Some lament the ‘LOL’ or deride the ‘delulu,’ but I’m not one of them.
I grew up with smartphones and think that, just as the invention of the printing press gave us words like “clique” and “uppercase,” Internet lingo adds something interesting to our vocabulary.
But of course, the web giveth and the web taketh away; some conventions, like the proper letter formatting we learned in school and cursive handwriting, have fallen a little by the wayside.
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Whether or not that matters at all is a question of opinion. The same goes for another grammar rule I had no idea hundreds of years of writing brought in, and the computer took out ― double spacing after a full stop.
Why did it change?
According to Thesaurus.com, even the style guide APA, who they call a “staunch defender” of double spaces in general, changed their view on the post-full-stop spacing style in 2019.
“In 2020, Microsoft also struck a major blow to all the double-spacers out there when it officially categorized a double space after a period as a writing mistake in their popular Microsoft Word program,” they add.
Though some attribute the standardisation of double spaces after full stops to typewriters, Thesaurus points out that Bibles dating as far back as 1611 followed the rule.
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Both printing presses and typewriters faced a similar problem: typesetting the end of a sentence so that it didn’t crowd out the following one was tricky.
That’s because, former copy editor for the New England Journal of Medicine Jennifer Gonzalez (who “learned to type in 1987 on an IBM Selectric typewriter”) says on her site The Cult Of Pedagogy, “every character was given the exact same amount of space on the page.
“That meant the letter i was given the same amount of space as the letter m, even though it clearly didn’t need it.”
New computer keyboards have something called proportionally spaced fonts, which consider the size of the character when compiling them ― spelling the end of the double space after a full stop.
It’s proved a generational gap
On her site, Gonzalez says “Nothing says over 40 like two spaces after a [full stop].”
Of course, that was written in 2014 ― it’s 50 now, by that logic.
But she adds that it was drilled into some generations’ heads for so long that it can be a very hard habit to let go of ― “We got our papers marked wrong if we didn’t. It takes a long time to unlearn that,” she wrote.
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Her copy editing job, which she started in 1999, helped her adapt to the new way, she adds.
Still, it was enough of a common style choice in 2011 to incense a Slate writer, who wrote, “What galls me about two-spacers isn’t just their numbers. It’s their certainty that they’re right.”
“Studies have shown that, beginning with millennials, younger generations widely prefer the single space after a [full stop],” they added. Boomers and Gen X, however, tend to use a double space.
But “spilling the beans” ― a phrase the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines as relating “sometimes questionable or secret information of a personal nature” ― is a mystery to us.
After all, “spilling the tea,” which has its origins in Black drag culture, refers to the “tee,” “tea,” or “T” of the first letter in “truth”, so that makes sense.
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But what have beans got to do with anything, and why spill them?
In ancient Greece, societies would place either a black or a white bean into a jar.
Black beans meant “no,” while white beans meant “yes.”
“The beans were supposed to be counted in secret, but if somebody accidentally (or purposefully) knocked over the jar and spilled the beans, the secret vote would be revealed,” the book reads.
Some fraternal clubs still use a black and white ball voting system; that’s why we have the term “blackballed” (per Dictionary.com).
Reader’s Digest says that the Ancient Greek origin may have inspired the use of the phrase in 1900s America, which is how it’s stuck around ’til today.
“He just walked off the reservation, taking enough insurgent Republicans with him to spill the beans for the big five,” a 1908 entry into American publication The Seven Points Journal reads.
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This definition, close to meaning “upset the apple cart”, is the same as the current one.
At HuffPost UK, we’ve been really nerding out about language recently.
With all of this in mind, we thought it was about time that we spoke about clocks. As our knowledge about language keeps ticking over, we figured that we’d take a hot minute to really look into how we talk about time.
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Basically, what I’m saying is, we wanted to know why we say ‘o’clock’
Before researching this,.I considered what I thought it could mean or where it came from. As a northerner, my first instinct was to think that it was a derivation of on’t’clock
However, the actual answer is definitely not something I could have come up with myself.
