Use Your Words!

On the Jukebox: "Bitter Sweet Symphony" by The Verve
Mood: Happy
Quote: "... and in the morning, I'm making waffles!" ~ Shrek
Flair: Father Bête Noire

Some of you may have caught on to the fact that I like words more than most people (and by that I mean that I like words more than I like most people.) I love the nuance and subtly of language. So often it suggests more than it actually says. I love being able to read between the lines, to catch double entendres, and to enjoy a clever play on words. I certainly don't suffer from hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - that's the fear of big words.

In fact the less familiar the word is, the more I am likely to use it. Why say ancient when I can say archaic or antediluvian? Why say red when I can say vermilion, crimson, or scarlet? Why say gourmet meal when I can say epicurean delight? Why should I say enemy when I can say nemesis, anathema, bete noire, or bane of my existence?

Sometimes I an guilty of choosing mordacious words that are sharp or caustic in tone because it adds to my witticism. Be glad I called you a moron instead of an idiot because I know the difference. Did you know that the terms moron, idiot, imbecile, bright, and gifted are all terms from a psychology scale of intelligence used to determine IQ? It goes like this: idiot (IQ 0-25), imbecile (IQ of 26-50), moron (IQ of 51-70), average (IQ of 85-114), bright (IQ of 115-129), gifted (IQ of 130- 144)...

Mensa requires a IQ score of 132 for membership. Einstein is believed to have had an IQ around 160. I'm happy with my IQ classification of 'gifted' as I know I would have to be reclassified if it were based solely on math - I would be a moron. It's my vocabulary that makes me a genius. I like the mellifluous sounds of words. Each one has a neat pitch and color associated with it. Words taste delicious to me the way colors, music, or food might give sensory impressions to other people.

Perhaps I suffer from synesthesia, the neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. I do like to use cross-sensory metaphors ("loud shirt," "bitter wind" or "prickly laugh.) I can count to purple backwards too!

I love Beatrice, Shakespeare's feisty, cynical, and witty heroine from Much Ado About Nothing, who was so good at verbal sparing. There's a woman who knows how to use her words. In fact her wit is so quick that Benedick remarks that he wish his horse had the speed of her tongue. Of herself she says she was 'born to speak all mirth and no matter.' Many people, including the prince, recognize and admire her pleasant spirit and merriness. Unfortunately, like Beatrice I often do not know when to hold my tongue. I'm guilty of going too far in my enjoyment of arranging carefully crafted and clever retorts that I often wound the feelings of others.

Benedick, her one time and would be again suitor says, "she misused me past the endurance of a block. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the North star. So indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her."

Luckily, Benedick himself is also a master of language though maybe not quite her equal. The rule should be if you dish it, be prepared to take it. So, I will bear that in mind next time I start in on someone who is not my equal and I'll remove my brain so we can have a fair match. In the meantime, enjoy one of the better verbal volleys from the play. It reminds me of romantic comedies like You've Got Mail and Moonlighting.

Beatrice: I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you.

Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?

Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.

Benedick: Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.

Beatrice: A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

Benedick: God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face.

Beatrice: Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were.

Benedick: Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

Beatrice: A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's name; I have done.

Beatrice: You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old.