The Pain of Joy

I came across another one of those crazy word wonderments.

Joy.

One can be overjoyed, but what about just joyed?

Nope, not really.  It doesn't count as a word in the dictionaries I checked.

It's odd, since it takes wee bit less effort and one less word to say
 "It joyed me." than it does to say "It brought me joy."

And yet - "enjoyed" is fine, which again, causes more to be there than necessary, it would seem.

Apparently it had been okay to say "joyed" at one time, since we find it in use by Shakespeare in 

Henry IV, Part 1

Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him.

No, I didn't pore over the the Bard to find that... nor did I know it off the top of my head.  The only reason I know it is because Dictionary.com had it listed as a quote for "joy."  Hmmm.  And yet it doesn't appear AS a word.

Words can be weird.

Maybe I just notice and care because I work with them?

May I Have a Word?

It's every writer's perogative to invent new words. Sometimes the correct word does not hitherto exist. Or perhaps a combination of words is best suited to the situation being described. A creative effort to really convey a concept better than existing words will allow. My opinion of it is that it is acceptable in stories (or poems) so long as the word's meaning is clear from the context.

However, there are cases where it's just so alliterative or ingeniously non-sensical that it just doesn't matter what the word means at all. The definition is not the point. I am thinking specifically of Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky. For example, what is "a frumious Bandersnatch" or a "vorpal sword" that produces a "snicker-snack" noise when used? It doesn't matter. It's the playful sound and mysterious allure of seeming definitive. And yet, it does mean something, as the "feeling" of the poem is clear. The mystique is marvelous, telling a clear story even though the words are unfamiliar. So perhaps what I've come to accept as the "rule" applies to the great rhyme of the mythic monster as well.

Of course, many scholars have examined Carroll's terrrific nonesense to the point of actually defining the words. Whether based on context or clues from Carroll himself, many feel they have deciphered it. For instance, the poem begins 'Twas brilling... Apparently, "brilling" now means boiling water at approximately four in the afternoon in prepartion for cooking dinner. Who knew?

Well, I have recently broken the rule. The other day, out of the blue, I uttered: filiquious. It sounds like a real word, doesn't it? "Don't be so filiquious." Having been burned by not having coined the phrase "ridiculously ubiquitous," I made sure to do one of my favorite things and consult the Dictionary. (You can find out why this is "fun" to me here.) Hosah! I did not find "filiquious." The next question of course is: What does it mean? So I sought out the root words, prefixes, suffixes and similiar words. But I still didn't arrive at an obvious conclusion.

Using the miracle of chatting instantly online, I present my "findings" to Sunshine. She came up with what had initially figured as well. That "fili" would be related to a son or daughter. I explained that I'd thought that, but also that I discovered it to be actually more akin to the root of words such as filament...which meant that it refers to "thread" or "strand." "Quious" it would seem is something not unlike the "who" that is involved. Example: obsequious. In order to be obsequious, there must be a person who is displaying servile complaisance. Thus, I figured filiquious must be done with or to or by someone. Presented with this information, Sunshine typed, "Or are you just stringing me along??" Excitedly I told her that I'd also had this thought, but had not been sure of its worthiness. However, since both of us derived this concept from the new word, we decided this must be the answer. Sunshine came through again with this example sentence: After the filliquious discussion, he finally told her what she needed to know.

So there you have it. It's a word to succinctly say a common occurence, one that most people would prefer not happen. Filiquious- the quality or state of dangling information or stringing someone along.

I did not mean to be filiquious with her in my pursuit of the matter, but I am glad that she helped solve my self-created literary dilemma. Thanks, Sunshine!

*I have one other question: In the famous illustration by John Tenniel, why does the Jabberwocky wear a vest?

Lost in the Dictionary...

Yes, I admit it. I have read the Dictionary for fun.
You’re either mocking me or not wanting to admit the same.
It’s fascinating.
Here’s how it happens:
A common word crosses your path, such as say…desk. You know what a desk is, certainly. As such, there would be no real reason to look it up. BUT, how do you define desk? An office table? No, that’s not right, for desks do not have to be used in offices and they’re not traditionally tables used in the same way/function as one thinks of a table for eating. A level surface where one does work? Yes, but would you define it that way? See what I mean? I get curious. How does the Dictionary convey the correct meaning concisely? In the case of “desk” it’s “an article of furniture having a broad, usually level, writing surface, as well as drawers or compartments for papers, writing materials, etc.” Okay, so perhaps it’s not so succinct. But if you’re like me, you find it interesting to see how it is done. After all, a Dictionary has to explain accurately to someone who doesn’t know what the word means. What happens next, for me at least, is that another word in the definition strikes me. For instance, compartments. Ooo. How is that defined? Seriously. Try coming up with a definition on your own. And so on...until skipping about in the Dictionary has eaten up a chunk of time. It’s not fun online. There is something about flipping pages in a thick tome that adds to the pleasure.

It’s not just meanings of words. I am interested in etymology as well. I love to find out where words come from and how they develop.

Sometimes I like to nitpick about the meaning of words…when we say “That necklace is fabulous!” are we stating that right? In other words (ha!) is the necklace truly like a fable? “What a fantastic book!” Granted, a book can be in the fantasy genre, but the same word can be applied to a self-help book, perhaps. So is the work really a fantasy?

Only or merely the product of mental activity; that which one thinks. [i.e. Just a thought.]

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
– Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride