If anyone reading this for some reason decides to write this kind of blog--and feel free, you poor misguided fool--here's a little clue that you've hit upon a word you should write about. First, you find yourself thinking about it in the middle of the night, and second, you start finding reasons why you should not post about it. Such reasons are usually ignoble.
I've used the word polemic, of course. Well, at least I've read it, and thought I could use it in a sentence if pressed. Polemic has something to do with argument--or an argument, at any rate. If I said, "I don't mean to be polemical", as I almost did recently, before I thought better of it, I would have meant, something like, I don't mean to be divisive, or maybe argumentative. But as usual, the more I think about it, the less I know. Does polemical really mean what I think it does? And where does it come from?
The thought I had in the middle of the night was: is it related to pole? Could it really be as simple as that? Because before that, I have to admit I hadn't a clue. And maybe I still don't. Let's find out...
Well, my understanding of the word is basically right, but my etymology was, in fact, too easy. Polemic, according to the Free Dictionary, means 'a controversial argument, especially one refuting or attacking a specific position or doctrine'. Okay, so far, so good. But it has nothing to do with poles or polar, all that. It comes from through the French polemique (sorry, can't do the accent marks) from the Greek polemikos, meaning 'hostile', which in turn derives from polemos, war.
Funny, it did cross my mind that it might have something to do with the Greek polis, city, or cit-state, which I'd guess it does. But I discounted that idea.
Hmm, I guess I should apologize when I'm being polemical. Good to know.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Screaming meme!
Meme? No I don't know what the heck it means either, but I've been tagged for one by Peter Rozovsky. This one is called the 4x4.
Not that I don't know what I'm supposed to do: it's kind of like a chain letter, though presumably without the dire consequences that befall anyone who breaks it. But where the word comes from, I don't know. I don't even know how to pronounce it. I've been assuming 'meem', but it could be me-me, which, given the fact that in the blogosphere they seem to be about revealing details of your life that you would otherwise neglect to tell, I can also make a case for. I think, though, that it has something to do with copying or replicating.
A friend at work today, oddly enough, was asking me what a meme was. She had been given an order for a book called something like "Meme: Virus of the Mind". This made me remember that I'd read some article about how everything we think is just a copy of something else. Earworms, those little phrases of popular songs that you can't get out of your mind, are apparently a form of meme.
Anyway. You can stick around or just scroll on down to my findings on this subject. Meanwhile I have an assignment to do:
Four places I'd like to go or things I'd like to do:
The truth about me is that I am really not much of a planner. There are a lot of places, whole continents that I've never even gotten near. But I am very amenable to suggestion, which is how I've gone on most of the major trips in my life. So, in the meantime, let's make this four places I'd happily go again:
1.) Paris
2.) London
3.) Dublin
4.) Bangkok
and four places I, quite shockingly, have never been:
1.) Washington D.C.
2.) Mexico
3.) Canada (except for the Vancouver airport)
4.) Most of the American south, New Orleans being the very recent exception.
Four places I've lived:
1) Santa Monica, California
2) Dublin, California
3) Denver, Colorado
4) Santa Cruz, California
Yeah, you got it right--I am only allowed to live in states beginning with C. Do not ask why.
Four places I've lived in the Santa Cruz area:
1) A condo complex. Highlight: it backed upon Neary Lagoon, which had been fitted in recent memory with a wooden walkway so that anyone could walk through or wheelchair through and see lovely birds and reeds and etc. Once they even grazed goats back there, complete with kids--fantastic.
2)Another condo complex. Highlight: A great park, right outside of my window!...Okay, that was more of a lowlight, as it turns out. If you have ever wondered about the predicability of human nature, just put a child on a great slide. But please don't put her or him on one directly outside of my window.
3)A restyled boarding house near the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Make that The Santa Cruz Boardwalk! I let people think I left because of the screams from the Boardwalk--trust me, this is nothing compared to having a really fun slide outside your bedroom window.
4)A studio off Bay Street, directly on the road to the university. It's good so far. Today was graduation and I left the house this morning to discover that a huge flower stand had blossomed on the neighbors front lawn across the street, and gone by the time I got home from work. Kind of cool, really.
