unluckyetymology

[unluckyetymology]

I'm going to California with an aching in my heart.

Led Zeppelin, Going to California

Photo taken by me, along the California coast.

My great love, California. Embalm me, consume me, put your lease on my soul.

Gold seeker and keeper, deceive me.

Let me into your flock. Let me watch from afar.

Rot before my eyes, wash away your destruction.

Depollute me.

[unluckyetymology]

I’ve been thinking about old friends. There’s a guy I was best friends with way back in elementary school. That’s almost two decades ago, and so much has happened. I only know he transitioned from social media. I also know that his instagram handle is a nickname I gave him when we were 6. That’s crazy! It’s so strange to love someone who you haven’t seen in years. So many major life events I’m only peripherally aware of. So many I’ve missed entirely. But his impact on me was so immense even in our hazy childhood days—does he even know I still hold on to this loving remnant? Does he hold on to one, too? Love is so fickle but I still love you, M.

Loving a fragmented, halcyon memory is just as powerful as loving in the present. I feel like I'm reaching out into a nostalgic void, yelling for someone who only exists in the past. That's okay, though. I have this love and it is good and warm and purposeless.

[unluckyetymology]

Bookstores always remind me that there are good things in this world.

— Vincent van Gogh

[unluckyetymology]

Briana Boston faces terrorism charges and CEOs are getting free therapy

Briana Boston is a 42 year old mother of three from Florida who is under house arrest for expressing her frustration at her insurance (which she PAYS for) who denied her claim. She owns ZERO guns and doesn't have a criminal record.

She was originally held in prison for $100,000 bail. They have not dropped the charges and she is under house arrest even after widespread backlash.

They are trying to charge her with terrorism. They want her to spend 15 years in prison.

They are calling her a Luigi Mangione copycat. As if she killed someone. She made a indirect, not at all credible threat.

Meanwhile...

I want every woman who has ever faced threats online, stalking, etc to bring this Briana Boston up at every opportunity. Every time you were told by police that there was nothing they could do, know that they not only CAN do something, but they WILL do something, just not for you.

[unluckyetymology]

I was wondering if “drat” had any particular meaning and apparently it’s a clipping of “god rot”, which sounds to me like a pretty intense thing to say to a person. I’d have to be pretty mad at somebody to say “God rot you”

[unluckyetymology]

asked some friends the other day what their “evil majors” would be. aka if they were evil, what would they have majored in. most of them said things that were pretty self explanatory like politics or finance etc, but one of my friends goes without hesitation “psychology.” implications of that are insane and now im scared of her

[unluckyetymology]

Insomnia you cruel bitch. Release me. Foul god who has cursed me with sleeplessness! Let me rest. God fucking damnit. I fall into a doze and rejoice in my slumber only to realize my heart is pounding and I am eternally awake. Fuck this shit.

[unluckyetymology]

Etymology of Pussy

Prepared by tumblr user unlucky etymology.

The word puss is Germanic, and appears nearly all the germanic languages as a call name for a cat.[1] Usage seems to have begun in the 16th century, but spreading much more in the 17th. Examples include Dutch poes; lower German puus, puus-katte, puus-man; Swedish pus, katte-pus; Norwegian puse, puus; Lithuanian puź puiź, Irish and Gaelic pus and, etymology unknown: perh. 

There are a few possible ways the word ended up being both cat and vulva. The more common one seems to be that they both refer to “warm, furry, soft things” which is unpleasant but makes linguistic sense. [2] Alternatively, some posit that there’s a reason for the similarity between “purse” and “puss.” Note that Medieval Latin’s bursa meant “bag, purse” and was used to mean both womb and scrotum. The use of purse in reference to women’s genitalia dates back to the 17th century, particularly in connection to prostitution—money purses to cash earned by using, to put it coarsely, one’s purse.[3] The connection is crude but logical. See figure 1 for clearer demonstration of various meanings. (not cited properly since this is casual, but I took it from Keith Allan’s “Pragmatics”)

