Summary: Pardon my aboulia of late. It's taken me awhile to decide which direction to go toward with my 'next' blog post. Read on to see what broke the spell—and just what the heck aboulia is, anyway.
On a recent trip to Terry Abner Salon to get my nails done by Jamie Fritze, nail tech extraordinaire, I spotted a book that jumped out at me amid the usual selection of home decor and celebrity gossip magazines. Although its title escapes me today (something along the line of Weird, Wonderful Words), the 1980s font is emblazoned in my mind's eye, along with the physical feeling of joy that overcame my being when I realized I could sit down in the lobby and escape into my favorite subject of all. ... And, well, that's weird and wonderful words.
I didn't get very far into the book before Jamie came to greet me with her usual stylish and sweet look and demeanor, accompanied by the lilting-voiced, "Hi, Kealah." (If you haven't read it yet, that's KEY - la. Think cartoonized singing house key.) But no matter: I only had to read the first entry to find a word I could newly love.
Aboulia (ay - BOO - lee - YAH) – (n.) the absence of willpower or decisiveness; an abnormal lack of ability to act or to make decisions that's characteristic of certain neurotic or psychotic conditions. Typically used as a medical term, the word can be spelled without the O, as in abulia. It hails from the same ancient Greek word that literally means "without will." With an adjective form, aboulic, it's been used in English presumably since the language's dawn.
What are some cognitive challenges that have aboulia as a symptom? They can include depression, mood disorders (bipolar disorder or schizophrenia), addiction/alcoholism, autism, and even ADD, especially when it comes to decision-making.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2012
Showing posts with label word of the week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label word of the week. Show all posts
Feb 6, 2012
Nov 7, 2011
WOW WORD OF THE WEEK: Agita
Summary: If you've ever experienced agita, or serious jitters, over a conversation or presentation, you can tune in to my radio program tomorrow to learn tips for calming your nerves. In the meantime, read the post below to discover the short history of the word agita.
Nod your head if this has ever happened to you: You're about to have a momentous conversation—something that impacts your career or your livelihood in a very important way—and you've rehearsed exactly what you want to say ... but every time you think about the impending moment, your knees get weak, your stomach turns somersaults and your throat closes up like a boa constrictor has your neck. Sound familiar?
That's agita, also known as agitation to most of us, and it isn't pretty. Want to know how to cure it? Tune in tomorrow morning to WVLP-LP FM 98.3 (or listen online anytime, including to the live broadcast) and hear some simple exercises you can do to dispel your nervousness and gain confidence.
Tomorrow's broadcast kicks off a brand new program called "Transformational Radio." Hosted by Randi Light, the show will share ways to better yourself in such important areas of personal growth as finances, health and wellness, personal and professional organization, and of course, communication. In this first episode, healing coach and hypnotherapist Randi and her guests (financial adviser Carey Yukich and communications coach Kealah Parkinson—hey, that's me!) will discuss "Overcoming Fears." I'll share what I know about overcoming your fears of public speaking or speaking with confidence in intimidating conversations, such as with a boss, potential clients, troublesome co-workers or even personal loved ones who just don't seem to know how to listen.
Comment here to have your questions answered on-air—or visit our Facebook events page and leave us a message anytime about this or future episodes.
Think you understand agita? Here's a little more info for the road:
AGITA (A - jih - TUH) – (n.) A feeling of extreme nervousness, agitation or anxiety. It sounds like an old, archaic word, but its first known use in the English language was actually 1982, making it a bit of a baby. As such a new word, not all dictionaries contain it. However, it does have old origins: It comes from the Italian acido, which is literally translated as heartburn or acid. Agita's grandparent is the Latin word for the same, acidus.
Merriam-Webster.com gives a fitting sample usage of the word: "She took a deep breath to dispel her agita as she stepped onstage." Tune in tomorrow to find out what's wrong with that tactic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Nod your head if this has ever happened to you: You're about to have a momentous conversation—something that impacts your career or your livelihood in a very important way—and you've rehearsed exactly what you want to say ... but every time you think about the impending moment, your knees get weak, your stomach turns somersaults and your throat closes up like a boa constrictor has your neck. Sound familiar?
That's agita, also known as agitation to most of us, and it isn't pretty. Want to know how to cure it? Tune in tomorrow morning to WVLP-LP FM 98.3 (or listen online anytime, including to the live broadcast) and hear some simple exercises you can do to dispel your nervousness and gain confidence.
Tomorrow's broadcast kicks off a brand new program called "Transformational Radio." Hosted by Randi Light, the show will share ways to better yourself in such important areas of personal growth as finances, health and wellness, personal and professional organization, and of course, communication. In this first episode, healing coach and hypnotherapist Randi and her guests (financial adviser Carey Yukich and communications coach Kealah Parkinson—hey, that's me!) will discuss "Overcoming Fears." I'll share what I know about overcoming your fears of public speaking or speaking with confidence in intimidating conversations, such as with a boss, potential clients, troublesome co-workers or even personal loved ones who just don't seem to know how to listen.
Comment here to have your questions answered on-air—or visit our Facebook events page and leave us a message anytime about this or future episodes.
Think you understand agita? Here's a little more info for the road:
AGITA (A - jih - TUH) – (n.) A feeling of extreme nervousness, agitation or anxiety. It sounds like an old, archaic word, but its first known use in the English language was actually 1982, making it a bit of a baby. As such a new word, not all dictionaries contain it. However, it does have old origins: It comes from the Italian acido, which is literally translated as heartburn or acid. Agita's grandparent is the Latin word for the same, acidus.
Merriam-Webster.com gives a fitting sample usage of the word: "She took a deep breath to dispel her agita as she stepped onstage." Tune in tomorrow to find out what's wrong with that tactic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Oct 10, 2011
WOW! WORD OF THE WEEK: Carillon
Summary: How is carillon related to clarion? Do these words make beautiful music together? I guess that depends on who's listening ...
Last night, lying in bed and reading, I came across a word that I pretty well figured out by context, but still wanted to look up, because it was new to me. Not only that, it's a word I would categorize as "pretty." After learning the exact meaning, "pretty" really does it justice, I think.
Carillon (KAYR - eh - LON) - (n.) a set of fixed, chromatically tuned bells sounded by hammers that are controlled from a keyboard; also an electronic instrument that imitates the carillon or a musical composition created for the carillon. The etymology of the word carillon is straightforward, but rich—perhaps a little like the instrument, itself.
