Saturday, September 30, 2006

synesthesia

This is a word I just learned a few days ago, and it refers to a condition in which a sensation is produced in one sense through the stimulus of another. Some with this condition report that letters and numbers have distinct colors, some that certain musical notes induce perception of certain colors, etc. Many have a mental map of numbers that appears in their mind whenever they think about numbers, which the excellent wikipedia article on the subject distinguishes from the standard mental number line. The reason I chose to do this word today is that personification of linguistic entities (letters, words, etc.) is one form of the condition, and I happened to personify the letter "a" in my post on the word "wroth." (Coincidentally, of course. I'm certainly not a synesthete.) According to the article, approximately 1 in 23 have some form of synesthesia and these associations can occur between any two senses or modalities. It makes you wonder what kind of associations, images, and even tastes are produced in those beside us each day by stimuli that inspire in most of us a much blander flavor.

prude

Generally I look at the relevant entries at both dictionary.com and askoxford.com before writing my posts, and with today's word the two provide an interesting pair of perspectives. The latter provides the following definition: "a person who is easily shocked by matters relating to sex or nudity." The former provides: "a person who is excessively proper or modest in speech, conduct, dress, etc." Both entries tie the word back to the French word "prudefemme," essentially meaning a worthy, respectable, chaste woman. Oxford's definition is perhaps the one that holds truest these days; it is more often than not used as an insult when someone is less willing than their peers to discuss or engage in the lewder acts. However, the fact that the word is, as mentioned, also indicative of propriety and worthiness, suggests something about the person who uses "prude" as an insult - specifically, that they are making an effort to be improper and unworthy. It is ironic that people are often ostracized and singled out as "prude" when the singlers out are by definition attempting to break away from some larger idea of conventional code of conduct. Perhaps that code simply no longer exists, and the word is merely a relic of the time when it did, one last way for us all to kid ourselves that we are rebels.

Sidenote: The five words for this week's theme, then, are "fust," "gleed," "wroth," "sooth," and "prude." I mentioned that most of these words are somewhat obsolete; this isn't relevant to the theme. Here's another hint: the words do not fit into the theme by virtue of their definitions or any place you may have seen them. If each one of them meant something completely different, or indeed if none of them had any meaning at all, the theme would still stand.

sooth

You most likely already know today's word; it is both a noun and an adjective, meaning both truth and true. According to dictionary.com, it is also an adjective meaning "soothing, soft, or sweet," and here we have an excellent endorsement for truth as being some miracle balm that will ease all aches and pains. So it may seem suggested, in any case, by the grouping together of such meanings into a single word. I will not become cynical now, and suggest that the truth is not a favorable thing; nor will I suggest that it is not, strictly speaking, the best thing. I believe it is, with very few if any exceptions, the best thing for everyone. I will say, however, that if there is one kind of "goodness" that truth ought not be tied up with, it is pleasure, the removal or easing of pain. The truth, as we all know, hurts. Despite how good it may be for us, despite how much we may need to hear it, the truth is often something we are reluctant to hear if we are looking out for our own comfort, and something we often regret seeking actively. In my opinion, then, "sooth" is wrong to pair pleasure with truth; though individually each is good, more often than not the two stay apart.

wroth

For some reason, this word always invokes in me images of Vikings in full plunder-mode. It's an excellent adjective, denoting the enraged, the wrathful. Like the previous two words, it is rather antiquated; in spite of this, or perhaps because of it, it more bluntly and solidly evokes great rage and power than the more common "wrath," perhaps because it connotes the rage of entire past civilizations through its current obsolescence. Or maybe I simply find the short "o" sound more primal, more animalistic than the short "a" in such a brief word. "Wroth" has a perceptual bulk, a weight upon hitting the ear, that "wrath" seems to lose with some delicacy. I suppose I just find "a" too goody-two-shoed a vowel to handle such bloody fare on its own...if it makes any sense to grant letters any sort of character.

