whenever i could, i usually hitch a ride home from my cousin. our carpool conversations would usually start with his rants about work, then with my rants about work (or raves — yes, i do have raves, so sue me). Then a few other random thoughts and debates follow, which usually die down with us singing along with whatever track is playing.
the topic of genres came up, and then my cousin asked me where the word came from. why is it pronounced ‘dyan-ra’? is it French? i just replied that it’s probably the same explanation for fillet.
i remember a time way back when i was so fixated on learning how kiddos learned to speak. how the hell does a squeaking person learn to enunciate, let alone comprehend what a series of sound means? who invented words? when our ancestors learned to tap their brains, how did they know that a ‘rock’ is a ‘rock’ and not, well, a ‘genre’? (oh well, rock is a genre, but i digress.)
i remember being so fascinated that i tried to observe my niece as an infant. then i blinked (for some months) and missed the moment. oh well.
now, these things, i could do for work. why didn’t i think of being an etymologist as a child? (grr, you job charts, you. is it so hard to squeeze in ‘etymologist’ between ‘doctor’ and ‘farmer’?) i mean, i used to devour words. i remember looking up strange words in the dictionary and writing them down in alphabetically-indexed cue cards to expand my vocabulary (God, should I stop now before I doom myself to the further depths of nerd-dom? i should be right about the 4th bolgia now.) it’s a thrill just knowing the wealth of insight, culture and insinuations behind the words we just take for granted daily.
programming, i could do as a sideline. haha. oh well, who ever said that a person is destined for only one career?