Entering English in 1775 from the French (same word, different pronunciation [don't forget to click the link by the word above to hear how it sounds in English today]), it derives from the Old French carignon, meaning "set of four bells." This traces to the Latin for "set of four," quaternionem, which derives from quarter, also Latin and meaning "four times." Carillon's base origin traces back five and a half thousand years—well before such an instrument was ever even in idea form, likely—to the Proto-Indo-European word for four, kwetwer. (Now, that's one I'd categorize as a "funny" word! Say it as fast as you can, and it sounds like a sneeze.)
Researching this all for today's blog post, I wondered if this WOW! Word were any relation to clarion. The answer is yes—and no: While the two don't share any similar root words, they do follow the same path to the English language, from Latin to Old French to French, then English. Look up the definition, and you'll find even more they share in common. Then check out the history of the carillon, too.
As a sidebar, the book I was reading used this lovely word in a beautiful metaphor. The exact quote is: "While that first gloss had not set off any bells for Alan, Evan-Wentz's translation set off a carillon." [From Destructive Emotions: How Can We Overcome Them? (A Scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama, narrated by Daniel Goldeman, author of Emotional Intelligence)] ... Don't you just think that sentence has a nice ring to it?
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Last night, lying in bed and reading, I came across a word that I pretty well figured out by context, but still wanted to look up, because it was new to me. Not only that, it's a word I would categorize as "pretty." After learning the exact meaning, "pretty" really does it justice, I think.
Carillon (KAYR - eh - LON) - (n.) a set of fixed, chromatically tuned bells sounded by hammers that are controlled from a keyboard; also an electronic instrument that imitates the carillon or a musical composition created for the carillon. The etymology of the word carillon is straightforward, but rich—perhaps a little like the instrument, itself.
Entering English in 1775 from the French (same word, different pronunciation [don't forget to click the link by the word above to hear how it sounds in English today]), it derives from the Old French carignon, meaning "set of four bells." This traces to the Latin for "set of four," quaternionem, which derives from quarter, also Latin and meaning "four times." Carillon's base origin traces back five and a half thousand years—well before such an instrument was ever even in idea form, likely—to the Proto-Indo-European word for four, kwetwer. (Now, that's one I'd categorize as a "funny" word! Say it as fast as you can, and it sounds like a sneeze.)
Researching this all for today's blog post, I wondered if this WOW! Word were any relation to clarion. The answer is yes—and no: While the two don't share any similar root words, they do follow the same path to the English language, from Latin to Old French to French, then English. Look up the definition, and you'll find even more they share in common. Then check out the history of the carillon, too.
As a sidebar, the book I was reading used this lovely word in a beautiful metaphor. The exact quote is: "While that first gloss had not set off any bells for Alan, Evan-Wentz's translation set off a carillon." [From Destructive Emotions: How Can We Overcome Them? (A Scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama, narrated by Daniel Goldeman, author of Emotional Intelligence)] ... Don't you just think that sentence has a nice ring to it?
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Sep 27, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Tatterdemalion
Summary: Fun, games, Broadway musicals and word learning—it's all inside today's post on the word tatterdemalion.
In an effort to get back in the swing of things and jump-start my return to weekly word blogging, I took a little timeout today to play some online word games. (Stay tuned for a future post on some of the fun ones.) It worked! Not only did I enjoy myself, I learned a new word—the whole goal all along, of course: tatterdemalion.
For anyone who's ever seen Les Miserables, or even ever seen a poster for the musical, a tatterdemalion is not something new to you ... at least not in imagery.
You may better know a tatterdemalion by its other more common name:
Tatterdemalion (TAT - ter - deh - MAYL - yuhn) – (n.) raggamuffin; a person dressed in shambles or loose, bedraggled clothing.
It's likely related to its obvious cousin tatter—though at least one source questions whether its true ancestor may be Tartar, as in gypsy or vagabond. Wherever it came from, it entered English in the very early 15th century.
So, in closing: Happy 25th anniversary, Les Mis!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
In an effort to get back in the swing of things and jump-start my return to weekly word blogging, I took a little timeout today to play some online word games. (Stay tuned for a future post on some of the fun ones.) It worked! Not only did I enjoy myself, I learned a new word—the whole goal all along, of course: tatterdemalion.
For anyone who's ever seen Les Miserables, or even ever seen a poster for the musical, a tatterdemalion is not something new to you ... at least not in imagery.
You may better know a tatterdemalion by its other more common name:
Tatterdemalion (TAT - ter - deh - MAYL - yuhn) – (n.) raggamuffin; a person dressed in shambles or loose, bedraggled clothing.
It's likely related to its obvious cousin tatter—though at least one source questions whether its true ancestor may be Tartar, as in gypsy or vagabond. Wherever it came from, it entered English in the very early 15th century.
So, in closing: Happy 25th anniversary, Les Mis!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jul 21, 2011
WOW Teaser: Truculent
Summary: Today it's your turn to look up a word and see what you can find. Share your findings in a comment post—and you could win a prize!
Recently, I read a newspaper article that I'm sure was written by an A.P. reporter. What makes me say that? Why the use of only one word: truculent.
Want to know what it means? Well, for today anyway, you're on your own. Use the remainder of this week to do a little searching (here's a nice list of e-dictionaries to help you with your search), and post your findings in the comments section of this blog post. The first person to correctly respond in each category—definition, etymology and pronunciation (we love sound files here!)—will win a nice prize: a free e-workbook titled "Speak Your Truth: How to Say What You Mean to Get What You Want."
Ready, set, search!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Recently, I read a newspaper article that I'm sure was written by an A.P. reporter. What makes me say that? Why the use of only one word: truculent.
Want to know what it means? Well, for today anyway, you're on your own. Use the remainder of this week to do a little searching (here's a nice list of e-dictionaries to help you with your search), and post your findings in the comments section of this blog post. The first person to correctly respond in each category—definition, etymology and pronunciation (we love sound files here!)—will win a nice prize: a free e-workbook titled "Speak Your Truth: How to Say What You Mean to Get What You Want."
Ready, set, search!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Jul 12, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Salubrious
Summary: Do you like word games and building your vocabulary? Read today's post to do a little of both. It's good for your (mental) health ...
