Tag: words

fardle-din – n. a long-overdue argument that shakes up a relationship, burning wildly through your issues like a forest fire, which clears out your dry and hollow grievances and reminds you that your roots run deeper than you think.

I have had a few fardle-dins. Both in my personal life and at work. The private ones are private, but let me tell you about a work faux-pax on my part.

I had complained to an individual at a previous company that the way their team approached some software work was incomplete. In my mind, the team often simplified things too often and looked at the software for only a simple use-case, not examining common situations outside of the core use case. At the same time, the teams thought I wasn’t focused enough on different problems to ensure they were well designed.

After seeing this a few times, I publicly criticized their approach and offended the manager of that team. I received a private tongue lashing for this, with the manager pointing out that they do a lot of different work to consider different situations.

We ended up working through our differences, with me understanding their view, but the team also starting to understand why their approaches each tended to be over simplifications and created tunnel vision. I apologized publicly and we burned through our issues, creating a better relationship for the long term.

It’s never a pleasant process when you encounter a fardle-dun, but it can be cathartic and build something better.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

nachlophobia – n. the fear that your deepest connections with people are ultimately pretty shallow, that although your relationships feel congenial in the moment, an audit of your life would reveal a smattering of low-interest holdings and uninvested windfall profits, which will indicate you were never really at risk of joy, sacrifice, or loss.

I don’t have nachlophobia. Maybe in my younger years, but I deeply value connections with those I choose to spend time with. I have learned to make an effort at events to spend significant time with a few people, even if this means I don’t get time with others.

I have no fear that I’m not risking anything; I am. I am truly saddened when my close friends experience pain and joyful for their success.

A few weeks ago at the PASS Summit, I spent an hour sitting in a mostly empty room with a friend, talking about life. We chat periodically, but we don’t see each other enough. It was worth every minute. I also had to go offsite to an event and another friend asked to ride with me. I was grateful for the company and conversation, something I don’t get enough of.

I hope none of you have nachlophobia. If you do, spend time building strong relationships, which are defined by you. It doesn’t matter how others feel about me, it’s about how I feel about them.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

mornden – n. the self-container pajama universe shared by two people on a long weekend morning, withdrawing from the world and letting the hours slow to a crawl, coming as close as they’ll ever get to pausing the flow of time, even as they know it’ll eventually rush back in all the faster.

My wife and I used to enjoy mornden early in our relationship. We’d get the Sunday paper, make breakfast, and lay around, reading, relaxing, enjoying the morning. These days, no paper, but we do try and get a couple mornings a week where we sleep in a bit, lay in bed, chat, read, just relax.

We are both (too) type-A and are very busy. Taking a some time to relax each week, pausing time for a few hours, is good.

Life certainly rushes in fast when we get back to it.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

ochisia – n. the fear that the role you once occupied in someone’s life could be refilled without a second thought, which makes you wish that every breakup would include a severance package, a non-complete clause, and some sort of romantic placement program.

I struggled with this one. I have had quite a few friends in the last few years that got divorced and my heart goes out to them. Some ended up in financial hardships, so oshisia seems like a poorly-timed joke.

However, I get the idea. I’ve been attracted to someone, enjoying the dating, and then had it end. I’ve also ended it. I get that there is not only the loss, but the anger, the sadness, the wandering, the fear that someone else can easily replace you.

I think many teenagers who’ve been in love go through ochisia at some point.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows