I could quote almost any page of this book to demonstrate its awesomeness and healthy doses of “aha!” it can induce on the reader but that wouldn’t do The Etymologicon justice; Mark Forsyth does such an awesome job of linking one word to the next with such -delighfully British- humorous descriptions and eloquence that simply picking and choosing doesn’t feel right.
This book is an ode to the history and connectedness of languages, one delicious word -or group of words- after the other. You can get a taste of Forsyth’s etymology- and origin-of-language-related work in his blog Inky Fool, which worked as his groundwork for The Etymologicon. If you find any of it interesting at all, chances are you’ll fall in love with this book just like Daphne and I both did.
On an unrelated note, I think it’d be interesting to share with you that the previous owner of my copy felt the need to correct grammar and syntax mistakes, such as having “But” and “And” at the beginning of sentences, with her (I’m assuming it’s a bitchy, uptight, female 60 -year-old-virgin English teacher) black marker; at other places she noted “Daft!” or underlined mistakes obviously intended for humour. To give you a little example at some point the book reads: “What the proofreader gets is a proof copy, which he pores over trying to fnid misspellings and unnecessary apostrophe’s.” She went ahead and deleted that last apostrophe. She really did. “…they who are so exact for the letter shall be dealty with by the Lexicon, and the Etymologicon too if they please…” The book begins with this quote by the apparently very prolific John Milton; the lady would have done well to have taken this piece of advice to heart.
This post has been was a work-in-progress ever since I got back from France in August. A major contributing factor for this delay has been a certain game I’ve put close to 4 full days into in the past month. Another has been my enduring inability to prioritise my activities, declutter my life and put my thoughts and feelings in order. I have found that creation is what I need, a positive step in the right direction. Writing more and returning to Cubilone’s Dimension will prove to be, I hope, a step towards solving these problems. Actually, solving them sounds a bit alien; I can’t really imagine myself living without these aspects of my personality. Is this my personal story sabotaging my development? Have I made a self-fulfilling prophecy out of trying to form or carve my identity? Hmmm…
As the months pass by and my post-study period grows longer, the dilemmas grow larger and scarier and often I feel as if I’m stuck in the middle of two worlds.
The first one was that, after many years of thinking it over, I finally did my CELTAcourse, which means that I’m now an internationally certified English teacher, or at the very least I’m elligible to teach pretty much anywhere in the world. For four weeks, eight hours each day, I learned how to teach the English grammar, vocabulary, phonology, various methods, what one should and shouldn’t do… At least the basics, for it’s of course a lifelong process, as is everything. The toughest part was that my 9 colleagues and I each had to teach eight lessons, totalling six hours, which we had to plan thoroughly beforehand as well as execute the best we could in the classroom, teaching real students (who by the way did not have to pay money to learn English because it was trainees teaching them) and later receiving feedback on those lessons from our colleagues and tutor.
The Received Pronounciation phonetic alphabet.
Oh, the things I heard about my teaching! I had never taught before, at least not in this “official” sense, and it showed. I was extremely nervous, kept staring at the whiteboard while writing my nonsensical teaching aids, had great trouble explaining in simple words things like the form and function of the present perfect or the lead-in for exercises… If those students hadn’t been as accustomed to other confusing teachers before me, they would have surely performed completely different tasks half the time, which they sometimes did. The tutors were brutal with their criticism at times, but it was all beneficial in the end: it helped me realise that one of my main and enduring weaknesses has been explaining things in simple and unconvoluted words even though, ever since (I remember having the same problem as well many times before), every time I realise I’m explaining something awkwardly or maybe unintelligibly, the self-consciousness still makes it almost impossible to explain in an empathic and efficient way. This will come with experience I suppose but it was one of the most important lessons. On top of that, we had to complete one assignment each weekend, which left us next to no free time at all.
My tutors, Alexander Makarios, George Vassilakis and Marissa Constantinides were all exceptional in their own ways and did an excellent job in making me kick off my teaching career. Thank you guys! My colleagues -Vaggelis, Daniel, Ioni, Chrysanthi, Pedro, Panayota, Margie, Theo and Kelly- I grew sick of and am glad I didn’t have to spend any more time together with them. Just look how much we hate eachother’s guts in the pictures and video:
Left to right: Margie, Pedro, Ioni, Vaggelis, Dimitris (that’s me by the way), Marissa, Kelly, Daniel, Chrysanthi, Panayota, Alexander, Theo
Four weeks of hard work; at least as many glasses of wine to make up for it.