In a fit of momentary boredom while trying to decide on this week's WOW (Word of the Week), I played a word game on Merriam-Webster.com. Okay, it's not so much a game as it is a quiz—but to word nerds like me, word quizzes are lots of fun! ... Just more so when you're 'winning.' And, yes, by winning I mean getting all the answers right.
I was not doing so well, myself. The 10-second timer at M-W.com really threw me off. I'm much better on FreeRice.com, where timing isn't everything, but knowing the right word meaning is. (And correct answers help feed the hungry, too.) Despite my struggling to click on the correct definitions to words I already knew (seriously), I was somewhat strangely relieved when I received the visible buzzer banner for a word I didn't know: salubrious.
Salubrious (Suh - LOO - BREE - uss) – (adj.) healthful; promoting health and well-being. First used in the mid-16th century, this word comes from the Latin salubris, which shares the same definition. It's also related to another Latin word, salvus, meaning safe. Its opposite is, not surprisingly, insalubrious. For example: Smoking is a rather insalubrious way to deal with stress.
So, now we both know another new word. Don't forget to click on the pronunciation link above to hear just how to say it.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
In a fit of momentary boredom while trying to decide on this week's WOW (Word of the Week), I played a word game on Merriam-Webster.com. Okay, it's not so much a game as it is a quiz—but to word nerds like me, word quizzes are lots of fun! ... Just more so when you're 'winning.' And, yes, by winning I mean getting all the answers right.
I was not doing so well, myself. The 10-second timer at M-W.com really threw me off. I'm much better on FreeRice.com, where timing isn't everything, but knowing the right word meaning is. (And correct answers help feed the hungry, too.) Despite my struggling to click on the correct definitions to words I already knew (seriously), I was somewhat strangely relieved when I received the visible buzzer banner for a word I didn't know: salubrious.
Salubrious (Suh - LOO - BREE - uss) – (adj.) healthful; promoting health and well-being. First used in the mid-16th century, this word comes from the Latin salubris, which shares the same definition. It's also related to another Latin word, salvus, meaning safe. Its opposite is, not surprisingly, insalubrious. For example: Smoking is a rather insalubrious way to deal with stress.
So, now we both know another new word. Don't forget to click on the pronunciation link above to hear just how to say it.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jul 6, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Pyrophile
Summary: Taken directly from the number 1 spot of Merriam-Webster.com's Top 10 List of Particular Kinds of Lovers, pyrophile in today's post shares a little etymology and a little of my own—and our country's—celebratory history.
Pyrophile (PIE - roe - FILE) - (n.) in essence, a pyromaniac. The exceptions are that a pyrofile may: (a) be drawn to volcanoes and/or staunchly hold tight to the notion that volcanic energy comes from a connection to the earth's core, or (b) love fireworks as much or more than fire, itself.
In this last sense of the definition, my husband is definitely a pyrophile! And it's fitting that the word should be this week's WOW: Not only is it the week of our nation's celebration of independence—with fireworks galore—but it's also the day after my 8th wedding anniversary. And, yes, as would be expected of anyone marrying on the 5th of July, our wedding was certainly celebrated with fireworks. In fact, I was impressed back then with my then-new partner's ingenuity: With the supervision of two of our firefighting friends (pyrophiles in their own rights), he custom-built a fireworks launcher to set up the evening's show. For five years after the event, we held an annual 4th of July-slash-anniversary party, inviting back many of our wedding guests, and hosting yet another fireworks show. It was always so fun!
This year, we had a smaller, more private event. Although there was no automation and sound to enhance our fireworks display, I got in on the old-fashioned, fuses-and-lighters-style fun. That's right: I lit my first large firework (and then several more), as my mate passed his pyrophile bug right on to me. Now I totally get what all the buzz is about.
So, happy Independence Day! Enjoy the rest of your week and your life of freedom. (And happy anniversary to my baby!)
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Pyrophile (PIE - roe - FILE) - (n.) in essence, a pyromaniac. The exceptions are that a pyrofile may: (a) be drawn to volcanoes and/or staunchly hold tight to the notion that volcanic energy comes from a connection to the earth's core, or (b) love fireworks as much or more than fire, itself.
In this last sense of the definition, my husband is definitely a pyrophile! And it's fitting that the word should be this week's WOW: Not only is it the week of our nation's celebration of independence—with fireworks galore—but it's also the day after my 8th wedding anniversary. And, yes, as would be expected of anyone marrying on the 5th of July, our wedding was certainly celebrated with fireworks. In fact, I was impressed back then with my then-new partner's ingenuity: With the supervision of two of our firefighting friends (pyrophiles in their own rights), he custom-built a fireworks launcher to set up the evening's show. For five years after the event, we held an annual 4th of July-slash-anniversary party, inviting back many of our wedding guests, and hosting yet another fireworks show. It was always so fun!
This year, we had a smaller, more private event. Although there was no automation and sound to enhance our fireworks display, I got in on the old-fashioned, fuses-and-lighters-style fun. That's right: I lit my first large firework (and then several more), as my mate passed his pyrophile bug right on to me. Now I totally get what all the buzz is about.
So, happy Independence Day! Enjoy the rest of your week and your life of freedom. (And happy anniversary to my baby!)
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jun 27, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Superlative
Summary: You've wanted the longest time for the return of the WOW. Well, wait no more, my biggest fan. This post—and its special word, superlative—is for you!
After posting relatively recently about the BEST WORD IN THE WORLD (hyperbole, of course), I've found myself drawn to some of its cousins—like today's featured word, superlative.
Superlative (soo - PUHR - la - TIV) - (adj.) excessive; supreme; surpassing; high quality; exaggerated. Most commonly, it refers to other words that are used to describe something with these qualities. You could say that it falls just shy of hyperbole.
First used in English in the 1300s, its Middle English spelling was superlatif. Its heritage comes most immediately from the Anglo-French word superlativus, which derives from the Latin superlatus, meaning to carry over high. Merriam-Webster.com—my favorite online dictionary, and the site I owe thanks to for regular pronunciation links like the one above—cites the following examples of superlatives: nicest, worst, and most interesting.
And did I mention: If you've missed the WOW Word of the Week posts as much as I have over the last couple of weeks, then you're the absolute coolest person I know? Those superlatives aren't just hyperbole, either.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
After posting relatively recently about the BEST WORD IN THE WORLD (hyperbole, of course), I've found myself drawn to some of its cousins—like today's featured word, superlative.
