Language Of Confusion: Ak-!, Part II

This week, more from the Proto Indo European root word ak-, meaning to be sharp, rise to a point, or pierce. Everything here has a lot of points!
 
The first word we’re looking at is acme, like the highest point of something. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the Greek akme, and of course the ak is from ak-, because high things often rise to a point. Amusingly enough, in English, people continued to write it in Greek letters until the seventeenth century. For some reason. And you know what very similarly spelled word is from the same place? Acne. It didn’t show up until 1813, from the Latin acne, from the Greek akmas, which is also from akme. I guess acne is “points” on someone’s face.
 
Next in sharpness is acuity. It showed up in the early fifteenth century, a little before acumen. It’s from the Old French acuite and Medieval Latin acuitatem, from the classical Latin verb acuere, to sharpen, which is also where acumen comes from. If your perception is sharp, you have acuity.
 
Now for a word that will make you go “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” Acupuncture first showed up in the late seventeenth century meaning a surgical operation to ease pain. The acu- comes from the classical Latin acus, needle, because it and acupressure (which showed up in 1859) were what they called a method of pinning or wiring an artery shut, presumably with a nice, sharp needle. For some reason, in 1958, people started using those terms to mean the body-needle pressure method imported from Asia.
 
Finally today, we’re actually going to look at a prefix, acro-, which is the start of words like acronym, acropolis, and acrylic. It comes from the Greek akro-, pertaining to an end or extreme, from akros, which means extremely in both a literal or figurative sense and is from ak-. An acropolis is an elevated part of a city, an acronym takes the first letter of each word, and acrylic… well, it was named for the substance in garlic and onions that makes people tear up (i.e. is sharp). Acro- means high, first, extreme.
 
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

The Humidity!

It’s only just finally gone away.

If it fogs up my glasses, it’s too fricking humid!

Language Of Confusion: Ak-!, Part I

What is ak-? Besides the noise you make when something is stuck in your throat? It’s a Proto Indo European root meaning to be sharp, rise to a point, or pierce. And the words descended from it are varied and bizarre. As usual.
 
This is actually the origin word for acid. It showed up in the early seventeenth century and meant vinegar-tasting, while an acid, like in chemistry, didn’t show up until the late seventeenth century, and its definition was refined over the next century as more about chemistry was refined. It’s from either the French acide or classical Latin acidus, which means acid, sour, or sharp. And yeah, that figurative sense of a biting smell is why it’s from the PIE word for sharp.
 
Speaking of biting, there’s also acerbic, another word I enjoy using. It didn’t show up until 1865, so remember that for your Civil War fics—though acerbity is as old as the late sixteenth century, and once upon a time there was also just acerb. Acerbity is from the French acerbité, from the classical Latin acerbus, bitter. That’s from the Proto Italic akro-po-, with the ak- being from ak- (obviously).
 
Next is acrid, which makes sense being so similar to acid. It showed up in 1712, coming from the classical Latin acer, sharp, and you know that’s related to acerbic. It’s from the Proto Indo European akri-, which of course is from ak-. And there’s acetic, which makes sense considering vinegar has acetic acid in it. It showed up in 1808 from the French acétique, which means… acetic. Anyway, the word comes from the classical Latin acetum, vinegar, from the verb acere, to be bitter, from ak-.
 
Finally today, something slightly different, acrimony. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century meaning sharp or pungent in taste, then morphing to mean figurative bitterness in the early seventeenth century. It’s from the French acrimonie and classical Latin acrimonia, which both mean acrimony, from acer, and thus sharp. So because some things taste sharply, we now say people in a spat are acrimonious.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

September Goals

Another goals post, and only a week late. What do I want to do this month? Well, first let’s look at what I was supposed to do last month.
 
August Goals
1. Actually keep track of my goals this month. I let it slack when I stopped using sticky notes, but now that the evil rounded corners are gone, I can use them again.
Yes, I started keeping track of things. Eventually. Not that there was much to keep track of.
 
2. Finish Book 2. It’s got, like, three more chapters, so this should be easy.
I was able to do this! Book 2 is “complete”. Which is to say done without being totally edited.
 
3. BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Could have used more birthday.
 
Another success. That’s the secret: aim low. Aim so low no one will notice if you fail.
 
September Goals
1. Continue editing the book and promoting the web serial. I am so bad at this.
 
2. Work on something pointless that lets me recharge creatively.
 
3. Figure out what I want to work on next.
 
Still trying to find something that I want to work on. I need an idea that pulls at me. How do you decide what to work on? What do you want to do this September?

