Monday, July 31, 2006

afoot

This is rather a fun word, I've always thought, indicative of unseen activity that is frequently of a sinister nature. The image the word conveys to me is that of a softened step behind closed doors; "a foot" is all that is perceived, some scant evidence that suggests much more. The singularity of the foot image contributes to the sense of concealment; where one foot is, surely more must be present. Additionally, the initial "a" gives the word a feeling of activity, perhaps because of other verbs it finds itself amplifying: "a-changing," "a-moving," etc. It also imparts a sense of direction, as a boat travels astern, or wind alee. The presumed machinations, then, are endowed with both action and purpose. I admit, with only a slight twinge of shame, that the most likely reason for my fondness for the word is its mention in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, in which the first sign of strange goings-on in a convenience store parking lot prompts the utterance: "Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."

Last week's theme: Last week's weekday words were all Scottish in origin or modern-day use, with the possible exception of "serene," a flaw for which I apologize. "Pet" and "glen" both developed through Scottish Gaelic, while both "haver" and "outwith" are exclusively Scottish still.

But, moving on: "afoot" is the first word for this week's theme. This theme, I promise, will hold true for all five words this week and will be revealed next Monday. Once again, feel free to make a guess, educated or otherwise.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

mercurial

A mercurial temperament is volatile or cunningly shifty. Rather straightforward, but the suggestion of the word, via its collaboration with astrology, is that such a temperament is foretold, fated, unchangeable. Those of such a disposition might as well get used to it, and their acquaintances and loved ones had best not expect change any time soon (says the word). The word lends two other aspects to the disposition. The first is the force and energy of celestial activity; the implication is that the volatility paradoxically follows laws that preclude any possibility of lasting calm. Like an orbiting planet, a mercurial nature will never travel in the same direction for more than a moment. Secondly, by selecting Mercury as the celestial object in question, the word endows the mercurial nature with a heat, a fire, a burning that volatility alone does not require. The mercurial nature is seldom consistent, sometimes choleric, and ultimately unalterable...if the connotation of the word is to be fully accepted.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

submit

This is a frightening word. It speaks of a loss of freedom, but unlike "surrender," "capitulate," or "give up," as a command it is startlingly crisp, casual, nonchalant, almost official. To submit can also be to send a piece of writing, art, or other work for the consideration of another, but is this not a loss of freedom? Is it not to defer to the will of another? Though its common uses are rather humdrum, consideration of the word itself reminds us that we regularly acquiesce to certain things leaving our control. For me, a word's weight is anchored, too heavily perhaps, to its relation to or effect upon the self, and "submit" always denotes a robbery, a loss of some part of that self. Any inactive moment is a submission to time's will to erase you; we can and do debate about time's existence, but strangely we all agree that we have less of it with each passing day. And I have wasted many a moment. Do not submit.

Friday, July 28, 2006

pet

This is a simple word, our shortest yet, but certainly not lacking in connotation. At its most straightforward, it means a kept animal, more specifically an animal that is kept more for companionship or enjoyment than for some more blatantly practical purpose. Though the word has more than one meaning and is more than one part of speech, there is a common thread, that of affection, throughout them all. We all have projects hanging over our heads, but to say "pet project" is to endow a task with an air of enjoyment, to refer to a potentially unnecessary effort one undertakes for pleasure. This thread of affection extends, of course, into the verb form, as in the case of "petting" in both its sexual and more innocent uses. Both imply a communication of affection via the sense of touch, an emotional mindset, a level of understanding. The action says something about the actor, just as pet ownership is an endeavor ventured upon nearly exclusively by folks with a certain mental something, a desire to commune with another kind of being, or on behalf of a child who still sees some wonder in doing so.

EDIT: "Serene" may be an exception to this week's theme, I'm not sure. Ignore it, just in case. So I'm still getting used to the theme thing, sue me. I'll tell you the theme in Monday's entry; in the meantime, feel free to venture a guess, educated or otherwise.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

glen

Few single words immediately bring an idyllic rural scene to mind as well as "glen." It refers to a small valley, and is used most often to describe a place that's quite separated from civilization. The connotation is pleasingly green and soft, and it is perhaps because the combination of these, the seclusion and the pastoral nature, hints at a surrounding natural tableau, that the word is so strangely rich. I associate it with 19th Century English fiction for some reason, Thomas Hardy in particular, though I can't recall any particular instances. Perhaps the appropriateness I saw down to the letter in "serene" is making me force a similar comparison where there isn't one, but it seems to me that the "g" and "n" in today's word are just a touch harsher than the inclusive "le," creating, in some obscure way, a small valley.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