Four places I've been on vacation:
1) Gurnee, Illinois. I must say that my parents, though having traveled much themselves, particularly my mom, did not seem to have a grasp of the idea 'vacation'. So one of the first places that I really thought of as traveling was the ancestral haunts, right off of Lake Michigan. In all truth it was one of the better vacations ever. I had five older girl cousins I had never met, who seemed to have nothing else to occupy their time but entertain their rather shy younger California cousins. I could go on and on about this, but it would bore you.
2) England. First venture abroad. We slept on our friend's floor for an unconscionably long time at her dorm associated with the London School of Economics. It was really a fantastic beginning to travel. Thank you, Mary Ellen.
3)Bangkok. Yes, it was smoggy and crowded and hot. And you had to stop whatever you were doing in honor of the king, which I suppose could get a bit old. But so beautiful! Buddhas and gold plated temples and wonderful food, even from little hibachis out on the street.
4)the Southwest of France. This was one of the most felicitous vacations ever--and, as so often with me, not one I would have forecast as being so. Three middle-aged women and three boys from the ages of fifteen to about eight. But it was great. We stayed in a French chateau, my sister was inspired to cook fantastic things by night and drive us all through the region by day. A wonderful, wonderful place. And at least at that point, the people in that region were not so jaded with Americans as to be anything but polite to us. Even though on some levels, I'm sure we were trying. And thank you, Steph.
Four kinds of meals I like:
1) Going out to breakfast is one of my favorite things. There are lots of great restaurants in Santa Cruz, but I rarely find the time to go to any of them.
2) Dinner parties. I think this can be one of the most perfect configurations of human beings. Five to ten people sitting around a table in a private home, eating and drinking and holding forth. I feel unusually blessed on this score, considering that I am never the hostess. I like to host things, but I am not much of a cook.
3)Coffee and something sweet in the morning, and a decent newspaper, a good book review, or a great book.
4)I'm not really a foodie, but every once in awhile, I do love going out to a really great meal somewhere, preferably with many courses. Just don't ask me what I eat in between times.
Four books or movies that have taken me to places I would not have dreamed of:
1)Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West. We were in Trieste. We might have gone to Rome. We might, in fact, have gone anywhere. But because I was such a huge fan of Rebecca West and in particular of this massive tome, we went into Yugoslavia before it fell apart. Thank you for that, Cicily Fairfield.
2)Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte. We walked the moors on account of this book. It was not my dream, it was my aunt's. I read Wuthering Heights in the youth hostel looking over the Bronte graveyard. Because the mud kept pulling the heels of my shoes off, I was in a pretty foul temper on the entire trek up to the ruin which, as the plaque said, might have been the place that inspired the novel Wuthering Heights. I suppose in retrospect it's obvious that I wouldn't have traded a moment of it. Thank you, Kate, for putting up with me.
3)Angel's Flight, by Michael Connelly. I was reading this book when I was visiting my sister's family in L.A. once. My action-oriented brother-in-law suddenly got it into his head that I should see whereof Connelly was speaking of, so we went to downtown L.A., rode the funicular to the top of Bunker Hill, caught the beautiful building that featured in it and also in Bladerunner, and so on. The funicular failed a few months further on and killed a couple of people, and as far as I know hasn't been opened again. Thank you, Joe and Rudy, for letting me catch the experience in time.
4)I went out to the Martello tower in Sandycove while I was reading Ulysses. I did a lot of other things Joyce related during my stay in Dublin, but this may have been the best. I felt as I did it that it wasn't just for myself. Made me happy to climb up on to that roof. Thank you, Jamie Joyce.
Four works of art before which I have stood (or sat) either in deep relaxation, as close as I get to a meditative state, or with a profound sense of receptiveness:
1)As Peter knows, I could stand in front of anything by Piero della Francesca and feel simultaneously a richer and a humbler person for it.
2)Most operas. The latest being "Le Nozze de Figaro", done as the annual student performance up at UCSC. The words 'student' and 'opera' may make some people cringe, but it is always a wonderful, moving experience. For me, opera is the total package.
3)The Eiffel Tower. I know, I know--what a cliche. But it really is one of the most beautiful structures in the world.
4)Something I have not really stood in deep contemplation of, but would like to--the Ramayana murals at the Emerald Buddha temple in Bangkok. We were on the go, and couldn't really linger, but I would love to have made my way slowly around the walls and picked out all the details.
