My Wordless Resolution

I’ve always want­ed a com­pi­la­tion of the for­got­ten words: those lost from our dic­tio­nar­ies and gone from our tongues. Good ones do exist, and I often won­der whether I should try and revive the sound of kexy leaves in my writ­ing and obar­mate against the loss of lan­guage, or if by so doing I would only rob­let read­ers and pos­si­bly mis­queme them.

Instead, this year, I plan to do the oppo­site. I’m con­scious­ly drop­ping a word from my spo­ken vocab­u­lary.

After catch­ing myself one too many times using the same word in recent days, I real­ized it had cement­ed itself into the short­hand crutch of my vocab­u­lary. The word itself is not that spe­cial. It is nei­ther vul­gar nor excit­ing. It is nei­ther col­or­ful nor placid. It is non­de­script if it is any­thing. Yet, I find that it is in its very deliv­ery, a word uti­lized to con­vey every­thing, atti­tude and all. Or so the tone of that deliv­ery should sug­gest. Some­how vague and vogue, it feels bor­rowed and lazy. An ordi­nary word whose extra­or­di­nary usage has become, well, ordi­nary.

So, enough of it, I say. Expunged. Here’s to using words that mat­ter. And here’s to hop­ing this overt effort with my speech results in covert dex­ter­i­ty with my pen.

Do you use a word worth los­ing?