Gesundheit

I find the customs related to sneezing somewhat amusing. It is one of the few "noisy" bodily functions that is socially acceptable and even politely accepted, most cases. Coughing rarely brings out a sympathetic response from others unless it goes on for a prolonged period or is accompanied by choking gasps, but it is tolerated as long as the one doing the coughing covers his or her mouth in one way or another. Hiccups are either ignored or laughed at. Audible burps are considered mildly embarrassing (at least, in most public situations in America) for the one doing the burping, and he or she is afterward expected to request the pardon of the others present. Passing gas generates a wide variety of responses, depending on the individuals present to perceive it, and I won't go into detail on that for now, but it is definitely not socially acceptable.

Sneezing is different. When I sneeze, I cover my mouth and nose, usually by pressing them into the crook of my arm. In nearly all social situations, someone around me will soon say, "Bless you," or, "Gesundheit," or some variant of those phrases. Tales of the origins of this practice are varied, and they are interesting, but I am more interested in the modern usage.

Take my workplace, for example. If one person sneezes, another person nearby will soon say, "Bless you!" The sneezer is then expected to express gratitude for the statement, though it is still a mystery to me as to how anybody truly benefits from it. If the "thank you" step is ignored, the sneezer is considerably less likely to hear a "bless you" after a future sneeze.

I can discern no rules--other than proximity, though that seems to have several variants on its own--that regulate which person is supposed "bless" the sneezer. I have, however, determined that social messages are embedded within the length of time between the sneeze and the invocation of the sneeze blessing.

If it is immediate, then the person offering the "bless you" is aware of the sneezer on a personal level.
If it is delayed by a second or two, then the person offering the "bless you" is still aware of the sneezer, though perhaps on a slightly less personal level, but was likely waiting to see if any more sneezes were forthcoming.
If it is delayed by several seconds, then the person offering the "bless you" is only aware of the social requirements driving the statement and said it simply because he or she was in proximity and because no one else had said it first.

What I want to know is how long the window of opportunity stays open for a person to say "bless you." At what point after the sneeze does the statement lose its positive social value and dive toward insult. If a person waits a full minute and still says "bless you," does that action indicate the person simply does not care enough about the sneezer to do anything right away, or does it indicate that the person is oblivious, forgetful, or not fully aware of the passage of time?

Still, sneezes can be funny. Like the other day...
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: Bless you.
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: *Laugh!*
Co-worker 2: Bless you! Geez!
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 3: Okay, knock it off already. Now you're just doing it for attention.

Alien

As a kid, I used to make up my own words for things. I don't mean that I made up new combinations of familiar words to describe something with which I was unfamiliar (though I did that--thinking that French toast was very similar to pancakes in the way it was cooked and eaten, I called it "pan toast" until I could pronounce "French"). I mean fully made up words--random syllables strung together in no particular pattern with just enough structure to sound like speech. I was likely following English linguistic patterns (for example, the ng sound never occurs at the beginning of a word, most unstressed vowels are softened to the schwa sound, etc.), but since none of the "words" I spoke were anything I'd ever heard before, it counted as a foreign language to me.

Once, I even sat down with a dictionary and tried to write down a word-for-word translation of my language. I got as far as "aardvark" before deciding that it would take too long.

I still use made-up words, though. Writing fiction, especially sci-fi and fantasy, I have to make up words from time to time to describe objects or events that do not exist in any reality I know. But I use made-up words in other situations, too. And, for some reason that I haven't figured out, most of them are lifted in one way or another from Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi.

My most common computer password is a phonetic spelling of a word spoken by one of the many aliens on Tatooine. Though I combine it with numbers and symbols as well to make it more secure, I can't imagine that any person would be able to guess it, and I expect that it could foil many basic password-guessing hacking tools as well for the simple fact that it is rather long and does not appear in any dictionary or even in a Google search.

When I'm annoyed, instead of swearing, I might mutter under my breath an Ewok utterance. It's one of the first things viewers hear any of the Ewoks say, and it sounds something like "ee-CHOOT-tha." It makes for a good grumble.

I suppose I should be careful, though. I can't use any words from Star Wars languages in my writing. I might get in trouble for copyright infringement or something. That is, if anybody ever figures out how to accurately transcribe Wookiee.

Backdating

Backdating is entering a previous date on a record or document. For example, if I wrote this observation on 29 August 2010 but marked it as 01 July 2010, I would be backdating the entry.

In the legal arena and in businesses and organizations subject to FDA regulations, this is a federal offense because it falsifies information in a way that could prove detrimental to a person's independence, financial standing, or health.

Fortunately, my blog is not regulated by the FDA.

My reason for backdating? Let's call it "technical difficulties." And by that, let's mean, "Technically, I don't have any difficulty procrastinating."