Halloween Special!

Well, I guess it's Halloween this week, so y;know, I may as well do a blog with some spooky words. I mean, words can't really be that spooky, but I don't even care. They're great.

This first one, you might recognize. The second one is less common and you probably haven't heard it before. *sips Starbucks and rewraps scarf as I take a picture with my Poloroid while listening to total Indie Music*

Kafkaesque is actually a pretty well-known word. It is a term coined by Frederick Karl, biographer of Franz Kafka, a Czech author. Kafka wrote stories and plays in the early 1900s until he died at age 41.  Kafka's stories would often be set in a dystopian and convoluted scenario.
Karl describes Kafkaesque as "a surreal pattern in which all your control patterns, plans, behavior, all begin to fall to pieces." How I understand this, Kafkaesque is something that is just terrifying beyond belief. Something so unbelievable, yet possible, so there's always that fear and paranoia of something bad happening. I mean, that's just how I perceive it.
Take this comic off to the right, for example. It's a giant bug. And that's pretty terrifying in and of itself. And it feels like it's part of this horrifying story where bad things happen, like ginormous bugs crawling all around and now I'm never going to sleep again...

Now, I'm willing to bet that some people have heard this next word before, but I haven't, and I like it.
Let's move to a scene that does 2 things:
Puts you all in a super spooked mood
and shows why I shouldn't be in the Creative Writing class:

Okay, so you're sitting outside. It's Halloween. You know, pretty dark and all that. There are a couple bats, because those are spooky. Suddenly, you feel a gust of air over your head, and you see a broom. There's a witch. Spooky stuff. You see her fly off, and hear a guffaw come from the same direction...

You're really spooked now, right? You should be. I have goosebumps. I'm scared.
But yeah. Guffaw. Have you heard it? Maybe.

Simply, (and because there's no special story behind it or anything, so anything I write will be simple), a Guffaw is a laugh or a cackle. 
You know how a witch might cackle in the night? Think of that. Except replace the word Cackle with Guffaw.

The problem with me telling you this word is that there is no backstory behind it. It's probably an onomotopoetic word, meaning that it got its name by the sound a Guffaw makes. A kind of "ckhufffffawwwawwawaww" sound.

Gamp and Roscid

I got some nice Autumn-y words for you this evening. They're pretty cool. Sorry if I don't have much information on these. Most of them are really old, so there is not much I know about them or can find online.

Roscid:
Jessie: A Rose mixed with an orchid
Kevin: An Overly Sarcastic Comment
Dad: A repulsive smell of horse manure
Mom: The bright red color of a rooster comb

One of the words I found this week is something that is simultaneously Autumnal and Vernal.  This word, Roscid, means a light rain, a mist, or a dew.  Depending on how well you know Shakespeare, if you have memorized Timon of Athens, you may remember this line: "My words neither aspersed or inspersed with the flore or the rore of eloquence"  But that's not the same word!  Well, yeah. Actually, rore is a brother-word of Roscid, meaning that they come from the same root and mean exactly the same thing. But they're different words.  
These words come from the Latin word ros, which means dew.  Now, have you ever tried this Italian drink called "Rosolio"? Do you care to guess where it comes from?  This drink also comes from Ros-, along with -sol-, meaning Sun. So really, this drink is made from Sun Rays of Dew. Which actually makes perfect sense, considering that it's made from the sundew plant, shown below.


Ros- has no relation to the word Rose.

Gamp: 
Kevin: Underwater Sex
Dad: The Lint found in a dryer
Mom: A gay gallivant

Now, if you read my blog last year, which you probably didn't, you might remember the Victorian Slang post I made. And that would come in handy now, because a Gamp is the same exact thing as a Rain-Napper. Now, if you are unfamiliar with the term, a Gamp is a really old-time (and slightly current) way to say Umbrella.

What a nice sign I found at the
fair this year...