So, according to Vocabulary.com, It’s a shortened form of the now obsolete phrase ‘of the clock’, from the Middle English ‘of the clokke’.
Additionally, IFLScience said: “The first recorded instance of this use reportedly being in 1560.
“For a time, a rival phrase “a clock” was also used, though this seems to have died out in the 19th century, with o’clock becoming the preferred contraction.”
Of course, we know that over time, language and how we convey expressions and phrases evolves.
So, with that in mind, it’s worth noting that ’o’clock wasn’t the only phrase going through some changes back then.
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Gizmodo explained that during this period, the phrase ‘Jack-o’-lantern’ started to popularise. This name came from ‘Jack of the lantern’,.which originally just meant ‘man of the lantern’ with ‘Jack’ at the time, being the generic ‘any man’ name.
Jack of all trades, anyone?
Really, the phrase is quite obsolete these days but we are glad we’re still clocking in some nods to our ancestors and simpler times.
If you thought you’d narrowly avoided the fate of saying “how do you do, fellow kids?” a la 30 Rock, the new additions to the Cambridge Dictionary might have you feeling every your age right down to the day.
Around 3,200 new words have been added to the Cambridge Dictionary this year and while that fact alone is unfathomable, three of those words are so deliciously Gen Z that we’re obsessed (and feeling ancient, tbh.)
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Additionally, Wendalyn Nichols, Cambridge Dictionary’s publishing manager, said that while language is constantly evolving, these new additions have “staying power”.
The Gen Z terms added to Cambridge Dictionary
The Ick
After the past year, this entry is not all that surprising. The term was originally popularised by Love Island but has since become part of our everyday lexicon with everything from bad dates to bad logos giving us “the ick”.
The dictionary gives an example usage of “the ick” as: “I used to like Kevin, but seeing him in that suit gave me the ick.”
Boop
If you spent your lockdown days glued to Schitt’s Creek and falling in love with character Alexis Rose, “boop” has probably been in your vocabulary for a while now. The dictionary describes it as: “a gentle hit or touch on the nose or head as a joke or to indicate affection.”
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Chef’s Kiss
That TV finale was chef’s kiss. That sassy-but-classy response to your ex? Chef’s kiss!
The dictionary describes this as a term used to describe something deemed perfect or excellent.
It also means the movement “in which you put your fingers and thumb together, kiss them, then pull your hand away from your lips”.
Mwah, mwah, that definition is CHEF’S KISS.
Hallucinate gained new meaning in 2023
At the end of 2023 Cambridge Dictionary announced that “hallucinate” was its word of the year, as it had gained a new meaning since the development of artificial intelligence.
The BBC explained: “While the traditional definition is ‘to seem to see, hear, feel, or smell something that does not exist’, it now includes ‘when an artificial intelligence (AI) hallucinates, it produces false information’”
You might not know that Scotland has over 420 words for snow. But you’re probably aware that English speakers have an awful, awful lot of different words for “money”.
Dosh. Moolah. Paper. We’ve gotten so good at referencing cash without actually naming it that we’ve got slang for specific sums ― a rack, a grand, a Benjamin (in the US), and of course the humble ‘quid’.
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But how did the latter get its “odd-when-I-think-about-it” name to begin with?
We’re not definite, but there are some interesting theories
The word is really, really old ― it’s been in use since the 1600s, Dictionary.com says.
In all that time, it’s never taken on a different plural form. £1 is “a quid,” and £20 is “20 quid.”
According to Investopedia, “Some scholars believe that Italian immigrants extracted the term from ‘scudo,’ the name for gold and silver coins of various denominations used in Italy from the 16th century through the 19th century.”
Other people think it refers to “quid pro quo,” a Latin phrase that Merriam-Webster defines as “a giving or taking of one thing of value in return for another.”
Irish speakers use the word “cuid” to mean a “share” or “part” of everything from time to prizes to pay.
