If you’re hip with the youngsters of today, you may have heard the slang term ‘lit.’ Unfortunately, people use this term to describe the act of partying or perhaps intoxication, with little regard for its derivation. Observe.
One harsh night, in the wilderness of Northern Canada, a group of nomadic forest-dwellers huddled, battered by the most brutal winds, ice ballz, and recycled debris of the most Canadian and Februarian of storms. They had gotten caught out in the open, while harvesting wood from maple trees to fashion into various items, including, but not limited to, dancing scepters, rummaging crates, and cereal boxes. The outlook was bleak—chances of surviving these kinds of storms without a fire are slim, and starting a fire in those conditions seemed hopeless. The only kindling was their sacred pile of leaves that they used for various ceremonies. They tried and tried to ignite the leaves using any techniques they could think of, but a spark they could not create. (During this hard time, the nomads were sorrowfully reminded of a tragedy that occurred years ago, when a young girl had gotten lost among the maples during a similar storm and was never to be seen again.)
The travelers were face to face with doom—the face was a kindly old one, similar to that of a gobbly-chinned grandfather. They called him Samuel. It was thus time to begin the Samuel ritual, which involves a melancholic merriment of singing and dancing. One young member of the nomadic group, a girl, was assigned to produce music for the ritual. Her weapon of choice: the hollowed tree stump to beat upon with maple-fashioned beating sticks. The nomads scattered their sacred pile of leaves around the tree stump, and the girl began to play. The rhythm started slow, but gradually built, faster and faster, spicier and spicier, as the onlookers look-on’d in amazement. This beat was hot. Really hot. CRAZY HOT. So hot that sparks and flames started spewing from her sticks. The flames poured over the tree stump and onto the leaves, which erupted into a magnificent, glowing bonfire that kept our forest-dwellers alive for the duration of the storm. And boy did everybody dance around the fire with joy, to the hottest beat of all time.
From then on, this previously-unnamed girl was known as “Leaflit,”
P.S. The term “lit” is an unfortunate misappropriation of ‘Leaflit,’ (parties that people describe as ‘lit’ usually have music, which cause you to jam out in a similar [but much subdued] way to how Leaflit gave everyone around her a nasty case of the boogie-woogies). Next time, when you hear the word “lit,” be sure to pay homage to the glorious person whose name the term derived from.