Use your words
Originally published at Examorata. Please leave any comments there.
Last Wednesday I went out to lunch with two friends from the office, because we were all fired up to talk about the previous night’s episode of Lost. While in the restaurant we got into a convoluted, labyrinthine conversation that also sucked in our Lost-watching waiter, because that’s how you talk about that show. It’s designed to make you go in mental circles. At some point, gesticulating possibly too violently with a fork, I came up with the following gem: “I figured it out! The island is essentially a microcosmic isolated evolutionary environment, like the Galapagos Islands…but for the human spirit!”*
Yesterday evening I hosted our monthly book club. We discussed Cuisines of the Axis of Evil by Chris Fair, which disappointed me because I wanted a discussion of cultural and historical differences between peoples as relates to the native cuisines, and instead I got overwrought snark followed by dinner-party recipes. What bothered me most was the author’s overuse of big words. It was a very self-conscious use of big words, very much part of the tongue-in-cheek tone, but overall it irritated the crap out of me.
Of course in thinking about the above two examples for even a few moments I realize how hypocritical I’m being. I love big words. Mainly because I just love words, and I know a lot of them, because I read a lot and I started talking more or less in the womb. It comes easily to me to toss them out there as in my deathless evaluation of Lost in paragraph one. Not for no reason did a friend give me a pair of sweatpants with “LOQUACIOUS” written across the butt for my birthday last year.
Over the weekend I walked into Target and happened to overhear a mother talking to her very young daughter, who was writhing and crying in her mother’s arms. “Tell me what’s wrong,” said the mother, “come on, use your words.”
Maybe my mother told me that one too many times? Maybe I took it too much to heart? So help me, I really do try to write to communicate ideas, and it’s never my intention to hide them behind a wall of pretension so steep that other people just walk away and say, “Whatever, dude.” From the depths of my sesquipedalian heart I implore you: if I ever start writing like I did at the beginning of this sentence too much? Call me out. Smack me down. I can take it. Still learning to use my words, here.
* I mean, duh.