I'm really excited to teach you the history of this word. Because it's 100% wonderful and 100% really quick to describe.
So Charles Dickens, famous author and all that, wrote a book called Martin Chuzzlewit. And in this novel, he described a character; an old woman carrying around a large cloth umbrella. And her name?  Mrs. Gamp. 
So we can all thank Charles Dickens for this great new way to say Umbrella.
By the way, if you want some more words for Umbrella:
In Britain, they often call them Brollies, which is just a variation of Brellie, a shortened version of Umbrella.
And other English Speakers in Europe will often call their umbrellas "Oil-Skins"



I was going to do two more, but I have 3 more assignments to do tonight, so I'll either edit this tomorrow when I get time or do these other two in a couple weeks.

Charrette and Orkusuga

My blog is very wonderful and very relevant to me this week. Please appreciate it.

Charrette:
Ma: The pattern that water makes in dry soil.
Pa: A wet long kiss.
Sis: An antioxidant found in charcoal.
Bro: Extremely fancy carrots.
**************************************
I'm really tired. And I have a lot of work to do. And a lot of homework. And I really don't want to spend time doing my blog right now. I guess I'm just going through a Charrette and will be for a while.
Yeah. A Charrette is a period of lots and lots and lots of difficult work. So I really wasn't kidding when I said that I'm going through a Charrette. 
Oddly enough, the word Charrette comes from 19th century France. And guess the origin of the word. Go ahead. Guess.

Give up?
The word Charrette comes from the word Chariot. "¿And what does the word chariot have to do anything with lots of difficult work?" you ask. Well that is also what I asked myself, and then Google.
It's a great story...
It all began at the Ecole de Beaux Arts in France. There were some sketch-artist professors that had assigned drawings for their students. And then these professors would ride around campus on their chariots searching for their students so that they could collect their assignments. Often, these students would jump on the back of the chariots in order to finish their drawings before they had to turn them in.
So there ya go. That is how we get Charrette from Chariot.

Orkusuga:
Ma: Making music with water.
Pa: A vegetable root used in Indian Cuisine.
Sis: When orca play musical instruments and play the tubas.
Bro: A variety of underwater sea-lettuce that hunt in packs.

*************************************************

Technically, this word describes a person, but I find it usable with a thing, namely homework.

Orkusuga is used to describe a person (or thing) that is energy-sucking, exasperating, exhausting, etc. Except that when it's used for a person, it means "someone who requires so much attention and emotional maintenance that they sap away the energy from the people that offer them help.

Yeah. We all know one. Somebody that, when you try to help them, they just need so much attention that you're just soduifhszdlxiughvlsduixfvgl. You know?

There is literally no background information on Orkusuga. I was so desperate to find something that I actually got to page 3 on Google. That's pretty desperate.

The only info on it that I could find is that it's Icelandic.

Weird Smells???

So any avid reader of my blog may remember that around this time last year, I made a post on Petrichor.  You can find that here.  But if you're lazy and don't want to read it, (which you should read it because it's awesome) Petrichor means the smell of Rain on dry ground. Zeus Blood.

Anyway, so this week, and a year in the future, I am doing the word Incendimus, which means an entirely different thing.  Have you ever made a fire in a metal fireplace after a long summer and the fire just smells SO AMAZING?!  Yeah. That would be Incendimus. 

Incendimus, simply, is the smell of Hot Metal, whether it's a stove, kettle, fireplace, welding, etc.  It's also the smell of, like previously stated, the first fire (in the fireplace) of the cold season.

Personally, I love this smell.  Whenever Fall comes around, the Petrichor and Incendimus just overwhelm me. I love the smell of fall, I guess. The smell of rot and decay of leave is just so... Mmm...

The word Incendimus comes from the Latin roots, Incendimus, meaning Fire, and Mustus, meaning New or Fresh.  And I looked everywhere to find when it was first used, and it turns out, it was created by the same guys who created Petrichor. I.J. Bear and R.G. Thomas, 2 Australian publishers, used this made-up word in an Article in 1965.

*I totally made this word up.Happy October!!!                            

I make this post for the Irony and the Wishful Thinking

I'd like to take a moment to point out that this whole post is in regard to the fires that have devastated California and now this post is just really ironic and odd.
Your three new words this week for you to learn and use from now on are Antediluvian, Stillicide, and Hyetal.