You’ll have noticed that puss =/= pussy. The practice of -y to words to make nouns into adjective has existed since the 13th century.[4] The usage that applies here, however, which turns a noun or name into more of a pet name, has only existed since the 15th century, coming from Scottish. It also includes the suffix “-ie,” for example, “dearie” or “Charlie.”[5]

Modern uses of pussy are as follows: women exhibiting characteristics of a cat, an effeminate gay man, a sweet or tender hearted man (the meaning before it became pejorative), a cat (obviously), a rabbit (quite rare now), female genitalia, sexual intercourse (as in getting pussy), women (pejorative), the anus or mouth of homosexual men (pejorative), a kind of game (pussy-wants-in-the-corner. Quite rare, I would guess), colloquial term for soft nursery items, fur garments, and as an adjective meaning catlike. One will note that although some of these are outdated, they all appear in the 20th century. Interestingly, it is only the pejorative forms (pussy as vulva, etc) and the most basic, original form (cat) that truly remain in use—at least in North American modern English.

Figure 1

[1] Allan, Keith. “Pragmatics in Language Change and Lexical Creativity.” SpringerPlus 5, no. 1 (March 17, 2016): 342. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40064-016-1836-y.

[2] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “puss (n.1),” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1202009160.

[3] Samuel Collins Epphata to F.T. or the Defence of the Bishop of Elie Concerning his Answer to Cardinall Bellarmine’s Apologue II.x.441, cited in the OED

[4] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y (suffix1),” March 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1419454720.

[5] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y | -ie (suffix6),” September 2023, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/9569535933.

[unluckyetymology]

Oh, endless tide! Sand down my hard edges and add me to your millions and millions of de-edged pebbles. Make me one of many.

Wish not that the current might sweep you away! For I am so, so alone.

Photos taken by me, tumblr user unlucky etymology. All are of the Russian River in Oregon, USA.

[unluckyetymology]

Gideon Peeks Out of My Nightstand

Reflections on myths, Aristotle, and emptiness.

I've been thinking a lot about creation and loneliness. Only abstractly, really. Aristotle's whole conception of the universe necessarily relies upon the eternality of the species. Isn't that fascinating? The various traits of an animal existed in order to serve a purpose, as opposed to existing by random chance. (Chance, here interpreted as when something does anything other than its purpose. Say I build a stool to be sat on, and then a gust of wind blows it over; the stool falling was by chance.) This means, then, that a dog must always have had sharp teeth because those teeth were always intended to serve the purpose of tearing meat. Dogs cannot have evolved to have this trait because that would require randomness. This is where I find myself confused.

Modern evolutionary biology, as well as ancient, pre-Socratic materialist ideas, are supposedly incompatible with this Aristotle's views. Funny how that works. (Pre-Socratic materialists, by the way, might have thought along these lines: a dog's canines are sharp wholly by chance. Designed for nothing, but what luck that they also serve to rip meat apart!). Now we believe that some random dog ancestor was lucky enough to mutate sharp teeth, and thus this trait survived. So traits do and do not have a purpose, and they are and are not random. An entirely different view of chance.

All this to say: dogs' teeth are, in fact, sharp for the purpose of ripping meat. Simultaneously, they also came into being randomly. How lovely that things can be both random and perfect! On the other, more pessimistic hand, the universe is mechanistic. Of course things are both random and perfect.

How to escape that which is self-inflicted and inherently preordained? Who am I to regret? I've always had difficulty separating self-pity from true, righteous anger. How to tell, how to tell? They feel so similar. I'm so lonely. It's so empty here, in my cold, Stoic universe.

You must imagine being the first dog with sharp teeth. Step back from actually biology--of course dogs were not the animal which first evolved sharp teeth, it was an ancestor. You must imagine. Picture this: you are fitter than your compatriots. How horribly lucky. History and time will literally prove that you are superior; history and time will be rewritten to accommodate you. Is that not fascinating? Your mistaken gene--your cruel mutation--has sent the universe careening in an entirely new direction. Of course, you too shall die. Obviously. Some future dog will have fiercer claws, a cuter face, better vision. These changes, like yours, will set them apart only slightly, but enough. And then they, too, will have rewritten fate.