Four literary, scientific, artistic or political figures from the past whom I'd like to watch at work or meet for dinner and drinks:
You know, I don't think I could. I can't imagine the context. I'd be a sycophant or mum, or I would rise to the occasion and it would still not get me what I would want.
So here are the people I would like to give something back to, if only I could: Rebecca West, Laurens van der Post, Thomas Merton, and any of the Brontes--and that includes Branwell.
Four people I think might take it upon themselves to answer these questions (but I hope they'll do it only if they want to):
Brian O'Rourke
Liam Hoyle
Martha Silano
Gerard Brennan
Oh, yeah--almost forgot. What's a meme? It's a cultural idea or value or piece of information that is passed on between people non-genetically. It's a shortening of the Greek word mimeme (no not MiniMe, though I can't help reading it that way myself), which ultimately derives from mimeisthai, to imitate. It's called a 'meme' to correlate with 'gene'--in theory, anyway, the corresponding transmitter of genetic information.
I knew that there was a 'mimesis' root in all this! But the lack of an 'i' threw me off. Has anyone here read the great Erich Auerbach's Mimesis, by the way?
Not that I don't know what I'm supposed to do: it's kind of like a chain letter, though presumably without the dire consequences that befall anyone who breaks it. But where the word comes from, I don't know. I don't even know how to pronounce it. I've been assuming 'meem', but it could be me-me, which, given the fact that in the blogosphere they seem to be about revealing details of your life that you would otherwise neglect to tell, I can also make a case for. I think, though, that it has something to do with copying or replicating.
A friend at work today, oddly enough, was asking me what a meme was. She had been given an order for a book called something like "Meme: Virus of the Mind". This made me remember that I'd read some article about how everything we think is just a copy of something else. Earworms, those little phrases of popular songs that you can't get out of your mind, are apparently a form of meme.
Anyway. You can stick around or just scroll on down to my findings on this subject. Meanwhile I have an assignment to do:
Four places I'd like to go or things I'd like to do:
The truth about me is that I am really not much of a planner. There are a lot of places, whole continents that I've never even gotten near. But I am very amenable to suggestion, which is how I've gone on most of the major trips in my life. So, in the meantime, let's make this four places I'd happily go again:
1.) Paris
2.) London
3.) Dublin
4.) Bangkok
and four places I, quite shockingly, have never been:
1.) Washington D.C.
2.) Mexico
3.) Canada (except for the Vancouver airport)
4.) Most of the American south, New Orleans being the very recent exception.
Four places I've lived:
1) Santa Monica, California
2) Dublin, California
3) Denver, Colorado
4) Santa Cruz, California
Yeah, you got it right--I am only allowed to live in states beginning with C. Do not ask why.
Four places I've lived in the Santa Cruz area:
1) A condo complex. Highlight: it backed upon Neary Lagoon, which had been fitted in recent memory with a wooden walkway so that anyone could walk through or wheelchair through and see lovely birds and reeds and etc. Once they even grazed goats back there, complete with kids--fantastic.
2)Another condo complex. Highlight: A great park, right outside of my window!...Okay, that was more of a lowlight, as it turns out. If you have ever wondered about the predicability of human nature, just put a child on a great slide. But please don't put her or him on one directly outside of my window.
3)A restyled boarding house near the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Make that The Santa Cruz Boardwalk! I let people think I left because of the screams from the Boardwalk--trust me, this is nothing compared to having a really fun slide outside your bedroom window.
4)A studio off Bay Street, directly on the road to the university. It's good so far. Today was graduation and I left the house this morning to discover that a huge flower stand had blossomed on the neighbors front lawn across the street, and gone by the time I got home from work. Kind of cool, really.
Four places I've been on vacation:
1) Gurnee, Illinois. I must say that my parents, though having traveled much themselves, particularly my mom, did not seem to have a grasp of the idea 'vacation'. So one of the first places that I really thought of as traveling was the ancestral haunts, right off of Lake Michigan. In all truth it was one of the better vacations ever. I had five older girl cousins I had never met, who seemed to have nothing else to occupy their time but entertain their rather shy younger California cousins. I could go on and on about this, but it would bore you.
