We've discussed before that I am not much of a reader. I wish I were. I am surrounded by people who read voraciously. They all seem...informed.
I have lots of books on my "To Read" list and on my nightstand. But when it comes time for bed -- the time I used to devote to book reading before insomnia became a buddy -- I usually want to shut off my brain, not engage it. And so I am now in the habit of lulling my brain cells to sleep by watching saved episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress." Yes, it's a reality show about women shopping for their wedding dress.
Did I mention mind numbing? But at least now I know the bridal differences between a drop waist, a fit-and-flare, a princess, and a mermaid. I can be informed, too.
The list of books I have read to completion is pretty short for a 46 year old. At least in my circle of friends. I do have some favorites, though.
I got enchantingly lost in Memoirs of a Geisha. And was astounded how Kurt Eichenwald made corrupt accounting practices absolutely riveting in Conspiracy of Fools. And, of course, the kid favorites of The Monster at the End of this Book and Harry The Dirty Dog are classics that never get old.
There's another favorite book, though, that completely blew my mind the first time my mom told me about it. It had been sitting on our book shelf all along. I never picked it out, though. It had a weird name and was big and looked like it was for grown-ups. I was in junior high the first time Mom handed it to me. And now it is one of my most favorite books ever.
Curious? Puzzled? Interested?
I'm talking about a thesaurus.
I was writing some sort of school essay at the time -- on binder paper using a PEN with that new erasable ink that mostly just smudged all over the place and turned the side of your hand blue. I needed a word, a different word, something that wouldn't exactly repeat what I had already said but would still help me get to the one-page minimum. The dictionary was no help. But Mom was.
She grabbed that weird book that sounded like it was named after a pre-historic creature, handed it to me with a short explanation, and left me to my homework. I opened it up and could not believe...COULD NOT BELIEVE...that a book like that existed. It was an entire book of synonyms!! Whaaaat?!?
I wouldn't have called myself a writer back then, but I probably would have sheepishly admitted...if pressed quietly...that I secretly loved writing papers and essays. So a book of words to help me find just the right nuance, just the right connotation, just the right vehicle to express my thoughts? It was mind-blowing. Truly, it felt like the best Christmas and birthday presents ever just finding out such a resource existed.
Yes, my geekiness goes way back.
So my thesaurus quickly became my most go-to reference book. More so than the dictionary and Strunk & Whites' hints about writing styles and even Linda Goodman's Love Signs (a must-have when evaluating the real potential of new love interests. My copy is very dusty these days but it definitely had an active life in the '80s).
I quickly learned, though, that I have to tread carefully when consulting a thesaurus. Time evaporates and I can go down many more paths than intended, intrigued and enthralled by the subtle yet immense differences between words that mean mostly the same thing. Much like reading an inscription in an old high school yearbook, one entry in a thesaurus leads to another and another and another and then you suddenly realize you meant to go to the grocery store two hours ago and perhaps a shower first would be a good idea.
Or maybe that's just me.
These days, I write on a laptop and use a bookmarked website to find just the right word. Thesaurus.com is especially dangerous because it gives synonyms for synonyms all just scrolls and clicks away. For example, type in the word "curious" and you get a list of 24 related words. Cool!
But scroll down and you get more lists of synonyms for "abnormal" and "bizarre" and "exotic" and other words sort of but not exactly like "curious." Scroll all the way to the bottom and you'll find there are 5 pages -- 5 PAGES -- of words to explore, to suck you in, to leave your emails unread for hours. Words, words, words, and yet more glorious, delicious, fantabulous words!
Of course, not all words are quite so fruitful. Ironically, there are hardly any synonyms for "synonym." Oh, language, how fun you are!
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