Word: Sciamachy

 

sciamachy

\ sahy-AM-uh-kee \  , noun;

1. an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.

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            “Now, my good man, what’s your name?” 

Why’s he asking that?  Didn’t he already ask, like, five minutes ago?

               “Jason.  Jason Rade.” 

               What?  No.  That’s not my name.  My name is Ted.  Why’d I say that?  Wait a sec.  What was he asking before?  Something about the TV shows I watch, wasn’t it? 

               “And what do you do Jason?”  I’m a student.  Come on, say it. 

               “I’m a cop now, but I used to be in the Special Forces.”  What the?

               What in the world am I saying?  I’m just a college student.  I don’t even want to be a cop or whatever.  Does sound like something I saw on TV pretty recently though.

               “Sounds pretty dangerous.”

               Yes.  Yes it does.  That’s why I’m not…”

               “Yeah, well.  I can take it.”

               Wait, no I can’t.  At least I don’t think I can.  I mean, I’m pretty sure I have a low pain tolerance, right?  Or do I?  I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever tried to see how well I can take a punch.

               “Well, that’s good.  You know why?  ‘Cause I think there’s some terrorists that need to be taken down.”

               What?  Where?  Oh damn, oh damn oh damn, what do I do?  Oh god there they are.  I can see them.  They’re right in front of me.  Oh god, what do I do?  Wait, no they’re not.  I don’t think I see anyone like that.  But I swear they’re standing right in front of me.

               “Well? You’d better take ‘em out, right?”

               I can do that?  Well sure I can.  I mean, I’m a badass cop, right?  Hold on, no I’m not.  I’m a business major.  Or am I?  Well, no time like the present to find out.  Take that you…you…fiend! 

               Oh holy crap, I just hit a guy.  I did just hit a guy, right?  Of course I did.  I mean, it’s not like I hit empty space.  No, that’s ridiculous.  There’s no way I’m swinging at air.  I felt the hit.  Uh oh, I don’t think I knocked him out. 

               Ow!  That hurt!  Oh wait, no it didn’t.  Did it?  I felt it, I think.  But maybe I only think I did?  Urg, I’m getting confused.  Hm, better keep fighting, just to be on the safe side.  Hey, where’d that guy who was asking me questions go? 

               Oh there he is, talking to some other guy.  Why aren’t the terrorists going after any of them?  Meh, probably better not to ask.  I should take them out anyway.  Wait…why am I fighting again?  I don’t think there’s anyone standing in front of me.  But then, there also is?  OW!  He hit me again!  All right, that’s it!  Time to take care of business of real! 

               Oh crap, they got me!  They got me!  The bastards snuck up behind me.  Oh wait, no.  That’s the guy who pointed them out.  Where is he taking me now?  Is he on their side?  No, no can’t be.  The bad guys are staying where they are.  He must be leading me to safety.

               What’s he doing now?  I have no…idea…

               “Ok, what’s your name?”

               “Uh…Ted?”  Yeah, that sounds right. 

               “What’s your job?”

               “I’m a student here.”

               “Ok, you’re good to go.”

               “Ok?  Thanks?”

               Wait a sec… did I just think that I was a character from a TV show?  Wow.  That guy’s good.

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

Truth be told, this one is actually partially based on reality.  I was watching a hypnotism show and the hypnotist got one of the volunteers to think he was the protagonist of an action show.  He went and tried to interrogate a broom if I recall correctly.  It was fun to watch.  Of course, I've also once been on the receiving end of a different hypnotist.  I don't remember a lot of it, but remember not thinking much of anything while under though.  I guess it's something you just have to experience for yourself, huh?

              

Word: bestiary

 

bestiary

\ BES-chee-er-ee, BEES- \  , noun;

1. a collection of moralized fables, especially as written in the Middle Ages, about actual or mythical animals.

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               Martha looked from the screen to the controller.  She had been following her son’s instructions for well over an hour now and she still was having trouble getting the hang of it.  She didn’t know why, it just wasn’t sinking in for her.  She wasn’t technically illiterate.  She understood computers and smart phones just fine.  Better even than some of her coworkers.  But this was just over her head.

               “Ok, so what do I do again?”  She asked.  Charley, her son, groaned in exasperation.

               “I told you, mom, press the ‘start’ button.”

               “Oh, right.  That’s the little one here, right?”

               “Uh huh.”

               Martha pressed the button and watched the result on the screen.  A menu popped up, presenting her with information that she was only starting to understand, if one could call it that.

