The Absquatulation of Words

Absquatulate:  to flee; abscond

    The problem with new words is where to use them.  If I drop a casual “absquatulate” into a conversation, I don’t know if anyone would understand me.  Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be able to remember it well enough to use it. 

    I love getting a new word every day from Dictionary.com, but my brain can’t keep up.  Even after I write about a new word, my long-term memory still hasn’t captured it.  In other words, the new word absquatulates right into thin air.  Looking back through my computer file names, I am intrigued by terms such as “heliotrope” (or was it “heliolotry”) and  . . . well, I can’t remember another one. 

    On paper, my vocabulary looks great.  In practice, it leaves something to be desired.  When I write, I can refer to my handy Pocket Oxford or Dictionary.com—but that doesn’t work the same in conversation.  (“Excuse me, but could you wait a minute while I look up the word that I think I know but am not sure of enough to actually use?”)

    Might as well confess.  I spend a lot of time second-guessing myself, even looking up common words that flow out of my fingertips onto the keyboard.  I go back to make sure the word is right.  Today, for example, I looked up “ironically,” “blossomed,” and “bloomed.”  Happily enough, I discovered that each word was an excellent fit for the subtleties I had in mind.

    Well . . . not exactly in mind.  That’s why I have to look up so many words.  For me, words come with flavors and textures that I don’t exactly consciously identify.  I feel them instead; their sounds slide in and fit the sense of what I’m saying.  I write with the flow of things and go back later to check the dictionary—unless someone has absconded with it, of course.