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When following “mo” (meaning “my”), it turns into “mo chuid” (said “moh quid” meaning “my part,” “my pay” by extension), which some think English people adapted from Irish soldiers in an older British army.
Ultimately, “although there are many popular theories about how the word quid came to be used in relation to money, the origin of the term is uncertain,” Dictionary.com says.
Some words like “quid” have changed definition
Though most of us understand a “quid” to mean a pound, you might not know that a “bob” wasn’t just a vague term for “a sum of money” when it came out ― it actually meant a shilling.
“It’s because of this latter nickname that we now refer to getting drunk as ‘going on a bender’ – sixpence used to be enough money to get quite drunk,” they add.
When did “lol” become the equivalent of a punctuation mark for millennials?
Nick Russell, a millennial from Memphis, Tennessee, tacks “lol” onto texts to sidestep potentially awkward or loaded conversation.
“It’s the difference between texting ‘I think I love you’ to a crush versus ‘I think I love you, lol,‘” Russell said. “In the latter case, I could always rely on the old ‘just kidding!’”
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“It helps lighten the internal tension I could be feeling about whatever I’m sending,” he added.
Rebecca Reynoso, a millennial from Chicago, deploys a breezy “lol” at the end of her work texts and chats to take the edge off any message. It’s a way to quickly establish tone; a “lol” tells her co-workers she’s “approachable” and “non-threatening.”
“It’s like a tension-breaking mechanism,” she told HuffPost.
It defuses the potential for hostility in personal relationships, too.“Could you wash the dishes, lol” to your spouse or roommate sounds a lot better than a coarse, curtly communicated, “Could you wash the dishes.” (If you hadn’t noticed, millennials and younger generations have killed off the question mark.)
“’Lol’ has been around for so long that its meaning evolved, like a Pokémon. And yet, it clearly belongs to the digital realm that some people still find confusing.”
– Daria Bahtina, a linguistics lecturer at the University of California, Los Angeles
Alex Liggett, a millennial from Pittsburgh, likens millennials’ “lol” overuse to “a scream at the state of the world.”
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“My default mode is to feel that what I have to say isn’t important, so it’s also sort of a great eraser,” he said. “But I’ve transitioned to ‘haha’ instead of ‘lol’ because I read that ‘lol’ is millennial-coded.”
Let Gen Z and Gen Alpha scoff at “lol” all they want. Most millennials say if you want to take their “lol,” you’ll have to pry it from their cold, dead hands.
“Tone is just so hard to convey through text otherwise,” said Kashif Pasta, a director and writer who’s a millennial.
Too many emojis in texts can make you look unhinged. But you also don’t want to look like an ice queen. Even a simple, straightforward period at the end of a sentence feels too stern, Pasta said.
“In real-life conversations, we’d smile, subtly chuckle or laugh in moments that aren’t technically funny at all,” he said. “With ‘lol,’ we’re just going, ‘Hey … you’re safe.’”
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The way Pasta sees it, millennials, those born between 1981 and 1996, are like the pilot generation for text and online messaging, having gone from an internet-free existence to an internet-centric one — and “lol” has been with them for most of that shift.
“We’re the exact right age to think of email as a proxy for physical mail and texting as a proxy for phone calls or in-person conversations,” he said. “We learned to text on T9 phones with texts that cost money and had character limits, so space was at a premium and we had to convey context as efficiently as possible.”
Daria Bahtina, a linguistics lecturer at the University of California, Los Angeles, thinks “lol” is a true linguistic chameleon ― and used a truly millennial comparison to make her point.
“It’s been around for so long that its meaning evolved, like a Pokémon,” Bahtina told HuffPost. “And yet ‘lol’ clearly belongs to the digital realm that some people still find confusing.”
It started out as “laugh out loud,” but it’s long since transmogrified into a mark of humility and self-deprecation: “Don’t take this — or me — too seriously. I sure don’t.”
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“For millennials, it’s a way to either make a neutral message warmer and more casual or a way to make a more negative message polite,” Bahtina said. “It’s like hedging or minimising a request with ‘no biggie if you disagree.’”
