etymologies

end. from Middle English ende, from Proto-Germanic *andijaz “endpoint (front or back)”, from Proto-Indo-European *h₂entíos “front, forehead”, cognate Sanskrit antya “the end”.

From *andijaz I’m reminded that ends are dual: a thing can have a front end and a back end. Endings are dual in another sense, in that the same event can represent the end of something, but also the start of another thing, in that cliché way we think of ending one chapter and starting another.

The PIE *h₂entíos is strange to me. I don’t associate endings with being in front. There’s an approach you can take in life, where you put the end in front of you, always in sight, ever-present. Live like tomorrow’s your last day. But isn’t that the same kind of thinking as I’m not going to live past 18 years old? How’s that any different from myopia?

The Sanskrit is interesting, as antya contrasts with anta. Both mean “end”, but antya is used for the end of a book, an era, a process; and anta is used for the end of a journey, a night, a world. Which one would quitting my job be? Was it more like antya, a conclusion, an end of a process? Or was it anta, a definitive end, a final resolution?

I mean, I jumped straight from one job into another. It can’t be a definitive end if I left my job as a software engineer at a startup, to become a software engineer at another startup. But these are material conditions. It could still be the end of a long, protracted course of questioning, the resolution to all my doubts about the role my job should play in my life, my doubts about how I should feel about it.

myopia. from Ancient Greek múōps “a closing of the eyes”, also “(figruative) a goad, spur”, from múō “to close” + ṓps “eye”, from Proto-Indo-European *mewH- “mute” + *h₃ekʷ- “to see”.

The two meanings of múōps probably came to the language independently; the “goad” might be from kṓnōps “gnat”. But we’re already playing fast and loose with our etymologies; why not read into this more? Closing your eyes is associated with prayer, with leaps of faith, with meditation. All things that are a source of motivation, all things that could spur one into action.

Where did the “lacking foresight” sense of myopia come from? It seems that nearsightedness has been associated with lacking foresight in languages like French or Spanish, but I can’t tell how old it is. In any case, sight is a metaphor for planning.

I’m myopic. My longest-term plans are a few months ahead, at most. I like how I look with glasses, and don’t plan on getting LASIK. Life is less a thing I do and more something that happens to me. (For example: I almost didn’t notice that I’m turning twenty-four in a few days.) This is not a coincidence, because nothing is ever a coincidence.

settle. from Old English setlan “put to rest”, from setl “seat”, from Proto-Germanic *setlaz “chair”, from Proto-Indo-European *sedlo, from *sed “to sit”, cognate Dutch zetel “seat (especially in parliament)“.

Rest. Maybe that’s what I need: a break. Maybe I only want to settle now, maybe it’s not something I want want. After all, I’ve taken zero days off in between my jobs. I took two weeks off in July to be a counselor for SPARC, but does that count as rest? This week is a company holiday for us, but I’m not taking it; even if I did, I imagine I’d burn my time on my projects anyway.

Projects like Galactic Puzzle Hunt. We’ve been writing the hunt since March. I’m co-chairs with Kevin, which means we’re kinda like the project leads. Our etymology also passes through *setlaz “chair”, but in the sense of a seat, of a place for rest; I’m a chair for GPH, but in the sense of a load-bearing support. It’s not a contradiction,

I said I wanted to settle, but how true is that? Would any amount of settling satisfy

satisfy. from Middle English satisfien “do penance”, from Old French satisfiier “make reparation”, from Latin satisfacere “discharge fully, comply with”, from satis “enough” + facere “to make”, from Proto-Indo-European *sh₂tis “satiation” + *dʰh₁k-yé-ti “to put”.

In Catholicism, the sacrament of penance requires three things: contrition, feeling sorrow for the committed sin; confession, disclosing the sins to a priest; and satisfaction, the act of penance, the thing done to make reparation. To satisfy is part of seeking forgiveness. If I’m seeking satisfaction, does that mean there’s been some sin against me? If I’m expecting to be satisfied by doing things, does that mean I’m the one who sinned against myself?