               “Ok, so what am I doing now?”

               “Go to your bestiary now.”

               “And that is…”  She asked.

               “There, over there on the bottom.”  Charley said, trying to point it out.

               “Oh, yes, I see it now.  Let’s see, I do this, then this, and there we go.”  She said while navigating the small, blinking cursor to the spot.  A list of names popped up.  “Oh, what’s this?”  She asked, looking over the list.

               Most of them she could recognize fairly easily.  Entries like ‘wolf’ and ‘snake’ were fairly self explanatory, but others were not.  Those such as ‘dire rat’ and ‘goblin’ were a bit harder for her to pick out.  Still, she could guess as what the names were.

               “This is your bestiary.  It’s a list of all the monsters and stuff you’ve fought.  It tells you about them.  You know, things like stats and strengths and weaknesses and stuff.  It’s so that you can fight better next time you encounter that kind of enemy.”

               “I see.  That’s a nice little feature.  So then I should be able to find the one that I just beat, right?”

               “Up.  Scroll down, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

               Martha followed her son’s instructions until he told her to stop.  The cursor ended up on an entry titled ‘flying fish’.  It seemed like it was a good fit for the last enemy she had dealt with at the very least.  The enemy in question had indeed been a fish that didn’t seem to need water.  It had nearly destroyed her, even though it was still early in the game.  Martha called up the info on the enemy.

               “There, there you see!”  Charley shouted, pointing at the screen. 

               “There’s no need to shout, I’m sitting right here.  Now, what exactly am I looking for?”

               “The strengths and weaknesses.  I kept telling you to use lighting, since that’s what these things are weak against.  But you kept on using water, which is why you almost lost.”

               “I see.  But I thought that, since it’s a fish that was out of the water, I just needed to give it some.”  She said.  She was joking, really.  The first time she used a water spell, she had done it out of experimentation.  Every time after that she had used it just to mess with Charley a bit.  She was his mother after all, if she couldn’t annoy him like that, than what was the point?

                “That’s not how the game works.  You have to use things that’ll hurt them, or they won’t go away.”

               “Oh.  Too bad.  Well, I’m sure I’ll do better next time now that I know.  Although, I think it would be nice if that was an option.  You know, try making friends with the monsters instead of fighting them.”

               “Moomm.”  Charley said in frustration. 

               “Oh, I’m just kidding, you know that.  Now, let’s keep going.  How do I get out of this again?”  She asked, doing her best not to smile as her son rolled his eyes and explained it to her once again.

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

I'm sure every mother out there knows exactly what it's like to have a child get annoyed with them.  And I'm almost positive they do it on purpose just to get that reaction.  Seriously.  It would explain so much of so many kids childhoods. 

Word: Albumen

albumen

\ al-BYOO-muhn \  , noun;

1. the white of an egg.

2. Botany . the nutritive matter around the embryo in a seed.

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           “You are a horrible person, you know that, right.”  Jessica said coldly. 

               “How so?”  Jeff asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

               “That.  What you’re doing now.”

               “Uh, eating?  Last I checked that wasn’t a problem.”

               “It’s what you’re eating.  You are now consuming the unborn child of an innocent chicken topped with the heavily processed milk meant to give a young calf the chance to survive.”

               “Oh, that.”  Jeff rolled his eyes as he swallowed.  He should’ve known.  After all, he had the same conversation with her any time he ate anything that came from an animal. 

               “Oh that, oh that.  Is that really all you can say?  How do you justify eating such a cruel thing?”

               “First of all, it could’ve been worse.  I was going to put a sausage patty on it.  The only reason I didn’t was because you threw them out last week and won’t let me get more.”

               “And I stand by that decision.”  Jessica said.  “But that doesn’t change the fact that you are eating and egg and cheese sandwich now.”

               “True.  But to be fair, I’m only using the white part of the egg.”

               “Oh yeah, like that’s any better.”

               “Well, since that’s the part that doesn’t turn into a chicken, I’d think so.”

               “Is that how you justify eating it?  Really?”

               “Nope.  I justify eating it because I want to eat it.  But anyway, this egg probably wouldn’t have become a chicken no matter what I did with it.”

               “And how do you know?”  Jessica asked indignantly. 

               “Simple.  Most commercial eggs are unfertilized.  That means they won’t hatch no matter what you do to them.”

               “Uh huh.  And where’d you hear that?”

               “Internet.”

