Words

The other day, a friend of mine in conversation used a word that I had never heard before.  I forget what exactly it was, but I just kind of nodded and went along with it, all the while mentally puzzling through what it could possibly mean, but too insecure in the fact that I, an English major, didn't recognize the word that I couldn't stop and ask exactly what the word meant.  I have an image to maintain, you know.  By the time I got back to the safety of my room where I could then consult dictionary.com for the definition, I had already forgotten what exactly the word was and it was too late to take a bite of humble pie and ask that friend to repeat the word.  So many regrets.

In any case, I really admire people who use unique words in daily conversation.  Even if they don't use them entirely properly, many brownie points just for knowing the word and remembering it and having the gumption to produce it in a sentence.

Words are sort of an obsession of mine.  New words are like candy.  They're a treat, particularly when they perfectly encapsulate a feeling or thought or idea that previously I had needed to use a string of words instead of the more compact single word.

Distractions

If there's one thing that I'm very talented at, it's distracting myself from doing important things.

See, I figure it's something like doing the dishes.  They're already crusty with let's-try-not-to-imagine-what so if I attack them right off the bat and start scrubbing, I'll probably end up getting more of an arm work out than I intended and also waste an entire bottle of dish soap and possibly start swearing a little (also sweating).  So instead (naturally) I fill the sink with a tasteful amount of dish soup, add dishes, and wait*.  It's a very successful recipe, I've found.

Similarly, when I have an idea to start writing on, I usually let it soak in my mind for a little while I assemble just the right playlist to listen to and briefly scroll through Facebook and then wonder why I bother because it's all pretty dumb.  But back to the playlist part.  I'm a little obsessed with music.  Just, you know, a tad and a couple days worth of songs on I-tunes and then twice that in my Spotify playlists.

It really does make sense.  Music is, in one way or another, the** spoken equivalent of writing.  It is a way of conveying ideas and emotion and making completely unconnected listeners/readers feel and experience something.  That something might not be exactly what the author/composer was intending to convey, but that's not even vaguely a bad thing, because the something might be what the person needed to hear or wanted to hear or has been trying to say to themselves but never was able to find the words until now.  If that isn't magical, I don't know what is.

Sidenote: I'm feeling really passionate about books right now because I just read "Fahrenheit 451" for the first time (my high school education was sadly lacking, apparently) and read it in 24 hours no less and now feel like memorizing all my favorite books so that I can help the resistance and thwart the government when it starts burning those same books.

*By "wait" I mean, go do other important things.  I'm most certainly not standing at the kitchen sink watching those dishes soak.  Protip: a watched kettle never boils!

**Okay, definitely not "the" as in "the one and only."  The inner actress in me wouldn't shut up after I wrote that paragraph and insisted that I clarify: theater is definitely another spoken equivalent capable of producing emotions and ideas in an audience.  But that's really a post for another day.