After I was done with the CELTA I was pumped to leave Greece and go teach English somewhere in the world with the coming of the new school year, preferably at a place in which I would be able to communicate with the locals in their native language. That was something that would exclude Japan -it’s a whole different chapter and dream- but would include Spain, Latin America and Germany/Austria, my B2 certificates for both languages fresh from early last summer and making me eager to get some real life experience with them as soon as possible!
But then the second thing happened.
Even before I had hugged my colleagues and tutors goodbye, desperate for some rest and some time to either think or not have to think at all, at the very least until the time I’d have to leave Greece to do my English-teaching duty, right then came the call for the Trip to Heterotopia. “For 21 days in Southern France we’re going to be a caravan visiting eco-communities, festivals, solidarity projects and groups. We will be wildcamping, so bring your tents, sleeping bags and headlamps!” At first I was very sceptical. I was tired and longed for doing nothing, as I mentioned above. It was only little more than a month since I’d been abroad last and, frankly, I felt as if I’d had enough flying around with backpacks, having to wait in airoports and making new temporary friendships, for the year at least. I reluctantly applied anyway; the idea seemed just too good to skip altogether.
To my surprise, I was actually selected, albeit at the last moment. When I talked with Chrysostomos, the head of European Village (the sending organisation) about the specifics, I warned him that my financial situation was at its usual low. He told me that all the costs together would amount to 120€. A hundred and twenty. I was shocked.
-“What’s the catch?” I thought I was being clever. “What’s the cost of participation?” -“None. We’ve decided not to have one. Our current budget allows us to handle all the costs; it will be better and more convenient than passing them down to the travellers.”
That was it. 120€ would be cheaper even than staying in Athens for the same amount of time. Dafni wasn’t too happy with the suddenness of it all (we had made various plans for August already) but she was a sweet little understanding raccoon in the end and anyway had her own plans.
So there was us: 10 Greeks, and another 15 French people in it for the three weeks of the exchange. Together we visited five different locations and stayed some days in each, did wildcamping in every place, took part and volunteered for local festivals, picked organic vegetables from the community gardens and patches, learned how to build and use dry toilets (it’s not as bad as it sounds actually), participated in workshops on eco-building and local seed trading, there even was a Greek night dedicated to the Crisis. Our flag”ship” motor vehicle was the Vagabond Sage, a retrofit ’70s coach complete with dry toilet, wind generator and solar panels. We did not use all of its features but it was the symbol of our Trip in the French Heterotopias, the utopias that really exist.
The Vagabond SageInside the Vagabond SageSelf-organisingLautrecNettle salad. Guess who helped pick it… It was delicious and the numb fingers somehow made it better.Lots of camping was had.
All pictures by Marina, Myrto and Caro (I apologise for the terrible formatting of the pictures above. The gallery couldn’t come out right. I think it’s time for a new theme anyway...)
The experience from those three weeks is hard for me to put into words, not unlike much of the rest of my life. The trip was very practical: we had to pack stuff, unpack stuff, cook most meals from scratch (and cater for close to 30 people at times), deal with stuff changing places and having to ask about their whereabouts (looking at you, coffee and coffeejugs!), set up tents, build dry toilets and showers, empty said toilets, and many more things I’m generally not good at, the cerebral rather than practical, abstract rather than present, clumsy and unwieldy person that I generally am. I was much happier sitting somewhere writing my morning pages (more on those in the near future) or enjoying the sun than really helping to prepare dinner, for example, but not being really useful filled me with guilt. I felt that this separated me from the rest of the group and made it harder for me to contribute to our common goals and tasks. Sure, learning about eco-friendly and transitional practices was heaps of fun and super-interesting; connecting with the French and the Greeks was exciting and fun and there was all this adventure and thrill of moving from place to place and exploring rural Southern France, but I always had this nagging feeling that alone I could not do this, that somehow I wasn’t the right person for it. Once again, as I have too many times before to count, I felt like the black sheep. Or rather a sophisticated, colourful goat among a herd of sheep that has none of the definite deviant prestige that black sheep usually have but instead has a certain, perhaps misplaced, idea of superiority. When that idea is threatened and attacked by no-one in particular but, at the same time, everyone at once, I can be very reclusive and pensive. I was the city kid in a group of people who lived and breathed nature, it seemed. Thankfully, there were other people in the Greek group with whom I could share the feeling.