               “And that makes it true, does it?  The internet is suddenly the most reliable source in the world, eh?”

               “Oh yeah, like you’re one to talk.  You use the internet all the time for your info.”

               “Yeah, but I use reliable sources.”

               “What makes them any more reliable than the ones I use?”

               “I don’t use Wikipedia for one thing.”

               “Neither do I.  Or if I do, I try and verify it with other places.  So, I’ll ask again, why are your sources more reliable than mine?”

               “Because…because they just are, that’s why.”

               “Uh huh.  You keep thinking that.  In the mean time, I’m gonna finish my sandwich.”  Jeff said.  He opened his mouth wide to take an overly exaggerated bite of his meal.  Jessica looked on in horror as his mouth moved towards the sandwich.

               “Wait!”  She blurted out before his teeth met the English muffin Jeff was using.

               “What now?”  He asked, lowering the sandwich again.

               “J-just because you’re using an egg that won’t hatch doesn’t mean anything.  You can’t deny where the cheese came from, or what it was supposed to be used for.”

               “I guess not.”  Jeff said.  He placed an elbow on the table and held his head.  She seemed desperate to keep him from finishing his lunch.

               “See?  It’s still a cruel thing, depriving a baby calf of its mother’s milk.”

               “First of all, this is American cheese.  I’m not really sure how much actual milk was used in the production of this stuff.  Also, I’m pretty sure the mother cows have enough milk to go around.”

               “Well, how do you know that?  With the way major manufactures treat livestock, it wouldn’t surprise me if a bunch of calves are starved just so you can have that sandwich.”

               “Don’t know.  But somehow I don’t think that’s what happens.  After all, it’s really in the best interest of the companies to keep their animals alive so they don’t run out or have to buy more or anything.  You know, purely from a business standpoint and all.”

               “Ah ha!  You’re just guessing at that, aren’t you?”

               “Well, yeah.  But so are you.”  Jeff said.  Jessica recoiled at the— quite accurate—accusation.   

               “T-that’s not true!”  She shouted quickly. 

               “Uh huh.  Sure.  You keep telling yourself that.”

               “L-look, the point is, it doesn’t matter where they come from, what part you’re using, or anything like that.  Eating anything that comes from an animal is just plain wrong, and I dare you to say otherwise.”

               “Ok.  I say otherwise.”

               “Why?  Why would you say something like that?”

               “Because it exists.  Look, Jess, it’s really quite simple.  Everything that lives gets eaten by something.  Even we get eaten by worms and bugs and stuff after we die.  Animals eat other animals all the time, even those that can survive without it.  Bears and raccoons and stuff eat mean, even though they’re omnivores as well.  So, why should we be barred from doing the natural thing and eating other animals just because a few vegetarians say it’s wrong?” 

               “First of all, I’m vegan, not vegetarian.  Second, animals eat other animals for survival—

               “And we don’t?”
               “What?”

               “We need to eat to survive just like anything else.  We just have different methods of getting our food.  And you’re talking like we’re not animals, which we are.  Trust me Jess, just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean people will stop eating meat, eggs, and cheese.  And I’m going to prove it to you by eating my lunch.”  Jeff said.  He raised the sandwich and took a large bite, chewing it slowly and savoring the taste.  Jessica could do nothing but watch in horror as he swallowed. 

               “You’re horrible!”  She screamed. 

She ran out of the dining room without waiting for a response.  Jeff heard a door slamming behind her.  He just shrugged his shoulders and continued eating.  He knew she wouldn’t stay mad at him for very long, and she would come out soon enough.  After all, she had to eat sometime.

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

First of all, I have no problems with either vegetarians and vegans.  Most of them are perfectly reasonable people who have simply made the choice not to eat meat for various reasons.  It's the ones who try and push their ideals  onto others and act like their way is the only right way that I have problems with.  Actually, that goes with just about anything, not just food preference.  That kind of person is just a pain to deal with.

Word: neologize

 

neologize

\ nee-OL-uh-jahyz \  , verb;

1. to make or use new words or create new meanings for existing words.

2. to devise or accept new religious doctrines.

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

              “Did you know Shakespeare made up a whole bunch of words?”  Ted said, not taking his eyes off the computer screen.

               “Huh?”  Kevin replied, lowering his book and looking at his roommate without turning his head.

               “Shakespeare.  He made up, like, a lot of the words we use every day.  I mean, the guy’s just like, ‘oh hey, I think I’ll make up a word here.’ And poof, he did.”