When I talked about my career goals, I said I only wanted to do enough to not get terminated.

I’ve committed the sin of tying my wellbeing to productivity. The workplace is my priest. My career is the assigned act of penance, and when I fulfill it, I can be forgiven.

terminal. from Latin terminus “limit, end”, from Proto-Italic *termenos “boundary stone”, from Proto-Indo-European *térmn̥ “peg”, from Proto-Indo-European *terh₂- “to pass through, overcome”, cognate Romanian țărm “shore, bank”.

The idea behind terminal levels seems native to big tech. Before you’re a senior engineer, you’re expected to get promoted within a certain timeframe, or you can get fired. Terminated, if you will. It’s the end

When I was in my previous company, my job ambitions amounted to reaching a terminal level and then staying there indefinitely. In my current company, there’s no formal notion of levels, which makes sense, and is something I generally like. But it also means there’s no *terminos, no natural boundary stone, no place marking when to settle.

If I stopped growing now, would that be fine? If I kept avoiding any project larger than two weeks, is that okay? If I stayed reactive and only drove down the backlog of bugs, would that be bad? Do I have to grow, or can I stagnate?

stagnate. from Latin stāgnātum, past participle of stāgnō “to cover the land as a lake; to become a pool”, from stāgnum “pond, lake”, cognate Italian stagnàre “to stanch (bleeding)”, possibly cognate to Middle English staunch “watertight, strong”.

The word stagnant has a negative connotation in my head. The idea: if you’re stagnant in your career, if you’re not growing at all, you might as well stop trying. Going forward is better than running in place. Magnitude is more important than direction; pick a goal and run as fast as you can.

It’s not clear to me what career progression as a software engineer looks like. If you asked me what I learned from working at my previous company for a year, I don’t think I’d say anything programming-related. But I’m getting paid more now, which must mean I’m doing something right. Right?

I first heard the word stagnate in the sense of stagnant water. I grew up to warnings of not leaving water stagnant, as it’d be breeding ground for mosquitoes. Stagnant water encourages growth, if you’re a mosquito. From stāgnō we get a stronger association of water. The image that’s brought to my mind is a still pool covering a large surface, absent even the slightest ripples. It’s a peaceful, restful image.

From stagnàre we even get a concept of healing. A rush of blood through an open wound isn’t a signal of energy, but the opposite. The body wants to be in homeostasis, from Greek homoios “similar” + stasis “standing still”, and it can’t do that by being in constant movement. From staunch we get an image of strength, a seal surviving water pressure. In this case, pressure could even help a wound heal, through clotting. A large pool of water may be still, but it can carry even the grandest vessels.

The maxim of equal and opposite advice applies, then. Direction is more important than magnitude. Small movements are better than wasted motion. Stillness leads to strength. The immovable object beats the unstoppable force. Is this a contradiction?

contradiction. from Old French contradiction, from Latin contrādictiō “reply, answer”, from contrā “against” + dīcō “say, speak”, from Proto-Italic *komterād “the other of the two who meet” + *deikō “indicate”, from Proto-Indo-European *ḱómteros “beyond” + *déyḱti “point out”, from *ḱóm “beside” + *teros “(contrastive suffix)” + *deyḱ “show”

I’m going to the office earlier and staying until later. I’ve worked more hours a week, thought about my job more outside of work. I’m excited to show up and build a beautiful product. How can I do all this, yet say I want to settle?

Three months ago, I sat down and listed all the reasons I didn’t want a job that I liked. Top on my list was that I was afraid it’d eat into my life. Well, that fear was realized. Look at me showing foresight! So much for being myopic,

To contradict, in Latin literally “speak against”, but the Proto-Italic roots are broader, perhaps “indicate the other one”? Perhaps a contradiction highlights something unsaid. Kinda like revealed preferences. If I’m spending more time at work, that means there’s something about it that I like; the contradiction points out that my beliefs aren’t aligned with my actions.

Maybe it’s too early to say anything. Maybe I’m in the honeymoon period where everything seems bright and shiny.