2) England. First venture abroad. We slept on our friend's floor for an unconscionably long time at her dorm associated with the London School of Economics. It was really a fantastic beginning to travel. Thank you, Mary Ellen.
3)Bangkok. Yes, it was smoggy and crowded and hot. And you had to stop whatever you were doing in honor of the king, which I suppose could get a bit old. But so beautiful! Buddhas and gold plated temples and wonderful food, even from little hibachis out on the street.
4)the Southwest of France. This was one of the most felicitous vacations ever--and, as so often with me, not one I would have forecast as being so. Three middle-aged women and three boys from the ages of fifteen to about eight. But it was great. We stayed in a French chateau, my sister was inspired to cook fantastic things by night and drive us all through the region by day. A wonderful, wonderful place. And at least at that point, the people in that region were not so jaded with Americans as to be anything but polite to us. Even though on some levels, I'm sure we were trying. And thank you, Steph.
Four kinds of meals I like:
1) Going out to breakfast is one of my favorite things. There are lots of great restaurants in Santa Cruz, but I rarely find the time to go to any of them.
2) Dinner parties. I think this can be one of the most perfect configurations of human beings. Five to ten people sitting around a table in a private home, eating and drinking and holding forth. I feel unusually blessed on this score, considering that I am never the hostess. I like to host things, but I am not much of a cook.
3)Coffee and something sweet in the morning, and a decent newspaper, a good book review, or a great book.
4)I'm not really a foodie, but every once in awhile, I do love going out to a really great meal somewhere, preferably with many courses. Just don't ask me what I eat in between times.
Four books or movies that have taken me to places I would not have dreamed of:
1)Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West. We were in Trieste. We might have gone to Rome. We might, in fact, have gone anywhere. But because I was such a huge fan of Rebecca West and in particular of this massive tome, we went into Yugoslavia before it fell apart. Thank you for that, Cicily Fairfield.
2)Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte. We walked the moors on account of this book. It was not my dream, it was my aunt's. I read Wuthering Heights in the youth hostel looking over the Bronte graveyard. Because the mud kept pulling the heels of my shoes off, I was in a pretty foul temper on the entire trek up to the ruin which, as the plaque said, might have been the place that inspired the novel Wuthering Heights. I suppose in retrospect it's obvious that I wouldn't have traded a moment of it. Thank you, Kate, for putting up with me.
3)Angel's Flight, by Michael Connelly. I was reading this book when I was visiting my sister's family in L.A. once. My action-oriented brother-in-law suddenly got it into his head that I should see whereof Connelly was speaking of, so we went to downtown L.A., rode the funicular to the top of Bunker Hill, caught the beautiful building that featured in it and also in Bladerunner, and so on. The funicular failed a few months further on and killed a couple of people, and as far as I know hasn't been opened again. Thank you, Joe and Rudy, for letting me catch the experience in time.
4)I went out to the Martello tower in Sandycove while I was reading Ulysses. I did a lot of other things Joyce related during my stay in Dublin, but this may have been the best. I felt as I did it that it wasn't just for myself. Made me happy to climb up on to that roof. Thank you, Jamie Joyce.
Four works of art before which I have stood (or sat) either in deep relaxation, as close as I get to a meditative state, or with a profound sense of receptiveness:
1)As Peter knows, I could stand in front of anything by Piero della Francesca and feel simultaneously a richer and a humbler person for it.
2)Most operas. The latest being "Le Nozze de Figaro", done as the annual student performance up at UCSC. The words 'student' and 'opera' may make some people cringe, but it is always a wonderful, moving experience. For me, opera is the total package.
3)The Eiffel Tower. I know, I know--what a cliche. But it really is one of the most beautiful structures in the world.
4)Something I have not really stood in deep contemplation of, but would like to--the Ramayana murals at the Emerald Buddha temple in Bangkok. We were on the go, and couldn't really linger, but I would love to have made my way slowly around the walls and picked out all the details.
Four literary, scientific, artistic or political figures from the past whom I'd like to watch at work or meet for dinner and drinks:
You know, I don't think I could. I can't imagine the context. I'd be a sycophant or mum, or I would rise to the occasion and it would still not get me what I would want.
So here are the people I would like to give something back to, if only I could: Rebecca West, Laurens van der Post, Thomas Merton, and any of the Brontes--and that includes Branwell.