(Video I made with Phoenix for Daphne. Phoenix is the little fox she got for me while we were in Finland. The video is in Standard Definition, unfortunately.)
At the same time, I know that what we did in that trip is important and is the future. Anything that could make me and others more self-sufficient, make us able to take our own situations into our hands, free to lead our lives as we please, is important in this age of destroyed opportunities, slave wages and fear-mongering. We had some discussions on self-reliance around our almost daily nightly fire, watched a couple of movies that inspired me to take action one way or another (more specifically Να Μην Ζήσουμε Σαν Δούλοι), but most of all it was the people who took part, with their lifestyle and their choices, that made me think and feel.
Departure day
To cut a long story short, by the time we had got back to Greece I didn’t really want to leave immediately to find a job abroad. I had this feeling that staying here in Athens might not be so futile if I can find a way to use my time actively and creatively. Additionally, I felt and still feel that there’s lots of shit I have to figure out, reconcile, get over or leave behind before I can start something new. Putting some order to my digital belongings, selling or giving away stuff, giving time and energy to learn from everything that has happened in my life recently is really what I need but keep postponing due to distractions. Part of me tells me it’s all still being lazy and that purposefully skipping the opportunity to work abroad when I had it is regrettable, not to say of suspicious motivation on my part.
What appeared instead, however, is an excellent testament to the power of serendipity and letting the flow guide your path. Even if I missed the teaching abroad deadlines, there’s a very good possibility I will still be leaving the country after all to do my EVS (European Voluntary Service). Since there’s nothing urgent to do, might as well take advantage of my extended gap years while at the same time being independent for a change.
The real big questions in my head right now have to do with what path I should follow: one focused on living in the moment, taking advantage of opportunities as they come (the EVS and YIA side), discovering the Heterotopias that exist right under our noses and applying myself to that, or the other, in which I’ll make myself more qualified for actual work (which could be in the form of a MA in Prolonged Indecisiveness) or, yes, getting money and building the foundation for future survival? Certificates or Heterotopias? Playing it by ear as I’ve done a lot lately, or gearing up for the mystical tomorrow-never-comes “adult life”, which some would argue can’t include working as an English teacher abroad? /s
I have the EU and the YIA program to thank for giving me time and time again the opportunity to flourish!
From where I’m standing at the moment, the hopefully upcoming EVS looks like it might be able to combine the best of both worlds for me: independence, creativity, new experiences as well as involving myself with things that might benefit my future options of getting by. Still, it’s too fresh to announce anything concrete. If I’m finally doing it (my application’s in the notorious EVS red tape maze right now), which I should know by December, I’ll be leaving for Bulgaria in January 2014 and will be living there for close to a year working for Sofia City Library. That will involve updating their volunteer-run blog, creating promotional media for the library and, from what I can tell, having relatively lots of freedom to pursue my own projects.
What will happen next and whether or not I’ll manage to take advantage of the months ahead will depend entirely on my own ability to balance, prioritise and purge, while at the same time not leaving the flow. OK, maybe not entirely: the current monumental instability of the world will provide us all with some interesting distractions, surprises, dangers and wild card paradigm shifts. One thing’s for sure: we already have absolutely no excuses to feel bored.
Yet another comicbook tome lent to me by my girlfriend Daphne. “This one’s special”, she told me handing it over to me, her words a cross between a teaser and a warning. She was right: superheroes with weird but cool powers, random humour and clever details, awesome panel and page transitions that made me go “woooah, that was brave”, a tongue-in-cheekness in every little thing that sat quite well with me. This is not really my genre of preference, but after The Umbrella Academy I had to ask myself why not. Looking forward to reading Part Two already.
“I don’t know why I find it intensely erotic to stand naked before an open fridge, but I do. Maybe it’s something to do with the expectation of a hunger soon to be satisfied, maybe it’s that the spill of light on my body makes me feel like a professional stripper. Maybe something weird happened to me when I was young. It is an alarming feeling, mind, because all those assembled food-stuffs put ideas in your head you’re on the rise. Stories of what you can do with the unsalted butter on ripe melons or raw liver, they crowd your head as the blood begins to rush.
