Words, words, words
This week's Friday 5 (and their explanatory introductions) are inspired by this Mental Floss article about words in other languages without English equivalents.
[The title of the original post was a Halloween-appropriate "Yuputka!" -- an Ulwa word referring to the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin. Meanwhile, the post's closing wish, "Lagom", is a Swedish word meaning, "Not too much, and not too little, but juuuuust right." Très Aristotelian!]
And now, my answers:
1. Iktsuarpok is Inuit for that feeling of anticipation when you're waiting for someone to show up at your house and you keep going outside to see if they're there yet. Who last invoked iktsuarpok in you?
And we start off with an easy one! You probably don't have to know me well to guess that the most recent person I iktsuarpok'd for was Number One Son, last time he drove up from Nashville for one of his semi-annual visits. (He usually flies, but his car is titled in my state, and he has to bring it up for emissions testing every so often.)
2. Georgians call it shemomedjamo when you're really full, but your meal is just so delicious, you can't stop eating it. When did you memorably shemomedjamo?
Having identified gluttony as a personal issue last week, I'll reinforce the claim this week by admitting that the scenario described in the question occurs much too frequently to allow for many memorable ones. I mean, just yesterday I ate an indecently huge brunch in a nice restaurant; and, as bad as I knew I ought to have felt about continuing to shovel it in past the fill-up point, I just wasn't going to leave any of that "Chicken and Waffles Benedict" (with a side of rosemary breakfast potatoes) on the plate. It was outrageously good, even if 1/3 to 1/2 of it was completely unnecessary as fuel.
3. Zhaghzhagh is Persian for the chattering of teeth from the cold or from rage. When were you last so cold (or so enraged) you experienced zhaghzhagh?
Today is the final day of October, and I haven't yet turned on the heat in my house. Autumn finally began this past week, and one day (maybe Monday?), I awoke with teeth literally chattering. Had it happened on two days, the heat would now be on.
The rage kind of zhaghzhagh hasn't happened for over a decade, and the last time it did was the night the Man left.
4. A bilita mpash in Bantu is the opposite of a nightmare: an amazing dream. Whenever a dream question shows up in memes, half the respondents say they don't remember their dreams, but here we go anyway. What is one bilita mpash you remember?
Gosh, I had one just two nights ago -- and it's a good thing I did, because otherwise I don't think I'd've managed an answer here!
No, seriously. I remember very few of my dreams, and most of the ones that do stick in my head are weird-to-bad. This one, however, was practically wish fulfillment, and I didn't even know I'd been wishing for it!
For some background, my favorite modern author has long been Giovannino Guareschi. I'm not saying I can make the case that the creator of the Little World of Don Camillo is necessarily the BEST modern author; only that I have long loved him best. Indeed, for just over 15 years beginning in late 1997, my entire online presence was centered on my Don Camillo tribute website, a Guareschi fan mailing list, and other activities promoting GG's books in English. In 1998, I visited Guareschi's grown children in Italy (they were about my mom's age and spoke no English!) to get more info for the site. So we are talking a serious devotee here.
Now, GG died in 1968, and, while our respective lifespans overlapped, I never could have met him (for one thing, he was already gone before my adolescent self became aware of him). But in this dream in the wee hours of Saturday morning, I was at a conference of some sort (in the US), and there, at a table in a corner of a pretty quiet hall (which seemed more like a large church basement), was Giovannino Guareschi himself, sitting in front of a display about as sophisticated as one you'd see at an elementary school science fair. Dream Me seemed not to have been expecting him to be there, and she was (needless to say) thoroughly delighted to have run into her favorite author by chance.
It was an older GG than the real world ever got to see, so I guess in my dream world he didn't die at age 60 of a sudden heart attack. Instead, the GG of my dream was about my dad's current age, which is to say in his mid-80s. The famous dark hair and infamous mustache were mostly grey. However, it's not clear exactly when the dream was supposed to be set: in real life, GG would have turned 85 in 1993; but in this dream, I seemed to be my 2021 self. For instance, Dream Me talked to GG (and I was not shy!) about my research into his work as if I'd done it a couple decades ago (as was the case). And, yeah, I did say "talked to" him, because this GG spoke perfectly serviceable English! Okay, it was a bit broken and heavily accented, but he didn't need the translator who was sitting nearby.
I don't know how long the dream lasted, but it was the thing I woke up from in the morning, and -- because it had made me absurdly happy -- I rehearsed it in my head quickly a few times so I wouldn't forget it.
5. In Thailand, the feeling you get when you don't want someone to do something for you because it would be a pain for them is greng-jai. When did you recently resist greng-jai and ask someone anyway?
