Insights From the Land of G.R.E.

In my quest to knock the stuffing out of the G.R.E. (Gargantuan Rectal Exam) rather than the other way around, I’ve been studying lots of words—words, words and more words: dry root words in dead languages, sexy French words, barbaric German words, old English words that have moth balls all around them, Slavic words that make you want to toss back the vodka (fond memories from living in Russia) and fiesty Greek words that make you want to swim in the blue Aegean sea and then ride a sweaty donkey up a volcanic island in the sun and then shower with Irish soap.

All in all, I’ve had a blast studying all of these words.

I’ve found that some words are sexier than others. And some words sound flamboyant but in reality denote something boring. Take the word “jejune” for example. Sounds very Euro-chic, right? It sounds like this word should be dressed up in white go-go boots and a baby doll dress and smoking a cigarrette in some pulsating nightclub at 2:00 a.m., doesn’t it? Not so. Jejune means boring, blah, dull, vanilla, as in “My…these stale crackers are so jejune.” The sound of the word totally belies its literal meaning. It’s a syntactical tease, promising a brilliant star but delivering a drab pebble. I find this odd and it makes me angry.

Second, some words are good but you could get your arse kicked at a party if you use them. Or at least your friends probably wouldn’t want to be your friends any longer if you dropped an “appellation” instead of “name,” or a “salubrious” instead of a “healthy,” or if you casually mentioned that your jello is looking especially protean this evening (i.e. amorphous and wiggly); and this goes double if you’re experiencing a dash of dyspepsia from a deleterious substance in your lobster, or if your puerile cat has necromorphous tendencies, or if your nom de plum  for your smashing new novel is Sebastian Tiger.

(That’s actually not a bad pen name, Sebastian Tiger. Hmmmm. I've got dibs on it now.)

The flip side is true as well I suppose. If another person at a party or a gathering casually mentions that "the pith of Einstein's theory of relativity was obviously outside of Newton's bailiwick" (I've actually been at "parties" like these), or that their brand new spanking BMW outside is a donatia mortis causa, or that they once had an incandescent metanoia (i.e. spiritual conversion), or that they currently struggle with papaphobia or necromancy or necrophilia, or any of the necros for that matter, then it’s time to leave for several reasons that go beyond mere word choice. At best your party could potentially upshift to a massive ministry opportunity. At worst you should be prized from such a bedraggled and fustian scene.

Some words are sheer fun because they sound so graphic and edgy (i.e. titillate, asinine, pusillanimous) yet they’re so...um...in the dictionary. (I used to throw these in my theology papers just for fun). Other words seem clinical and harmless, but they’re pottymouth and supremely naughty (no examples here).

I was struck by how many words—an army, really—there are to denote trickery or missing the mark of truth: dissemble, dupe, blandish, inveigle, cozen, chicanery, legerdemain, bilk, canard, skullduggery (please nobody take that word…that’s my favorite new word), causuistry, specious, meretricious, verisimilitude and I’m sure there are many others but these are the ones I remember.    

I love the word splenetic and I don’t know why.

Some words are like clouds that float above you way up in the sky as they slowly move past wherever you are—amporphous blobs of syntax. You’re not sure what they mean because they’re always changing shape and people sometimes misuse them and then you wonder if they know they’re misusing them or perhaps they’re adding their own subtle twist to a secondary definition—or maybe you missed out on that memo that said “diaphanous” means glorious and vague instead of thin and flimsy...or maybe you should quit reading the New Yorker altogether. That magazine kind of sucks anyway.

I also love the words sodden and slugabed. Desuetude is currently in a state of desuetude, though, it has to go; it’s so jejune and all.

And don’t forget: You can be demotic without being demonic, you can be imperious without being impervious; heck, you can even be quixotic without being quotidian…but you cannot (and I can’t stress this enough) simultaneously have simian cheekbones and an aquiline nose and a bovine jaw. People need to get that into their human skulls. Maybe I’ll work that into my G.R.E. essay. 

What else? I’ve got to go to work at my non-sinecure position at a bank. So this is my penultimate sentence.

And this is my valedictory paragraph...so long.

Comments

[Kat]

*LOL* You're hilarious, Will; only you would get all that out of studying for the G.R.E. :-D Best of luck! I'll be praying for you!

[beebo]

if only my 8th graders could catch your word-fever

[Girly Muse]

wow! this gives me so much to think about. most excellent post...

[Will Banister]

thank you...