“I spotted a big slab of Red Leicester and pulled off a piece with my hands. I stood there chewing for some time, buzzing with happiness.
“Thas was when the idea came to me, full born.
“The force of it made me gape. A mashed pellet of bread fell from my open mouth and at once the blood flew upwards to the brain where it was needed, leaving my twitching excitement below with nothing to do but shrink back like a started snail.”
No wonder this man can write so eloquently and wittily about penises. It’s a great thing it’s not just them he can write like that about.
Stephen Fry is some sort of homo universalis: a modern day Leonardo Da Vinci, only much funnier. He’s an actor, a humourist, a TV show preseneter, a walking encyclopedia, an activists for gay rights, a linguist… an intellectual all around. I had no idea he was a writer on top of all that but it comes as no real shock. One can’t resist but nod silently, in contemplation and agreement to Mitchell & Webb’s “who doesn’t want to be like Stephen Fry?”.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that the book I had picked from Politeia, just because it had “Stephen Fry” and “History” written with large playful letters on the cover where it also had a picture of a cat, had to do with WWII and alternate history. I was thrilled! It’s been some time since I last read a 500-page book in less than 10 days. It was a good page-turner, not too memorable or original, but for a lover of good alternate history and for one that wouldn’t turn down well-written science fiction, it was rather good.
I know that the best part of such stories, at least for me, is finding out the little details of the “fictional” worlds that have branched out differently. Therefore, I shall not disclose anything but what’s necessary to whet your appetite: if Hitler had never been born, how can we be sure that the evil he was responsible for would have been equally prevented? Would Rock & Roll have ever been born? Would Orwell live to write 1984? What would the computers look like in 1996 — the year the book was written? Stephen Fry in his signature cerebral style includes real historical tidbits on many personalities of the past as well as science and cultural background that make the thing more believeable. It seems only right that a man with a broad range of interests such as himself would be the perfect candidate to write such a demanding genre as alternate history.
I’ll roll this review up leaving you with this: at one point of the book, the protagonist decides that the format of a novel is not enough to convey the action; the book promptly switches to telling the story by means of being a film script, only to switch back when the heavy action’s suddenly over:“I fade from Hollywood screenplay format to dull old, straight old prose because that’s how it felt. That’s how it always feels in the end.
“Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that.
…
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”
John Donne (1572-1631), Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII: Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris
Η ώρα είναι 3:47πμ… Το σχέδιο ήταν την Δευτέρα να κοιμηθώ νωρίς το πρωί (στο οποίο πρωί μου κατέφτασαν τα Civilization IV Complete και το All The Blue Changes απο No-Man!! ^^, προτζεκτάρα!) μετά απο ξενύχτι ώστε να ξυπνήσω το βράδυ της ίδιας μέρας και να έχω αντοχές μέχρι Τρίτη βράδυ να το πάω σερί, έτσι ώστε να μπορώ να κοιμηθώ νωρίς και να ξυπνήσω νωρίς για το αεροπλάνο μου προς Αθήνα το οποίο φεύγει στις 7:00πμ… Το σχέδιο μου φαινόταν ότι θα εκτυλισόταν ομαλά, θα ετοίμαζα τα πράγματα μου χτες και θα ήμουν έτοιμος να κοιμηθώ με την ησυχία μου και να είμαι φρέσκος στην Αθήνα… Αντί αυτού κλείνω 32 ώρες ξύπνιος απο λεπτό σε λεπτό. Γιατί; Πολύ απλό: Αντί να μαζέψω τα πράγματα μου κατα την διάρκεια της ημέρας θεώρησα ότι θα ήταν πολύ πιο σκόπιμο να γράψω για μερικά παιχνίδια ακόμα…! Και έτσι, αφού βγήκα το πρωί με τον Mordread (OMG!!! Mordread goes out!) και τον Μήτσο για καφέ και το βράδυ, αφού εγώ και ο πρώτος πήγαμε στο BG για λίγο Unreal Tournament 3 (δεν θα μπω σε λεπτομέρειες για την ταπεινωτική του ήττα σε όλα τα match) και αφού πήγαμε εγώ ο Πέτρος ο Πάρης ο Δημήτρης ο Θάνος και η Έλενα για φαγητό σε μια ομολογουμένως πολύ καλή και λιτή, με την θετική έννοια πάντα, ταβέρνα, δεν είχα χρόνο πουθενά μέσα στην μέρα για να ετοιμάσω τα πράγματα μου παρα μόνο μετά τις 10. Και τι έκανα τότε; Χαζολογούσα στο anime.gr, μετά έβαλα να δω το 101 Reykjavik (μια ανώμαλη, αστεία και αρκετά καλή ισλανδική ταινία) και όπως είναι προφανές μέχρι τώρα δεν αφιέρωσα και πολύ χρόνο στο τρίπτυχο συμμάζεμα/καθάρισμα/ετοιμασία… Και έτσι, αναγκαστικά, άλλη μια νύχτα θα θυσιαστεί στον βωμό του ξενυχτιού, της αναβολής των υποχρεώσεων και… μαντέψτε κυρίες και κύριοι… σε μερικό blogging!