serene

Some words really capture their meaning, and this is one of them. The evenly spaced "e"s; the gentle curvature of the letters; the soft consonants; the very sound of the word, which swings neatly around the "r" into a second syllable that seems to stretch into the distance even after the word has been uttered, as if off to the horizon. Have placidity and ease, contentment and complacency, detachment and relaxation, ever been so aptly encapsulated in text? I find it difficult to recall a rival. It leaves even its corrupted forms - serenity, sereneness, serenely - in the dust, choking on their unwieldly extraneous characters and stifled sophomore syllables.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

outwith

This preposition appeals to me because it is used almost exclusively abstractly, and is altogether rare. It is quite simply (and dully, I suppose) used to describe something that is external to or beyond some boundary or space. "Proust was outwith the realm of the canine's intellect," one might say. I suppose one more reason I like this word is that it is a somewhat spicy alternative to words like "outside," words that some of us write simply because there are only so many ways to say a certain thing in English. It's nice to find a way to liven up a sentence in unexpected areas; some words just grab a reader's attention for a moment. Out with the humdrum, in with the unusual.

EDIT: I just reread this and noticed that I described this word as both "dull" and "spicy" in the same entry. In actuality, the "dull" comment was to compensate somewhat for the embarrassment I felt when I realized how excited I was getting over a single word. As in, "Okay, I'm not suffering under the illusion that the average person who comes across this blog will give a shit about a word." I do like them, though.

Monday, July 24, 2006

haver

This is not the word meaning "one who has," but is pronounced "hay-ver" as many of you likely know. The word, after all, is used in the song "500 Miles," by The Proclaimers, and has been the source of much mystification this side of the Atlantic, even as many of us enjoy the tune. I, too, wondered for years, until curiosity got the better of me and I looked it up. Apparently it's a Scottish word for idle chitchat, or, according to dictionary.com, "to maunder." To haver is to jibber-jabber, to converse without one's mind on the conversation, or at least not caring much about the content. Seldom used in conversation, here in the States at any rate, the word retains a good deal of charm. Slip it into your next colloquial exchange; make reference to your haverin' ways with relish or disdain.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

folderol

Sometimes spelled "falderal," this is another word of which I'm particularly fond. A word, according to the They Might Be Giants song in which I first heard it, that denotes the sort of items you might find buried in the sand at the beach: to knick-knacks, trinkets, trifles. It also applies to nonsense, to trivial babble, spoken or written. It is something small and cheap you might find on someone's mantle, and something a child might say to you in a moment of verbal experimentation. In a similar moment, if I were to invent a word to approximate the meaning of the word "folderol," it would be "insignificencia."

Saturday, July 22, 2006

irony

All right, it's the weekend and I don't feel like writing much, so I'll just gripe a bit about a word that is misused extremely frequently. People use "irony" to describe occurrences that are merely coincidental or strange, when the word in fact signifies some kind of contradiction or any expression that means the opposite of what is technically said. Alanis Morissette's "Ironic," in particular, misuses the word. Very few of the scenarios in that song are genuinely ironic; "Ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife," is the only correct one that I can recall - to have such an excess of silverware but still find one's self unprepared for a steak is somewhat ironic. Perhaps the fact that the song is ostensibly about irony but employs very little of it is meant to be the true irony. That would work. But the song would still suck.

Friday, July 21, 2006

beast

I suppose it's about time for a word I don't like. "Beast" is a word seldom used positively; it nearly always bears the taint of presumed superiority, whether intentional or subconscious. The explicitly derogatory use of the word in reference to a person is the more obviously cruel; not a common insult, the word is usually pointedly chosen for a person one genuinely feels is beneath them, whether hygienically or otherwise. There are always ugly feelings behind it. Then there is the more traditional use of the word, that of reference to members (besides man) of the animal kingdom. The word has a connotation of filth and ignorance behind it that ill-befits any naturally-behaving creature; its bluntness - in meaning and sound - strikes me as an unfair dismissal. To, in a single word, group the whole of the animal population together is to unnecessarily stroke mankind's ego by emphasizing our superiority in those standards of success we ourselves have devised. This offense is committed more in the Bible than anywhere else, perhaps.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

