Tag: words

waldosia– n.  a condition in which you keep scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, as if your brain is checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.

This is an interesting word to me, and I find myself in waldosia at volleyball tournaments looking for past players. I think it’s a shadow of a desire to see a player I’ve coached in the past and hoping they had made time to come.

This happened recently as I was up in Greeley, CO at a tournament. I have a few former players at CSU, which isn’t far. I somehow hoped I’d see a former player, but they would have no reason to leave college and come, especially early on a weekend morning.

I probably have waldosia at SQL Saturday and other events, sometimes looking (hoping) for a friend that might pop by the event, even if I know they might have moved on in their career.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

tangency– n.  a fleeting glimpse of what might have been.

I tend to live in the real world as it is, not too dreamy or wishful that things were different. I tend to accept things as they are.

I don’t see a lot of tangency, as I am more appreciative of where I am, knowing that if things had been different in my past, I’d be in a different place.

I’m happy now, so I’m happy with the path I walked.

However, I do see some tangency when I coach. Not for me, but for the kids, because I know that having some success breeds more desire and confidence. I want these young ladies to grow up strong and able to make the life they want.

There are moments when I see the indecision or the lack of reaction or the mistake. Once in awhile there’s a split second where you think you’ve won, only to have the referee let you know you haven’t. To me, that’s a fleeting glimpse of what might have been.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

redesis – n. a feeling of queasiness while offering someone advice, knowing they might well face a totally different set of constraints and capabilities, any of which might propel them to a wildly different outcome – which makes you wonder if all of your hard-earned wisdom is fundamentally nontransferable, like handing someone a gift card in your name that probably expired years ago.

These days, as I speak with others as a coach or just community peer, I feel some redesis about any sort of advice I give that isn’t tightly bound in some way to a situation. Any sort of general advice has me wondering if the things that worked for me will work for others.

I recognize that the way each of us see the world varies, depending on your situation. I think EVs are great and convenient, but I’m in a position where I can afford one and afford a charging station in my house. I don’t worry about the price of eggs or bacon, but that’s because I’m lucky. I don’t worry about health insurance because I’m healthy now.

The advice I give people about their careers is always tempered to remember my redesis. The things that worked for me might not work for others, so I’m careful to explain the situations where this worked for me rather than give the advice without context.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

amoransia – n. the melodramatic thrill of unrequited love; the longing to pine for someone you can never have, wallowing in devotion to some impossible person who could give your life meaning by their very absence.

Another young person’s word (in general), having amoranssia after watching some sort of media or seeing a picture, reading a story, and imaging how different your life would be with someone famous in it.

There was a point in the very early 90s, just after uni, when I found out Janet Jackson was single, and I was living in Southern CA. I thought what would happen if I happened to bump into her, start a conversation, and maybe a romance. It was a fleeting few days where I could have thought of possibilities, though certainly no amoransia as I wasn’t wallowing at all.

Just fantasizing.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows