press something, you’re striking it? Not really but kind of?
 
And now pressure. Don’t expect much variation here. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, but only as a noun meaning suffering or anguish, not meaning physical pressure until a few decades later. Oh, and the verb, like to pressure someone, didn’t show up until 1886! Can you believe it’s that recent? Anyway, it’s from the Old French presseure, from the classical Latin pressura, just pressure, and that’s from pressare.
 
Then there’s all the words that press is the suffix in. Compress showed up in the late fourteenth century, from the Old French compresser, Late Latin compressus, and classical Latin compressare, to compress. That’s the frequentative of comprimere, to compress, so compressare is the wrestle to comprimere’s to wrest. The prefix com- means with or together, making compress to press together.
 
Impress also showed up in the late fourteenth century and has a very similar origin. It’s from the classical Latin impressus, impressed, from imprimere, to impress. The im- is from en, which means… in. Impress is to press in. It makes more sense for the literal meaning of impression, but you can see it for the figurative one too.
 
And of course there’s express. It also showed up in the late fourteenth century, from the Old French espresser/expresser (it was Italian that gave us espresso). That’s from the Medieval Latin expressare, from the classical Latin exprimere, to express, where the ex- means out, so the word is to press out. And then expression, like someone has on their face. It originally meant the act of pressing out (its literal meaning), but also meant manifesting a feeling. It’s from the classical Latin expressionem, which I’m sure you’ve guessed is from exprimere.

 
Finally today, depress and all the words related to it. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, but it only meant to conquer, changing to mean to press down physically in the early fifteenth century, the feeling in the seventeenth century, and the economic sense in the late nineteenth century (depression originally showed up in the fifteenth century as an astronomical term, not meaning what we call depression until the mid seventeenth century). It comes from the Old French depresser, Late Latin depressare, and classical Latin deprimere, to depress, with the de- meaning down. Yes, depression is certainly pressing down on you.
 
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

It Was Like 90% The Corners

Priorities.

Unfortunately, me, being me, backed up everything except my cache of spam, so unfortunately I lost all those. Which is why Tuesday is going to be comics for a while.
 
And I am so, so glad to have angled corners back.

Language Of Confusion: Date With Density

Another breather episode. I’m sure I’ll have a nice long series ready to go next week.
 
As the title indicates, this week we’re looking at the word dense. It showed up in the early fifteenth century from the classical Latin densus, which also just means dense. Before that, it’s not really known. One possibility is that it’s from the Greek word dasys, which means shaggy, either in a hairy sense or thick with leaves. Fun fact is dense started to mean difficult to penetrate in 1732 (which makes sense, dense things are tough to get through), and then started to mean stupid in 1822. Because dense people are also difficult to get through.
 
Density showed up after dense, in the seventeenth century. It actually comes form the French word densité, which means density of course, from the Old French dempsité, and that’s from the classical Latin densitas, density. And you know that’s from densus, so these words have been very consistent.
 
Condense showed up in the early fifteenth century—condensation two hundred years later in the seventeenth. It’s from the Old French condenser, a mix of the prefix com- (although that’s just an intensifier here) and the Latin densare, to thicken, from densus. To condense is to really thicken something—like thickening the air so much it turns into water! Not really how it works, but you can see how the thought line went.
 
And that’s it, all the dense words. Short and sweet. Maybe even a little thick.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center

July Goals

We are on the downswing of the year now. I don’t know how it happened. I feel like it should still be March. Now let’s see what I didn’t accomplish last month.
 
June Goals
1. Get to 60K on the sequel WIP.
Only got to 55K. It was such an easy goal, too, but it’s been a pretty stressful month. There were days I opened my document and just stared at the screen. I called those weekdays.
 
2. Rearrange my whole writing schedule in a way that hopefully works since I have a bunch more stuff on my plate.
This at least has mostly worked. I’ve been babysitting my new nephew sometimes and did you know babies were a lot of work?
 
3. Keep trying on the marketing stuff, even if I have no idea how.
I didn’t even get to this. Ugh.
 
And now for what I’m not going to get done this month.
 
July Goals
1. Reduce my blogging schedule. I know, it’s a shock. I’ve been at three times a week for over a decade now! Unfortunately, I don’t have as much energy as I used to.
 
2. Update my etymology page. You know what fun this always is.
 
3. Get to 90K on my WIP. I probably won’t get this far, but I’m hoping for a miraculous burst of inspiration.
 
So yeah. No more Saturday posts. I think I’ll intersperse comics with the spam posts now (EDIT: now because my computer crashed, it’s going to be comics for a while because I lost all my spam posts). Thursdays will still be dedicated to etymology, because I still really enjoy doing that. And I’m sure you do too.

 
What do you want to do this month?

Time Suck

What else do I have left to fill the void?

It’s something at least.