Whether it’s a matter of difficult spelling or multiple meanings, these ten words pose a degree of difficulty to a great many English speakers. Below you will find their definitions, with a rundown of ways to make sure you will never have a problem telling them apart.

SYMPATHY and EMPATHY
The word “sympathy” has been used in the English language far longer than has its sibling “empathy.” For centuries, “sympathy” meant the ability to “feel with” another person – to understand and to be affected by his circumstances. In the early 20th century, “empathy” worked its way into English as a term utilized in psychoanalysis. Whether being empathetic helps or hinders the agent is up for debate, but having such a quality does imply a great deal more effort than merely being sympathetic. Being empathetic entails not only “feeling with” another entity, but also projecting oneself onto that entity to fully comprehend its state of being.

FLAUNT and FLOUT
Here we find another case of similar sounds and wholly different meanings. To flaunt a quality or object is to put it on display, to parade it around in order to impress others. To flout something is to scorn it and treat it with contemptuous disrespect. The latter has a surprising etymology, most likely form the Old English flouten, meaning “to play the flute.” Apparently the flute could make a fairly derisive-sounding whistling sound.

DISCREET and DISCRETE
Most of the time when we wish to utilize discretion, we mean the first term, Discreet: prudent, cautious, and not in plain sight. The second word, discrete, is typically used in the field of mathematics to refer to distinct and separate entities.

STATIONARY and STATIONERY
When you are standing in one spot, you are stationary. When you write a letter on fancy paper and stamp it closed with wax, you are using stationery.

VENAL and VENIAL
Though they sound similar, these words could not be further apart in meaning. A “venial sin” is a small peccadillo – pardonable, easily excused, and quite minor in nature. The word originates in the Latin venia, meaning “forgiveness.”

“Venal,” however, indicates something far graver and more reprehensible, stemming from the Latin, venum, meaning “sale.” This term came to indicate a person susceptible to corruption, who could be bought or bribed if the price was right.

Last year, Beyond Words brought you a December article filled with affordable gift ideas for language lovers. Below is an updated list of ideas to satisfy the linguaphiles on your shopping list this holiday season.

Body Language Cards

These fun, and sometimes inadvertently funny, flash cards promise to unlock the secrets of human body language, and even to, “help generate sexual interest in someone you desire.” We’ll have to come back to these around Valentine’s day to see how they performed.

Read more about them here: Body Language Flashcards.

The Linguists Documentary

This recent documentary was a hit at Sundance. It follows THE LINGUISTS, David Harrison and Gregory Anderson, as they travel around the world documenting languages on the verge of extinction. David and Greg’s work takes them deep into the heart of the cultures, knowledge, and communities at stake. A must see for all language lovers.

Read more about it here: The Linguists

WORD-A-DAY Calendars

Ok, maybe these are best for gifting those language lovers on the perifery of your list, but they can be fun and really informative stocking stuffers. You can find a huge array of word-a-day calendars to suit any predilection. From foreign language training to etymology to simply goofing around, there are many calendars directed toward language lovers. Here are a few of our favorites:

2010 Anguished English

2010 New Word A Day

2010 Forgotten English

2010 Word Origin

The New York Times Electronic Crossword Puzzle

For the recreational language sleuth, this gift offers over 1,000 crosswords, complete with hints and solutions. You’ll be hard pressed to find a language lover who doesn’t enjoy a good crossword puzzle, so this is a safe bet!

Read more about it here: NY Times Crossword Touch Screen

Foreign Cookbooks

As many students of language know, cultural immersion can take many forms. A fantastic way to learn about a nation is to taste its cuisine, and many modern cookbooks offer traditional recipes from around the world that are sure to please the bon vivants on your list. Here are some of our favorites:

The World Cookbook

History of the World in 6 Glasses

The Gringos Guide to Mexican Cooking

Eat, Drink, Think in Spanish

T-Shirts, Bags, and More!

There’s still time to order those last minute bobbles for the translator, linguist, or language teacher in your life! Since last year’s ALTA gift ideas article, websites like Café Press, Main Street Books (a division of Café Press), and Zazzle have updated and expanded their collections to include an impressive selection of T-shirts, mugs, key chains, posters, calendars, and stationery aimed at linguaphiles.
Cafe Press Language Stuff
Main Street Books
Zazzle

Happy shopping!

