Word Watch 16, "Ellen"

Again, driven by my thesis topic, I decided to look into the teller of Heathcliff's story in Wuthering Heights, Nelly Dean, or Ellen.
Charlotte Bronte claims that if the reader wants to see a figure who is strong and loyal, a figure of compassion, to look to Ellen Dean. Again, this is one of those things I've looked into that may or may not have an significance in terms of authorial intent, but my result was interesting nonetheless.
According to the OED, Ellen means "strength, courage" and "strength vouchsafed, comfort, grace" and finally, in Old English, "zeal." These definitions fit Nelly Dean perfectly. She has a certain loyalty to those she serves: Cathy Earnshaw Linton (even though she disapproves of Cathy's actions), Healthcliff (even though she doesn't understand and is manipulated by him), and Cathy Linton Heathcliff. She has the strength (possibly the only one) to remain sane and steadfast throughout the entire novel when everyone around her is affected by trauma, grief, sadness, and despair; people die sad, lonely, vengeful deaths, are separated from each other, blackmailed, manipulated. Yet, she alone remains capable of keeping her wits about her through and through. Even to Heathcliff she is a comfort: she lets him see Cathy when she is ill and dying, tries to take care of him--to get him to eat and sleep--and takes pity on him as a child.
Again, whether Emily Bronte chose to name Nelly Nelly, is beyond me. And yet, somehow, whether intentionally or not, it fits perfectly. This reminds me of Harry Potter, where the wand choses the wizard, not the other way around; in this case, maybe the name chose the character, instead of the author choosing the name.

Word Watch 15, "sesquipedalian"

Today in rhetoric, we learned about Herbert Spencer, who thought that simple words were better because they required less energy to be spent in determining their meaning, unless one wants to evoke an emotional response. If an emotional response is in the interest of the speaker, then "sesquipedalian verbiage" is recommended by Mr. Spencer because words with longer syllables give the listener more time to think about them as he or she ingests them. OK.

I realize sesquipedalian verbiage isn't an entirely difficult phrase to figure out--big words, specifically "of many syllables" according to the OED. The entries for sesquipedalia are absolutely delightful. But back on track, a sesquipedal is one 6 1/2 feet tall. Is it ironic that sesquipedalian is six syllables?

What a fun word. Dr. Benkert asked us to use it in a sentence today: "Carl enjoys employing sesquipedalian verbiage; he believes one use of language is to confuse those who don't understand big words." Does this count?

Word Watch 14, "wordmonger"

So, I love The Lord of the Rings. I was looking up words on the OED, and I came across wordmonger. Immediately I thought of Wormtongue's accusing Eomer of "warmongering." I assumed this meant searching needlessly for something against which to defend his people, searching out war. Applying the definition on the OED, this makes sense as originally wordmonger meant "a person who deals in strange, pedantic, or empty words." So a warmonger would be one who deals with empty or meaningless war (even though this is a false accusation made by Wormtongue against Eomer).
Now, wordmonger has come to mean "a person skilled in the use of words." This makes sense, even though it wasn't the original meaning, in the context of Wormtongue's use of the warmongering, as well, as Eomer is a skilled warrior. Wormtongue is annoyed that Eomer notices too much of what he is doing "behind the scenes"--Eomer sees too much of what Wormtongue doesn't want anyone to see--which is the attacks of the goblins bearing the mark of Saruman, Wormtongue's master. In other words, Eomer is too skilled at being a warrior and a defender of his people, and is therefore not falsely accused of being a warmonger.

Cool.

Word Watch 13, "wuther"

I often wonder if we readers read further into a text than what the author ever intended. I know, as an English major, that this is true, but to what extent? In doing my research for my thesis, I came across an article by Steven Vine entitled "The Wuther of the Other in Wuthering Heights." Vine looked into the definition of wuther:
       "According to the OED a 'wuther' (a variant of Scots and dialect English 'whither') can mean 'an
       attack, onset; a smart blow or stroke' (the house, in this sense, is constantly under attack from the
       outside); but it can also mean 'to tremble, shake, quiver,' so that 'wuthering' names 'a quivering
       movement' or 'a tremble' that convulses from within rather than attacks from without" (340).
Vine views Heathcliff, as the other in the novel, as the source of the Heights' wuthering from the inside and the outside. Heathcliff, Vine argues, is both a part of the Earnshaw family and excluded from the Earnshaw family, and so he attacks from within the family and from without.

The argument of Heathcliff as the wuthering force in Wuthering Heights is completely legitimate. And yet, I wonder if Emily Bronte intended it to be thus. Would Wuthering Heights wuther without the force of Heathcliff, or is Heathcliff the sole reason for the onslaught of wuthering? These are among the questions I like to ask as an English major. I wish I could ask her; then again, no matter how she'd answer, the debate would either be squashed or fueled, and I like the speculation.

