WordsWordsWords

Though I left the regular work world about five years ago, in a way I’ve not really started feeling like I’m self-employed until recently. As an interpreter, I had total choice over which assignments I accepted, as well as where and when. But once those jobs were on my calendar, I had a structure to my week that I would adhere to. Now, as an investigator, I have a long list of things to do and no particular time when they must be done. Many of them are things that I do at home at my desk and computer. I’m finding it a challenge to structure my days in a way that ensures that I make a lot of progress. Intrepid Reader Ben will be happy to hear that returning to blogging is one of the things I hope to use to provide myself with that structure.

I have three items I’ve identified as being vital to giving me a structured day.
– First, every morning when I brush my teeth after breakfast, I’m putting on regular clothes.
– Second, I vow to leave the house at least once each day, even if only for a quick run to the store.
– Third, when I feel the siren song of Netflix, which can pull me in for hours, I intend to sit down and write a blog post instead.

See you here from time to time.

As anyone who lives in this country knows, we’re in the middle of football season. I’m not much of a football fan. That “Proud to be a Badger” bumper sticker I have on my car really refers to a different kind of pride. However, I have to admit I read the Sports Illustrated story recently about the Big-Uglies – the enormous line that is making Wisconsin football a powerhouse these days.

My pleasure in football is principally a vicarious one. I enjoy knowing that The Prof’s never-ending task of grading papers is made easier by watching a little football as she does it. I enjoy bringing her the occasional snack of chips and salsa while she watches. I enjoy asking questions and getting answers from her seemingly endless supply of football knowledge. She’s a lifelong Steelers fan and has the sort of understanding you only have by spending 40 years in study of the game.

In the latest Atlantic magazine, the cover story was “The Shame of College Sports.” It speaks of how college sports became and remains a multibillion-dollar business, and of the exploitation of college athletes within that system. But sure enough, I managed to find an etymology hidden therein.

In the early days of football a century ago. There were few rules, no pads, no helmets, many debilitating injuries, and not a few deaths. The story says that football started taking safety seriously somewhere around the year that they were 27 deaths reported among college football players.

Back then, the play began, and violent havoc ensued, lasting until the guy with the ball finally shouted “Down!” in desperation. Hence, four downs.

Because I’m writing a lot of reports as an investigator, I’ve invested in the Dragon speech recognition software. I have had trouble with tendinitis ever since I was a young adult. As an interpreter, I did very little keyboarding. Now, I may spend multiple hours per day at the computer. The software works great, allows me to write quickly – maybe even more quickly than keyboarding – and my wrists, elbows, and arms are saved from a lot of pain. (And yes, I’m writing this post with Dragon.)

This morning, however, I learned of a major limitation that the software has. In writing an e-mail to a good friend of mine, I tried to use the F word. What came out was definitely not the F word, but the word “talk.” This made me curious, so I opened a document and started swearing. Some of the words came out right, principally those that can also be used in another neutral context (e.g., prick, snatch, etc). Below is a list of words that didn’t come out right. Can you guess which obscenities were transformed into these words through the magic of censored speech recognition?

I suppose this will force me to learn how to spell in Dragon and add words to the dictionary. Things could be worse.

I hope that Dragon doesn’t count among their customers writers of earthy novels or many investigators who try to write verbatim what is said to them by unsavory characters. And now to our list.

shipped
can’t
mother Fokker
acyl
PS
asked Fokker
but Fokker
back at
tips
Boehner
click

I had a Facebook chat today with a high school classmate of mine that included this exchange:
Her: I chopped wood all day and my back is killing me. Getting old is for shit.
Me: Word.
Her: What?

I usually talk about words, but today I’m going to talk about word. Or specifically, this particular use of word.

I knew that the usage sprang out of some sort of cool subculture that I’m not within a thousand miles of being a part of. Using it as a middle age white woman is my attempt at ironic humor. Especially in a context where I’m griping about aches and pains with my friend, what could be less cool?

A little trip to the Urban Dictionary gave me some additional information. It told me that the usage sprang “more or less” out of the hip hop culture. It means something like, “I concur,” “I agree,” or “affirmative.” It can also be used as a question meaning something like, “Really?” A couple of folks said it was a shortened version of either “word is my bond” (I speak the truth) or “word to your mother” (I fully agree with you).

According to the UD, “word to your mother” is said to be a corruption of “word to the mother,” where “mother” referred to the motherland Africa. This use of mother was a popular reference to the continent during the late 1980s Afrocentric movement. The meaning of the phrase, “Give due respect to the motherland from which we came,” was used in the sense of “Keep it real” and likely led to the use of it, and its shortened form word to express agreement.

In any case, the usage lost all cachet when it was adopted by clueless white boys trying to be cool and by middle age white women trying to be funny. Nothing stays cool for long; the dorks always get in on the secret and ruin it.

I learned a new word this morning–callipygian, “having well-shaped buttocks.” From the Greek kalli– (beautiful) + pyge (buttocks). A statue of Aphrodite in Syracuse was thus named, and the word sprang from there.¹

You’ll recognize the “beautiful” root in calligraphy (beautiful writing) and calisthenics (beautiful strength). Many other related but less familiar English words also start with calli-.

It seems wise for me to eschew my usual commentary, omitting the witty remarks I typically supply to describe some personal association I have with the word. I did used to do calligraphy, though, before everyone had a dozen beautiful fonts available right on their desktop. I even made a little money in college putting names on certificates when student organizations gave out recognitions.

So I’ll say nothing, other than to dedicate this post to my friend John over at Nobody Move!, my favorite crime blog. He, more than perhaps anyone I have regular contact with, has a deep appreciation of all things callipygian. And callimastic.
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¹ Online Etymology Dictionary