Unfriend
n. To remove a contact from your network on a social networking site,
such as Facebook.

The verdict is in: the New Oxford American Dictionary’s 2009 Word of the Year is “unfriend.” This transitive verb – as social networking site users and non-users alike might know – means to remove a “friend” from an online profile on a site such as Facebook or MySpace. The content of these websites, along with Twitter and the advent of text messages, dominated the list of potential candidates for the Word of the Year: There was “intexticated,” or being so infatuated with sending text messages as to type away while engaged in tasks that require the user’s full attention (e.g. operating a vehicle, attending classes, giving birth). Also up for debate was “sexting,” or sending explicit messages and pictures by cell phone. Ultimately, “unfriend” won out, according to the New Oxford American Dictionary’s senior lexicographer Christine Lindberg, due to its “currency and potential longevity.”

As difficult as it may be to crown one term with “Word of the Year,” the Global Language Monitor has engaged in an even more ambitious linguistic task – to find the most popular words and phrases of the decade. Each year over the course of the 2000s, the Global Language Monitor, operating out of Houston, Texas, has singled out words, phrases, and names that have incorporated themselves into the American lexicon. Certain themes run through these lists: climate change, sustainability, unrest in the Middle East, and the internet thread themselves through multiple years.

In fact, “global warming” was chosen as the most prominent term of our century, followed by “9/11,” “Obama,” and “bailout.” “Global warming” has been used to describe the overall rise in temperatures since 1983, over a century after the “greenhouse effect” was popularized as a term to explain the planet’s rising surface temperature. As for language relating to crisis in the Middle East, the Global Language Monitor’s most popular words and phrases include “War on Terror” (2001), “Weapons of Mass Destruction” (2003), “bin Laden” (2003), and “Taliban.” Finally, national concerns deemed worthy of the Word of the Year have been “Ponzi Scheme” (2009), “same-sex marriage” (2003), “Katrina” (2004), and “iPhone” (2007). While the words chosen for this list vary drastically in overall weight and import, it may be fair to say that their popularity and usage in American English makes them quite relevant.
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Graphic courtesy of Media Slap Blog

Although not his most famous work, one of Dante Alighieri’s most important ones was a composition entitled De Vulgari Eloquentia (On Eloquence in the Vernacular or Concerning Vernacular Eloquence), in which the author discusses the development of the Romance languages. He divides Europe into three portions: to the north, the Germanic languages; to the east, the Greek-based languages, and to the south, the Romance languages. Dante further subdivides the southern languages into three branches – the language of Oc (Occitan), the language of Oïl (now contemporary French), and the language of Sì (Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese). The emblem for these groups is the word “yes.”

In southern France, Monaco, and parts of Italy and Spain, oc was used traditionally for “yes”, whereas in northern France and parts of Belgium, oïl was used. Sì was used in most of Spain, Portugal, and Italy. All three words come from Latin terms of agreement: oc originated in hoc, meaning “this,” oïl from hoc illud, meaning “this is it,” and sì from sic, meaning “thus it is.” While oc and oïl are rarely used in contemporary languages, the sì form is still utilized in Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese (sim).

The Occitan language declined in usage and popularity beginning in the 14th century, around the time that French royal power – seated in northern France – extended its domain over the rest of the country. Eventually, in 1539, the langue d’oïl became the official language of French administration by a piece of legislature known as the Ordinance of Villers-Cotterêts. This document, signed by King Francis I in the northern city of Villers-Cotterêts, was the second-to-last blow for the Occitan language. The final one was the French Revolution, whose proponents emphasized unity of language, and so encouraged the use of a single French dialect. The Occitan language enjoyed a minor resurgence after World War I, in part due to the spread of Occitan speakers in France and in part due to the emergence of poets, playwrights, and authors from southern France who emphasized their cultural heritage and language.

It’s raining heavily again in Atlanta, and the soothing sound of heavy drops hitting against the roof and windows brings to mind the language of house and home. Both the words “house” and “home” found their way into modern English from the Proto-Germanic. Khusan, for “house” was changed into hus with Old English, and stems from the verb “to hide.” Both words imply shelter, which explains the use of the term “hide” to mean animal skin. While many animals are at home in their skin, throughout our evolution, humans have developed places that go beyond shelter; we have made homes.