gleed

I do love these strange archaic words; this one's Middle English. A gleed is an ember, a piece of burning or glowing coal. I haven't much to say about it, as its definition is so simple and words this rare don't have much connotation to throw around or discuss. But I really wanted to include it, both because it fits into this week's theme and because it's just a cool word that almost sounds made up. Like "fust," though, it seems just right for its meaning; it's similar to "gleam," but the "d" sound at the end provides a bit of solidity for the referent. The word just sounds like something with a sparkle or a shine, something almost supernatural, with some strange life of its own. Fire is something like this, despite being so commonplace we often fail to appreciate its oddity and beauty.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

fust

Here's a word whose inclusion here is inspired by my recent move into a basement room, and the ensuing odor that has permeated much of my clothing. "Fust" is both a noun indicating a very pungent musty smell, and a verb indicating the process of becoming endowed with such a smell. The word is arcane enough that it itself seems a bit musty, and perhaps it's me, but it also just seems dirty in some way. This may be because few words begin with the "fu" sound, and one immediately expects, upon hearing them, the "ck" that so often follows. "Fust" stops short of this, instead rounding out with a less abrupt "st" that stops short of the filthy and leaves the hearer a bit taken aback by this strange, stagnant word that seems a throwback to a prison cell in the 19th century, or something similar.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

vitriol & venom

These words are for this past weekend, and they clearly have quite a bit in common, but there are some differences I'd like to mention as well. "Vitriol" you might recognize from "vitriolic," a word that is most often used to describe acerbic or caustic tempers; it never occurred to me that the root might correspond to a noun until reading "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle," in which Sherlock Holmes mentions "a vitriol-throwing" among the various crimes inspired by the titular stone. "Vitriol," as it turns out, is another word for sulfuric acid, though according to dictionary.com it also refers to a number of metal sulfates. Both vitriol and venom, then, are dangerous liquids that occur in nature, just as the words that refer to them are both used to describe some malicious behavior or attitude towards another person.

There are differences, however, in connotation. To describe a temper as "vitriolic" is to paint a picture of ill will, certainly, but does not necessitate intent; one can be vitriolic quite against one's will if they have little self-control and circumstances bring it about. "Venomous," on the other hand, denotes a serpentine intention, a sly knowledge of the meaning behind one's actions and a hope that they will harm. This is rather appropriate, considering the fact that vitriol is created through natural processes - it is present in acid rain - while venom is strictly an element of fauna - there is always some kind of brain behind it.

The pre-hiatus theme: Ominously enough, considering what it preceded, the theme of the last week blogged was that each word is linked to "dead" in a popular phrase or title.

Chivalry is dead
The Quick and the Dead
The Grateful Dead
Dead and gone
The Dead Zone

Saturday, September 02, 2006

vociferous

Here's a word that describes loud and chaotic noise, or emitters thereof. "Clamor" is used by dictionary.com to define the word, and regrettably, I find myself unable to do much better. As is true of many words I've discussed, "vociferous" has a particularly appropriate pronunciation for its meaning. Its rhythmic iambs have a curiously accelerating manner of leaving the mouth, as though the word once begun cannot be aborted. Though the consonant sounds complement one another, they require rapid movement of teeth and lips that gives the listener a sense of the aural tumult the word denotes.

Apologetic sidenote: I never anticipated going so long without a post, and I'm certainly not happy about it. I've moved into an apartment where I've had some difficulty connecting to the internet. I promise to give you one entry for each day I missed, in addition to one for each day as it passes. (This post was begun on September 2nd, hence the date.) I know the annoyance of finding that a regularly-visited website has not been updated for weeks; the twinge of stagnation grows each time that last post meets the eyes. My apologies.

Friday, September 01, 2006

zone

Like many words, "zone" refers to an area. However, unlike words such as "district" or "region," it is not widely used for politically-defined areas, but for those defined in geologic or other natural terms. It always reminds me of Sonic the Hedgehog, which was split into zones, like Scrap Brain Zone or Green Hill Zone. The "Z" in the word provides an image of a staggered boundary; without the artificiality of a straight line, the connotation is of a more realistically separated space. Time zones, for instance, despite being delineated by man, are the result of a natural reality - the difference in time of day between longitudes. I tend to define zones as much larger areas than those described as "tracts" or "territories." Perhaps this connotation of size is part of what lends the word an aptitude for use in science fiction.