               “Ok, so what?”

               “So, I’m thinking I should do the same thing.”

               Kevin sighed and sat up.  Ted was buried in the computer screen, and Kevin could roughly make out it was a Wiki page on The Bard.  The current screen showed a list of some of the words he was responsible for.

               “Why would you do that?”  Kevin asked.  It was better to indulge Ted when he got like that.  If somebody didn’t ask about his ideas, he would just start on dropping hints to be asked.  Better to just get it out of the way.

               “Because I have developed a new theory of his success.  It’s because of the words.”

               “The words.  The ones he made up?”

               “Exactly!”  Ted said, wheeling around and pointing in what he hoped was a dramatic manner.

               “Ok, you lost me.  Wait, no, no you didn’t.  I mean, you never had me, so yeah.”

               “Look, it’s like this.  Shakespeare was writing in a time when not everyone was real smart, right?”

               “It was more that they lacked education rather than intelligence, but I get the point.”

               “Right, so these average guys go and see one of his plays.  They hear these words that they’ve never heard before.  Then they start thinking, ‘oh hey, this guy uses words I don’t know.  He must be good’.  Then they go and tell more people, who see the plays and have the same reaction.  It even works with the educated elite, since they think that if they haven’t heard these words, then this guy must be even more educated than them, and therefore better.”

               “Uh huh.”  Kevin said dully.

               “So, since so many people now have seen the play, it keeps on spreading, and gets rewritten and performed and all that stuff.  And now, here we are, taking classes on the guy.  There’s people who dedicate their entire adult lives to just one of his plays.”

               “No there isn’t.  There are people who dedicate themselves to the study of all his works, but I’m pretty sure nobody focuses on just one play.”

               “Yeah, whatever.  The point is that it all started with him making up words.”

               “Right, because I am sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the plays are good or anything like that.  No, now that you explain it like that, I am convinced that his success is due entirely to a few words.”  Kevin said in a dull, monotone voice.  The sarcasm was lost on Ted.

               “I know, right?  It’s pretty awesome to think about.  I might have to do something on this for our next essay assignment.”

               “You do that.”  Kevin was sure such a paper would likely get nothing but pity points from the professor.  “And what does any of this have to do with you making up words?”

               “Huh?  Oh yeah, right, I did say that, didn’t I?  So, I’m thinking since Shakespeare could do it, why can’t I?  I mean, I write a few plays with a made up word or two, and the same thing happens now that happened then.  With this method, I’ll surly be remembered as the next Shakespeare.”  Ted said proudly. 

               “Uh, right.  Listen, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but that’s not gonna work.”  Kevin said.

               “Why not?  It’s foolproof, I tells ya.”

               “In that only fools will fall for it, yes.  Look, your entire theory hinges on the lack of education of the people in Shakespeare’s time, right?  Well, that’s not gonna fly here.  Today, even a five year old can go online and look up a word and find out that it doesn’t exist.  Then everybody with even half a brain and a basic education will know you’re trying to copy one of the most well known playwrights of all time.”

               “Uh, well, I could still make up words and stuff, right?”

               “You do know that very few of the words he used were actually made up on the spot.  He mainly just altered existing words and gave them new forms and stuff.”

               “So?  He still made some up himself.”

               “So, that happens all the time.  Remember when Google used to be just the name of the website?  Now it’s a verb.  It’s pretty much the same thing he did a lot. “

               “Ok, and what does any of that have to do with my inevitable success.”

               “It means that any idiot can do exactly what you’re thinking of.  And trust me, the made up words might have helped make him more memorable, but it had little to do with the guy’s overall success.  Trying to be successful just by making up a few words and changing others is pretty much a recipe for disaster.”

               “Oh come on!”  Ted exclaimed.

               “Look, it doesn’t mean you can’t be a great playwright, it just means you can’t rely on a single gimmick to do it, especially in this day and age.”

               “So what am I supposed to do then?” Ted asked, crossing his arms.

               “Well, you could try making meaningful, well written plays that people will want to see.  Try starting with that.”  Kevin said.  Ted blinked a few times and thought. 

               “Eh, too much work.  I liked my plan better.”  He said, turning back to his computer.

               “I’m sure.”  Kevin lay back down and continued reading.  He just hoped Ted wouldn’t be seized by another flash of ill fated inspiration in the next ten minutes. 

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

Seriously, the guy made up somewhere around 1,700 words.  And many of them we use just about every day.  Look it up and see.