You know, I may actually be immune to this particular feeling. (Meanwhile, my sons all have it to what I think is an unhealthy degree.) The way I see it, we (humans) are all in this thing (life) together, and we might as well give each other a hand whenever we can. I'm often willing to put myself out to help someone else, and thus (on the assumption that we're all the same at heart) I am never above asking for help that I really need from someone who I think would be capable and might be willing to give it.
Now, I do know the unwritten rules!. One doesn't just ask a big favor of someone who one knows is in the midst of a bad patch (unless it's a strategic move to help the person). And of course, one always asks whomever one does approach in a way that makes it clear that there are no hard feelings if they refuse. And sometimes -- when it's a big favor -- one offers a return favor right at the time of asking. But the main thing is that I never stop myself from asking anyone for anything for the sole reason that fulfilling my request might require discernible (or even appreciable) effort on the part of the person I'm asking. I've found that people are often willing to help one (they even like being given the opportunity!), and as long as one pays things forward (and back, when appropriate, but I do think "forward" is more important), it all kind of evens out in the end.
The last time I made a request big enough to give me pause beforehand was back in June, when the fellow scheduled to run tech on my giant Sherlockian Zoom symposium had to back out and I asked another capable person to fill in. What made it an imposition-level request was a combination of things, beginning with the über-last-minute-ness of it. I knew I was losing the first guy a full week in advance of the event; but, being me, I spent about six days frozen with worry (deer, meet highlights) before it sank in that I needed to enlist a new helper or risk disaster. Next, the chap who canceled was a friend, but the best candidate to ask to replace him was only a friendly acquaintance, making for a tougher ask even if I had done it with healthy lead time. Finally, being the techie co-pilot to a Zoom conference front-woman is, like being Spiderman's "guy in the chair," a somewhat thankless job. The success of the conference may well depend on your work, but the organizer will get 99% of the credit no matter how effusively she thanks you in the final moments of the event.
In spite of all of the foregoing, my request-ee said yes to my eleventh-hour plea, and, post-con, we have definitely moved from acquaintances to friends.
I'll add that I subsequently sent him a thank-you card, which is pretty rare for me (and most people these days?). I didn't want him to think I was unaware of how much chutzpah I'd demonstrated by waiting to ask a virtual stranger for help with a semi-thankless job until the the night before I needed him. (Hmm... would chutzpah be the -- or an -- opposite of greng-jai?)
[The title of the original post was a Halloween-appropriate "Yuputka!" -- an Ulwa word referring to the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin. Meanwhile, the post's closing wish, "Lagom", is a Swedish word meaning, "Not too much, and not too little, but juuuuust right." Très Aristotelian!]
And now, my answers:
1. Iktsuarpok is Inuit for that feeling of anticipation when you're waiting for someone to show up at your house and you keep going outside to see if they're there yet. Who last invoked iktsuarpok in you?
And we start off with an easy one! You probably don't have to know me well to guess that the most recent person I iktsuarpok'd for was Number One Son, last time he drove up from Nashville for one of his semi-annual visits. (He usually flies, but his car is titled in my state, and he has to bring it up for emissions testing every so often.)
2. Georgians call it shemomedjamo when you're really full, but your meal is just so delicious, you can't stop eating it. When did you memorably shemomedjamo?
Having identified gluttony as a personal issue last week, I'll reinforce the claim this week by admitting that the scenario described in the question occurs much too frequently to allow for many memorable ones. I mean, just yesterday I ate an indecently huge brunch in a nice restaurant; and, as bad as I knew I ought to have felt about continuing to shovel it in past the fill-up point, I just wasn't going to leave any of that "Chicken and Waffles Benedict" (with a side of rosemary breakfast potatoes) on the plate. It was outrageously good, even if 1/3 to 1/2 of it was completely unnecessary as fuel.
3. Zhaghzhagh is Persian for the chattering of teeth from the cold or from rage. When were you last so cold (or so enraged) you experienced zhaghzhagh?
Today is the final day of October, and I haven't yet turned on the heat in my house. Autumn finally began this past week, and one day (maybe Monday?), I awoke with teeth literally chattering. Had it happened on two days, the heat would now be on.
The rage kind of zhaghzhagh hasn't happened for over a decade, and the last time it did was the night the Man left.
4. A bilita mpash in Bantu is the opposite of a nightmare: an amazing dream. Whenever a dream question shows up in memes, half the respondents say they don't remember their dreams, but here we go anyway. What is one bilita mpash you remember?
Gosh, I had one just two nights ago -- and it's a good thing I did, because otherwise I don't think I'd've managed an answer here!