Four people I think might take it upon themselves to answer these questions (but I hope they'll do it only if they want to):
Brian O'Rourke
Liam Hoyle
Martha Silano
Gerard Brennan
Oh, yeah--almost forgot. What's a meme? It's a cultural idea or value or piece of information that is passed on between people non-genetically. It's a shortening of the Greek word mimeme (no not MiniMe, though I can't help reading it that way myself), which ultimately derives from mimeisthai, to imitate. It's called a 'meme' to correlate with 'gene'--in theory, anyway, the corresponding transmitter of genetic information.
I knew that there was a 'mimesis' root in all this! But the lack of an 'i' threw me off. Has anyone here read the great Erich Auerbach's Mimesis, by the way?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
rubric
I'm sure that the one or maybe two people who follow this blog have been living under the impression that I have now pretty much cleared up all that pesky ignorance that plagued me for so long--hence the languors of late. No, my friends, it's far from the case. Outer life with its claims to importance has kept me from posting. There is, in fact, a backlog of ignorance waiting at the floodgates.
Awhile ago, Peter Rozovsky of Detectives Beyond Borders fame suggested that I post about the word 'rubric'. Now just why he assumed I would not know what the word 'rubric' meant, I don't know, but of course it's already obvious here that he was right. 'Under the rubric of' means something like 'under the heading of' or 'under the category of'. In other words you could plug it into a sentence where either of those phrases might fit and get away with it. But, like me, you would probably still be none the wiser as to the actual meaning of rubric.
As this actually came up awhile ago, I've had plenty of time to try and tease out an etymology. But I've failed. The 'ru-' beginning leads me to think of runes, or possibly Rome. and the -ic ending, well, I've got cubic and tunic, oh and tumeric, now that I think of it, and for some reason I again think of Roman transplants. But enough of all my clutching at straws. Let's find out...
Rose, where did you get that red? That's a Kenneth Koch title about teaching poetry to children, by the way. But it's also a clue. I wish I had Sucharita Sarkar's way with fonts, colors and sizes to emphasize both the answer and my embarrassment at not somehow finding the obvious clue in all this--'rub-'.
As in 'ruby'. Ruber is Latin for 'red'.
Rubric does mean heading. And it does sometimes mean also 'class', or 'category'. But the only reason it means these things is because headings and such were at one point, designated in bright red letters--particularly in Christian manuscripts.
'Red letter days' are probably a parallel development, I'm thinking.
Awhile ago, Peter Rozovsky of Detectives Beyond Borders fame suggested that I post about the word 'rubric'. Now just why he assumed I would not know what the word 'rubric' meant, I don't know, but of course it's already obvious here that he was right. 'Under the rubric of' means something like 'under the heading of' or 'under the category of'. In other words you could plug it into a sentence where either of those phrases might fit and get away with it. But, like me, you would probably still be none the wiser as to the actual meaning of rubric.
As this actually came up awhile ago, I've had plenty of time to try and tease out an etymology. But I've failed. The 'ru-' beginning leads me to think of runes, or possibly Rome. and the -ic ending, well, I've got cubic and tunic, oh and tumeric, now that I think of it, and for some reason I again think of Roman transplants. But enough of all my clutching at straws. Let's find out...
Rose, where did you get that red? That's a Kenneth Koch title about teaching poetry to children, by the way. But it's also a clue. I wish I had Sucharita Sarkar's way with fonts, colors and sizes to emphasize both the answer and my embarrassment at not somehow finding the obvious clue in all this--'rub-'.
As in 'ruby'. Ruber is Latin for 'red'.
Rubric does mean heading. And it does sometimes mean also 'class', or 'category'. But the only reason it means these things is because headings and such were at one point, designated in bright red letters--particularly in Christian manuscripts.
'Red letter days' are probably a parallel development, I'm thinking.
Friday, May 1, 2009
fissiparous
This comes, once again, from Adrian McKinty's always enlivening blog, 'The Psychology of Every Day Life'. (I know, I know--you want the link. Just be patient will you?) The review is for Amira Lakhous's excellent novel Clash of Civilizations Over an Elevator in the Piazza Vittorio. The quote is:
"Suspicion falls upon the saintly Amedeo who has gone missing and who seems to be the only one keeping order among the fissiparous residents of the run down block of flats in the otherwise charming Piazza Vittorio."
