Definition
1 : to insert (something, such as a day) in a calendar
2 : to insert between or among existing elements or layers
Intercalate was formed from the Latin prefix inter-, meaning "between" or "among," and the Latin verb calāre, meaning "to proclaim" or "to announce." It was originally associated with proclaiming the addition of a day or month in a calendar. An instance of intercalation occurred in the earliest versions of the Roman calendar, which originally consisted of 304 days and 10 months and was determined by the lunar cycle (the remaining 61.25 days of winter were apparently ignored). According to some Roman legends, it was Numa Pompilius, the second king of Rome, who intercalated the months January and February. Eventually, the word's use broadened to include other instances of introducing new elements or layers into a preexisting system.
"But it's a seven step programme." I argued, the futility of it already firmly evidenced on my opponents face. "Why would you call it a seven step programme if there's actually eight or nine steps."
"Fourteen, if you're going to be picky about it." My instructor-slash-trainer-slash-mentor-slash-torturer said cheerfully. "Seven Steps is, like, it's official title. Our founder, after careful consideration and some, uh, accidents, felt that only seven steps to achieve a heroic mastery of the world's energy was somewhat.... "
"Wishful thinking?" I interjected snarkily.
"Not quite, as there were those that achieved it after all. Bu they were few and far between. For a more realistically achievable result that was something other than certain death, it was felt that adding more steps in would benefit those attending our classes."
"And you didn't think to tell me this before I signed up."
The instructor gave me a stern look. "You didn't even think to ask. Hence why we immediately added on another step right then and there. Why would we send someone off to battle when they don't even properly ascertain the situation. Soldiers must always suspect everything at all times - enemies can be everywhere and blind trust in something that you have no personal experience of, where you rely on simply what you've been told without checking the details yourself, will only get you killed."
"But."
"No buts. Public opinion is easily controlled. Even if we do have an excellent reputation in the outside world, that is something we could have easily conceived, manipulated and propagated ourselves. You merely relied on our supposed 'good' reputation, rather than verifying for yourself if we had any skeletons in the closet, to keep you safe. So yes, you got another step."
"So there are fourteen steps then?" I asked, a little cowed but still aggravated enough for my words to come out with edges.
"You're currently on fourteen steps." He said firmly, but not unkindly. "We add steps as we go, depending on the progress and aptitude of the student."
"What's the maximum limit?"
"Technically, there isn't one - and we've been known to create steps from scratch if we think the student needs it. Although," He hesitated.
"What?"
"We are more than happy to work with our students for as long as they need to, after all, 'Everyone Can Be A Hero' is our motto after all. However..." He trailed off.
"However?" I repeated in an encouraging tone.
"If the student in question needed more than say, twenty five steps, in their programme, we may be inclined to perhaps suggest they are more suited to another line of work. Of course, if said student wants to continue, we will not stop them. However, if such training becomes detrimental to their physical, emotional and mental well being, then we may...encourage them, somewhat strongly, to seek, nurture and grow their own personal talents in another field."
"So you kick them out?"
"We have never forced anyone from our training regime. However, a not small number have dropped out, with our encouragement or for their own personal reasons. It is simply the nature of the work."
"So there are fourteen steps then?" I asked, a little cowed but still aggravated enough for my words to come out with edges.
"You're currently on fourteen steps." He said firmly, but not unkindly. "We add steps as we go, depending on the progress and aptitude of the student."
"What's the maximum limit?"
"Technically, there isn't one - and we've been known to create steps from scratch if we think the student needs it. Although," He hesitated.
"What?"
"We are more than happy to work with our students for as long as they need to, after all, 'Everyone Can Be A Hero' is our motto after all. However..." He trailed off.
"However?" I repeated in an encouraging tone.
"If the student in question needed more than say, twenty five steps, in their programme, we may be inclined to perhaps suggest they are more suited to another line of work. Of course, if said student wants to continue, we will not stop them. However, if such training becomes detrimental to their physical, emotional and mental well being, then we may...encourage them, somewhat strongly, to seek, nurture and grow their own personal talents in another field."