In more academic terms, “lol” is what linguists like to call a discourse marker, said Anna-Marie Sprenger, a Ph.D. candidate in linguistics at the University of Chicago.
“A discourse marker is a little word or phrase that helps organise a thought or a chunk of conversation in a way that indicates the sort of ‘flavour’ of how the speaker or writer wants that bit of language interpreted by their interlocutor,” Sprenger told HuffPost.
In the English language, these can be cute interjections: “oh,” “well,” “so,” “you know” and “I mean.”
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Interestingly, every once in a while, “lol” is explicitly passive-aggressive.
“For one project at UCLA, students observed that there’s been a mild increase of ‘lol’ as passive aggression,” Bahtina said. “They noticed more passive-aggressive tweets carrying ‘lol’ at the end rather than at the beginning or end of a sentence.”
Here’s why therapists think millennials cling so hard to ‘lol’
Now that we’ve gotten the linguistic breakdown, let’s delve deeper into the millennial psyche: What does it mean for a generation to feel so obligated to be self-deprecating and good-humoured all the time? Are theyOK?
“I think using ‘lol’ after a sentence is a way to laugh things off when you fear burdening others, which is such a prominent worry of our generation,” said Lindsey Gallop, a therapist at CZ Therapy Group in Denver.
Jordan Kurtz, also at CZ Therapy Group, looks at “lol” as a way to get some distance between yourself and any knotty emotional content. Vulnerability is scary, especially over text.
“It’s the difference between ‘I’m having a hard day today’ and ‘I’m having a hard day today, lol,’” Kurtz said. “With the former, personal struggle is allowed to have gravity.”
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Maya Nehru, a millennial marriage and family therapist in Los Angeles, said she’s noticed two common, generational themes that might be driving “lol” overuse: the fear of loss and the anxiety around being judged and culturally cast off.
“We millennials have lived through a period of enormous change and disruption on many levels. It’s what defines us, and with change comes loss to some degree,” Nehru said. “Perhaps adding ‘lol’ to texts is the millennial’s way of protecting themselves from potential loss ― maybe we’re trying to save face.”
Plus, millennials have grown up alongside social media, where criticism and judgment are rampant and the potential to be dragged is ever present.
“I think the ‘lol’ is a behaviour that subconsciously eases our anxiety around being liked, belonging and maintaining our sense of self,” Nehru said.
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Women are probably more likely to use it, too, said Kelly McKenna, a therapist in New York City.
“Many millennials, especially women, are constantly worrying about other people’s feelings and trying to manage other people’s reactions to anything they say or do,” she said. “By adding ‘lol,’ it helps lighten the mood and hopefully reduces the risk you might upset someone by communicating assertively.”
Whatever the reasons for the “lol” reflex, linguists say it’s impressive how much heavy lifting those three little letters do.
Earlier generations might have considered digital communication as a “lean media” — insufficient for conveying the depth of our thoughts and feelings and lacking the warmth of face-to-face communications ― but Bahtina said that millennials “have long defied this notion.”
“Younger generations are so adept at using a dynamic mix of punctuation, capitalization, creative respellings, special symbols, abbreviations and emojis,” she said. “Millennials found a way to transport the richness of human expression into the realm of texts and tweets, crafting a language that is just as expressive and nuanced as face-to-face conversation.”
Though last year’s mass bed bug invasion may have led most of us to understand the second half of the phrase, I’m willing to bet you’re not 100% certain on why we say “Night night, sleep tight.”
I, for one, had a sort of half-formed idea that it had something to do with trussing yourself up in tourniquet-like hotel duvets; I wondered whether maybe it had something to do with keeping your eyes shut tight, too.
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But recently, TikToker @notmrspock suggested we were all wrong. In a recent video, the creator responded to a commenter’s question as to where the phrase came from.
“In Medieval times, beds used to ― instead of having springs, they would have ropes underneath them to put a mattress or sack on,” the TikToker said.