Word Watch 12, "muggle"--Thank you J.K. Rowling!

How excited was I that the OED had a definition for Ms. Rowling's muggle? Very excited.
Mug is a British colloquial term referring to a "foolish or stupid appearance" or "a stupid or incompetent person." This makes sense, not that muggles are incompetent, but that they are lacking in the area of magical knowledge; they are ignorant. Also, muggins is a British slang for a "fool or simpleton." And, muggill was a slang for a "Beadle." This last definition makes less sense. But this is just further evidence of the brilliance of Harry Potter, and I thought she just made up the word.

Word Watch 11, "masochism"

I know what masochism means; the  OED's definition is "the urge to derive pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from one's own pain or humiliation." But, again, I've wondered who came up with such a word. According to the OED, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch was an Austrian fiction writer in the late 19th century whose stories often involve "sexual pleasure derived from pain." The French masochisme started to come into use in 1896, shortly after Leopold's time.
Ok, so masochism is termed from the author, but what about sadism? Again, I know the definition,  but for convenience, the OED's definition is "enthusiasm for inflicting pain, suffering, or humiliation on others." Also according to tho OED, this term is also from an author. This time it's French writer Count Donatien Alfonse Francois de Sade whose works--similar to Sacher-Masoch--were "infamous for their depictions of sexual cruelty."

Word Watch 10, "tete-a-tete"

I read a lot of British, especially Victorian, literature, and in doing so I often come across the phrase tete a tete. From the contexts and from coming across the phrase so often, I'd gleaned that it meant something like a private or intimate conversation, but I've never understood why. In French tete a tete literally means "head to head." So, quite private, as no one else is privy to the information if it is given in an intimate proximity. This use showed up in the 17th century, but an earlier use from the 16th century, teste a teste means "together in single combat." This is very interesting--I'm glad I chose this phrase.

Word Watch 9, "Which comes first, the chicken or the egg?"

In encountering words, I often wonder which comes first, the verb or the noun. Three words in particular that I looked at are intimate, record, and contact. The first two I looked at were intimate and record. Both, according to the OED timelines, were first used at verbs. I got a little excited, but I should have known better. Contact was first used as a noun. I realize three words is quite a small control standard, but it looks as if both the chicken and the egg came first. There probably is no real standard.

Word Watch 8, "weird"

Weird, as I've always used it, is an adjective; yet the first definition the OED gives is as a noun: "the principle power by which events are predetermined; fate, destiny." The plural form (werdys) refers to the Fates, "the three goddesses supposed to determine the course of human life." Then, there is the verb meaning "to preordain," which comes from the noun. Nowadays we have a slang verb "to weird out" meaning "to induce a sense of discomfort, alienation, strangeness." This definition comes closer to the usual way I use the adjective. As for the adjective, the first entry refers to the Weird Sisters from Macbeth--"Having the power to control the fate or destiny of human beings." It is not until the 3rd and 4th entries that the definitions come close to my original idea of weird--"out of the ordinary."

Word Watch 7, "pupil"

Trying to come up with a word, I wondered about the word pupil--both as a student and the part of the eye. Interestingly enough, WordReference.com points to the relationship between the two. I shouldn't be surprised after all Seth Leher has shared with us. The connection between pupil the student and pupil the part of the eye goes back to the Latin root pupa, meaning "girl doll."Moving into French, pupilla is "girl" and pupillus is boy--both originally meaning orphan or ward. This was not surprising to me as a student is not a far stretch from a ward. What is intriguing is how pupil comes to mean the center of the eye. According to this website, the second meaning comes from "the phenomenon whereby one can see a tiny reflected image of oneself in another person's eye" and it comes from the feminine pupilla.

Word Watch 6, "What's in a Name?, again"

Once again, I turn to Harry Potter for inspiration. In the very first novel, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Ron thinks Draco's name is funny. Of course it's funny; the name Draco is archaic, seems out-dated.