Θερμάστρα πίσω απο πλάτη ως μόνη πηγή θέρμανσης στο σπίτι; Τσεκ. Μήλο και μπανάνα; Τσεκ. 3 κουταλιές Νες και 2μισι ζάχαρη και όλο το υπόλοιπο γάλα σε ποτήρι φραπέ; Τσεκ. Είμαι έτοιμος λοιπόν! Είπα να κάνω ένα μικρό διάλειμμα απο το μικρό μου και μονάκριβο tribute και να γράψω σχετικά με κάτι το οποίο σκέφτομαι εδώ και αρκετές μέρες. Το έναυσμα μου ήρθε μια βραδιά που μίλαγα με τον Σάβι… Ξαφνικά, παρατήρησα ότι για αρκετή ώρα μιλάγαμε αγγλικά. Και το ίδιο συμβαίνει ΠΑΡΑ πολλές φορές ενώ μιλάω (στο MSN κυρίως) με όλες σχεδόν τις επαφές μου… Ή τουλάχιστον, με τις επαφές μου που είναι αναμεμειγμένες με κυβερνοκουλτούρα. Να το! ΝΑ ΤΟ! Κυβερνοκουλτούρα. Λες αυτή την λέξη και το νοιώθεις, νοιώθεις την βλακεία να ρέει απο τις άκρες των δαχτύλων σου ενώ πληκτρολογείς… Ποιός εφήυρε αυτήν την λέξη; Ποιός αποφάσισε μια μέρα να μεταφράσει το cyber- ως… κυβερνό-; Εμένα μου φέρνει άμεσα στο μυαλό κυβερνήσεις και μαστίγια (άτιμη συναισθησία;). Εκείνη την βραδιά που μίλαγα με τον Σάβι, εκτός απο το ότι αντιλήφθηκα το ότι μιλάγαμε υπερβολικά πολλά αγγλικά μέσω MSN, επίσης κατάλαβα ότι και να θέλεις να μιλήσεις για υπολογιστές και “κυβερνοκουλτούρα” στα ελληνικά, η απαραίτητη αργκό απλά δεν υπάρχει. Αυτό το κενό στην γλώσσα το οποίο δημιουργήθηκε απο την έξαρση της πληροφορικής γεμίζεται απο λέξεις κατευθείαν παρμένες απο τα αγγλικά. Η ορολογία είναι τόσο ολοκληρωτικά αγγλική που τελικά το να συνεχίζεις την συζήτηση στα αγγλικά φαντάζει φυσικό επακόλουθο, ειδικά για εμάς που είμαστε μπλεγμένοι γερά με το internet που είναι κατα βάση αγγλικό, άσχετο το ότι όλοι νομίζουμε ότι ξέρουμε αγγλικά ξαφνικά… πολλοί κάνουν το λάθος να νομίζουν ότι μια βασική τριβή με το internet κρατάει το επίπεδο των αγγλικών τους υψηλό.
