Vocabulary Lesson

Back in the day, I was a vocabulary enthusiast who loved knowing a plethora of words to apply in exactly the right way at the right time. Not only could I play a decent game of Scrabble, but I was confident enough to complete crossword puzzles in ink. Somewhere along the line, however, teenspeak took over my life, eroding the Latin root words, the prefixes and suffixes that have served me well throughout my long career. I found myself failing to cringe when someone informed me that "it don't matter," and actually had to nod my head in agreement in some circumstances. My spelling, which used to be precise, degenerated to the use of spellcheck just to be sure, as after generations of misuse by students, the errors began to look correct to me. After all, as long as one is understood, what difference could it possibly make how one spells common vocabulary? Then, than, thin; there, their, they're: whatever.

Since classes finished last week, I find myself flitting from one meaningless task to another, unable to settle. I've been reading, but also watching movies made for TV: aren't they really TV shows? Movies, usually called films, are screened in a theatre. I've listened to a few talk shows and laughed hilariously at Bonnie Hunt's new doll collection: she's cosmetically altered some store products to create her unique doll collection, such as Beach Bonnie, who got her first sunburn while wearing a T-shirt and shorts, obvious when she dons her summer swimsuit for the first time. Parachute Bonnie's dress and hair are both lifted by the experience. There have been others, but the gist is obvious.

I've toyed with housework, but nothing serious. I've read recipes, focusing on the dessert pages, which are always more gastronomically enticing than the fresh summer salads that resemble a bowl of artfully arranged lawn clippings. I've completed some requisite household chores, but ignored others because it's just like ironing: iron the shirt today and someone pulls it out to wear tomorrow. In the desert, it's sand: dust the furniture in the morning and gale-force winds blow all afternoon. I've looked at the dozens of boxes in the garage, knowing that is a chore that MUST be completed before my demise, but if I knew how to turn it into a fun-filled organizational activity that involved lots of friends, food, wine and music, I'd probably actually do something, instead of just talking about the situation.

Sure, I have syllabi to prep for next semester -- but I'm teaching the same classes I taught this past semester, so have a fairly good idea how to update the current syllabi before mid-August. Yes, I can plan the summer vacation, but if I become too engaged in the vacation planning, I'll be exhausted before I leave in July: too much too soon blunts the edge of anticipation.

Journey back in time, to 9th grade, my second year of Latin with Miss Alice Torkelson. She was a little bit of a thing (diminutive), with red hair, an even coat of white make-up, a slash of deep red lipstick punctuated with the same red on the apples of her cheeks, and the attitude of a drill sergeant (authoritarian). It is she who taught us NEVER to say we are "bored," a common expression (pedestrian) not worthy of our lofty status as Latin students. When I'm in this transitional phase of being, I go through the list of synonyms appropriate for a Latin student and pick one to apply to my mood:

Lassitude: a state of exhaustion or torpor.

Torpor: a condition of mental or physical inactivity or insensibility.

Ennui: listlessness or dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest.

Miss Alice Torkelson said to pick the best word to describe our mental state at any given moment, but I'm wondering if I can create a sentence that uses all of them, as I cycle through exhaustion, inaction, insensibility, and listlessness/ dissatisfaction?

Or, I could just simplify and say ... I'M BORED!