i like words. i know a few of them. that is really the difference between an adult and a kid, isn't it? it's just that we're slightly taller and we know more words.
although i don't really use most of the words i know and i've forgotten a lot of the ones i used to know, so perhaps i'm really just taller.
it's like spanish: i studied three years of it in high school, but i mostly have no idea how to communicate en español today. unless you need to know where the pencil sharpener is-- that i can tell you. but while 90% of my spanish knowledge circles are school supplies, i can generally guess what you mean when you rattle off a paragraph in the language. somewhere in my head, there is a tiny box of unused spanish irregulars and false cognates.
my english vocabulary is the same in that sense-- i can probably guess what you mean if i can't remember the actual definition.
it's just what happens when you don't use something on a regular basis. and i'm sure i could find a reason to use more words more regularly, but i find that slightly rude. if words are meant as communication tools i would think we should do our best to use words we know the greater part of society can understand.
i am in no way suggesting we dumb down our language for people who don't know the difference between the words "unanimously" and "anonymously" (managers at city sightseeing), but there is something asshole-esque about using the word "sesquipedalianism." ever. in fact, by using it in this post i feel a little bit more like a dick.
either way, it's the desire to communicate clearly that has caused my forgetfulness of the less common words-- that's either ironic or just sad. but it happened.
i do like to debate the history of words like elegant and eloquent. whether or not they were really just one word with one meaning that two groups of people spelled two different ways long enough for each version to adopt its own [slightly] different definition.
and when i'm in san jose, i like to have a little bit of me-time during which i talk to myself in great monologue. there is something freeing about it. maybe because the air and the streets are so quiet it feels like i'm in a recording room and everything i say is horribly important.
or maybe it's just because in san jose i can talk to myself on the streets without being one of the two hundred homeless people doing the same thing.
either way, i like doing it. i like doing it in a sort of batman whisper.
my favorite word to say out loud is "inevitability" because it's like linguistic gymnastics or some kind of rapid tongue tap dance. tongue, teeth, teeth, lips, tongue, teeth, lips, lips, tongue, teeth, tongue, teeth.
...i was trying to describe the way your mouth works on each letter of "inevitability", not a particularly rough blowjob-- but i'm aware i sort of walked into that one.
there was a time i was walking from a friend's house in san jose, headed to my home, and this random word sort of popped into my mind. i knew i had heard it before, but couldn't determine the meaning of it. something in me told me there was a reason the word had suddenly found itself in my mind after years of being forgotten, and i couldn't pin point what that was.
given my tradition of late-night lonely ramblings, i decided i might try to guess what the word meant out loud, in form of a mind-exploring monologue.
i played with the word on my tongue, repeating it in different accents, but i couldn't remember what it meant. i looked deep inside my mind and soul, trying to determine its meaning and its meaning to me. and i expressed all of this to my invisible audience as i walked.
by the time i reached home, i was deep in a ten-minute self-speech and i still couldn't remembered the meaning of the word, but also couldn't sleep without knowing.
so i looked it up.
the word was "soliloquy" and when i saw the definition, i laughed.
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