Thursday, April 26, 2018

Language of Confusion: Endings

I did beginnings, so it’s time to do endings, too. Except for end and conclude, which were both covered at other times.

Close
Close is one of those annoying words with a million definitions and a pronunciation that changes depending on the context. Honestly, I’m just glad that all the different forms are related because I’ve had it up to here with words that randomly sound alike but are completely different. Anyway. Enough rambling. Close as in shut showed up in the thirteenth century, which was a century before close as in near. Both words come from the Old French clos-, the past participle stem of the verb clore, to shut (it took on the connotation of “closing a gap”, hence near). That word is from the classical Latin  clausus, closed, from the verb claudere, to close. That can be traced all the way back to the Proto Indo European klau- which means… hook? What?

Finish
Finish first showed up in the late fourteenth century, from the Old French finiss- the past participle stem (two in a row here) of fenir, to finish. It’s from the classical Latin finire, to limit or end, related to finis, end or boundary. It might be related to figere, the origin word for fix, but it’s definitely related to finite.

Final
Final is of course also related, just with a slightly different origin. It showed up before finish, in the earlyfourteenth century, from the Old French final and Late Latin finalis, concluding or final. And that of course is from finis. Yeah, this one shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.

Cease
Cease showed up in the fourteenth century as cesen, to stop moving/acting. It’s from the Old French cesser, with basically the same meaning, and classical Latin cessare, which is just to stop. That’s from another Proto Indo European word, ked-, which is the origin for pretty much anything with -cess or -cede in it.

Terminate
Terminate showed up in the early fifteenth century from the classical Latin terminatus, terminating. That’s from the verb terminare, which is just to terminate. That one’s obviously related to terminal, which showed up in the mid fifteenth century from the Latin terminalis, the adjective form of terminare.

No great mysteries here. I’m kind of relieved. This one was pretty straight-forward.

Sources

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Spamfiles Classics

Yes, we’re doing this again. I’m just so tired… So much editing

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I have no idea what is going on here. My dog possibly acquired details. Eric’s email address is not legitimate. Stephen help us!

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Like someone with a blog named “Cures For Genital Warts” has the right to tell me to change my title.

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Heh. Firmoo. It’s run by cows!

This is deeply steeped in irony.
Look up irony in the dictionary, and one of the definitions will have a picture of this post.

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Food chemicals. As opposed to all the food non-chemicals, like food that’s made entirely of photons.

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Blood pressure is a myth! Blood has no pressure otherwise it would explode in your bodies! WAKE UP PEOPLE.

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Just Assume I Have A Gigantic Whiteboard

Last week I heated up some leftover spaghetti and put most of it on my plate. There was just a couple of strings left behind when I put the container into the sink. I figured that was okay.

I was wrong.
In all fairness, the donuts, frosting, tomato juice, and celery are all because of Veronica. The last two are all Peaches, though.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Language Of Confusion: Bodies Of Water, Part II

Back for more, are you?

Bay
Bay showed up in the fifteenth century from the Old French baie and Late Latin baia, which might be from the Celtic Iberian (Celtic people who settled in what’s now Spainbahia. And it’s not related to any other usage of the word bay, because why would it be?

Pond
Pond showed up in the thirteenth century, but back then it only meant a fake body of water. Uh, fake in the man-made sense as opposed to naturally occurring (which it did pick up the meaning of later on). It’s actually a variation of the word pound, but not the pound that means weight or money or hit repeatedly. Instead it’s from the one that refers to the place where stray animals go, because that means enclosure and I guess somehow a pond is an enclosure? It’s of “unknown origin” before that, but… yeah. Animal pound and pond are two words I did not expect to be related.

Creek
Creek showed up in the mid fifteenth century as creke, which is an altered form of kryk, which showed up in the thirteenth century. It might be from the Old Norse kriki, corner or nook, with some influence from the Anglo French crique, or hell, it might be related to the word crook (in the sense of being crooked or twisted literally as opposed to figuratively). Well, these words are turning out to be more interesting than expected.