Off hand, I remember hearing or reading that Draco means dragon, or something of the sort. I came across a website that listed the origins of the names of Harry Potter, and this is what was listed for Draco:
First, "Draco is a constellation that looks like a dragon but is a snake." In other words, the constellations acts a big act and talks the big talk, but is nothing but slippery and conniving. This makes sense, looking back through my memories of the novels, Draco is always able to put up a big front because of his father's money and standing with the minister of magic and because of his family's status as a pureblooded wizard. In the first novel, Draco challenges Harry to a duel at midnight, but instead of turning up, he warns the caretaker that students will be out of bed; Draco is always up for getting Harry in trouble. Once his father is caught and imprisoned for being a Death Eater, and in turn is no longer in Voldemort's inner circle, Draco sinks down to less of a bigshot, because he has nothing to back him up.
Next, "In Latin, Draco means 'Dragon.'" Also, "'Draconian' means 'harsh' or 'cruel.'" Again, this relates directly to Draco's treatment to everyone who isn't idolized by him. Through book five, and even into book 6, Draco's treatment of anyone who is not a pureblood is condescending and cruel, whether a teacher, student, or another person. Draco's treatment of Dumbledore is also harsh; he has no respect for Dumbledore. Even to his friends he is condescending; his "friends" are more like followers than anything else.
Draco was also a Greek ruler who over-punished his people for the smallest of crimes. And finally, "In Romanian, 'drac' means 'devil.'" All of the definitions and origins can relate back to the very first about the constellation. Draco seems quite the perfect antagonist for Harry, but in the final novel, he refuses to reveal Harry to the other Death Eaters, and in the sixth novel, he refuses to kill Dumbledore. Draco is no devil, no dragon. He may appear to be so, just as the constellation appear to be a dragon. But Draco, while not entirely harmless, is not so cruel as the front he puts on. His upbringing and the influence of his father, creates a person who is harmful, "cruel" and  "harsh." But once the influence of his father is removed, we see the true Draco--not a saint, but not a devil either.

Word Watch 5, "Cockney Rhyme Slang"

When we were in London (which was nothing short of FABULOUS), our tour guide, Liz, introduced us to Cockney Rhyme Slang. The concept is quite simple for how complex the "language" is: a phrase is designated to a word that rhymes with it, and then the rhyme is discarded. For example, cow and kisses means missus. In this context, if a man were to speak of his wife, or a friend's, he would refer to her as cow instead of the missus. Nowadays, interestingly enough, we use cow as a term for a repulsive woman.

Liz suggested a book to us, The Language of London, if we were interested in learning more cockney rhyme slang. Some examples from the book are:
Jack Sprat -- brat
Jam tart -- sweetheart
Mother's pride -- bride
These three all make sense, if one is familiar with the phrase. However, if one were to hear just sprat, tart, or pride, it is not difficult to see how one unfamiliar with Cockney Rhyme Slang would get confused.
Here is another example from the book:
Jack and Jills -- pills (to do, of course, with going up, or getting "high")

I was completely in love with rhyme slang (as we all were, I think). But especially in the connotation of "cow" is evident how words evolve and change in odd ways as time goes on.

Word Watch 4, "What's in a name?"

"Kaitlin"
I thought it would be interesting to use my name. I know, from the bookmark I once found that sort of spelled my name correctly, that my name means "pure." Kaitlin, however, wasn't spelled Kaitlin, but Caitlyn, Caitlin, Katelyn, or Kaitlyn.
To start off my search, I went to http://www.babynames.com and searched for the closest version I could find. The first one I stumbled across was Kaitlyn. According to Babynames.com, my name means "pure" and it's origin is Irish. Katelyn (also spelled Katelynn) also means "pure," but it's origin is apparently American. Hmmm. Cait again is Irish and again means "pure."Cailyn and Caitlyn also mean "pure" and are also American, according to Babynames.com. I find this difficult to completely put my faith in; how is Cait Irish, and short for Caitlyn, but Caitlyn is American? And yet Caitlin is Irish and also means "pure." We Americans are so creative.

Alright, so there must be a connection somewhere. Next stop? http://babynamesworld.parentsconnect.com. Apparently Kaitlyn is a form of Caitlyn which is a form of Katelyn which is a form of Kathleen, which is Gaelic and also means "pure." This website is fun because each name seems to be a form of another name, and all I had to do was click on the name offered. Kathleen (Gaelic) is apparently a form of Katherine... which is Greek, according to this website, and which also means "pure." The next link was to Aikaterine, also Greek. Oddly enough, the definition was uncertain: "perhaps pure or unsullied." This is where the trail stopped, Aikaterine is a form of itself.

Another website, http://www.meaning-of-names.com, lead me to Catherine, which is French and means "pure or clear."

There are many versions of the name Kaitlin or Catherine. what I've noticed is that no matter the spelling and no matter the language of origin, the meaning and general pronunciation remains the same. Interesting, very interesting. Only one link under Meaning-of-names.com did I find any sort of date; a version of Katherine was used in England from the 3rd Century AD, and came from a Latin Katerina.
Names are curious things indeed.