No, seriously. I remember very few of my dreams, and most of the ones that do stick in my head are weird-to-bad. This one, however, was practically wish fulfillment, and I didn't even know I'd been wishing for it!
For some background, my favorite modern author has long been Giovannino Guareschi. I'm not saying I can make the case that the creator of the Little World of Don Camillo is necessarily the BEST modern author; only that I have long loved him best. Indeed, for just over 15 years beginning in late 1997, my entire online presence was centered on my Don Camillo tribute website, a Guareschi fan mailing list, and other activities promoting GG's books in English. In 1998, I visited Guareschi's grown children in Italy (they were about my mom's age and spoke no English!) to get more info for the site. So we are talking a serious devotee here.
Now, GG died in 1968, and, while our respective lifespans overlapped, I never could have met him (for one thing, he was already gone before my adolescent self became aware of him). But in this dream in the wee hours of Saturday morning, I was at a conference of some sort (in the US), and there, at a table in a corner of a pretty quiet hall (which seemed more like a large church basement), was Giovannino Guareschi himself, sitting in front of a display about as sophisticated as one you'd see at an elementary school science fair. Dream Me seemed not to have been expecting him to be there, and she was (needless to say) thoroughly delighted to have run into her favorite author by chance.
It was an older GG than the real world ever got to see, so I guess in my dream world he didn't die at age 60 of a sudden heart attack. Instead, the GG of my dream was about my dad's current age, which is to say in his mid-80s. The famous dark hair and infamous mustache were mostly grey. However, it's not clear exactly when the dream was supposed to be set: in real life, GG would have turned 85 in 1993; but in this dream, I seemed to be my 2021 self. For instance, Dream Me talked to GG (and I was not shy!) about my research into his work as if I'd done it a couple decades ago (as was the case). And, yeah, I did say "talked to" him, because this GG spoke perfectly serviceable English! Okay, it was a bit broken and heavily accented, but he didn't need the translator who was sitting nearby.
I don't know how long the dream lasted, but it was the thing I woke up from in the morning, and -- because it had made me absurdly happy -- I rehearsed it in my head quickly a few times so I wouldn't forget it.
5. In Thailand, the feeling you get when you don't want someone to do something for you because it would be a pain for them is greng-jai. When did you recently resist greng-jai and ask someone anyway?
You know, I may actually be immune to this particular feeling. (Meanwhile, my sons all have it to what I think is an unhealthy degree.) The way I see it, we (humans) are all in this thing (life) together, and we might as well give each other a hand whenever we can. I'm often willing to put myself out to help someone else, and thus (on the assumption that we're all the same at heart) I am never above asking for help that I really need from someone who I think would be capable and might be willing to give it.
Now, I do know the unwritten rules!. One doesn't just ask a big favor of someone who one knows is in the midst of a bad patch (unless it's a strategic move to help the person). And of course, one always asks whomever one does approach in a way that makes it clear that there are no hard feelings if they refuse. And sometimes -- when it's a big favor -- one offers a return favor right at the time of asking. But the main thing is that I never stop myself from asking anyone for anything for the sole reason that fulfilling my request might require discernible (or even appreciable) effort on the part of the person I'm asking. I've found that people are often willing to help one (they even like being given the opportunity!), and as long as one pays things forward (and back, when appropriate, but I do think "forward" is more important), it all kind of evens out in the end.
The last time I made a request big enough to give me pause beforehand was back in June, when the fellow scheduled to run tech on my giant Sherlockian Zoom symposium had to back out and I asked another capable person to fill in. What made it an imposition-level request was a combination of things, beginning with the über-last-minute-ness of it. I knew I was losing the first guy a full week in advance of the event; but, being me, I spent about six days frozen with worry (deer, meet highlights) before it sank in that I needed to enlist a new helper or risk disaster. Next, the chap who canceled was a friend, but the best candidate to ask to replace him was only a friendly acquaintance, making for a tougher ask even if I had done it with healthy lead time. Finally, being the techie co-pilot to a Zoom conference front-woman is, like being Spiderman's "guy in the chair," a somewhat thankless job. The success of the conference may well depend on your work, but the organizer will get 99% of the credit no matter how effusively she thanks you in the final moments of the event.
In spite of all of the foregoing, my request-ee said yes to my eleventh-hour plea, and, post-con, we have definitely moved from acquaintances to friends.
I'll add that I subsequently sent him a thank-you card, which is pretty rare for me (and most people these days?). I didn't want him to think I was unaware of how much chutzpah I'd demonstrated by waiting to ask a virtual stranger for help with a semi-thankless job until the the night before I needed him. (Hmm... would chutzpah be the -- or an -- opposite of greng-jai?)