Strait
Strait showed up in the mid fourteenth century, but it didn’t refer to bodies of water until the late fourteenth century. It comes from the Old French estreit/estrait, narrow pass, which is where we get the non-water related strait (as in strait-laced or straitjacket) and is absolutely not related to straight in anyway. Somehow. And strait comes from the classical Latin strictus, narrows, past participle of stringere, bind. And before you ask, strictus is where we get strict but stringere is somehow not where we get string. No, that would make too much sense.

Gulf
Gulf showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French golf (gulf) and Italian golfo, (also gulf). It’s from the Late Latin colfos, which was taken from the Greek kolpos, bay or curved shape (also one of its definitions is sinus). That word can be traced to the Proto Indo European kwelp, arch, curve, or vault. Fun fact: whelm (as in over or underwhelm) is from the same word!

This one was way weirder than last week’s. I think it broke my brain. How are words even real?

Sources
Fordham University [http://www.fordham.edu/]

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Standing Idly By


Time for another game recommendation, because I’m sure I’m a huge influencer in this regard.

Have you heard of idle games? AKA incremental/clickers games? They’re games that you play for a bit to set things up, then leave idle to rack up points or whatever that you then spend to… earn more efficiently. Look, it’s more fun than it sounds.

A month or so ago I found a game called Idle Evolution, which is actually less about evolution and more about collecting atoms, which you can use for a variety of purposes, one of which is making compounds that somehow advance evolution on a planet. Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense scientifically. But still, I had fun with it. I haven’t played anything like it before and it appeals to the chemistry nerd in me.

There are actually two versions of the game, one on Newgrounds, which is basically a beta/scaled down version of the paid (four dollars) Steam version. The Steam one is obviously better as it has added mini-games to make the waiting less boring, and also it’s much, much faster in terms of getting through the game. It takes like fifteen hours of gameplay to get through it in Steam; I haven’t actually finished the browser version because as you progress further it gets sooooo sloooooow. Basically it’s what you want to play if you want to see if you’ll like the full version.

It has some flaws, like things taking forever sometimes and the translation—the creator doesn’t speak English and it shows in places. But it’s worth the four bucks it costs and I love that you’re unlocking a periodic table piece by piece. I hear there’s a sequel as well, but it’s not on Steam unfortunately so I can’t check it out. Oh well.

You played any fun games lately? What do you do when you want to waste time?

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Seriously Shut Up


Three things I hate:
1. Advice I didn’t ask for.
2. Explanations I didn’t ask for.
3. Explanations I didn’t ask for that I already know.
“Why don’t we hang out more?”
“Because you’re always explaining things I didn’t ask about to me in a condescending manner.”
“What? I don’t do that. And really, condescending refers more to—”
“Bye.”

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Language of Confusion: Bodies of Water, Part I

Inspired by run being related to the flow of water last week.

Ocean
Ocean showed up in the late thirteenth century from the Old French ocean and classical Latin  oceanus, ocean. It’s not really surprising to learn that the Romans ripped off the Greeks, as oceanus is from the Greek okeanos, which also just means ocean. Where that word is from no one knows but there is the Greek Titan Oceanus. Who knows how they came up the name for that?

Sea
Sea comes from the Old English sae, which means sea, big shocker. It’s from the Proto Germanic  saiwaz, but there isn’t anything before that. Well, that was a quick one.

Lake
Lake showed up in the early twelfth century from the Old French lack and classical Latin lacus, which meant lake, pond, cistern and other similar words. That can be traced back to the Proto Indo European laku, body of water, and the origin for a lot of other languages’ lake equivalent. Fun fact, there are two other definitions for lake I hadn’t heard of, one meaning “to play” and the other “Deep  red coloring matter”. Neither of them is related to the other lake.

River
River showed up in the early thirteenth century from the Anglo French rivere and Old French riviere. Those words are from the Vulgar Latin riparia, riverbank, from the classical Latin riparia, embankment. Also related to this word are riparian, rift, and riven, which… I’ve heard of riparian, but riven???

That’s it for this week, but there’s plenty more water words to look at. Well, enough for another post anyway. This isn’t going to be another -leg saga. Thankfully.

Sources
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English