Δυστυχώς, η πλειοψηφία των ομιλιών και των κειμένων στο διαδίκτυο δεν χαρακτηρίζονται απο τον γλωσσικό τους πλούτο και ιδιαίτερα στους κύκλους μας. Αντιθέτως, τα αγγλικά και η παγκοσμιοποιημένη πλέον χρήση τους έχει μειώσει πολύ το επίπεδο στο οποία η γνώση της γλώσσας θεωρείται ανεκτή… Υπάρχουν εξαιρέσεις που επιβεβαιώνουν τον κανόνα φυσικά, όμως αργά αλλά σταθερά οδηγούμαστε στο μπαστάρδεμα όλων των γλωσσών με τα αγγλικά. Υπάρχει η άποψη ότι οι γλώσσες εξυπηρετούν ανάγκες και εξελίσσονται σύμφωνα με αυτές και ότι δεν υπάρχει νόημα διατήρησης αλλά δεν πιστεύετε ότι ο χαμός τόσης πολιτισμικής κληρονομιάς σε παγκόσμιο επίπεδο είναι… κρίμα να χαθεί απο την αδίστακτη επέλαση των αγγλικών παντού; Εξηγούμαι για να μην παρεξηγούμαι: δεν είναι ότι δεν συμπαθώ τα αγγλικά… Είναι η πατρική μου γλώσσα και θέλω να την ξέρω όσο καλύτερα μπορώ! Όμως πιστεύω ότι σύντομα δεν θα θεωρείται “ξένη” γλώσσα… Θα ειναι τόσο άμεσα συνυφασμενή με τα ελληνικά που όντως, η ομιλία κουτσουρεμένων αγγλικών θα είναι αυτονόητη.
Αρχίζω και χάνω τον ίδιο μου τον οιρμό… Αυτή είναι η λειτουργία μιας παγκόσμιας γλώσσας, να υπάρχει παντού… Τι όμως την εμποδίζει απο το να διαβάλει τις τοπικές γλώσσες; Γιατί να μιλήσει κάποιος αγγλικά και όχι ελληνικά; Θα επιχειρήσω μια σύγκριση σε σημερινές συνθήκες.
Τα ελληνικά είναι η μητρική μας γλώσσα. Την ξέρουμε, άλλοι καλύτερα άλλοι χειρότερα, κάποιοι εκτιμούν την ιστορία της και την μοναδικότητα της σαν γλώσσα και κάποιοι, οι πιο λειτουργικοί τύποι που ανέφερα πιο πριν, δεν ασχολούνται και πολύ με το θέμα και δεν θα τους πείραζε αν το αλφάβητο μας αύριο άλλαζε σε greeklish (ουάου, θα είχε και κανόνες ορθογραφίας;;! Απίστευτο φαίνεται). Παρά την ευκολία δημιουργίας λέξεων για τα πάντα, η αργκό της cyberculture έχει μεταφερθεί αυτούσια απο τα αγγλικά, ή δεν έχει μεταφερθεί καν, απλά μιλάμε αγγλικά! Το θέμα είναι… τι το παραπάνω έχουν τα αγγλικά απο τα ελληνικά σε αυτόν τον τομέα; Γιατί να είναι τόσο δύσκολο να βρούμε ΚΟΥΛ λέξεις που να περιγράφουν τα γνωστά; Λέξεις τις οποίες όταν τις λες δεν θα νοιώθεις ένας εκ των χιλίων καρδιναλίων;
Ίσως φαίνεται αστείο αυτό που θέλω αλλά επειδή μου αρέσουν αρκετά τα ελληνικά σαν γλώσσα και θέλω την εξέλιξη τους, θα μου άρεσε αυτή η παλιά γλώσσα να έχει ΔΙΚΕΣ της σύγχρονες προσθήκες και να μην μιλάμε απλά αγγλικά συνέχεια… Είμαι μόνος μου σε αυτήν την επιθυμία; Τι λέτε να προσπαθήσουμε να παράξουμε λέξεις για την εξυπηρέτηση αυτού του σκοπού; Κάπου εδώ θα κλείσω, οι ώρες έγιναν 33 και αυτό αρχίζει να έχει αρνητικές συνέπειες στις ικανότητες προσοχής και συγκέντρωσης μου και επομένως στην ποιότητα του κειμένου μου… Ίσως κάποια στιγμή ξανασχοληθώ με το θέμα. Αλήθεια, επίτηδες έγραψα αυτή την καταχώρηση στα ελληνικά. Δεν ξέρω ποιά απο τις δύο γλώσσες να χρησιμοποιώ εδώ. Αν και τις δύο, πότε την μία και πότε την άλλη, και τι θα γίνουν αυτοί που ξέρουν μία μόνο και χάνουν έτσι κάποιες καταχωρήσεις; Τέλος πάντων, πείτε μου τις απόψεις σας.
Ένα ενδιαφέρον link που βρήκα πάνω σε αυτό το θέμα πάνω-κάτω.
The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language by Mark Forsyth