Word Watch 3, "abracadabra"

The history of this word, abracadabra, is seemingly as mysterious as the usage is magical. According to the OED, there is much speculation and little evidence of several claims of origin. Such an odd word, I rather expected the history to be quite thorough and interesting, including but not limited to a fascinating story of the origin of the word (how does one come up with abracadabra?) and intriguing tales of the word's travels and alterations. Rather, there is much speculation as to whether the origin is Latin or Greek, Thracian or Sumerian, Hebrew or Aramaic. Of course, there are cases for all. For example, the Latin abecedary means "of or according to the alphabet; alphabetic; marked with the alphabet; arranged in alphabetic order." I don't see a direct connection to magic, as a majority of the definitions link somehow to magic or mystery. But, while it's not the earliest usage, one definition of abracadabra is "obscure, nonsensical, mystificatory laguage; mumbo-jumbo, nonsense, gibberish." To me, abracadabra looks like letters put together, letters that are not alphabetical, but mixed up, nonsensical. This seems a stretch, but then again, if one squints, tilts one's head sideways, and blur one's vision, my explanation almost makes sense.

An interesting tidbit I discovered while on the OED website, is that the word abracadabra appeared on amulets. I was already aware of the magical connotation of the word, but that is was written or printed on amulets drew my attention. Abracadabra would be written over and over again, one underneath the previous, always dropping one letter, so to form a triangle:
abracadabra
abracadabr
abracadab
abracada
abracad
abraca (now there is a clearer connection to the Greek "abraxas")
abrac
abra
abr
ab
a
I am not sure if the triangle extended all the way to the single a at the bottom, but that was my understanding.
Interestingly, I am unsure whether the connection is incidental or not, cad is "a familiar spirit." I notice a connection of magic and spirits, though that may be due to my contemporary knowledge of the usage of both words. cad is surrounded by abra, but I was unable to find any meaning for the part-word. The symmetry is interesting to note, as well.

I may attempt more research into this one...

Word Watch 2, "gone"

Forgive me, but when in doubt, I refer back to country music. There is a country song by Chris Cagle called "What Kinda Gone." Interested from the lecture about polysemy and multiple meanings, I decided to give it a go.  I've included a link to the lyrics, because I will only post the refrain:


Well there's gone for good and there's good and gone
And there's gone with a "long" before it
I wish she'd been just a little more clear
Well there's gone for the day and gone for the night
And gone for the rest of your doggone life
Is it a Whiskey night or just a couple beers
I mean what kinda gone are we talking 'bout here


I thought I would give coming up with my own definition a shot: Gone is an adjective describing what once was here, but is no longer. That established, I decided to take a look at the lyrics. I was a tad let down.
"Gone for good" "good and gone" and "long gone" all imply the same meaning--what's gone is not coming back. "Gone for the day" and "gone for the night" are a little more varied--these at least provide some contrast--what's gone is gone for different sets of time. Then "gone for the rest of your doggone life" returns back to the first set of "gone"s. These "gone"s are not varied meanings of the same word; rather, they are different versions of one meaning.
Sorry buddy, no matter how you say it, your implied meaning is that she, what once was present, is no longer. 


From the OED I found a bit more of a creative set of entires: 1. "lost, ruined, undone" 2. "that has departed or passed away" 3. usage (with adverbs) 4. "very inspired or excited; extremely satisfying; excellent" 5. "those who are dead" and finally the slang "one who is dead or undone; something which is doomed or ended"
I like the slang usage. Just like the words that were in the lecture, the progression from literal to figurative is natural (probably because I'm used to such usage). At any rate, it is not the slang term that throws me off, but rather it's the 4th definition of "excited or excellent." That one I may have issues using in the correct context. 

Unfortunately, this time Country wasn't the way to go.
http://www.lyrics.com/what-kinda-gone-lyrics-chris-cagle.html

Word Watch 1, "macker"

macker, n.

At a loss for a place to start, I turned to the Oxford English Dictionary and clicked on “Lost for Words?”.  Three choices were presented to me: zephyr, macker, and pax.

Right from the start, I zeroed in on macker because of the what I have already associated with it. Without even searching for a definition, I have a good old American place to start: McDonald’s. My boyfriend and I have long had a sort of love-hate relationship with McDonald’s. He loves it; I hate it. He and his circle of friends affectionately refer to the joint—and the Big Mac—as “Mackers.” While my boyfriend and his buddies may have a special place for “Mackers” somewhere inside of them, I associate the stale smell of the mog mingling with the dripping smell of grease-lathered food that I inhale as I run by “Mackers” on the city bike path.

An overtly greased, all-American heart-attack factory, however, is far from the entry that the Oxford English Dictionary displays: “A new recruit; a newcomer.” The pronunciation listed in British or Australian (so the “r” at the end is dropped). The subject category is military; the regional category is Australia; and the usage category is slang, coming from another slang term macaroon, also meaning new recruit.

Interesting. While my own experience with the word is far from the original, both terms are slang.