bilge

Like its cousins "balderdash," "poppycock," and "hogwash," this word is certainly past its heyday. It is perhaps because of this that I find it a charming alternative to its more vulgar (if only by convention) modern-day counterparts, but there is more to it than age. "Bilge" has a certain something that its aforementioned relations lack, part of which is an appropriate literal meaning. "Hogwash," admittedly, has a barnyard connotation that befits abuse, but so does our contemporary acquaintance "bullshit." "Bilge" is more sophisticated, with a subtle significance that borders on the arcane. It identifies, for those of you who like me did not know, "the rounded portion of a ship's hull, forming a transition between the bottom and the sides," as well as the accumulated water therein, also known as "bilge water." (Definition courtesy of dictionary.com) This water, as one might imagine, has a tendency to be filthy from stagnation, making "bilge" most appropriate in the face of similarly suffering opinions and ideas. With a single abruptly monosyllabic utterance, you can articulate quite effectively something like the following: "You have clearly not taken the time to consider, let alone reconsider, that antiquated notion! Since it managed, against all odds, to penetrate your thick metallic skull, you have jealously guarded it from the outside world, not allowing it to be changed by contact with the ocean of fresh perspective that surrounds you!"

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

burn

This is a rather beautiful word. It is significant that a word denoting a process of total destruction is also used to describe the state of one who feels passionately about something or someone. Shall we verge on the political and ponder how this link between passion and destruction might relate to the current state of the world? Let's not; we are simply talking about a word. To hear that a person burns is to envy or to pity, depending on whether it is by emotion or flame that they are consumed. One is to live, the other to die. Joan of Arc experienced both as most of us will experience neither, and despite her short life it can be said that she lived more than the vast majority of us. When she was literally burned, it was perhaps a larger death not because of her fame, or because she lost more years, but because she had already been burning figuratively, and so much more brightly.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

bound

Another word with quite differing connotations. To bound is to jump, to move quite freely and quickly, while to be bound is to be physically prevented from movement (bound and gagged), or to be obligated to follow a certain course, whether by force or overwhelming likelihood. (To be bound to fail, for instance.) Then again, when it is said that one is bound for a certain place or object, the usage of the word often gives a sense of freedom or purpose. (To be homeward bound, freedom bound, even hell bound.) Here the meanings overlap, perhaps. To have a purpose is both to positively act and to be held to a goal, possibly against one's will. To be bound is, in any case, to have the will to move, whether it is the fulfilled wish of bounding or being bound for a course, or the thwarted wish that has resulted in one being physically bound. The word as used for one who is fettered is related, certainly, to the use of the word for a limit or boundary; the meanings are basically the same.

Monday, July 17, 2006

bang

This word is a personal favorite, and my preferred slang term for intercourse. It smacks of informality, rarely being found in more serious discourse. Most of us have used it anecdotally, in describing a sound such as that of a car accident or to indicate the mental effect of an event's suddenness. It probably cannot be said to have any specific connotation with regard to sound; it is likely that if all sounds that have been described with it were heard sequentially, there would be little to link them. Except, perhaps, for volume, and this is a rather curious feature of the word as used for sounds: it is a noun that gives only a property of its referent, without defining it. More concrete, and less interesting, is its use for sudden and forceful physical impacts. In other contexts, it is often used as a generic term for an occurrence; hence its use for sexual intercourse, an act often described merely as "doing it." Hence also the "Big Bang," which names the most definitive occurrence of all, if only in theory. Unlike most uses of the word, these two speak for themselves: most other uses require elaboration, or questioning. ("Well, what kind of bang was it?" "How exactly did it sound?") The word has its limitations, it is painfully vague, but we accept it as a matter of course when the occurrence being described is inherently indescribable, as in the origin of the universe or sexual intercourse.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

light

A very simple word about which quite a lot can be said. Poetically, it is knowledge, goodness or even God; its physical tenor sets the superlative standard for speed, but is also of an elusive nature. Despite this, when used in reference to work or literature it is almost condescending, denoting a quality of inconsequentiality or even triflingness. Though a piece of literature maybe praised for shedding light, for it to be light is generally unfavorable, or at least not a compliment. It is, then, a word with a great deal of range, imparting both the supreme and the trivial, both that which is of little importance and that which is of the greatest importance. In the Bible, God creates light before he creates any physical source thereof. Though that text certainly predates the word "light" as we know it, and though I don't particularly believe it, it is worth mentioning; it emphasizes the weight of the concept behind the word, such that it (the concept) often exists quite independently in the mind. Is the word equal to carrying this weight, considering the insignificance it bestows elsewhere?