Superlative (soo - PUHR - la - TIV) - (adj.) excessive; supreme; surpassing; high quality; exaggerated. Most commonly, it refers to other words that are used to describe something with these qualities. You could say that it falls just shy of hyperbole.
First used in English in the 1300s, its Middle English spelling was superlatif. Its heritage comes most immediately from the Anglo-French word superlativus, which derives from the Latin superlatus, meaning to carry over high. Merriam-Webster.com—my favorite online dictionary, and the site I owe thanks to for regular pronunciation links like the one above—cites the following examples of superlatives: nicest, worst, and most interesting.
And did I mention: If you've missed the WOW Word of the Week posts as much as I have over the last couple of weeks, then you're the absolute coolest person I know? Those superlatives aren't just hyperbole, either.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jun 6, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Eosophilia
Summary: I dedicate this week's WOW word—and today's post—to my grandmother and great-grandmother, who have surely shown their own eosophilia in the purest form ...
Over the weekend, during a long drive, I had the opportunity to hear two—that's right, two—different talk radio programs about words. Imagine my joy! It practically made up for the fact that I was only able to tune in to these stations for 20 minutes or less before they faded.
And what completely made up for that fact was that I learned new words, one of which I find to be completely beautiful in sound, spelling and definition:
Eosophilia (EE - os - o - FEE - lee - ya) - (n.) love of the dawn. It comes from the Greek word for dawn, eos (which when capitalized just happens to be the name of the mythological Goddess of the Dawn), as well as the Greek for friendship, philos, a word that nowadays in its long form (philia) implies fanaticism. Etymonline.com, my go-to site for etymological history, doesn't say when the word entered the English language. That in and of itself implies that it's been with us always ... perhaps since the dawn of English? I wasn't able to find a sound byte of the pronunciation, either—something I typically like to share with every Word of the Week.
To make up for that, I'll share with you a personal family story:
I'm dedicating this word to my grandmother, otherwise known as Mamaw Lovadawn, whose name is a countrified derivation of "love the dawn," and to her mother (my great grandmother, Mamaw Bee) who named her. In the Pueblo Native American tradition of her family, Mamaw Bee waited to name her daughter 'til after the little girl was born. She was handed her newborn at sunrise, and watching the dawn break over the horizon, she felt an explosion of love in her heart even amidst the exhaustion of childbirth labor. It was love like she'd never felt before, and she named the child for that feeling and their maternal bond. Mamaw Lovadawn is as sassy as Mamaw Bee ever was and ever wanted her own daughter to be. The half-Pueblo, half-Irish American flapper-turned-mother instilled in all of her girl descendants a take-charge, take-no-guff attitude that manages to come out of even me when I'm crossed. ... And did I mention my middle name is Dawn? My matriline has a fiery life spark that is deeply connected to the same passion found in any common eosophiliac.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit of our story. May you greet the dawn of each new day this week with gratitude.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Over the weekend, during a long drive, I had the opportunity to hear two—that's right, two—different talk radio programs about words. Imagine my joy! It practically made up for the fact that I was only able to tune in to these stations for 20 minutes or less before they faded.
And what completely made up for that fact was that I learned new words, one of which I find to be completely beautiful in sound, spelling and definition:
Eosophilia (EE - os - o - FEE - lee - ya) - (n.) love of the dawn. It comes from the Greek word for dawn, eos (which when capitalized just happens to be the name of the mythological Goddess of the Dawn), as well as the Greek for friendship, philos, a word that nowadays in its long form (philia) implies fanaticism. Etymonline.com, my go-to site for etymological history, doesn't say when the word entered the English language. That in and of itself implies that it's been with us always ... perhaps since the dawn of English? I wasn't able to find a sound byte of the pronunciation, either—something I typically like to share with every Word of the Week.
To make up for that, I'll share with you a personal family story:
I'm dedicating this word to my grandmother, otherwise known as Mamaw Lovadawn, whose name is a countrified derivation of "love the dawn," and to her mother (my great grandmother, Mamaw Bee) who named her. In the Pueblo Native American tradition of her family, Mamaw Bee waited to name her daughter 'til after the little girl was born. She was handed her newborn at sunrise, and watching the dawn break over the horizon, she felt an explosion of love in her heart even amidst the exhaustion of childbirth labor. It was love like she'd never felt before, and she named the child for that feeling and their maternal bond. Mamaw Lovadawn is as sassy as Mamaw Bee ever was and ever wanted her own daughter to be. The half-Pueblo, half-Irish American flapper-turned-mother instilled in all of her girl descendants a take-charge, take-no-guff attitude that manages to come out of even me when I'm crossed. ... And did I mention my middle name is Dawn? My matriline has a fiery life spark that is deeply connected to the same passion found in any common eosophiliac.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit of our story. May you greet the dawn of each new day this week with gratitude.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
May 31, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Pastiche
Summary: I've always been a little fuzzy on the word pastiche. Is it a food? An art form? A style of building designs? ... Or is it possibly all of the above and then some?
As you've surely learned by now, I often use this blog to teach myself new words. It's one of the perks of being the blogger who makes those decisions—such as, "What will be the WOW, or Word of the Week, this time?" (And "Do I still blog on Memorial Day if I'm taking the rest of the day off of work?" To that one, I decided this year the answer would be, "Nah, that's okay.")
So today, there's a word I'm having a hard time using correctly. And that word is pastiche. Let's learn a little bit about it together:
Pastiche (pass - TEESH) - (n.) a literary, artistic, musical or even architectural composition that either imitates a previous style or is made up of selections from different works.
Synonyms for the latter definition include potpourri and hodgepodge. But when it comes to the first definition, that's where I draw a blank. It doesn't help that the word, a French word (for "medley of different works") derived from Italian, sounds like some sort of food to me—like an even more delicious pistachio. Its sound reminds me of a dessert. And my instincts aren't that far off: It turns out the Italian word, pasticcio, also means "pastry cake" and is linked to the word pasta. (Mmm, pastry cake ...)
What connects so many different ideas—pasta, cake, artistic medleys? Etymology can answer that question, too. The original Latin word pasticium means "composed of paste," or "pasted together." Like dough (in both cake and pasta), a pastiche of artistic styles is often kneaded with love to rise high in the hearts of intended admirers.
