Chasing Words

The weekend, like most of my life was spent chasing time, sleep, and words. After many decades, there still is not enough time to do everything I want or sleep as much as I think I need. I remain tortured over the exact meaning of words and live life in close proximity to dictionaries and thesauruses.

Precious time goes by as I search for nuances between words such as amid or amidst and among or amongst. Unrelenting, incessant debates rage over correct verb tense and punctuation. I’ve learned it’s difficult to win a debate when you argue with yourself. I wonder how much of this linguistic battle spills into my life impacting all that I do. How much of the quest for the perfect word bleeds into my definition of self? How much energy do I expend searching for the right, the perfect, and the best?

I’m not that sure that I care although I do mull over these questions. I am who I am and I believe words count. Words are important and this weekend, I found a few locked away in a cedar chest. Old writings from childhood lay in piles describing life with cats, first loves, and storms. As I spent the day working on an essay to enter a writing competition, I remembered thinking as a child that I simply wanted to grow up, write, and be happy. That’s still all I want to do and as I compare the topics of a youthful childhood, it’s remarkable that I still write about topics of first appeal. Except for the animals, unless you consider descriptions in my mind for some people I know. I could write about last weekend and the cat that jumped up on the toilet and urinated like a person or the dog that lay on the couch like a little man. Alas, these are other stories.

What I know is that I love words and in my quest to find those that matter most, to rise above the mundane, the cliché, and the overused, I am fortunate. I have a vocabulary that will prevent me from ever using the word party as a verb and amidst the trials of life, I am amongst friends. In the end, that’s all that really matters.