b e h n d i n g

While teaching English in Hong Kong, I was often struck by the limitations of my students’ vocabulary.  Binary terms such as good/bad and sad/happy dominated our discussions and they expressed much frustration with their inability to precisely express anything outside of or in between those markers, words I view as just short of meaningless.  I would read 30 papers, all of which theorized that a poem‘s main purpose was to convey the sadness of death.  I am by no means mocking them, as I can easily recall my own days of second-language study and how pathetically limited my vocab was, how stifling it was to resort to the same handful of descriptors even when none of them really communicated what I was thinking, feeling like the best I could do was approximate, always hitting around the nail rather than whacking it squarely on the head. Each day I study for the GRE I am reminded that words are not just a vehicle for knowledge — how knowledge is communicated — they themselves are knowledge, both convey and constitute content.  In other words, the ability to express knowledge is knowledge, just as the inability to do so is a form of ignorance.  I openly concede that memorizing definitions is no way to spend the dwindling days of summer, but have found comfort in the fact that this seemingly mundane activity has provided me with more stimulation than boredom, more edification than inconvenience.  I only wish the same could be said of my sentiments toward my preparations for the quantitative section of the test.

sextant – n. navigation tool that determines latitude and longitude

sinecure – n. well-paying office job or office that requires little or no work

somniloquy – n. the act of talking in ones sleep

hirsute – adj. covered in hair

lilliputian – adj. extremely small

factotum – n. a handyman

doggerel – n. poor verse (as in poetry)

maverick – n. sarah palin via john mccain

Is it bad that when I saw the words paean the first thing that came to mind was paella?  YES.  I remember a pastor offhandedly mentioning in a sermon once that he believed people spent too much time thinking about food and that it was an injurious phenomenon, spiritually speaking, because it obstructed the full-fledged pursuit of God.  I also remember taking that remark very personally, so it must have set off an deep-seated feeling or belief in me.  Perhaps it was something like the feeling you get when someone talks smack about a person you love and says he or she is “bad” for you.  But I am forced to admit there may have been an element of truth in what he said, which is also probably part of why I found it unpleasant.

What I like about Barrons Test Prep (and what distinguishes it from the rest) is the effort made to inform rather than instruct.  Nuggets of historical and scientific information permeate the prep books and smart, interesting sentences help to keep me alert and engaged.  Once in awhile I will even look up words in the definition or explanation of the actual word I am studying, a sign to me that I am 1) stupid and 2) using the right book for me.

I noted to some people that I really enjoy studying vocabulary so much it is almost obscene to watch.  I realized today one reason why I delight so much in it is that I am revising — refining — much of what I took for granted as fact.  For example, I did not know the word poseur, as in someone who pretends to impress, was spelled like so.  I have especially found that many of the “definitions” of words in my head are actually more like tag-a-long connotations or cultural associations than precise, literal definitions.  That in itself has been a very valuable realization and am unabashedly pleased with myself for the grace with which I have accepted a temporary demotion in intelligence.

a couple nights ago i dreamt that i had an affair with the ex of my high school chemistry teacher — a striking redhead with a sculpted upper body who also happened to have metal rods for legs (both of them). during my nap today, i dreamt that a friend from high school was giving me a foot massage while i popped amoxicillin pills.  there must be something in the jersey air because my synapses are on crack.

for the past week or so, i have been studying for the GRE with all the diligence i can muster.  i spend my mornings at barnes and noble, armed with a kaplan GRE prepbook, a cup of joe, and of course my laptop to distract me.  i inevitably spend a half hour or so browsing on the web, which is not entirely unproductive, as a chunk of that time is purposefully directed toward my housing and employment hunts ( in that order, as it happens).  but i am proud to say i do bunker down eventually and hit the book, finding a rusty but still functioning masochistic pleasure in memorizing vocabulary and solving quant comp.  though my days of studying for the SAT in seventh grade are over, they must have instilled a hefty entertainment value to mastering mind-numbing formulaic exercises and convinced me that by choosing the right letters of the alphabet, and making sure i fill in the correct bubble, i can be on top of the world.

is the drone of the lawn mower and the smell of freshly mowed grass, the sound of car doors slamming and scent of meat on the grill.  i have been back home for nearly one month and have spent most of it re-familiarizing myself with the singularity that is American suburban life.  while jogging around my neighborhood loop, passing house after house after house, i feel like a hamster on his exercise wheel, spinning round and around, under the illusion of moving past while everything around me remains the same.  not much has changed, at least outwardly, in my hood, but i dont embrace it as i once did.  i see it as a specimen now, no longer somewhere i recognize as my own but a kind of creature, not necessarily malevolent but not the nurturing, comforting body it formerly was. time and space have begotten distance and while i have enjoyed my homestay immensely, i am also getting antsy because it is a temporary assignment.