“Home” comes from the Proto-Germanic khaim, which differed from the meaning of “house” in those times as it does today. The khaim, or ham, as it traveled into Old English, meant a residence as opposed to simply a shelter. Its Proto-Indo-European root kei, meaning to lie down or settle, rendered this term more inviting and inclusive.

The word “domestic” has very old roots as well, stemming from the Greek domos, and later Latin domus, both meaning “house.” This word has the same origins as the verb “to dominate,” which originally meant to be the head of a household and, later, to be a despot or tyrant. To domesticate an animal — to tame it so that it can safely participate in the home — carries an interesting mix of the old and the modern sense, to dominate.

It’s appropriate to mention also, considering that two Americans were just awarded Nobel Prizes in Economics, that the terms “economics” and “economy” have their roots in ancient concepts of the home. Eco is a derivation of the Greek oikos, meaning an extended family unit that includes the home, land, slaves, and all animals and property. The oikos was run by the oldest male of the family, whose role it was to ensure that all components of the home were running smoothly. Thus, eco now designates a broad, self-sustained unit, as in the terms ecology, ecosystem, and economy, which still carries a bit of its original meaning: management of the home.

The parts of a house also have interesting word-origins. The word “ceiling”, for example, comes from the Latin celare, meaning to conceal, and plays off the word cælum, meaning “heaven” or “sky.”

The origins of the word “wall” are Old Germanic passed on from the Latin vallum, indicating a military rampart or partition. New York’s Wall Street got its name because it ran along the interior defensive wall of a Dutch colonial settlement.

The word “window” is a combination of “wind” and “eye.” It stems from the Old Norse vindauga (vindr meaning “wind” and auga meaning “eye”) and replaced the Old English eagþyrl, meaning “eye-hole.”

The English names for the days of the week have their roots in astrology and ancient cultures. The practice of naming days after heavenly bodies began – at least for the Western world – with the Greeks, and was then adopted by the Romans and Anglo-Saxons. For this reason, the names we are so familiar with draw from Latin and Old English, aligning stars and myths with calendar days. Next time you hear a friend or coworker expressing relief at the end of the week with TGIF, you’ll know that it’s more apt to be thanking goddess!

Monday
From the Old English Monandæg, a combination of mona, meaning “moon”, and dæg, meaning “day.” Most Romance languages use the Latin for “moon” – luna – as in the French lundi and Spanish lunes.

Tuesday
From the Old English Tiwesdæg, meaning “Tyr’s (or Tiw’s/Tew’s Day”), named after the god of war of Norse mythology. Naming the second day of the week after a war god stems from the Romans’ use of Mars for the same day, leading to, among others, the French mardi and Spanish martes.

Wednesday
From the Old English Wodnesdæg, or “Woden’s (Odin’s) Day”, named after an important Germanic and Scandinavian god. The name of this day, too, is borrowed from the Romans, who used the god Mercury for Wednesday. The French is mercredi and the Spanish is miércoles.

Thursday
From the Old English Þurresdæg, meaning “Thor’s Day” after the Norse god of thunder. The Latin equivalent is named after Jupiter, as in the French jeudi and Spanish jueves.

Friday
From the Old English Frigedæg, named after the Anglo-Saxon goddess Frigg. It is based on the Roman goddess Venus, and used in French as vendredi and in Spanish as viernes.

Saturday
From the Old English Sæterdæg, or “Saturn’s Day,” this is the only day to have retained its Latin origins from the god of agriculture. In French it is samedi and in Spanish, sábado.

Sunday
From the Old English Sunnandæg, the day of the sun. Most Romance languages have used the Latin for “Lord’s Day”, as in the French dimanche and Spanish domingo.

You may be surprised to learn how many of the words we use have unusual origins. Having spent centuries in our lexicons, these words have lost their original significations and now take on colloquial meanings. To get back to our roots, let’s examine three common words.

Sabotage
The 20th-century French verb saboter, meaning to accidently or maliciously destroy, stems from an older French word, sabot, meaning “old shoe.” These old shoes were made of wood, and so made walking softly or stealthily quite difficult. To sabotage originally meant to walk noisily; later it came to mean to do something poorly, to make a mess, or to bungle something. Thus, the contemporary understanding of sabotage – to hinder, destroy, tamper with, or obscure – stems from the inability to be courteous while wearing sabots.

