The Capital of the World

A musing. Maybe simply a mulling. After I, or anyone else for that, or any other matter, catalog a book, we refer to the aforementioned book as being cataloged. (We all scream for ice cream as well). Everybody gets it. It is clear to one and all. Hopefully. Even if it is a brief record, it is cataloged. We will not get into entry levels here. All shall be lumped together as one. A great big cataloged one. OK. OK. So I got to thinking. To pondering. Always a weighty proposition. Often a most, well, mainly treacherous time. After I have created metadata describing, say, a photograph of a hurdler, taken sometime during the 1930s, at what is now called Hayward Field, how should I refer to it? Tell me Dear Reader, how? "Done?" It is not a piece of meat. A tidy attributive adjective is attractive to me here. And now. I stumbled upon, well, actually tripped over (and skinned both knees) the answer to my own question. The image for which metadata had been created could be called "metadatated." Indeedely-doo. Sorry Flanders. A metadatated image. Yes! I am a cataloger. I am a metadatator. You might suspect a superfluous syllable here Dear Reader. You might. But metadator was quickly passed by as sounding a bit promiscuous. No. Metadatator held firm. Holds steady. Hemingway intruded. "A severed femoral artery empties itself faster than you can believe." Olé!