It’s A Butt

I just want to show you the best apple I’ve ever seen.

I laughed way too long at this one.

See? They’re getting along. Kind of. When Bluey isn’t leaping down on Peaches, at least.

Bun Sighting!

Saw another bunny outside. Personally, I prefer them to the groundhogs. The bunnies don’t eat my apples.

I have no idea what that is next to the bunny, since if I got any closer, it would have run away. But I was on a school field, so I assume some sort of ball.

No idea what this thing is. I’ve never seen anything like it. It pulled over across the road for a few minutes, then drove off. Weirdly, I saw it drive by the next day, too.

Basket Of Fluff

Peaches refuses to be outdone by some newcomer.

She still sleeps like this all the time. I don’t get it.

Basket of fluff! I don’t know where the actual cat is in there.
 
More pictures next week since I’m not ready to come back yet!

Baby Blue

I have a new friend!!!

She’s so cute. And, as a kitten, very, very pesty. I made the mistake of asking my mom what to call her, and she suggested Bluey, and… the name stuck.

Here she is beating up my socks. Peaches is not thrilled that there is a new baby in the house. She says she’s supposed to be the baby.

Language Of Confusion: Floral, Again

As my birthday is in two days (!), I’m definitely not in the mood to do anything tough. So here’s some more flowers!
 
Lilac
Lilac showed up in the late sixteenth century from the French and Spanish lilac. That in turn was taken from the Turkish leylak, because the plant came to Europe through Turkey. Well, that was an easy one.
 
Lavender
Lavender is much older, having shown up in the fourteenth century from the Anglo French lavender, Old French lavender, and Medieval Latin lavendula, which means lavender. It’s thought to be from the classical Latin lividus, which means bluish or bruised, and is in fact the origin of livid, and that can be traced to the Proto Indo European leue-, to wash. Because even back then people liked washing things with lavender.
 
Iris
Iris also showed up in the late fourteenth century, as the flower before it meant the iris of the eye. It’s from the classical Latin iris, which means rainbow, from the Greek word with the same meaning, which was one of the gods. For the eye, it was considered to be a rainbow of colors, but I never really thought of the plant as being a rainbow. It is pretty though.
 
Petunia
This one is fairly recent, having shown up in 1825—probably because it’s an American plant, and so no one had an English word for it before then. It’s from the Latin Petunia, which is from the French petun, an old word for a tobacco plant. Which is now the word for fart. Really. Actually, petunias are related to tobacco plants, less surprising than the fact that Latin actually took the word from French instead of the other way around!
 
Peony
Finally today, peony comes from the Middle English pyony, which is a mix of the Old English peonie and Old North French pione. Those are from the Late Latin peonia, from the classical Latin paeonia  and Greek paionia. That might be from the god Paieon, the physician of the gods, because peonies were used in medicine.

I’m out for the next week. Expect kitten pictures!!!
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Fordham University
THEOI Greek Mythology

Parking Lots

Parking lots are not garbage cans!

Seriously, why are there always flossing picks?

Language Of Confusion: Feeling Strapped

There are so many weird words related to this one. You’re in for a time.
 
First of all, strap, a band of leather, showed up in the early seventeenth century from Scottish, of all languages. It’s thought to be from the Old French estrop, strap, and before that the classical Latin stroppus, which means strap like part of a slingshot. That’s actually from the Greek strophos, rope, from the verb strephein, to turn, from the Proto Indo European strebh-, to wind or turn. So because rope is twisted/turned, we have strap.
 
And that little word gives us so much weirdness. You know what’s from there? Catastrophe. Seriously! It showed up in the mid sixteenth century meaning a reversal of what’s expected, not meaning a disaster until 1748. It comes from the classical Latin catastropha (a reversal or catastrophe), and Greek katastrophe, disaster or undoing. The kata means down or against, and the rest is from strephein, so a catastrophe is turning against. Somehow that makes sense.
 
And from the same place is of course apostrophe. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century, a bit after catastrophe, from the French apostrophe, (same meaning, obvs), from the Late Latin apostrophus and Greek apostrophos prosoidia, which means apostrophe and literally translates to “the accent of turning away”. Yeah, somehow that meant a mark to show that a letter is missing—like it is being shortened to it’s, the apostrophe shows the missing i. Apo- means off or away from, and the rest is to turn, so an apostrophe is a mark that takes a letter away.
 