If you love pastries, words and art blends, join me in homage to all at my friend Jama Finney's deliciously artistic web store, CakeZen. It's a veritable pastiche of pastry and party styles!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
As you've surely learned by now, I often use this blog to teach myself new words. It's one of the perks of being the blogger who makes those decisions—such as, "What will be the WOW, or Word of the Week, this time?" (And "Do I still blog on Memorial Day if I'm taking the rest of the day off of work?" To that one, I decided this year the answer would be, "Nah, that's okay.")
So today, there's a word I'm having a hard time using correctly. And that word is pastiche. Let's learn a little bit about it together:
Pastiche (pass - TEESH) - (n.) a literary, artistic, musical or even architectural composition that either imitates a previous style or is made up of selections from different works.
Synonyms for the latter definition include potpourri and hodgepodge. But when it comes to the first definition, that's where I draw a blank. It doesn't help that the word, a French word (for "medley of different works") derived from Italian, sounds like some sort of food to me—like an even more delicious pistachio. Its sound reminds me of a dessert. And my instincts aren't that far off: It turns out the Italian word, pasticcio, also means "pastry cake" and is linked to the word pasta. (Mmm, pastry cake ...)
What connects so many different ideas—pasta, cake, artistic medleys? Etymology can answer that question, too. The original Latin word pasticium means "composed of paste," or "pasted together." Like dough (in both cake and pasta), a pastiche of artistic styles is often kneaded with love to rise high in the hearts of intended admirers.
If you love pastries, words and art blends, join me in homage to all at my friend Jama Finney's deliciously artistic web store, CakeZen. It's a veritable pastiche of pastry and party styles!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 23, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Epaulet
Summary: Whether you've fought for freedom or just like military chic, you may have wondered why so many of your clothes have these little attachments on the shoulders .... Today's post has links to answers—and a lesson on just what to call those doo-hickeys and thing-a-ma-bobs.
You know those cool shoulder straps that look so good on military clothes? Whether it's fashion or function, what in the heck do you call them? The answer is epaulets. But can you pronounce that word? If you're like me, then the answer is no. So, click the pronunciation link below to learn!
(Note: Every week, I include a link like this to the WOW, or Word of the Week. The code that follows the link and the dash—and is also always listed in parentheses—stands for adjective, verb or in this case, noun.)
Epaulet (EP - uh - LET) - (n.) something that ornaments or protects the shoulder, often as a fringed pad or a loop that's buttoned or sewn.
The word is French, also spelled epaulette, a diminutive version of the word epaulé for shoulder. It was brought into English in the very late 1700s and is actually related to the word spatula, which once simply defined a flat piece of wood. (Originally, most militaries' shoulder-protecting epaulets were often made of wood.) Because of this relationship, epaulet is a many-generational descendant of the Greek word spathe, meaning a broad, flat sword. What appropriate battle roots!
Want to learn more about the actual item, itself, than just the word history? Check out these lengths for images (showing, among other things, that epaulets have migrated off the shoulders in contemporary civilian fashion) and multi-national military uniform history:
Google images
Wiki history
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
You know those cool shoulder straps that look so good on military clothes? Whether it's fashion or function, what in the heck do you call them? The answer is epaulets. But can you pronounce that word? If you're like me, then the answer is no. So, click the pronunciation link below to learn!
(Note: Every week, I include a link like this to the WOW, or Word of the Week. The code that follows the link and the dash—and is also always listed in parentheses—stands for adjective, verb or in this case, noun.)
Epaulet (EP - uh - LET) - (n.) something that ornaments or protects the shoulder, often as a fringed pad or a loop that's buttoned or sewn.
The word is French, also spelled epaulette, a diminutive version of the word epaulé for shoulder. It was brought into English in the very late 1700s and is actually related to the word spatula, which once simply defined a flat piece of wood. (Originally, most militaries' shoulder-protecting epaulets were often made of wood.) Because of this relationship, epaulet is a many-generational descendant of the Greek word spathe, meaning a broad, flat sword. What appropriate battle roots!
Want to learn more about the actual item, itself, than just the word history? Check out these lengths for images (showing, among other things, that epaulets have migrated off the shoulders in contemporary civilian fashion) and multi-national military uniform history:
Google images
Wiki history
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 16, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Ignominious
Summary: A word I really didn't want to write about, I reluctantly share its meaning with you now ...
Recently, my husband was reading the newspaper when he looked up and asked me, "How do you pronounce this word?" He then pointed to—:
Ignominious (IG - no - MIN - ee - us) - (adj.) dishonorable, despicable, humiliating or degrading. First used in the early 15th century, the word hails from the Latin ignominia, meaning the loss of a good name. A fitting word for the article in that day's news, I find that I just can't bring myself to link to the story, not wanting to add to the shock value. However, I don't mind teaching you the word.
Here's hoping we rarely have the opportunity to discuss ignomy (which can also be called ignominy).
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Recently, my husband was reading the newspaper when he looked up and asked me, "How do you pronounce this word?" He then pointed to—:
Ignominious (IG - no - MIN - ee - us) - (adj.) dishonorable, despicable, humiliating or degrading. First used in the early 15th century, the word hails from the Latin ignominia, meaning the loss of a good name. A fitting word for the article in that day's news, I find that I just can't bring myself to link to the story, not wanting to add to the shock value. However, I don't mind teaching you the word.
Here's hoping we rarely have the opportunity to discuss ignomy (which can also be called ignominy).
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 9, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Venal
Summary: Short but sweet, today's post gives you the low-down on a dirty practice defined by this week's word.
This week's WOW is also today's (Monday's) Word of the Day at Merriam-Webster.com: venal.
Venal (VEE - nuhl) - (adj.) capable of being bought, bribed or otherwise corrupted; also associated with or characterized by bribery. The word comes from the Latin venum, which "simply refer(s) to something sold or for sale" (M-W.com). Perhaps from the common occurrences of cheating, bribing and other questionable merchant's practices, the word—entered into English in the 1600s with the simpler definition of bargaining or haggling—began to take on a slightly more sinister definition. Vend has the same root word heritage, but has kept its straightforward meaning.
