EPTI think words are very important. At a party a few weeks ago, I drunkenly explained this to a very old and uninterested looking man. I told him how exciting words are (yes, I am fun at parties, why do you ask?). I explained how much I wanted to get my journalism degrees (or is it a law degree?) and hit him with a terribly over wrought breakdown of the magic of human communication. "You see," I said, "Its like taking thoughts out of my own head, you know, and putting them in other people's heads. In a very real way, the printed word is, like, the ultimate technological achievement of the social animal. Its incredible; how my otherwise totally banal thoughts could create some sort of connection to another person a thousand miles away. I can be in someone's life without ever meeting them, and my ideas can become their ideas, like a germ. I'm very excited about it."
It sounded better when I was drunk.
"You have," he responded "a thick spread of idealism. That's good for a young man." And then he wandered away, leaving me alone with my whiskey and eggnog.
Whenever I try to write something I nearly always find myself at a loss for words. I think, in a general sense, I have a strong grasp on the English language, but my writing seems to come out simple, like it was written by someone younger than me. I have words floating around in my head right now that I'm just waiting to put down, but can't find the right spot for. When am I ever going to describe someone as magnanimous? I understand the words conciliatory, altercation and condemnation, but I couldn't place them in a sentence without them sounding like rubbish. I seem restricted to a dictionary I acquired years ago, and any word that is even a little unfamiliar comes out tasting of rubber and leaving a tacky feeling on the palate.
Still, I'm nearly always humbled by how much I simply do not know. Even in reading relatively modern writers, I run into dozens of words I don't know, or have forgotten, and the great mountain of language seems to grow by another few inches. Climbing the mountain is a journey we all partake in, some with gusto (those with the "word a day" app for Android) and others passively, only eking out progress through conversation or chance. I like to think I approach the challenge with a certain enthusiasm and energy, but as I've said, the hill only seems to get bigger.
I have what I think is a common fantasy of writing a novel someday. Perhaps, I think, I'll escape to Paris once it becomes a bestseller. My beautiful wife and I could spend the whole afternoon reading, drinking, and eating. Yes I'll become fat, but it won't matter, not with [insert current interest's name] around: she loves me unconditionally. Of course, I say, now drifting closer to sleep, this is how its meant to be. Its been leaning in this direction for years, I just haven't noticed it until now.
And pretty soon I'm asleep.
