I'm seriously thinking "squash" would fit there, because "zucchini" is a general queerplatonic partner word, and "squish" refers to asexual crushes. I pretty much can't trip over a lexical gap without wanting to shovel something into it.
"Holler" means to call loudly, often across a house or yard. It also tends to convey a higher level of urgency.
"Holler me" is a combination of "tell me" and "summon me." It includes a stipulation that if you notify me of a previously agreed upon condition, I will follow through with the promised response. This is the same as "tell" but allows a higher volume and demand for attention. You don't have to raise your voice if you don't need to, but you're allowed to, and it's taken as a summons not a scold.
"Holler for me" means that I will come when you call, but when I get there, we'll have a discussion about what you want. It only includes answering the summons, not meeting another request.
That kind of subtlety appears in many Southern dialects of English, where prepositions do work that Northern speakers don't notice. (Northern dialects have their own bells and whistles, as does everyone's.) Southerners are often told to omit prepositions in certain phrases, which is aggravating, because most people don't have the linguistic expertise to explain what the darn thing does. But if you take it out, to a Southerner, there's a wobble there, like a chair with one leg a hair shorter; it's annoying and it can cause misunderstandings. Of course, these subtle distinctions are lost anyhow on someone who speaks a different dialect, but it makes a difference to the speaker.
I grew up in the Midwest but have Southern relatives, so my accent is bifocal. In Illinois, I sound mostly Midwestern. On a visit to Tennessee, I have a Southern accent as thick as molasses -- and oddly enough, it is also keyed by time and topic. Talking about certain parts of my childhood or activities such as fishing will turn it on. Just in case you were curious.
I know a few words of Cherokee, rather more Lakota, and a smattering of, well, every other language I've ever so much as brushed against. But I make a point of using my favorites, even if I only know a handful of words. They are touchstones in my mind, access points for cultures. They make me happy. I like to encourage languages however I can.
This poem came out of the February 4, 2014 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from janetmiles and baaing_tree. It also fills the "storytelling" square in my 2-1-14 card for the Cotton Candy Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. It belongs to the series Clay of Life, which you can read via the Serial Poetry page.
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They are good at different things. Trying to communicate across the gap between them, however, is difficult and often frustrating. This isn't just a matter of etiquette; it's a matter of skill, which requires both innate potential and practiced experience. Ask people are good at identifying their goals and reasons. Hint people often find these things obscure, which makes it hard to frame requests. Hint people are good at observing others and intuiting their thoughts or feelings. Ask people often find this incomprehensible. Either side can attempt to communicate in the fashion of the other, but it feels unnatural and awkward, and they tend to do it poorly. So if you want to have a relationship -- whether romantic, friendly, professional, whatever -- across this gap then both parties had better be prepared to share the extra work.
"Mão de Deus"
Para mim, esta é uma das mais bonitas fotos de sempre tiradas a uma secção do Universo. Normalmente, a imagem aparece com uma "mão azul", sendo uma foto tirada em raios-X de baixa energia pelo Observatório Espacial Chandra,
... and I thought, "Hmm, something of God," and then I remembered that the tilde marks nasal vowels in Portuguese, so that's "mano," which is hand. Hand of God. Cool. Looking at the rest of the piece, I hacked out:
"Hand of God"
For mim, is a uma das very beautiful pictures sempre taken a uma secção of the Universe. Normally, a picture appears with uma "blue hand", sendo uma picture taken in X-rays of baixa energy pelo Special Observatory Chandra,
This is what I found with an online translator:
' God's hand '
For me, this is one of the prettiest photos when of they were always taken away from a section of the Universe. Normally, the image appears with a ' blue hand ', being a photo taken away in X-rays of low energy by the Space Observatory Chandra,
Not perfect, but very close. Basically I got the whole gist of those lines: 27 to 14, about 2/3 of the content, with only one solid miss (special/space). That's better than would reasonably have been expected sight-reading a random news article in a language that has actually been studied for a year. I was nowhere near that good in high school, even in Mexico where I managed quite a bit better than the other students. This is a later development.
I don't know why or how my brain does this. Russian and Japanese have grown only a little post-classes. I have less affinity for them. Everything else is catch-as-catch-can. But Spanish ... in my head, it's a field of marigolds, and it has gone on to do amazing things in there with no more attention than occasionally reading things in Spanish when I see them. And now Portuguese. I suspect it might happen again if I had a chance to study a language I felt a strong affinity for; Gaelic would probably stick like glue, the way I pick it up out of name dictionaries and whatnot.
Oh wait, I was just looking at Proto-Indo-European roots for The Blueshift Troupers last week. Maybe that contributed too. Now that's a language I would love to have a class in, or even just a good guidebook.
And now, of course, I'm wondering which set a two-spirit would use.
Anyway, speak your heritage language. It's good for your brain and your culture. Also it drives the racists bugfuck.