You are so lonely! It's so empty here, at the top of the dogpile. Oh, careless universe. How to escape that which is inevitable? That endless, inexorable evolution! Surely you feel some sense of arrogance too, you heartless scum. Surely you are proud to be better, to be fitter. Do not be. You, too, are insignificant. You, too, will be replaced.

There were natural philosophers, way back when, who subscribed to the idea of there being many Eves. Nine, I believe. (Please forgive the lack of a cite. I took introduction to biological anthropology many years ago and have forgotten everything I learned.) An Adam and Eve to populate an entire continent! Pressure to perform, indeed. Anyway, when I was much younger and just learning of the most popular book ever written, I had many questions. Mainly about the functionality of it all. (Turns out Cain and Abel had sisters. Dozens, quoth the internet.)

Oh, great incestuous creation myth! How worshipped art thou! Gideon lies in wait, peeking out of my hotel room nightstand.

I love hotels. You do too, surely. A space so impersonal, so practical, so devoid of life. You walk in, treading lightly on stained carpet. Or: you walk in, shoes clicking on cold tile. You set your bag on a vomit green bedspread. Or: you wheel your suitcase into a small kitchenette. Or: you wince at the spreading leak on the ceiling. Or: you pull closed the black-out curtains. Or: you slide the lights on. Or: you yank the chain and a lamp flickers off. Or: you unfold the sofa into a thin mattress. Or: you fall into a king-sized bed. Or, or, or.

A million hotels, a million locations. To think you can go anywhere and find the same things! They all serve the same purpose, they all have the same end, an unchanging telos for a million varying prices.

All this to say: in a thousand million billion years, the dog will be unrecognizable. It will have evolved in some superior, fitter way, or it will have gone extinct. All this to say: hotel rooms will still exist. They do not need us to serve their purpose. All this to say: I am so lonely.

[unluckyetymology]

Photos taken by me, tumblr user unlucky etymology. All from either Paris or Versailles.

[unluckyetymology]

What's the absolute oldest known word for "cat" ??

there's no good way to answer this question in the way it's posed! let's talk about absolute versus relative dating.

an absolute date is one that can be confirmed through physical evidence. for linguistics, this means that a word is recorded in a text of known origin. the date may be determined from archaeological context, through scientific dating measures like carbon-14 for organic materials, or from the text itself if it's also recorded and the calendrical system is understood. if i gave AD 889 as a date, or 1000–950 BC, those would be absolute dates.

a relative date is what happens in most of historical linguistics. because we have a good understanding of the order that certain language changes tend to happen, when comparing a set of related languages, they can be placed in relative order — i.e., we can say that one diverged from their shared ancestor earlier than another.

relative dating is a crucial component of comparative reconstruction in historical linguistics, where related descendant languages' changes are compared to work backwards to what the ultimate ancestor must have been. however, reconstructed words are not typically treated as being "known" to be the exact form, and are always marked with an asterisk in academic literature. we also can't say how "old" these forms may be in absolute terms unless you're playing the glottochronology game which i do not endorse.

what you're probably looking for is the oldest recorded (and thus with an absolute date) word for "cat," which tragically i cannot confirm — but my educated guess is that it'll be egyptian 𓏇𓇋𓅱𓃠 mjw*, considering the time-depth of both their writing system and their domestic relationship with cats.

*apologies to egyptologists if i got this wrong, i'm shakily relying on wikipedia for the form.

[unluckyetymology]

Epithet etymology

Thank you for the ask! I enjoyed this one. I hope you'll feel free to submit more in the future :)

Prepared by tumblr user unluckyetymology. For tumblr user 3sadbats.

My initial reaction to this was, of course, that it’s a loan word from French and therefore Latin in origin. The pronunciation has clearly changed, but the -et ending feels very French to me. Hypothesis thus concluded, let us go forward unto the breach! I look forward to researching.