Antediluvian: (adj.)
Mom: Before the age of Copepods
Jessie: Resembling an item from the Elizabethan Era
Dad: A fishing knot
Kimmy: Paranoid that people don't care about your interests
Kevin: Prior to the invention of shampoo.

If you're any good with taking apart words into their roots, you may have already figured out that part of this word, Ante-, comes from the Latin word for "Before."  You might also recognize the term Diluvian, which means "Flood."  And that's true.  You may also know this word if you have read and studied Biblical stories, like that of Noah's Ark.  Yes, Antediluvian means "Before the Deluge," or, in layman's terms, "Before the Flood."
This word is often used to refer to the world before the Great Flood took place. Antediluvian Earth was a planet of grass, trees, animals, sinful humans, more animals, some more vegetation, and a lot of sin-ridden people.  But the word Antediluvian can also be a noun, in reference to any object before the destruction by water.  For example, the dinosaurs, because they were far extinct before the Flood, were Antediluvians.  Humans, at one point, were all Antediluvians. 
Now, all of us... We are all Postediluvians. (Did you like that? I made up my own word!)   We all live after the time of the Great Flood.

Stillicide: (n.)
Mom: The act of killing authors
Jessie: One of those plant killers
Dad: Drinking whiskey and you set the still to the side.
Kimmy: Slang for distilling apple cider
Kevin: Pigeon Murder

You probably saw this word and immediately thought, "Wait! -Icide! I know that root! It comes from the same word as Suicide, Pesticide, etc.!"  There's also a 100% possibility that you were wrong.  Stillicide is a very funny word in that sense. Because it has nothing to do with anything related to killing.  In fact, the word Stillicide is a Latin based word, coming from the roots Stilla and caedere. Stilla refers to a drop of something, mainly water.  Caedere comes from the verb meaning To Fall.  The combination of the two, Stillicide, literally means "Falling Water."  I guess that works as a definition, but the real phrase means something more than that. Let me paint you a picture. Close your eyes. (And read this at the same time):

   You sit in your room waiting for this terrible drought to end. As you look out the window, you see storm clouds a'brewing. You gasp. It starts to bucket down rain as it approaches your house.  You start to hear the pitter-patter of rain on your roof as you watch it trickling down your window. You close your eyes and listen to the rain overflow the gutters.  Yes. Listen to that Stillicide.

Wow. That was refreshing. Think of how calm you are... Now, think about the fact that we unfortunately never use this word. WHY IS THAT?! Is it because we don't have a time to ever use it? Poet Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) would like to disagree. He made an effort to use many uncommon words in his poems. For example, in his beautiful poem Friends Beyond, he writes:

In the muted, measured note 

Of a ripple under archways, or a lone cave’s stillicide

I highly suggest this poem. It's amazing.

Hyetal: (adj.)
Mom: A bone found in the throat
Jessie: Like the screeching noise an old woman makes when her cat is stuck in the tree, like a hyena
Dad: A nymph fly, used in the morning to match the morning hatch.  (3 guesses as to who the fisherman is in the family...)
Kimmy: Hungry for one's own child
Kevin: Fashionably destructive.

Hyetal. Now there's a word I could get used to saying.  Pronounced Hi-ET-al, this word is simply a substitute for the word Rainy. But this word is basically never used!  In fact, the last time it was recorded in the Oxford Dictionary was in 1864. 150 years ago. So there's basically no background information on it...
The word Hyetal comes from the Greek word Huetos or Hyei.  Huetos is the noun, "Rain" while Hyei means "It is raining."  Other words using these roots include a Hyetal Chart, Heitology, and Heitograph. 

Also, if you're looking for another word meaning Rainy, I suggest the word Pluviose. It's a cool word.

Jentacular and Omphaloskepsis

You know, every so often, when I come across words, I'll choose them because they either have a really great definition or they have a wonderful spelling (Or they're fun to say).  This week, both words happen to fit 2 or 3 of those categories: Jentacular and Omphaloskepsis.

