How It Came About (an Etymology)

I must explain how I managed to come across this name for my blog.

I had been thinking of having my own blog for a long time. But my board exams were on, and I couldn't. As soon as they got over, I launched into the idea enthusiastically.

What remained now was the name I would give my blog.

I struggled to come up with names, but managed to produce a few, with accompanying comments:

Suggested Name                                                  Remarks

Crooked Pastimes                                      Not fine-tuned; passable

Pi Note (Why Not?)                           Not the best way to show you're                                                                               mathematically inclined...

A Dash of Commas                                   This, maybe...

                                                                     |

                                                                     | 

                                                                     V

The outcome of a hundred-metre dash of commas, as the commas

express their emotions by flailing their green arms about accordingly.

Unannounced Forthwith                             Eh?

A Plagiarised Life                                      Trouble! Trouble!

Swirls before Wine                                    *inebriation*

So this was my sorry state.

That very night, as I was about to glide into complete sleep, the words 'Halt! Turbulence Ahead' came to me. When I say 'came', I mean they just got into my head suddenly and inexplicably.

Now this is very common, and I knew I would forget the phrase next morning. So, half-sleepy, I darted for the notebook on my bedside table and the pencil beside it and scribbled it down (and I must mention I did this in complete darkness):

Needless to say, I woke up the next day with the phrase still in my head.

I caught my brother.

'How do you like this?' I asked, thrusting the book into his face.

Not taken aback at all, he slowly inspected the page through his glasses. 'Nothing great,' he replied.

I was taken aback.

'You don't like it?' I said desperately, 'Isn't it funny?'

'No,' he smirked.

I marched to the hall and posed my mother the same question. A blank look crossed her previous pleasant face.

'What?' I demanded, 'Isn't it funny?'

She shook her head. 'I think not.'

I decided to explain to her. 'A plane, you see,' I said patiently, 'faces turbulence. And it simply cannot stop mid-air.'

'I know,' she said.

'So...' I said, 'so... Doesn't that make it funny?'

'Not to me,' she said.

Well, there it was. Both my mother and my brother, whom I relied on at times to comment painstakingly on my writing adventures, told me it wasn't funny enough. Maybe they were trying to pull my leg (not too uncommon), or maybe it was just my head filled with slush.

So what happened?

Simple.

I didn't listen to them.