I began by checking the Oxford English Dictionary, as usual. The first usage listed was in 1579, was spelled “epithite”[1] and used to mean “a significant appellation”[2]. You’ll have noted the different spelling. What stands out to me here is the additional “e,” which all but confirms its French origin. In modern French, -et is pronounced -ay, as in “vacay.” For the “t” to be spoken, the word would’ve been spelled “-ette” or “-ète.” I would venture, then, that the French counterpart of epithet is something like épithète, give or take an accent. (Please forgive the lack of a citation here, since this is speculation and not fact.)

And it turns out I was wrong! This is not a case of French loanwords—though épithète[3] is, in fact, a word—but rather a fantastic example of parallel evolution! The etymon was actually Latin’s “epitheton,”[4] which comes from the Ancient Greek word ἐπίθετον, meaning adjective,[5] which is, in turn, the neuter substantive[6] of ἐπίθετος, meaning additional.[7] This means, then, that both English and French took the word from Latin and separately adapted it to their own linguistic conventions.

Anyway, Greek’s ἐπίθετος (epitithenai) means “to add.” Working backwards, this comes from epi- (meaning “upon”[8]) plus τιθέναι (-tithenai, meaning “to place; see”).[9]

Meaning-wise, I shall return to my dear friend the OED. The most common meaning, as I’m sure you know, is an “adjective indicating some quality or attribute which the speaker or writer regards as characteristic of the person or thing described.”[10] This makes sense, given its Latin meaning and general usage in classics studies—you might recall seeing these all over the Odyssey (and also, somewhat bizarrely, in fanfiction. The blue-orbed girl gazed into the broad-shouldered man’s eyes…).

Thank you again for the submission! I hope this was sufficient.

[1] Gabriel Harvey, Letter-book of Gabriel Harvey (ed. Edward John Long Scott), 1st edition, 1884 (1 vol.). (Camden Society (new ser. vol. 33))

[2] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “epithet (n.), sense 2,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/2988022018.

[3] Dictionnaire de l’Académie Française, “Épithète.” http://www.dictionnaire-academie.fr/article/A9E2302

[4] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “epithet (n.), Etymology,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1078625125.

[5] Mastronarde, Donald J. “O-Declension Nouns; Prepositions I.” In Introduction to Attic Greek, 2nd ed., 23–33. University of California Press, 2013. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/j.ctt24hsfx.8.

[6] Dictionnaire de l’Académie Française, “Épithète.” http://www.dictionnaire-academie.fr/article/A9E2302

[7] Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon. https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0057%3Aentry%3D%2339438&redirect=true

[8] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “epithet (n.), Etymology,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1078625125.

[9] The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, “epithet,” HarperCollins Publishers. https://ahdictionary.com/word/search.html?q=epithet#:~:text=%5BLatin%20epitheton%2C%20from%20Greek%2C,thet%EE%80%9Fi%C2%B7cal%20adj.

[10] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “epithet (n.), sense 1.a,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1736890419.

[unluckyetymology]

Photos taken by me, tumblr user unluckyetymology.

I hung around Florence this summer, studying art history and generally being a nuisance. "Trashy" and "slutty" and "pretentious" are all words which one might use to describe me. I do not deny these charges.

Anyway, pictured here are images from my time there. All are in or around the Galleria degli Uffizi. Top left is Botticelli's Primavera, a work I found to be off-putting and strange--perhaps why the memory of it has stuck with me for so long. Next to it is the view from the top floor of the Uffizi, looking out a window over the city. I remember this day being particularly hot (record breaking? potentially) and I was miserable. A horrible, horrible day, and, god, did I love it.

Bottom left is a view of the Arno, some blocks away from the gallery. Picture this: it is at least 40 degrees out. Tourists swarm the city, dripping sweat and clutching purses tight. Then, emerging like Venus (Botticelli callback!), is a beautiful woman, clad in linen pants and thin lace shirt, swanning about and glistening in the sun. Her arms are strong and tanned, and the notebook in her hand is filled with Eve Babitz-Joan Didion type essays. That is not what happened. And yet! And yet it is how I felt when I took that photo.