Jentacular:  This is a wonderful word that you can believe that I will be using so much more often, now that I know that it exists. But what does it mean?  Well, it doesn't mean any of the following:
Dad: The Jerking of the Lure through the water during fishing
Mom: The opposite of Jocular, so "Morose and downtrodden"
Jessie: Someone who is spectacular, like me, and likes magenta.
My old buddy Matt Gaylord, who I was talking to on Facebook:  A Clog in a certain artery

Okay, so they were pretty wrong.  Because you know what Jentacular means? It means "Of, or relating to, Breakfast."  ISN'T IT USEFUL!?  It provides a nice alternative to breakfast than just the word "breakfasty."  Speaking of Breakfast, do you ever stop and realize that it means to take a Break from a Fasting?  Like, when you sleep, you're basically fasting. (Unless you sleepwalk into the kitchen.)
Anyway, Jentacular comes from the Latin word Jentaculum! Imagine that! It was first recorded in a receipt book by John Murray in 1820. It read, "To Valetudinarians and others, the following method of making coffee for breakfast is earnestly recommended, as a most wholesome and pleasant Jentacular breakfast."  Again. To replace "Breakfasty"

To go along with this word, Prandium can be used instead of the word Lunch, just as Cena can be used as an alternate to Dinner.

Omphaloskepsis:  So this was the word that fits all of the categories. It's fun to pronounce and spell, and it has the best meaning.
Dad: The inability to program in an object-oriented language
Mom: Someone who critiques word blogs.
Jessie: (She only got close because she's heard it before but not all of it:) Being unsure if belly buttons are real or not?
Matt: When ghosts sexually reproduce
Again, not really, except for Jessie.  Now, let's see... What is the simplest way to explain this word?

Wait-- Really? That's actually a thing? Is there actually a word for contemplating one's navel?
Oh, yes. Yes there is. There's a word for everything.

Now, this word in particular, Omphaloskepsis, It was actually invented by author Aldous Huxley, (Brave New World) in his novel, Those Barren Leaves.  "A word meaning contemplation of the navel, Omphaloskepsis would be of use only to a deipnosophist. It has no more business appearing here than has deipnosophist."  That's it.  It was made by an esteemed author... about studying your belly button.

Omphaloskepsis comes from the Greek roots omphalos-, meaning "Navel, Boss, or Hub," and -skepsis, meaning "To look at, observe"


And that's it. Those are the only two words you need to know this whole week.  Jentacular and Omphaloskepsis. Use them, enjoy them, love them.

What in the name of heck is a Skeuomorph?

Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking.  "Josh, what is this word, and how do I even pronounce it?"  Well that is a very good question.  But just as a brief intermission, care to see what my family said when I asked them what a Skeuomorph is?

Dad: "A dry fly used for bass fishing"
Mom: "Something that twists itself inside out to change its shape."
Jessie: "A shape that is a series of lines that are arrayed."

Okay, so at least Jessie and Mom got the whole "shape" thing right. But oddly enough, Dad gave a really good example of a Skeuomorph.
See, a Skeuomorph is an unnecessary decoration on an object.  For example, the blue dye in jeans.  It doesn't need to be there, because the fabric used for jeans is originally white or tan.  But since we always associate Jeans with Blue, clothing companies unnecessarily use blue dye to make us feel better.

So, why was a Dry Fly a good example of a Skeuomorph?  (I don't know much about fly-fishing, but I do know this much.) The Fly does not have to have the colors it does. Many bass are not color-blind, per se, but they do have a terrible sense for color.  They see more color than dogs, who only see in Black and White, but bass see in very muted shades of colors.  So in this picture, there is no absolute need to have it all these colors.  In this case, it's more of a selling strategy, the company knowing that fishermen will go for the more brightly-colored flies.



The word Skeuomorph comes from the roots skeu-, meaning vessel or implement, and -morph, meaning shape, form, or structure.  The word was first used by Charles Sutton in his Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society, in 1883.  It was not defined in the book, so I don't know how it got the meaning it has today.

You encounter Skeuomorphs every day, without even realizing it.  Think about it-- when you use your cell phone, what does the icon for the Phone/Dialer look like? It most likely looks like a retro, 90's telephone.  And the Mail? It looks like an envelope, even with how hackneyed they are these days.  App developers purposefully create their icons to look like representations of things, even though it's completely unnecessary.

So there you go. Skeuomorph. Use it whenever possible. It's a great word.