The Art of Words

Well, after a long hiatus, a pause in my veritable verbosity, I have triumphantly returned to the site of my writings. I "wax poetic" when I am up late, doing nothing important, but not wanting to go to bed. It's even better now that I'm studying GRE vocabulary.

And do you know what? IT'S FUN. There are so many words in the English language that most people don't know of, let alone use, and they're beautiful words! Pretty words that sit in the back of the minds of select few, gathering dust and spiderwebs, fading away as they find their homes infringed upon by monosyllabic monstrosities that roll of the tongue and encompass many definitions. Specificity, man, now that's fun. Take "pulchritudinous," for example. I think that I may, at one point, have heard the word "pulchritudinous" in some class, or in some book. Did I know what it meant? Fuck, no! Now, I find I like using it wherever. Because it's specific, descriptive, it has a definite purpose, and there's a certain joy about using something that other people have lost.

But then again, the specificity, that's probably why it's dying, right? We use to have fancy, single-purpose words that the privileged could use in their pedantic (heh, there's another vocab word for the GRE) discussions to try and widen the separation between the lower class and the book-learned. Now, we seek to use short, curt, words that can be descriptive of many things. Excellent examples of these are "cool," "fine," and "fuck." Many people have marveled on the versatility of the word "fuck." It ranges from a verb to a noun and can even venture to adverb and beyond, though that may require some slight modifications.

So, what's better? The educated person in me leans towards the polysyllabic, the beauty of recognizing the Latin or Greek roots and suffixes in a word to delve into its meaning. The artist in me appreciates that as well, because to me these lost words are beautiful, and what is are if not that appreciation of beauty? The pragmatist in me, however, begs to differ. Why should we have fancy words when we can already have other words that work perfectly fine? I think the pragmatist, however, is quickly being drowned out, if only for the sake of writers and authors. Because, for both good and bad authors, it is very often that those simpler words simply will not work; I think there are probably poets out there who have spent days, weeks, possibly even months searching for the exact word, the exact turn of phrase to express a specific idea or emotion. (Having been assigned to write a Spanish sonnet, I can relate) I think these lost words are an art, I think that's the conclusion I've come to. It's an art some can pick up, like some pick up painting or dancing. I think the difference is that words cannot progress like music or dancing can. Which makes me wonder; how long will the art of words last?