The last image is Leda and the swan. This sculpture is a restored Roman piece, one of many copies of Timotheus's original. (I will not be here indulging in its entire citation, although trust that the urge is only barely restrained. I yearn to cite.) I find Leda fascinating and horrifying, the same voyeuristic reasons for which she fascinates everyone else. She was a queen before Jupiter descended upon her, raping and ravaging. Surely it must've been unusual for something so delicate and noble as a swan to rape something so delicate and noble as a queen! Then again, how often are rapists the people we expect them to be?

[unluckyetymology]

[unluckyetymology]

Wait a second: cuckoos are nest parasites. Do "cuckoo" and "cuckold" share a common root?

Huh. Apparently the etymology of "cuckold" is literally something along the lines of "cuckoo-lord".

[unluckyetymology]

Lucky

Prepared by tumblr user unluckyetymology. For tumblr user unluckyetymology.

The word “lucky” was formed within English, derived from luck plus -y. You’ll forgive me not citing this information, since this memo is casual and I consider my previous point obvious.

Luck seems to have come from Middle Dutch luc (which went on to become modern Dutch luk, although OED says that’s now fairly rare). One will note that Middle Low German lücke, another Germanic language, is an etymon but came later than luk. Within Middle Dutch and Middle Low German, there are cognates with prefixes gelucke and gelücke respectively.[1] There’s actually a bit of controversy surrounding the Proto-Germanic ancestor for these words, and of course no one knows what the proto-IE origin might’ve been. (I saw on Wikipedia mention of a relation to lock, but I wouldn’t cite that or recommend anyone go check out the article or put it in the footnotes[2] or take it seriously here on my very, very formal academic research memo. Never.)

So, based on absolutely nothing, meaning-wise I think there’s a possible relation to the word “lock.” Luck as meaning “good fortune” and lock as in “a thing that is decided, closed” might have some connection to do with fate… Found a German site that has it as a loan word from French’s destinée, with some connection to German’s luk-a- as meaning “conclude, decide.” Then the site does some speculation regarding fortune seekers and draws a line between the roots for destinée and luk-a- through Glucksritter then ritter then French adventurier.[3] I find this to be questionable, but it’s interesting

The -y suffix is, of course, Germanic. How embarrassing that would be if we thought it might have Latin roots, like it’s close cousins -ee and -ncy. No, that shall not do for such geniuses as us.[4] The rustic -y originates from the Germanic -iga- and -aga-, which became the old English -ig, then Middle English, then modern English’s -y. One will note that the original -iga/-aga came from Indo-European -qo, making our provincial little suffix something of a cousin to Latin, which took -cu from Indo-European. Hah.[5]

If the urge ever strikes, I may do more on -y. Its etymological relatives appear in quite a few other languages. Good way to kill a rainy day.

Usage-wise, -y is one of our most prolific suffixes. Old English words from the Middle Ages are still used today (i.e. dusty and snowy from dústig[6] and snáwig[7]). We were hella productive in the 14th century—surely you’ve heard such Middle English words as angry, bushy, and naughty. Nowadays word formation with -y is much less interesting and, frankly, trivial. I do not care about the word “hammy” or “mousy.”[8]

Note that the etymology and usage history given here is specifically for -y meaning “having the quality of,” not -y like “thing that is loved” (deary, doggy, etc).

[1] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “luck (n.), Etymology,” September 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/3877387018.

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luck

[3] https://www.wissen.de/wortherkunft/glueck

[4] Sadler, J. D. “Latin-English Hybrids.” The Classical Journal 67, no. 3 (1972): 258–62. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3296601.

[5] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y (suffix1), Etymology,” March 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1144199542.

[6] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “dusty (adj.),” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/5748607475.

[7] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “snowy (adj.), sense 1,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/2176602471.

[8] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y (suffix1),” March 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1419454720.