Thursday, March 14, 2024

Language Of Confusion: Acting!, Part IV

Continuing on our journey of words descended from the Proto Indo European root ag-, to drive, draw out, or move. These ones have a G in them, but not ag-.
 
First, we just did navigate, so I’m not going to go into all the details again, but it showed up in the late sixteenth century, about fifty years after navigation. The navi- is from nau-, the Proto Indo European word for boat, and the rest is from ag-, to drive out or move. To navigate is to drive a boat.
 
Next, for something completely different, is prodigy, which showed up in the mid fifteenth century meaning a portent, not meaning a person until the seventeenth century. It’s from the Old French prodige and classical Latin prodigium, prodigy or portent. The pro- means forth or before, and the -igium is thought to be from agere, to act. “To act before” makes sense for a portent, but it’s a little more confusing when in reference to a person.
 
And there’s ambiguity, which showed up in the fifteenth century, while ambiguous showed up about a century later. Both are from the Old French ambiguite and classical Latin ambiguitatem, which is just ambiguity, from the verb ambigere, to surround. Ambi- is from ambhi-, around, and the rest is from agere, meaning ambiguous is to act around. Okay, this one’s totally lost on me.
 
If you want a word that doesn’t even have an A in it, there’s cogent, which showed up in the mid seventeenth century from the French cogent. That’s from the classical Latin cogentem, compelling, from the verb cogere, to force or literally to drive together. See, the com- means together, and the rest is from agere, which also means to drive. Driving something together makes it cogent. Somehow.
 
Finally today, a very old word: synagogue. It showed up in English in the late twelfth century, from the Old French sinagoge, Late Latin synagogal, and Greek synagoge. The syn- is a prefix that actually means together, and the rest is from agein, to put in motion, from ag-. A synagogue is to drive together, as in an assembly. It’s also not the Hebrew word for synagogue, just the Greek loan-translation of the actual word used. And now it’s the English word for a Jewish house of assembly.
 
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

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Helper

Bluey just appears when there’s a chance to be pesty.
Panel 1, I’m carrying laundry basket into the bedroom, panel 2, I’m bending down to take out the sheets in the laundry basket, Panel 3, I’m draping the sheet over the empty bed, Panel 4, a cat-shaped lump says “Mew?”, and I say, “Okay, where did you even come from?”
She zooms in from the other side of the house just to get in the way.

Thursday, March 7, 2024

Language Of Confusion: Acting!, Part III

Back to the continuing series of words descended from the Proto Indo European root ag-, to drive, draw out, or move. This week… well, they all have A in them, but it’s going to get weird.
 
First, ambassador. Yes, really. It showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French embassator/ambassateor, from the classical Latin ambactus, a vassal. In a shocking twist, that word’s actually from the Celtic ambiactos, a messenger or servant, which is from the Proto Indo European ambhi-, around, and ag-. An ambassador is to move around. I guess the amba- is the around part, so does that mean the ass- is actually from ag-???
 
Similarly, there’s embassy. It showed up in the late sixteenth century actually meaning the position of an ambassador (remember, they also used to spell that with an E), not meaning the place of an ambassador until the mid eighteenth century. It has pretty much the same origin, just from the French embassee, and ultimately the PIE ambi-ag-to, which like with ambassador, is ambhi- + ag-. So yeah, the ass- is the ag-.
 
Speaking of ass—I mean, kind of—there’s assay, which showed up in the fourteenth century as a verb that meant to try and then a noun that meant test of quality. The words come from the Anglo French assai and Late Latin exagium, a weighing. No, I don’t get it. Maybe it will make more sense when we look at its cousin, essay. Yes, that essay. It showed up in the sixteenth century as a noun meaning trial or attempt, and a century earlier as a verb meaning to test. It’s from the French word essai, which means an essay or a test, and it’s also from exagium. That’s from the classical Latin verb exigere, to demand, test, or drive out, with the ex- meaning out [https://www.etymonline.com/word/ex-] and the rest from agere, which we talked about last week and the week before as meaning to act. An essay is… to act out. Why did it come to mean writing? Because much like assaying involves unpolished materials, an essay is supposed to be unpolished writing. Which means all those revisions to essays they made me do in high school were incorrect for the format!
 
Can we make it any weirder? I think so. Axiom showed up in the late fifteenth century, from the French axiome, and classical Latin axioma. That was actually taken from the Greek axioma, which could mean an office, authority, or just an axiom. That’s from axios, worthy, from the Proto Indo European ag-ty-o-, weighty, and that ag- of course is to drive. So it went from weighty, to worthy, to authority, to an axiom. Sure.
 
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
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

March Goals

Okay, somehow it’s March? Already? How did this happen??? That’s just wrong…
 
February Goals
1. Finish my notes for the latest WIP. Most of them so far are “word it better” and “actually describe this”.
Hey, I finished. Twelve hundred notes. I need a drink.
 
2. Start working on my editing notes. We’re at twelve hundred. Hence why I said start.
I was able to start, though my progress was hindered by getting rather sick earlier in the month. Babies are cute, but such germ-spreaders.
 
3. Keep editing my web serial. Only about nine chapters left in part two…
At least this was easy enough. Five chapters before the end!
 
And that was last month. Now for this month…
 
March Goals
1. Finish my editing for the new book. I think I’m down to eight hundred notes left. Eep.
 