"So you kick them out?"
"We have never forced anyone from our training regime. However, a not small number have dropped out, with our encouragement or for their own personal reasons. It is simply the nature of the work."
"So you've never had to insist that someone drops out?"
"No." He said confidently.
"Have you come close?"
He kept his mouth firmly closed. So that was a yes then.
I paused and sat down, processing the new information he'd given me. The loose grit, pebbles and dirt of the ground below me dug into my thin work out clothes, reminding me of the expensive exfoliator I washed my face with this morning (hey, when you'd suffered through years of bad acne in high school, I'm sure you'd also invest heavily in skin care products so you'd never have to endure that pus filled hell again. Although if this dirt felt exactly the same as that, maybe I should just bottle it up and take it back with me and use it instead. After all, you had mud masks and things at a spa right? No, wait, focus on what you were doing idiot! This is probably why step 3.6a got added!)
The wind on the mountainside came with its own spring time chill and i shivered, the sweat cooling rapidly on my exposed skin. The breeze lifted loose strands of my hair, whacking themselves into my eyes like deranged worms (you know all those films where you have the sexy female lead, leaning sexily against something or standing sexily and brooding at the edge of a cliff with her face blowing sexily around her? Does. Not. Happen in real life. For one, what sensible woman is going to brood on the edge of a cliff. No, brooding is done in the comfort of ones own home, preferably tucked up on bed, binge watching something trashy on Netflix with a bucket of ice cream and/or a bottle of gin. Not on some deserted cliff in the arse end of no where you've had to get out of bed, dress (the last thing you want tot do when you're brooding. Brooding is a strictly pajama wear only kind of activity) and then stand in the wind and cold, while your hair tries it damnest to shove itself down your throat and choke you to death. Which leads me onto my next point. Hair is not your fried. No matter how much you pet it, you cherish it, worship and adore it, it has its own mind, and goals, which in no way correlate with yours. Any woman worth their salt knows the second the wind picks up, it's time to batten down the hatches, ties that hair up or smother it with a scarf or hat. Any hair left free will whip about wildly, stab you, choke you, chain you to any nearby protrusions and eventually, when the wind dies down, will turn into one giant rats nest which you will have to spend a painful hour untangling, if not resign yourself to the fact that you'll just have to burn it off. In fact, the only reason a woman would be crying softly at the edge of a cliff while her hair winds about her, is because she's realised she's left her hair band in the car and now knows she has to cancel every other plan she had for the afternoon in order to sort her hair out.)
I sighed, as much as I would like to follow that particular thought down its rabbit hole, I had other things to occupy my mind. Such as, I was on fourteen steps. Another eleven added and I would be at the point where they considered it 'advisable' to continue.
"Do you think I can do this? That I'm 'suitable' for such a career."
"The important thing is that you believe you can do this." He said pompously.
Well, that was helpful. I thought to myself. Not.
"I guess I'm not at the point where you think I'm wasting my life and or potential talent in other ares?" I said, only slightly sarcastically.
"No?" He said, far too hesitantly for my liking.
I looked up at the sky. People became heroes for all sorts of reasons - be they selfless ones or more practical, financially based ones. All sorts of reasons, all sorts of people.
I'e always wanted to fly. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps a flimsy reason to put myself through this hell, but it was a good enough reason for me.
It would have helped, I admitted to myself, if i had any sort of innate talent tor natural skill to help me out with the training. I did not. I so did not that it was practically the opposite - perhaps natural non-talent? This was not going to be an easy ride by a long shot.
I looked at the sky again.
"So, going from your little speech, you will not, and have not, forced people to quit?" I asked him casually.
he stiffened. "As i said, we do not make others decisions for them, we simply advised based on our pwn personal experience."
"So you wont' force people to give up, even when you think they're being stupid?" I clarified.
"As long as it is not harming themselves or others." He stated.
I grinned at him. "Man oh man, are you ever going to regret that."
****
I am not a natural learner. It took me ten months to learn to drive a car. My teacher sobbed enough for the two of us the day I passed.