“If the ropes were slack, the bed would really sag. So what would you do? You’d tighten up all the ropes so you have a nice, firm base to lay on,” the creator added; hence the expression, he suggested.
Rebecca Karstensen, Wylie House Museum Assistant and Docent for Indiana University, Bloomington, seemed to only partly agree with this assessment.
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While it’s true that beds in the 16th century did use ropes, which did need to be tightened, the first recorded use of the phrase didn’t come until 1866 ― a while after the invention of the coil mattress, which took over rope beds rapidly.
“Goodbye little Diary. ‘Sleep tight and wake bright,’ for I will need you when I return,” the text reads, suggesting the term may have come about long after mos people used rope bedding.
So, the researcher looked into the origin of the word.
This would not only explain the phrase’s use to this day, but also seems to align more closely with what most people instinctively think of when we hear it.
“Since it sounds a bit catchier and poetic to say two one-syllable words as ‘sleep tight’ instead of the awkward 3-syllable ‘sleep tightly,’ that might explain why the suffix –ly was dropped from the word,” she added.
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Writing for Cambridge’s Varsity publication, Georgie Thorpe points out that “The other issue is that it doesn’t quite make sense to tell someone to sleep tight when it’s their bed that needs to be tight, not them.”
So, though the rope beds are fascinating, “sleep tight” likely stuck around because it sounds pretty cosy ― and also rhymes with “night.”
The word, defined as “an extended period of instability and insecurity”, is one of the several terms on the 2022 list which has seen increasing usage due to the ongoing crises in the UK and across the world.
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The dictionary said it chose the word as it “sums up quite succinctly just how truly awful 2022 has been for so many people”.
Six words on Collins’ list of 10 words of the year are new to CollinsDictionary.com, including “permacrisis”, despite being first noted in academic contexts from the 1970s.
Another word on the list which has contributed to the feeling of “permacrisis” is “partygate”, referring to the scandal over social gatherings held in defiance of public health restrictions and which contributed to an extended period of political instability.
“Kyiv” has also been added after the city became a symbol of Ukraine’s stand against Russian aggression as well as “warm bank”, which describes a heated building such as a library or place of worship where people who cannot afford to heat their own homes may go.
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The personal impact of the ongoing crises has also influenced the list with the addition of “quiet quitting” – the act of doing one’s basic duties at work and no more, either by way of protest or to improve work/life balance, as well as “vibe shift” which relates to a “significant change in the prevailing atmosphere or culture”.
The historic moment of the Queen’s death in September has also been marked as “Carolean” is added to the lexicon, signifying the end of the second Elizabethan era and the beginning of the reign of King Charles.
“Lawfare”, which is the strategic use of law to intimidate or hinder an opponent, is also included as well as the more unusual term “splooting” relating to animals stretching themselves out in order to cool down – a phenomenon seen frequently during this summer’s intense heat.
Rounding off the list is “sportswashing”, a word for how organisations or countries use sports promotion to enhance reputations or distract from controversial activities or policies, which has seen increased use in the year of the upcoming Fifa World Cup in Qatar.
Alex Beecroft, managing director of Collins Learning, said: “Language can be a mirror to what is going on in society and the wider world and this year has thrown up challenge after challenge.
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“It is understandable that people may feel, after living through upheaval caused by Brexit, the pandemic, severe weather, the war in Ukraine, political instability, the energy squeeze and the cost-of-living crisis, that we are living in an ongoing state of uncertainty and worry; “permacrisis” sums up quite succinctly just how truly awful 2022 has been for many people.
“Our list this year reflects the state of the world right now – not much good news, although, with the determination of the Ukrainian people reflected by the inclusion of “Kyiv”, and the dawn of the new “Carolean” age in the UK, there are rays of hope.”
The lexicographers at Collins Dictionary monitor their 18-billion-word database and a range of media sources, including social media, to create the annual list of new and notable words that reflect our ever-evolving language and the preoccupations of those who use it.
Last year’s word of the year was “NFT” (short for non-fungible token) – which entered the mainstream after millions were spent on the most sought-after images and videos.