Use Your Words
 
In celebration of the tenth issue of the footnote (who knew that such tripe could last so long?), I thought I’d compose an article that discusses the nature of our work here – an article about what makes up our fibre, an article that drives at the very fragile fabric that is the footnote – an article about words .
 
I’ll admit that I am attracted to words the way that some people are attracted to cars.  Whenever I pass a dictionary or thesaurus, I drool over new, exciting models and seriously consider trading in my old vocabulary. I mean, take a look at the allure of the word “defenestrate” (to throw out the window). Fun, isn’t it? It could easily fit into the word garage of my brain. Of course, if I took it out for a spin every day, if I drove it to work, and the grocery store, and the post office – who knows what the neighbors might think. (I’d probably confuse them.)  
 
Then there’s the word “zealot” (a fanatically committed person). It even sounds like a sports car zooming down the highway. The sleek, modern “z” turbo-charges the word while the distinct “t” finishes it off, leaving nothing but dust in its wake. I wonder whether the word police would give me a ticket for speeding around with a “zealot.” Perhaps a safer bet would be the word “ubiquitous” (being everywhere at once).  It has a higher safety rating, for sure. But you find that word everywhere these days, and I prefer to be unique. So maybe I’ll go kick the tires of the word “embrangle” (to entangle) for a while, and think about negotiating a trade-in for my “trammel” (a restraint).
 
Words, like cars, also come in fads – remember “radical” and “gnarly” in the '80s? Using them in conversation today could be considered either very retro or very passé (kind of like driving a DeLorean). “Far out” and “bitchin’” are the Pintos of the social lexicon, deemed unsafe for the casual user after a few ghastly field tests.  Today they’re about as popular as a leisure suit. Or how about “swell” and “keen”? Just scream “1952,” don’t they? (either that or “Old Navy ad,” take your pick).  
 
As a society, we generally tend to think that cars reveal something about their owners (kind of like how pets tend to look like their owners, and children can reveal the genetic hiccups of their parents). Words can reveal something about their writers, as well. For example, ever notice how Dustin likes to use the phrases “Star Wars” and “obviously”? Or how fond DJ is of “stinkin” and “feh” (what does that mean exactly, anyway)?  - And I bet you thought you knew these guys. I myself tend to be overly fond of “luddite” as a derogative term these days (though more in conversation than in writing); which is ironic, because generally the only people who are familiar with the term are the ones that I am attempting to insult.
 
Hey, we all have our weaknesses; we writers can only hope that the words we choose to drive around in will please our readers, or challenge them, or hell - encourage them to take a test drive for themselves! There’s nothing quite like jumping into a shiny new phrase – the thrill of the vowels and consonants slipping off your tongue, the pride of being able to show off something new, looks of envy on the faces of your friends and neighbors…
 
After all, you don’t have to have an 800 Verbal on your SAT to enjoy a little wordplay.
 
(Okay, okay, fine - maybe it helps…)

Laura is a bona fide contributor to the footnote, and really hates it when the stuff in italics at the bottom of the page is a crappy closing for her pretty essays. A "detractor" if you will.