It took me three years and one hundred and one steps to become a hero.
The blue sky was as sweet as I'd always imagined it.
"No." He said confidently.
"Have you come close?"
He kept his mouth firmly closed. So that was a yes then.
I paused and sat down, processing the new information he'd given me. The loose grit, pebbles and dirt of the ground below me dug into my thin work out clothes, reminding me of the expensive exfoliator I washed my face with this morning (hey, when you'd suffered through years of bad acne in high school, I'm sure you'd also invest heavily in skin care products so you'd never have to endure that pus filled hell again. Although if this dirt felt exactly the same as that, maybe I should just bottle it up and take it back with me and use it instead. After all, you had mud masks and things at a spa right? No, wait, focus on what you were doing idiot! This is probably why step 3.6a got added!)
The wind on the mountainside came with its own spring time chill and i shivered, the sweat cooling rapidly on my exposed skin. The breeze lifted loose strands of my hair, whacking themselves into my eyes like deranged worms (you know all those films where you have the sexy female lead, leaning sexily against something or standing sexily and brooding at the edge of a cliff with her face blowing sexily around her? Does. Not. Happen in real life. For one, what sensible woman is going to brood on the edge of a cliff. No, brooding is done in the comfort of ones own home, preferably tucked up on bed, binge watching something trashy on Netflix with a bucket of ice cream and/or a bottle of gin. Not on some deserted cliff in the arse end of no where you've had to get out of bed, dress (the last thing you want tot do when you're brooding. Brooding is a strictly pajama wear only kind of activity) and then stand in the wind and cold, while your hair tries it damnest to shove itself down your throat and choke you to death. Which leads me onto my next point. Hair is not your fried. No matter how much you pet it, you cherish it, worship and adore it, it has its own mind, and goals, which in no way correlate with yours. Any woman worth their salt knows the second the wind picks up, it's time to batten down the hatches, ties that hair up or smother it with a scarf or hat. Any hair left free will whip about wildly, stab you, choke you, chain you to any nearby protrusions and eventually, when the wind dies down, will turn into one giant rats nest which you will have to spend a painful hour untangling, if not resign yourself to the fact that you'll just have to burn it off. In fact, the only reason a woman would be crying softly at the edge of a cliff while her hair winds about her, is because she's realised she's left her hair band in the car and now knows she has to cancel every other plan she had for the afternoon in order to sort her hair out.)
I sighed, as much as I would like to follow that particular thought down its rabbit hole, I had other things to occupy my mind. Such as, I was on fourteen steps. Another eleven added and I would be at the point where they considered it 'advisable' to continue.
"Do you think I can do this? That I'm 'suitable' for such a career."
"The important thing is that you believe you can do this." He said pompously.
Well, that was helpful. I thought to myself. Not.
"I guess I'm not at the point where you think I'm wasting my life and or potential talent in other ares?" I said, only slightly sarcastically.
"No?" He said, far too hesitantly for my liking.
I looked up at the sky. People became heroes for all sorts of reasons - be they selfless ones or more practical, financially based ones. All sorts of reasons, all sorts of people.
I'e always wanted to fly. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps a flimsy reason to put myself through this hell, but it was a good enough reason for me.
It would have helped, I admitted to myself, if i had any sort of innate talent tor natural skill to help me out with the training. I did not. I so did not that it was practically the opposite - perhaps natural non-talent? This was not going to be an easy ride by a long shot.
I looked at the sky again.
"So, going from your little speech, you will not, and have not, forced people to quit?" I asked him casually.
he stiffened. "As i said, we do not make others decisions for them, we simply advised based on our pwn personal experience."
"So you wont' force people to give up, even when you think they're being stupid?" I clarified.
"As long as it is not harming themselves or others." He stated.
I grinned at him. "Man oh man, are you ever going to regret that."
****
I am not a natural learner. It took me ten months to learn to drive a car. My teacher sobbed enough for the two of us the day I passed.
It took me three years and one hundred and one steps to become a hero.
The blue sky was as sweet as I'd always imagined it.
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