So of course I have no idea what 'fissiparous' means. If someone had asked me without context, I would have hazarded two guesses as to the meaning--phosphorescent, as in soda, or piscene, as in fishing. As may be evident, I am not that good when it comes to blind guessing.
However, in context I will venture that it means something like 'combative' or 'retaliatory'. What are you all going to throw out there? Not asking you to make public your blind guesses, but think about it for a moment...
Okay. It doesn't mean anything like that. It means 'reproducing by fission' or 'Tending to break up into parts or break away from a main body; factious.'
As there is no reproduction involved in this novel that I can remember, I think we must take the second meaning. I would like to say that that 'p' in fissiparous really threw me. But as 'fission' itself is a mystery to me, even getting it right wouldn't have helped so awfully much.
"Suspicion falls upon the saintly Amedeo who has gone missing and who seems to be the only one keeping order among the fissiparous residents of the run down block of flats in the otherwise charming Piazza Vittorio."
So of course I have no idea what 'fissiparous' means. If someone had asked me without context, I would have hazarded two guesses as to the meaning--phosphorescent, as in soda, or piscene, as in fishing. As may be evident, I am not that good when it comes to blind guessing.
However, in context I will venture that it means something like 'combative' or 'retaliatory'. What are you all going to throw out there? Not asking you to make public your blind guesses, but think about it for a moment...
Okay. It doesn't mean anything like that. It means 'reproducing by fission' or 'Tending to break up into parts or break away from a main body; factious.'
As there is no reproduction involved in this novel that I can remember, I think we must take the second meaning. I would like to say that that 'p' in fissiparous really threw me. But as 'fission' itself is a mystery to me, even getting it right wouldn't have helped so awfully much.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
K Street
There's a small backlog of words I don't know piling up, but I thought it was time to take another tack, and go back to things in general I don't know, such as (see earlier posts), where in the world certain countries lie. Gotta mix it up a little from time to time, don't ya know.
I saw this headline on Slate Magazine tonight: "Obama's Botched War on K Street". Now it would be an easy enough thing to just click the link and find out from context what K Street is. I must assume it is not Wall Street, as that's already an easily understandable symbol, and I'm guessing it has to be in either New York or Washington, DC, but what in the world is it referring to? For one thing, I can't think of any sector of society that Obama is warring right now. The adversarial stance doesn't really seem to be his style. True, he sent the automakers home to retool, but I'd think that the simple word Detroit would have stood in there. The most recent controversy would lead me to think this has something to do with the CIA and the torture memos, so that would mean that K Street lies in Washington. The only other possibility that comes to mind is banking, as opposed to Wall Street, but as far as I an tell, he's been bending over backwards for them, not warring on them, so that is probably not right.
All right, all right. I don't have a clue what city K Street lies in. Time to click that link...
Okay, none of the above. 'K Street' refers to the lobbying sector and is based on a Washington, DC street where many lobbying firms have their offices. The Slate article calls Obama's war--yeah, it sounds familiar now--on lobbyists botched because it doesn't really make a distinction between good lobbyists and bad lobbyists. You can read more abouut both here, if so inclined.
I saw this headline on Slate Magazine tonight: "Obama's Botched War on K Street". Now it would be an easy enough thing to just click the link and find out from context what K Street is. I must assume it is not Wall Street, as that's already an easily understandable symbol, and I'm guessing it has to be in either New York or Washington, DC, but what in the world is it referring to? For one thing, I can't think of any sector of society that Obama is warring right now. The adversarial stance doesn't really seem to be his style. True, he sent the automakers home to retool, but I'd think that the simple word Detroit would have stood in there. The most recent controversy would lead me to think this has something to do with the CIA and the torture memos, so that would mean that K Street lies in Washington. The only other possibility that comes to mind is banking, as opposed to Wall Street, but as far as I an tell, he's been bending over backwards for them, not warring on them, so that is probably not right.
All right, all right. I don't have a clue what city K Street lies in. Time to click that link...
