Snack

...or "When you are not quite ready for the commitment of dinner"

If somehow the definition of snack has thus eluded you, stop reading now, because you obviously have alluded that you need more elucidation on the English language than a mere blogger with a statistics degree can offer. For all others, I am sure that you can appreciate that for the working waitress on the go, snacks are essential. It matters not that everything consumed will be considered a snack, nor that grazing off of tater tots for days at a time will render a continual snacking ritual. Either way, snacks are crucial. But the word itself is quite pleasant to the ear. Quick and to the point, it is the bane of slow talkers, forcing even the most frustratingly leisurely speakers to say it in under five seconds. Also, when you consider everything a snack, there is far less potential for let-down. How many times have you been building something up as the pivotal meal of the day, only to not be hungry or for it to simply suck? No such commitment with snacks. You don't even have to eat your vegetables if you don't want. (Though might I say, veggies are excellent snacks). And if you have more than one snack a day, no one will judge you. A leader of the lexicon's pack, "snack" never fails at getting your point across, quickly and without expectation, and never without the glorious distinction of being available when most needed.

Filament

...or "Happenin' threads dude"

From the Latin "filum" (thread), comes this delightful word for an object holding threadlike qualities. I always think this word has a joyous euphonic sound when pronounced, be it from the liquid l or from the lack of long vowels. Really, it is quite musical to the ear. But it also plucks at the heartstrings of nostalgia. I cannot hear this word without taking a journey down the timeline to the nineties, to a time where an Italian sportswear company bearing the humble moniker of "Fila" ruled recess. Of course, I would not be caught dead in Fila, given my blanket refusal to wear pants for the majority of my youth. For others, however, Fila apparel was all the rage. Not surprisingly, the company's name means "threads" in Italian. How self-referential. These days, I rarely see that iconic, bi-color F. I guess people had their fill of Fila, and the company's good name is now hanging by a thread. But "filament" is not now, nor will ever be, second-string in my lexicon.

Poise

...or "Specially Designed to Protect Against Bladder Leaks"

Perchance because I am so sorely lacking in my personal bearing, or perchance because I just am not fond of that pesky "oi" diphthong, "poise" gets a definitive check in the dislike box. Either way, poise comes out as both the bane of my existence and a nasty sounding word. Such a coveted trait with such a rotten cadence. What's more, the ancestor of the modern poise meant heaviness. Since the main connotations of this word (aside from incontinence protection, of course) are self-assurance and natural elegance, the burdensome derivation comes as rather counter-intuitive. Dratted connotations. For all this, I suppose I am poised to point out "poise" as a ponderance in the lexicon.

Nonchalant

...or "Make mine chilled, with a twist"

Nonchalant. Exuding the appearance of not caring. "Being cool." Though this word derives as to mean "not being concerned with," the colloquial meaning is more along the lines of "not appearing to care." Those are two massive edges on one major awkward sword. For people with stellar social interaction skills, such as myself, the act of being nonchalant is a crucial skill to master. My particular brand of callous nonchalance usually involves a delicately caustic comment followed by the always popular exchange of parting pleasantries before I walk away, snickering to myself. Perhaps my coolness is a bit over-chilled, because I am still an uncomfortable freshman in the world of nonchalance. But then again, all the fun in nonchalance rests in never letting anyone know you care.

Drivel

...or "Don't Drink and Drivel"

The thing I like about this particularly snide word is that it serves a dual purpose--it means both to drool and also to spew careless nonsense. So maybe just one purpose. But as an admitted drooler, I would much appreciate it if all the referees in the house looked the other way while I double-drivel. Personally, I think this is one of the most cold and dismissive words in the lexicon. When someone futilely attempts an argument, or slaps you with something particularly insulting, make sure a bitch knows he should stop sniveling drivel.

I used to get "drivel" and "dribble" confused, which may explain why I was never very good at basketball (it had nothing to do with the awkward and nonathletic thing, of course). For some reason, I found "dribbling" a rather unsettling term. Now I know better, and am still unsettled. Drivel, however, will always be a three-pointer on my jumbo-tron.

Update

...or "I don't have any strong feelings on this word at all, really"

Yes, I am a slacker. Yes, posting multiple times a week, or even multiple times a month, is apparently too much for me. But I have been working on other writing projects. Mostly essays. Mostly during statistics class. So, keep an eye out for a potential parasitic growth blog springing out of this guy. Maybe it will happen. But don't get your hopes up.

Fondly,


Maddy

Reciprocal

...or "I still hate math"

Yes, you have heard it. Straight from the math major's mouth. Math sucks. This is a fact that to most is as natural as the rooting reflex; the two instincts even emerge around the same time. It is little better on the other side, where the mathies lurk. Or maybe math just isn't my thing. But the word 'reciprocal' surely is. (And with the use of the single quotes, we can see my unwilling assimilation into the realm of coding. Gag.) Basically, a reciprocal is something that is inversely related. Pretty simple stuff, unless you start delving deep into group theory. It can also be a tit for a tat, eye for an eye sort of thing. Or it could even be something that shared on both sides. Like love. Or hate, for that matter. But let us focus on the reason for the season. Aside from that delightful phonetic K, I rather enjoy the requisite reciprocal warm fuzzies that we get this time of year. People seem to take time out and show some reciprocity to all the folks that have made a difference in their lives. So, on the eve of Chanukah, and soon to be Christmas, try and take that initiative to inversely relate and do something for a buddy. Of course, I will be buying said buddies beer, which will be greatly appreciated. Even for the non-religious among us, it is a great time to quit being such a snark and say "Thanks, kids," to all the people for whom, somewhere in your cold heart, you actually reciprocally care.