Click here to read about the similar-sounding but unrelated word venial, along with even more about this week's word.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
This week's WOW is also today's (Monday's) Word of the Day at Merriam-Webster.com: venal.
Venal (VEE - nuhl) - (adj.) capable of being bought, bribed or otherwise corrupted; also associated with or characterized by bribery. The word comes from the Latin venum, which "simply refer(s) to something sold or for sale" (M-W.com). Perhaps from the common occurrences of cheating, bribing and other questionable merchant's practices, the word—entered into English in the 1600s with the simpler definition of bargaining or haggling—began to take on a slightly more sinister definition. Vend has the same root word heritage, but has kept its straightforward meaning.
Click here to read about the similar-sounding but unrelated word venial, along with even more about this week's word.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 3, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Hyperbole
Summary: High drama aside, today's word comes not from your suggestions (though they're always welcome), but from a word I heard in passing: hyperbole ...
This week, I had no less than three people comment to me, "Why haven't you blogged about our word yet?" Then I needed to be reminded just which word each one was talking about.
As I go throughout my regular day, it's second nature for me to hold conversations about interesting words or turns of phrase that catch my ear (or eye in print)—and just as common for me to mention off-handedly to whomever is near, "This will make a really good WOW word for my blog." It turns out, you guys are paying attention!
When I sit down to write, however, I'm subject to the usual lapses of memory that many of us humans are prone to, and I tend to pull out the handiest word I can think of (often the most recent word discussed).
Today is no different: All three of you, friends, are going to have to wait at least another week, as I blog today about a word that caught my ear in passing: hyperbole.
Hyperbole (HY - PER - bow - lee) - (n.) an extravagant exaggeration, as in "I ran to the moon and back to make her happy" or the commonly spoken, "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse." From the Greek words hyper (for beyond) and ballein (meaning to throw), hyperbole is actually a conjugation of this compound word that was passed down into Latin and English, with its first recorded English usage in the 1520s. The word itself is a bit hyperbolic, since the Greek word bole literally means "a throwing or casting; the stroke of a missile, bolt or beam."
But don't worry: I'll get around to the other words you're longing to read about ... probably sometime in the next century or two.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
This week, I had no less than three people comment to me, "Why haven't you blogged about our word yet?" Then I needed to be reminded just which word each one was talking about.
As I go throughout my regular day, it's second nature for me to hold conversations about interesting words or turns of phrase that catch my ear (or eye in print)—and just as common for me to mention off-handedly to whomever is near, "This will make a really good WOW word for my blog." It turns out, you guys are paying attention!
When I sit down to write, however, I'm subject to the usual lapses of memory that many of us humans are prone to, and I tend to pull out the handiest word I can think of (often the most recent word discussed).
Today is no different: All three of you, friends, are going to have to wait at least another week, as I blog today about a word that caught my ear in passing: hyperbole.
Hyperbole (HY - PER - bow - lee) - (n.) an extravagant exaggeration, as in "I ran to the moon and back to make her happy" or the commonly spoken, "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse." From the Greek words hyper (for beyond) and ballein (meaning to throw), hyperbole is actually a conjugation of this compound word that was passed down into Latin and English, with its first recorded English usage in the 1520s. The word itself is a bit hyperbolic, since the Greek word bole literally means "a throwing or casting; the stroke of a missile, bolt or beam."
But don't worry: I'll get around to the other words you're longing to read about ... probably sometime in the next century or two.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Apr 25, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Bibliophile
Summary: If you love books as much as I do, there's one word in particular you should know: bibliophile.
As you can see from my most recent blog post, I LOVE books! I'm so into books that if you called me a bibliophile, I would curtsy in humble thanks.
And if you ever do call me a bibliophile, you'd better know what it means:
Bibliophile (BIB - LEE - o - fiyl) - (n.) a lover of or collector of books. From the French (and earlier Greek) words bibli (or biblion, both meaning book) and phile, or friend, it's literally translated as book friend. That's me!
Check out Merriam-Webster.com's extended definition, similar words and sample sentence here.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
As you can see from my most recent blog post, I LOVE books! I'm so into books that if you called me a bibliophile, I would curtsy in humble thanks.
And if you ever do call me a bibliophile, you'd better know what it means:
Bibliophile (BIB - LEE - o - fiyl) - (n.) a lover of or collector of books. From the French (and earlier Greek) words bibli (or biblion, both meaning book) and phile, or friend, it's literally translated as book friend. That's me!
Check out Merriam-Webster.com's extended definition, similar words and sample sentence here.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Apr 11, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Oporopolist
Summary: I'm a strong advocate of adoption. That goes for words, too! Today, I adopted a word of my very own: oporopolist. What can you tell me about my new little bundle?
Today is a special day, for today I am the proud new mama of a very special word. That's right: I just adopted a word from SaveTheWords.org—the site that asks you to help keep old words, words that have lost their space in the dictionary, within circulation in the English language. And just like when I adopted my very own Cabbage Patch Doll in 1982, I now have the opportunity to sport a t-shirt announcing my new ownership.
But I also get to do so much more.
With Amy Patsy (the CP, of course—who was, to my dismay, already named when we met), I got to braid her hair and unbraid her hair and put it up in a pony tail and then take it down and re-braid it ... and of course, to keep smelling and re-smelling her eternally powder fresh face. But with oporopolist, my options are immensely greater.
For example, I can share oporopolist with you, and you can take her home and use her (or him, I guess) with your own group of friends even while I use her with new people I meet! Ah, if only that had been the case with Amy Patsy. My sisters and I could have avoided so many childhood arguments. ("Don't unbraid Amy Patsy's hair! You make her pony tails lopsided! I'll get you back: Now she's going to wear YOUR doll's dress!" Etc.) I'm sure my mother would have much rather sprung for the t-shirt for oporopolist (a lot less expensive than custom-made cheerleading costumes for our CPs) just for a little peace in the house. Although, she may have eventually tired of hearing her 9-year-old say things like, "Are we going to the farmer's market this weekend? I can't wait to get some ripe watermelon from the oporopolist's stand." Then again, she may have thought it was adorable.