All right, how about strobe? It didn’t show up until 1942, but it was short for stroboscope, which showed up in 1896. That’s scope with the Greek strobos, twisting or whirling, which is obviously from strebh-. A strobe is a constantly whirling light! And there’s one more we’re going to look at: streptococcus. Yes, it’s from the same place. It showed up in 1877 as the bacteria genus, with the strepto- used by scientists when they wanted to say “twisted” but wanted to use Latin so they sound academic. It’s from the Greek streptos, twisted, which is from strephein. Fun fact, the cocco- part of the word means berry or seed, which is from kokkos, agranule or seed in Greek. Streptococcus is a twisted granule. And it sucks to come down with it.
 
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
Orbis Latinus

From The Spamfiles

It’s back! Finally, I have some saved up. Either my spam filter is working better or I’m so boring not even the spammers are interested in me.

Honestly, I’m not sure if this is spam or just a warning about how AI steals the work of writers and artists.

This, this is what the previous one was warning about. It wants to automate creativity, the thing that makes people happy, so they can be forced to work a soul-crushing job until they die. Yay.

It’s kind of insulting that the spammers think I need this. Also, why is it specifically to smell better naked? Are people smelling worse than when they have clothes on???

I have won so many toolsets these past few weeks. I don’t know how I got so lucky.

Rajani’s back! And they’re totally a real person and not a spambot!

Language Of Confusion: Stalled, Part II

The second and final part of words descended from the Proto Indo European root stel-, to stand or to put in order. It gave us still and stall, and a bunch of other words you wouldn’t think.
 
First we’re going to look at stole. But not like the past tense of steal, which is totally unrelated. No, like a stole you wear around your neck. It comes from the Old English stole, and before that the classical Latin stola, a robe or vestment. That’s from the Greek stole, which means like a uniform or costume, from the verb stellein, to place, which makes more sense than a garment a priest wears around their neck (the kind of stole women wore wasn’t named until 1889).
 
Next is stolid, which I don’t find surprising. It didn’t show up until the seventeenth century, though stolidity, which I’ve never heard anyone use, showed up in the mid sixteenth century. It comes from the French stolide (same meaning), from the classical Latin stolidus, which means… stupid. That’s from stultus, stupid or foolish, from the Proto Indo European stol-ido-, which is from stel-. Apparently a standing object or place was stupid? And that gave us stolid.
 
Not weird enough? How about apostle? It comes from the Old English apostol, apostle or messenger, from the Late Latin apostolus, Greek apostolos, messenger. The apo- means off or away from (we talked about that only a few weeks ago!), and the rest is stellein, which means to send in this sense. An apostle is someone sent away (with a message). Epistle of course has a very similar origin. It was epistol in Old English, from the Old French epistle/epistre, from the classical Latin epistola, aletter. That’s from the Greek epistole, letter or message, with the prefix here epi-, meaning to. Epistle means to send a message to.
 
Then there’s also pedestal. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the French piédestal and Italian piedistallo. The pie means foot, the di means of, and the rest is from the Old Italian stallo, stall or place. That’s actually probably Germanic in origin, and definitely from stel-. A pedestal is where you place something.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
Dictionary.com
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
Orbis Latinus

Forgot To Mention

This actually happened just two weeks ago when me and my mom were talking to her sister.

My aunt is a scatterbrain, so of course her much more reliable husband is going to inform everyone about the wedding, by phone since it’s not a formal affair. Unless he’s so busy helping to plan it that he, I don’t know, forgets.

Language Of Confusion: Stalled, Part I

There’s a weird number of words related to this one that you wouldn’t think. All are descended from the Proto Indo European root stel-, to stand or to put in order, two meanings you wouldn’t think actually go together but it does kind of make sense.
 
Stall is one of those words with a lot of different definitions, like a physical stall where you sell goods, or stalling someone, an engine getting stalled, and somehow they are all from the same word. The first one to show up was a stall like you would put animals, sometime before something stalling out, which showed up in the mid fifteenth century. It comes from the Middle English stalle, from the Old English steall, a standing place to catch fish. That’s from the Proto Germanic stalli-, which is thought to be from stel-, so a standing place to catch fish became a stall, and that changed into all those other definitions.
 
Plus there are other words related to stall. Did you know stallion is from stall? It showed up in the mid fifteenth century, though it also showed up earlier as staloun, coming from: the Anglo French estaloun, Old French estalon, Frankish stal, Old High German stal (which means stable), and Proto Germanic stol-. And that’s from stel-. Funny how stallions go in stalls, but the words have diverging etymologies. As for install, which you would think would be related, there’s no real evidence of it. Install is Latin in origin, and while Latin might have taken it from a Germanic language, there’s no clear word it came from, including stall’s origin words. I mean, it makes sense and it probably is related, but maybe not???
 
