Language Of Confusion: Ne-, Part I

Yet another small Proto Indo European word that shows up in a bunch of stuff, most of which you can kind of see. But of course there are some weirdos in there.
 
The word that started me down this particular rabbit hole is negative. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, so three hundred years before negate in 1795. It comes from the Anglo French negatif, Old French negatif, and classical Latin negativus, all with roughly the same meaning we use. It’s from the verb negare, to deny, and that is from the Proto Indo European root ne-, which means not. Negative is not.
 
How about a bunch of other words that look similar but have completely different meanings? Take neglect for example. It showed up in the sixteenth century from the classical Latin neglectus, (neglect), from its verb form neglegere (to ignore). The first part is from ne-, so it means not, and legere I looked at not too long ago as the origin of -lect/-log/-leg words and means to collect or gather. To neglect is to not collect or gather. Because you’re ignoring it. Fun fact, somehow negligee is from neglegere, too. We have French to thank for that one, as a negligee was called that because in the eighteenth century it was considered the opposite of the full outfit women wore.
 
Next, negotiate, which showed up in the late sixteenth century from negotiation, which showed up in the early fifteenth century. It’s from the Old French negociacion and classical Latin negotiationem, business. The -otium part literally means ease or leisure, so with ne- meaning not, business is not leisure. I guess that’s why you negotiate it.
 
Then there’s renege, which showed up in the mid sixteenth century, though back then it meant to deny, not meaning to go back on your word until the late eighteenth century. It’s from the Medieval Latin renegare, with the re- prefix thought to just be intensive here, and negare of course meaning to deny. So to renege initially meant when you were really denying something. Renegade is actually from the same word. It showed up in the late sixteenth century actually from the Spanish renegado, which originally referred to a Christian who became a Muslim. The word is from the Medieval Latin renegatus, which is the noun version of renegare. A renegade was originally just someone who started following a different faith. Which of course was a big issue back in the fifteen hundreds.
 
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
Fordham University

Outside Cat

Bluey the cat thinks she wants to go outside.

She’s been inside her entire life, so I’m not surprised she doesn’t really like the outside. She also really doesn’t like the harness.

Language Of Confusion: Ready Or Not

Ready is kind of a weird word. It comes from the Middle English redi and Old English raede or geraede, which means, well, ready. It’s from the Proto Germanic (ga)raitha-, which might just be from the Proto Indo European reidh-, to ride. I mean, I guess you want to be ready if you’re riding something. And I suppose that might not even be its origin.
 
Okay, this is too short on its own, so let’s look at ride just in case they are related after all. It comes from the Middle English riden, which is from the Old English ridan. Straightforward so far. That’s from the Proto Germanic ridan, which is from reidh-, because this word barely changed in the past several thousand years.
 
Unbelievably, road is from here—yes, R-O-A-D, though rode, past tense of ride, is obviously from the same place, too. But road was actually rode in Middle English, then rad in Old English, and before that it was the Proto Germanic raido. And what’s that from? Reidh-. Because you ride on roads.
 
And still we’re not done! Raid showed up in the early fifteenth century, and that is also from the Old English rad, because a raid was a “mounted military expedition”, meaning they were riding. So even if ready isn’t related, we are certain that ride, road, and raid are.
 
What the hell.
 
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

May Goals

Wow, somehow May happened when I wasn’t paying attention. Not thrilled with this. What was I even supposed to do this past month?
 
April Goals
1. Actually take some time to rest and creatively recharge.
Well, this was easy. I got a lot of reading done, so I’m pleased with that.
 
2. Update the etymology page. Ugh.
It’s still a huge pain in the ass and I still can’t get rid of the spaces between the words, but at least it’s done.
 
3. Figure out what I want to work on next. Something old? Something new?
I think I know what I want to work on next. Hopefully I’ll have the motivation to get underway.
 
Not bad, though it’s not like it’s a great burden to read and think about writing. Now for this month…
 
May Goals
1. Start writing something new.
 
2. Edit the web serial and improve it.
 
3. Figure out what I want to do next for my last WIP. It’s not quite ready to be looked at by others, so I want to get it there.
 
That’s what I want for this month. What do you want to do this May?

Language Of Confusion: Armed, Part V

The final part on words descended from the Proto Indo European ar-, to fit together. Now I’m going to have to come up with something new.
 
The first is arthropod—yes, like an insect, spider, or crustacean (one of the reasons I won’t eat them). The word showed up in 1862, though the phylum name Arthropoda showed up in 1849. That’s taken straight from the classical Latin, which literally means those with joined feet. The -poda part means foot and is from the Proto Indo European ped-, while the arthro- is from the Greek, a joint, and that’s from ar-. So because many feet are joined together, we have arthropod.
 
Next somehow is aristocracy, which showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the French aristocracie. That’s from the Late Latin aristocratia, which is from the Greek aristokratia, which just means aristocracy. -Cracy means rule or government, from the Greek Kartos, strength, while aristo- is from aristros, optimal or best. And aristos just happens to be from ar-, though I don’t quite get how best/optimal comes from to fit together.
 
Then there’s alarm, which showed up in the late fourteenth century meaning a call to arms, which then transformed into meaning a warning. It comes from the Old French alarme, which is from the Italian all’arme, short for alle arme, to arms, which is something you’d yell as a warning. The first a in alle means to, then the le is from the Latin ille, the, and arme is from arma, weapons, one of the first words we talked about. At least this one makes sense.
 
You probably wouldn’t think adorn is from there, but it is. It showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French aorner, from the classical Latin adornare, to equip or furnish. The ad- means to, and ornare means to decorate and is from ordo, the origin of order.
 
Inert (of all things) showed up in the mid seventeenth century from the French inerte and classical Latin inertem. The in- means not or opposite of, and the rest is from ars, also known as art. Yes, inert is non-art.
 
Finally, the word I personally find to be the weirdest: harmony. Though harmonizing is fitting melodies together. Anyway, it showed up in the late fourteenth century from the classical Latin harmonia. That’s taken right from the Greek version of the word, which is from harmos, a joint or shoulder, which is from ar-. Harmony, once things literally fitting together, and now music doing so.
 
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
Orbis Latinus