Oporopolist - (n.) A fruit-seller. Unfortunately, because this word has been replaced in the dictionary (by the word fruitier, possibly, or fruiterer even), I cannot share with you the pronunciation or etymology at this time. But if you find it in your out-dated dictionary, please share it with me!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Today is a special day, for today I am the proud new mama of a very special word. That's right: I just adopted a word from SaveTheWords.org—the site that asks you to help keep old words, words that have lost their space in the dictionary, within circulation in the English language. And just like when I adopted my very own Cabbage Patch Doll in 1982, I now have the opportunity to sport a t-shirt announcing my new ownership.
But I also get to do so much more.
With Amy Patsy (the CP, of course—who was, to my dismay, already named when we met), I got to braid her hair and unbraid her hair and put it up in a pony tail and then take it down and re-braid it ... and of course, to keep smelling and re-smelling her eternally powder fresh face. But with oporopolist, my options are immensely greater.
For example, I can share oporopolist with you, and you can take her home and use her (or him, I guess) with your own group of friends even while I use her with new people I meet! Ah, if only that had been the case with Amy Patsy. My sisters and I could have avoided so many childhood arguments. ("Don't unbraid Amy Patsy's hair! You make her pony tails lopsided! I'll get you back: Now she's going to wear YOUR doll's dress!" Etc.) I'm sure my mother would have much rather sprung for the t-shirt for oporopolist (a lot less expensive than custom-made cheerleading costumes for our CPs) just for a little peace in the house. Although, she may have eventually tired of hearing her 9-year-old say things like, "Are we going to the farmer's market this weekend? I can't wait to get some ripe watermelon from the oporopolist's stand." Then again, she may have thought it was adorable.
Oporopolist - (n.) A fruit-seller. Unfortunately, because this word has been replaced in the dictionary (by the word fruitier, possibly, or fruiterer even), I cannot share with you the pronunciation or etymology at this time. But if you find it in your out-dated dictionary, please share it with me!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Apr 4, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Chivy
Summary: Chasing down some clues to my break time crossword puzzle today, I came across a word I'd never heard before—chivy, with both its spellings and meanings.
Today was like Christmas in ... April (though I've never heard of such a thing 'til now). Taking a little break in the early evening, I worked a crossword puzzle in the big book of New York Times crossword puzzles that my husband got me last year as a stocking stuffer. It was a challenge! And, of course, I learned a new word:
Chivy (CHIH - vee) - (v.) Alternatively spelled with two Vs, chivvy has two meanings, as well, no matter how you spell it. Most commonly, it means to tease or annoy with persistent, petty attacks—as in, "The guys at the work site continued to chivy and chide each other all day long as a way to pass the time." In its secondary meaning, it means to move or obtain by small maneuvers. Merriam-Webster.com uses this example: "Chivy an olive out of the bottle."
The two definitions have their roots in a common theme. Harassment, or chasing, both come from the word chevy, likely the word that chivy (or chivvy) derived from as early as the 1830s in American English.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Today was like Christmas in ... April (though I've never heard of such a thing 'til now). Taking a little break in the early evening, I worked a crossword puzzle in the big book of New York Times crossword puzzles that my husband got me last year as a stocking stuffer. It was a challenge! And, of course, I learned a new word:
Chivy (CHIH - vee) - (v.) Alternatively spelled with two Vs, chivvy has two meanings, as well, no matter how you spell it. Most commonly, it means to tease or annoy with persistent, petty attacks—as in, "The guys at the work site continued to chivy and chide each other all day long as a way to pass the time." In its secondary meaning, it means to move or obtain by small maneuvers. Merriam-Webster.com uses this example: "Chivy an olive out of the bottle."
The two definitions have their roots in a common theme. Harassment, or chasing, both come from the word chevy, likely the word that chivy (or chivvy) derived from as early as the 1830s in American English.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 28, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Elysian
Summary: Here's one of the prettiest words I know—elysian—complete with background, history and famous usages.
In keeping with the pretty-versus-ugly word theme from Friday's post (dated incorrectly in display), I want to second Kathy's comment to Mark Nichols' Daily Writing Tips blog post on the same subject. She shares:
"I have always thought this was a beautiful-sounding word, meaning 'paradise.' Evidently, the ancient Greeks did, too; Hades is not so pleasant."
The beautiful word she's talking about is elysian, which was where Greek heroes were thought to dwell after their noble deaths. Hades was sort of their version of Hell, or the underworld. Here's more:
Elysian (ill - IH - ZHEN) also pronounced with the long E sound (ee - LEE - ZHYEN), which is my favorite pronunciation - (adj.) blissful, delightful, paradisical, heavenly. The first known use of this word is in 1579. It originates from the Greek word Elysium which is the proper name given to the Greek version of Heaven or Nirvana or most similarly Valhalla. Interestingly enough, however, Elysium was actually located inside of Hades, as it was the only 'place' for souls to go to, and this heavenly spot was reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. It was often depicted as a beautiful and serene field of flowers.
Poets often refer to the "elysian fields" as nature (most famously by Henry David Thoreau) or, of course, Heaven (e.g., Edna St. Vincent Millay's I Dreamed I Moved Among the Elysian Fields)—although these days, one Google search warrants results on everything from rock bands to microbreweries to towns in Texas and New Jersey. So be it. To me, the word is very melodic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
In keeping with the pretty-versus-ugly word theme from Friday's post (dated incorrectly in display), I want to second Kathy's comment to Mark Nichols' Daily Writing Tips blog post on the same subject. She shares:
"I have always thought this was a beautiful-sounding word, meaning 'paradise.' Evidently, the ancient Greeks did, too; Hades is not so pleasant."
The beautiful word she's talking about is elysian, which was where Greek heroes were thought to dwell after their noble deaths. Hades was sort of their version of Hell, or the underworld. Here's more:
Elysian (ill - IH - ZHEN) also pronounced with the long E sound (ee - LEE - ZHYEN), which is my favorite pronunciation - (adj.) blissful, delightful, paradisical, heavenly. The first known use of this word is in 1579. It originates from the Greek word Elysium which is the proper name given to the Greek version of Heaven or Nirvana or most similarly Valhalla. Interestingly enough, however, Elysium was actually located inside of Hades, as it was the only 'place' for souls to go to, and this heavenly spot was reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. It was often depicted as a beautiful and serene field of flowers.
Poets often refer to the "elysian fields" as nature (most famously by Henry David Thoreau) or, of course, Heaven (e.g., Edna St. Vincent Millay's I Dreamed I Moved Among the Elysian Fields)—although these days, one Google search warrants results on everything from rock bands to microbreweries to towns in Texas and New Jersey. So be it. To me, the word is very melodic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 21, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: E.G. vs. I.E.