Back to words that are definitely from stel-. Still comes from the Old English stille, which just means still, so no big WTF leaps. That’s from the Proto Germanic stilli-, from the PIE stel-ni-, which is a form of stel-. Straight to the point there.
 
Then there’s stale. Makes sense, stale things stand for too long. It showed up in the fourteenth century meaning… alcohol that stood long enough that it’s now free from dregs. It didn’t mean something old until the mid sixteenth century! And of course it was Shakespeare who started it to mean something that’s gone stale by being laid out for too long. Stale actually comes from the Old French estale, settled or clear, from estal, a fixed position, form the Frankish stal-, Proto Germanic stol-, and so from stel-. If it wasn’t for Shakespeare immortalizing the slang of the time, stale would only have to do with alcohol clearing up! How does this word make less sense now?
 
Finally today, stalk. Like the stalk of a plant, not stalking after someone (that’s thought to be related to steal). A plant stalk showed up in the early fourteenth century, and that’s thought to be from the Middle English stale (I don’t think that’s even related to stale!), and before that the Old English stalu, the wooden part of a tool. It’s from the Proto Germanic stalla-, which is from the PIE stol-no-, from stel-. I really can’t see that one, but somehow it’s supposed to be true.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Fordham University

August Goals

On one hand, how is it already August? On the other, birthday month!!!!! What did I do last 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.
Well, this was an easy one. Doing less work is not a problem for me.
 
2. Update my etymology page. You know what fun this always is.
Ugh, it’s done. Stupid Google screwing up Blogger.
 
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 close! And since I’m writing this in advance, I may have actually reached it! Yay!
 
Not bad, in all, but they were some easy goals.
 
August Goals
1. Actually keep track of my goals this month. I let it slack when I stopped using sticky notes, but now that the evil rounded corners are gone, I can use them again.
 
2. Finish Book 2. It’s got, like, three more chapters, so this should be easy.
 
3. BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
I’m going to get cake! The cake I really love from the good bakery! AHHHHHHHH!
 
I’m very excited.
 
What are you going to do this month?

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.

Language Of Confusion: Vacation, Part III

Last part of words from the Proto Indo European eue-, to leave, abandon, or give out, which gave us vacation, vacate, and somehow want.
 
This week, we’ll start by looking at void. It showed up in the fourteenth century meaning vacant before also meaning to legally void in the mid fifteenth century. It comes from the Anglo French/Old French voide/viude, and before that the classical Latin vocivos, vacant, which is from vacare, the origin word of vacate and a bunch of these other words.
 
Plus there’s also devoid, which weirdly kind of means the same thing as void. It showed up in the fifteenth century, though the word devoided actually existed before that and had the same meaning. It comes from the Middle English devoiden, from the Old French desvidier, with the des- from dis- and meaning away, and the rest from voide. Devoid is to empty away.
 
Avoid showed up in the late fourteenth century as what we know it as, though before that in Middle English it used to mean to empty out. That’s from the Anglo French avoider, from the Old French esvuidier, with the es- actually from ex-, meaning out, and the rest is also from voide. So it means to empty out, and we just changed it to mean staying away from something.
 
Next there’s devastate, though that actually came in the mid sixteenth century while devastation showed up a whole century earlier. It comes from the Medieval Latin devastationem, from the classical Latin verb devastare, which is just to devastate. The de- means completely here, while vastare means to waste, so devastate is to completely waste! And vastare is from the Proto Indo European wasto-, of course from eue-. How sensible! And speaking of waste, it’s pretty old, having shown up in the thirteenth century from the Anglo French/Old North French waster, which just so happens to also be from vastare. Waste and devastate are one and the same.
 
The final word we’re going to look at from eue- is… vaunt. Yes, vaunt, like boasting about something, because boasting is kind of, well, vain. It showed up in the early fifteenth century from the Anglo French vaunter, Old French vanter, Medieval Latin vanitare, and finally the classical Latin vanare, which means something like to say in vain. That happens to be from vanus, the origin word for vain, from the PIE wano­-, which is from eue-. Because vaunting is vain.
 
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
University of Texas at Arlington
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Fordham University

From The Spamfiles

Last one of the month!

No. I’ve never recommended anyone ever.

Sigh. Well, I suppose it’s better than the racist African ones.

With CarShield, your car can take one hit before it gets destroyed! But then you have to let it recharge before you can use it again.

Somewhere out there, someone keeps sending out messages to people about rewards they’ve received and wondering why no one ever responds.

Really, the only new followers I’ve gotten on twitter in months are random women with lots of numbers in their handles. Twitter is now like ninety percent bots.