Okay, none of the above. 'K Street' refers to the lobbying sector and is based on a Washington, DC street where many lobbying firms have their offices. The Slate article calls Obama's war--yeah, it sounds familiar now--on lobbyists botched because it doesn't really make a distinction between good lobbyists and bad lobbyists. You can read more abouut both here, if so inclined.
Monday, April 6, 2009
subsume
I've got a couple of other blogs going, and in a perfect world, I would update one of them before I confess even more ignorance than people already know me to have. But the truth is that I would like the misspelled word of my last blog not to be the one to greet me every time I open the page, which I do a lot--not because I am so dazzled by my own writing, but because it's basically the way I see if anything new has popped up on some of the other blogs I follow.
Besides, recognition of ignorance comes on its own timetable, and not mine. In an ideal world--again--I would be so far from ignorant that I would only feel the need to post here about once a year.
Unfortunately, that's not the case.
I was having a conversation with my sister in which she was describing a situation of being overwhelmed or buried or burdened by something, and she asked me if 'consumed' was the word she was looking for. I said, "Maybe 'subsumed'?" So she asked, "Maybe--what does 'subsumed' mean, exactly?" And I said, "Uh..."
Yeah--I knew right away that a blog post was coming on.
Okay, I could probably use 'subsume' semi-accurately in a sentence--or at least interpret it semi-accurately in a sentence. The sub- prefix makes it easy to fake it. There's an 'under' aspect to it. I would probably use it to mean 'buried within', 'overwhelmed' or 'taken over'--as in, "his personality was subsumed in his father's overbearing one". We'll see shortly if I'm right about that. Meanwhile, there is also a more primary ignorance to be dealt with.
It occurred to me that there are a lot of '-sume' words--consume, subsume, resume, presume--and though with the rest I can more accurately define them, I still don't know what that '-sume' is all about. It has got to be some sort of very foundational root, like 'to be' or 'to know', but I can't find the common element. With, under, again, before--all attached to this suffix. So how does it work to make them say what they do?
Time to find out...
Okay--I was probably offering the word inaccurately to my sister, though it might have just squeaked by, depending on what we were actually saying. Probably not, though. "Subsume" means to include, or classify or incorporate something into--or under--a larger group or general principal.
I didn't come close to getting the '-sume' right, either. It comes from the Latin sumere, which means 'to take', among other things. I have to admit that at first, this didn't make things much clearer. But reading through the definitions, I was surprised to see how many idioms using 'to take' have passed into our present day language. So we can make these sort of rough matches: subsume--to take under. Consume--to take in. Resume--to take up again. Presume--to take for granted--or to take ahead of time.
Who knew that 'taking' was so fundamental to our language, and therefore our nature? Oh, sure--you all did. Easy to say that now.
Besides, recognition of ignorance comes on its own timetable, and not mine. In an ideal world--again--I would be so far from ignorant that I would only feel the need to post here about once a year.
Unfortunately, that's not the case.
I was having a conversation with my sister in which she was describing a situation of being overwhelmed or buried or burdened by something, and she asked me if 'consumed' was the word she was looking for. I said, "Maybe 'subsumed'?" So she asked, "Maybe--what does 'subsumed' mean, exactly?" And I said, "Uh..."
Yeah--I knew right away that a blog post was coming on.
Okay, I could probably use 'subsume' semi-accurately in a sentence--or at least interpret it semi-accurately in a sentence. The sub- prefix makes it easy to fake it. There's an 'under' aspect to it. I would probably use it to mean 'buried within', 'overwhelmed' or 'taken over'--as in, "his personality was subsumed in his father's overbearing one". We'll see shortly if I'm right about that. Meanwhile, there is also a more primary ignorance to be dealt with.
It occurred to me that there are a lot of '-sume' words--consume, subsume, resume, presume--and though with the rest I can more accurately define them, I still don't know what that '-sume' is all about. It has got to be some sort of very foundational root, like 'to be' or 'to know', but I can't find the common element. With, under, again, before--all attached to this suffix. So how does it work to make them say what they do?
Time to find out...
Okay--I was probably offering the word inaccurately to my sister, though it might have just squeaked by, depending on what we were actually saying. Probably not, though. "Subsume" means to include, or classify or incorporate something into--or under--a larger group or general principal.