Maroon
Maroon as a color stems from the Greek maraon, meaning “chestnut.” Because of their rich hue, chestnuts came to be representative of the color brown and were incorporated into the Old French to mean both the color and the nut. Later, in the early 17th century, the term was used to refer to fugitive slaves in the West Indies and Dutch Guyana – both due to skin color and to the fact that those who were able to escape lived in cimarron, Spanish for a wild forest or thicket. This secondary meaning gives us the contemporary understanding of the verb “to maroon.”

Mystery
The etymology of this word is intricately intertwined with the history of theology. The ancient Greeks referred to their religious rites and doctrines as mysteria and to the people initiated into them as mystes. The root of this word, perhaps, was the verb myein, meaning to close or shut (implying that initiates were sworn to secrecy about the rites they witnessed and performed). The term found its way into the Old French via Latin, and in the early 14th century became widely used in English to mean a religious truth, divine revelation, or the mystical presence of God. This religious usage led to the secular understanding of a mystery as something unclear and difficult to grasp.

When we experience a sensation, we feel it; when something “makes sense” we get it; when we “get a sense” of something, we understand it; and when something is entirely senseless, it is stupid, out of touch with reality. The word “sense” has many practicable applications, and all seem to point to the idea that to sense is to get a whiff of the quintessence of a situation.

The experience of “sensing” can be as vague as a premonition or as concrete as touch – it can be physical, emotional, ideological, or spiritual – but it typically follows experience and precedes idea formation. How did our vast and varied understanding of the word “sense” come to be? The answer’s in the etymology.

The word sense stems from the Proto-Indo-European root sent-, meaning “to go, to strive, to have in mind, or to perceive.” It found its way into the Latin sensus as a word for feeling or perceiving, and later into European languages from the 15th-century Old French sens, of the same meaning. The early 17th century saw the development of the word “sensation” to mean endowed with sense or the senses.

How did we come to the understanding that the stimuli received from sensory perception are akin to rational judgments, as in “to come to one’s senses”?

In the mid-16th century, philosophers adopted the term to apply to the healthy exercise of one’s mental faculties, and thus to sanity. It was at that point in history when the word “sense” became linked to prudence more than perception and the term “senseless” was born. Although to be senseless literally means to be without the capacity to feel and perceive, the conversational understanding implies a lack of intelligence or purpose.

The meaning, however, remains intact: an act that is senseless proceeds from an actor who has not accurately felt or perceived a situation. Whether he is determined ill, stupid, or saintly by contemporaries depends solely on the outcome of his actions. Whether he “sensationalizes” a situation – a 19th-century term used originally in journalism – depends on whether or not he exploits human “sensation” – a 17th-century medical term chronicling bodily response to external stimulation.

Many a quarrel has ended with a search for the nearest dictionary. The answer to a question of connotation versus denotation, implied or explicit meaning, and historical, social, or academic understanding of a term finds an ending point with a simple glance over the established meaning of a word.

From the Latin definire, whose root is finis, or boundary, through the 14th-century Old French definir, meaning to terminate, we have come to the contemporary understanding of defining as the act by which a clear, precise, and unmistakable meaning is determined. Furthermore, defining implies limiting, including only all possible meanings and leaving out any other interpretations. For this reason, the verb “define” has been used in the fields of logic and mathematics for over five centuries as a rigid line of demarcation to categorize the properties of some element, act, equation, or entity. Definitions seem to represent the terminus of a study – the point at which a final and fundamental verdict is reached and the parameters of a situation are unambiguous.

And yet, despite such sturdy and unassailable proofs as are found in a dictionary, we frequently find ourselves in arguments over definitions, as evidenced by the recent wildly contrasting uses of the term socialism. These miscommunications and mal entendus that engender discord rarely result in agreement on a precise or exclusive definition.

In a broader sense, definitions help us to form our understanding of the world. When we read a definition, we are able to attach value to particular concepts and things, to decide that something is good or bad, desirable or undesirable, pleasant or unpleasant. As we learn more, we create a sort of inventory of definitions in our personal lexicons. In human hands, even something that by its very definition – for lack of a truer term – must be concrete and limited takes on an air of fallibility, of subjectivity, and of fertile ground for contest, quarrel, and questioning.