Summary: Two Latin abbreviations (i.e. and e.g.) are the subject of today's word study post. Do you know the right time to use which one?
This morning, in a meeting with my wonderful assistant Kim Hall (who just happens to have her own online mall), she mentioned she recently learned the proper usage between the abbreviations i.e. and e.g. My first thought was, "You mean, there's a difference?" So much for the professional editor in me.
Well, at least I knew right where to turn: Grammar Girl. The first thing this online editing guru and fellow blogger shares in her post on the subject is the actual Latin terms these abbreviations stand for—and that's where I realized I'd gone wrong. Somewhere along the way, a well-meaning English teacher had taught me that i.e. stood for "in example." But that just isn't true. Here's what is true:
I.e. = id est, or that is (as in, "that is to say" or "what I mean to say is")
E.g. = exempli gratia, or "for example"
And all this time, I thought they were interchangeable!
Here are some examples of proper usage:
1. Our brains are hard-wired, i.e., connected by dendrites and synapses, to retain information in very specific ways.
2. Because of our individuality, however, certain brain challenges can change the way we learn and store info—e.g., attention deficit disorders, autism, dyslexia, and mood disorders.
3. As a Communications Coach, I teach my clients to identify the challenges they face (e.g., nervousness or anxiety, shyness or intimidation, even innate excitement) in thinking and speaking clearly.
4. Correcting these challenges is easy: We simply start by identifying what happens in the body—i.e., answering the question, "What does your body feel like when you have a shy moment?"—and then correlate that to emotions and thoughts.
5. Ultimately, changing the thoughts you have in those moments (i.e., turning negative, secret thoughts into intentional, positive ones) can help you short-circuit the vicious cycle your body and brain have experienced in the past; with practice, I can help you achieve what my other clients have achieved: peace of mind and body, and the ability to think and speak clearly.
One of Grammar Girl's many commenters to her post stated, "I have been able to remember i.e. and e.g. by: i.e. - in essence and e.g. - example given." This is a great trick! ... Maybe my English teacher actually shared these mock abbreviations, and my mind somehow melded the two?
P.S. - If you or someone you know would like to experience the Communication Coaching process first-hand, contact me directly for rates and other info at kealah@kikiproductionsinc.com.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
This morning, in a meeting with my wonderful assistant Kim Hall (who just happens to have her own online mall), she mentioned she recently learned the proper usage between the abbreviations i.e. and e.g. My first thought was, "You mean, there's a difference?" So much for the professional editor in me.
Well, at least I knew right where to turn: Grammar Girl. The first thing this online editing guru and fellow blogger shares in her post on the subject is the actual Latin terms these abbreviations stand for—and that's where I realized I'd gone wrong. Somewhere along the way, a well-meaning English teacher had taught me that i.e. stood for "in example." But that just isn't true. Here's what is true:
I.e. = id est, or that is (as in, "that is to say" or "what I mean to say is")
E.g. = exempli gratia, or "for example"
And all this time, I thought they were interchangeable!
Here are some examples of proper usage:
1. Our brains are hard-wired, i.e., connected by dendrites and synapses, to retain information in very specific ways.
2. Because of our individuality, however, certain brain challenges can change the way we learn and store info—e.g., attention deficit disorders, autism, dyslexia, and mood disorders.
3. As a Communications Coach, I teach my clients to identify the challenges they face (e.g., nervousness or anxiety, shyness or intimidation, even innate excitement) in thinking and speaking clearly.
4. Correcting these challenges is easy: We simply start by identifying what happens in the body—i.e., answering the question, "What does your body feel like when you have a shy moment?"—and then correlate that to emotions and thoughts.
5. Ultimately, changing the thoughts you have in those moments (i.e., turning negative, secret thoughts into intentional, positive ones) can help you short-circuit the vicious cycle your body and brain have experienced in the past; with practice, I can help you achieve what my other clients have achieved: peace of mind and body, and the ability to think and speak clearly.
One of Grammar Girl's many commenters to her post stated, "I have been able to remember i.e. and e.g. by: i.e. - in essence and e.g. - example given." This is a great trick! ... Maybe my English teacher actually shared these mock abbreviations, and my mind somehow melded the two?
P.S. - If you or someone you know would like to experience the Communication Coaching process first-hand, contact me directly for rates and other info at kealah@kikiproductionsinc.com.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 14, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Eclectic
Summary: What's in a word? Well, in this one, a lot—starting foremost, in my opinion, with its beauty.
Here's a word I've had on the brain for a few days: eclectic. It's just so pretty (to me, anyway).
What does it mean? Well, it's like a hodge-podge or a potpourri, only not as scattered or scented. ... And if you get that, you're as big a word nerd as I.
Eclectic (EE - KLEK - tik) - (adj.) selecting the best of various doctrines, methods or styles (as in eclectic home décor or an eclectic taste in music); also composed of different sources, or heterogeneous (i.e., an eclectic approach to spirituality). First used in English in the 1600s, the word has a bit of an eclectic background, itself: Its present definition was used in the late 1840s, however before that, it referenced a group of ancient philosophers who selected doctrines from every system. Its etymology developed eclectically, too: It derived most recently from the beautiful French word eclectique; before that, from the Greek eklektikos (literally "picking out"); and before that from the ancient Greek eklegein, meaning to gather or choose in a lecture.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Here's a word I've had on the brain for a few days: eclectic. It's just so pretty (to me, anyway).
What does it mean? Well, it's like a hodge-podge or a potpourri, only not as scattered or scented. ... And if you get that, you're as big a word nerd as I.
Eclectic (EE - KLEK - tik) - (adj.) selecting the best of various doctrines, methods or styles (as in eclectic home décor or an eclectic taste in music); also composed of different sources, or heterogeneous (i.e., an eclectic approach to spirituality). First used in English in the 1600s, the word has a bit of an eclectic background, itself: Its present definition was used in the late 1840s, however before that, it referenced a group of ancient philosophers who selected doctrines from every system. Its etymology developed eclectically, too: It derived most recently from the beautiful French word eclectique; before that, from the Greek eklektikos (literally "picking out"); and before that from the ancient Greek eklegein, meaning to gather or choose in a lecture.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
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