I didn't come close to getting the '-sume' right, either. It comes from the Latin sumere, which means 'to take', among other things. I have to admit that at first, this didn't make things much clearer. But reading through the definitions, I was surprised to see how many idioms using 'to take' have passed into our present day language. So we can make these sort of rough matches: subsume--to take under. Consume--to take in. Resume--to take up again. Presume--to take for granted--or to take ahead of time.
Who knew that 'taking' was so fundamental to our language, and therefore our nature? Oh, sure--you all did. Easy to say that now.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
feduciary???
Am I even spelling this one right? Well, we'll see.
Feduciary is the type of word that I can read in a sentence and probably puzzle out some sort of meaning for from context. It might not be the right meaning, but it works well enough for me to go on to the next sentence. There are a lot of words like this, frankly. Usually, like this one, they belong to a world that I don't have a lot of expertise in, and that I don't always feel obligated to get a whole lot clearer on. This word comes from the world of finance--I think--which is usually enough to make me pass right over it in itself.
I think that as I read, I more or less read 'financial' when I come across the word 'feduciary'. I also associate it with banking, or at least the world of financial institutions. It seems to imply a seriousness and authority about fiscal responsibility, which frankly is a bit laughable after all that's gone down in the last few months, and apparently, years. Well, let's see. And I off on the wrong track here?
Well, as some or all of you will already know, I would have lost the spelling bee on that one. Fiduciary, not feduciary. The funny thing is that I might have had a better understanding of the roots of the word if I'd just spelled it right. Because 'fiduciary' is all about trust, and in fact comes from the Latin word for trust fiducia. 'Fid' would have at least led me to relate it to 'fidelity' or 'faithfulness' rather than some vague associaion with words like 'federal' and 'federated'.
But fed- words will have to be another discussion. Fiduciary means more specifically 'of or related to holding something in trust for another'. Or a person can be a fiduciary, which means to be a person bound to act for another's benefit--in fact, a trustee.
So the financial aspect, though not crucial to the word, is not so far off, as one of the things we do most often hold in trust for another is money in some form. But I would say the meaning is at heart much more legal than financial.
I did find another definition of the word that has nothing to do with the legal or the financial, but obviously springs from the same initial concept. Fiduciary can also mean 'of, relating to or being a system of marking in the field of view of an optical instrument that can be used as a reference point or measuring scale.
So in the otherwise confusing field of view, you make some kind of steady mark that you can find your bearings by.
In other words, something you can trust.
Feduciary is the type of word that I can read in a sentence and probably puzzle out some sort of meaning for from context. It might not be the right meaning, but it works well enough for me to go on to the next sentence. There are a lot of words like this, frankly. Usually, like this one, they belong to a world that I don't have a lot of expertise in, and that I don't always feel obligated to get a whole lot clearer on. This word comes from the world of finance--I think--which is usually enough to make me pass right over it in itself.
I think that as I read, I more or less read 'financial' when I come across the word 'feduciary'. I also associate it with banking, or at least the world of financial institutions. It seems to imply a seriousness and authority about fiscal responsibility, which frankly is a bit laughable after all that's gone down in the last few months, and apparently, years. Well, let's see. And I off on the wrong track here?
Well, as some or all of you will already know, I would have lost the spelling bee on that one. Fiduciary, not feduciary. The funny thing is that I might have had a better understanding of the roots of the word if I'd just spelled it right. Because 'fiduciary' is all about trust, and in fact comes from the Latin word for trust fiducia. 'Fid' would have at least led me to relate it to 'fidelity' or 'faithfulness' rather than some vague associaion with words like 'federal' and 'federated'.
But fed- words will have to be another discussion. Fiduciary means more specifically 'of or related to holding something in trust for another'. Or a person can be a fiduciary, which means to be a person bound to act for another's benefit--in fact, a trustee.
So the financial aspect, though not crucial to the word, is not so far off, as one of the things we do most often hold in trust for another is money in some form. But I would say the meaning is at heart much more legal than financial.
I did find another definition of the word that has nothing to do with the legal or the financial, but obviously springs from the same initial concept. Fiduciary can also mean 'of, relating to or being a system of marking in the field of view of an optical instrument that can be used as a reference point or measuring scale.
So in the otherwise confusing field of view, you make some kind of steady mark that you can find your bearings by.
In other words, something you can trust.
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