2. Get the last chapters of the web serial ready to post.
 
3. Work on something fun that isn’t editing. I definitely need it.
 
It’s March, and spring will be here in a few weeks. What do you want to accomplish?

Thursday, February 29, 2024

Language Of Confusion: Acting!, Part II

Back to looking at words related to act, which are all descended from the Proto Indo European root ag-, to drive, draw out, or move. This week, all the words start with ag-, too.
 
First, agent showed up in the late fifteenth century, initially meaning one who acts, then a natural force that produces something in the mid sixteenth century, and a deputy or representative at the end of the sixteenth century (it didn’t mean a secret agent until 1916!). Agency showed up in the mid sixteenth century, where it meant an active operation, then a mode of producing effect, and then way later in 1861 it meant a place where business is done. Both words are from the classical Latin agentem, from the verb agere, which we talked about last week as being the origin word for act. It kind of seems like agent replaced what actor used to be. And then it came to mean spy. There’s also agenda, which showed up in the mid seventeenth century, which is directly taken from a Latin word. And it also is from agere, which is from ag-.
 
Next is less obvious. Agility showed up in the early fifteenth century, a little before agile. It’s from the Old French agilité, from the classical Latin agilitatem, which is just agility, which is from agilis (agile), and that’s from agere. It does make sense that the word for movement would also give us the word for nimble and quick.
 
Slightly less sensible is agitate, which showed up in the mid sixteenth century, slightly after agitation. Both are from the classical Latin agitare, to drive (forward), which is from agere, and since ag- does mean to drive, I guess I can see it. To drive, to put in motion, to agitate.
 
How about agony? It showed up in the late fourteenth century from the Old French agonie/agoine, and Late Latin agonia. That’s from the Greek ag­­onia, which means agony or anguish, from agon, to struggle, to put in motion, which is from ag-. Kind of a journey, but I guess it makes sense.
 
And related to that is antagonist, which showed up in the late sixteenth century, a few decades after antagonize. It’s from the French antagoniste and Late Latin antagonista, which is from the Greek antagonistes, competitors. That’s from antagonizesthai, to compete, where the anti means against and the rest is from agon. To antagonize is to struggle against. And yeah, protagonist is from the same place. The only difference is the prefix is from proto, which is from the Proto Indo European root per-, which means forward. A protagonist is driving the agony forward.
 
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

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

The Only Reason

My mom didn’t ask, but she really doesn’t need to.
Panel 1, I’m on the phone with my mom and she says, “I signed us up to give blood on Monday!” Panel 2, I say, “Then they’re giving away Girl Scout Cookies again?” and she responds, “Of course. Why else would I do it?”

It was quite crowded. Everyone really wants those cookies.

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Language Of Confusion: Acting!, Part I

This will be yet another simple word with a far reaching etymology. Act showed up in the late fourteenth century as a noun and a century later as a verb, and back then it was just a synonym for to do, not meaning to perform until the sixteenth century. It comes from the classical Latin actus, act, from the verb agere, to act, which is from the Proto Indo European root ag-, to drive, draw out, or move. And that of course is the root of so many other things. But today we’ll just look at the act words.
 
Action for example showed up in the mid fourteenth century spelled accioum. It’s from the Anglo French accioun, Old French accion, which is from the classical Latin actionem, so yes, French changed the spelling, and eventually (in the fifteenth century) English changed it back. Anyway, actionem is the noun version of agere, so no big surprises here. Active is very similar, from the Old French actif and Latin activus. Actor was, during the late fourteenth century, taken straight from the Latin version of the word, actually meaning one who does something or an overseer before firmly meaning a performer. Then there’s actual, another from the early fourteenth century, meaning “pertaining to an action” before it meant something that’s real. It’s from the Old French actuel and Late Latin actualis, which of course is from actus.
 
Next we’ll look at all the prefixed versions of the word. Interact isn’t exactly rocket science, though it didn’t show up until 1805. It’s just act plus inter-, which means between, among, or during. Interacting is acting between. Transact showed up in the late sixteenth century, while transaction was actually a century earlier, from the Old French transaccion, Late Latin transactionem, and verb transigere. It’s a mix of the prefix trans-, across or beyond, and agere, so to transact is to drive across. The not often used intransigent is actually also from here, having shown up in 1874 from the Spanish los intransigentes, those not coming to an agreement, which is what they used to call the “extreme republicans of the 1870s” back in Spain. Could also use that today, but I digress. That word is, back in Latin, a mix of the in- prefix, meaning not, and transigere. Intransigent is to not transact.
 
There’s also counteract, which showed up in the late seventeenth century and is just counter and act. Exact showed up in the sixteenth century, from the Latin exactus and its verb form exigere, to demand. With ex- meaning out, to exact is… to act out? And that somehow went from to demand and became precise.
 
And finally today is to redact. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, meaning to combine into unity. Yes, really. It didn’t start to mean to edit out until 1851! It’s from the classical Latin redactus, reduced, from the verb redigere, to redefine or more literally to drive back. The red- prefix is from re- here, meaning back or again, so to redact is to… act again. I guess they threw the D in their to make it distinct from react, which showed up in the mid seventeenth century and was from the French réaction and Medieval Latin reactionem, from the Latin reagere, to react. So redact and react have been two separate words for a long time, despite being made up of the same elements.
 
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
Orbis Latinus