#2: My Glass Menagerie of Words
Which words are truly ours? I'm just a girl with a listserv, gifting you with a groovy ramble on the paired letters we hold seemingly close to us.
“Maybe you’re a woman in search of a word.”
Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
In Gilbert’s memoir, to find a word is to find oneself. While I’m not quite at a third decade existential crisis just yet, I’d like to think that to find a word or words is to find a memory. I like to attach words to describe, drive and memorialise moments - a time, day, a week, a month, a year. There are also words I associate with specific people in my life - past and present (“beguiled” “apparently” “eventful” “ridiculous” “down to” “regards”) ….will save the sentiments of these words for another essay.
And while I may not have the escapist tendencies or isolationist sadness of the play’s protagonists, I have curated my own glass menagerie of words. The phrase in itself is not only a nod to one of my nostalgia-loving soul’s favourite plays by Tennessee Williams but also anchored to the experience of watching it with someone special (who incidentally gifted me the words “wax lyrical”) last year. A symbol that words can also remind us of the timeless loves who entered our lives. No ordinary “meaningful coincidence” (another pair of words donated to me by someone instrumental to the journey of my 20s, close to 9 years ago). The reality is words are multi-faceted and can make you feel more than you ever thought your body could hold but they can also leave you in a temporary, emotionally vacuumed state. You will always remember the first time someone said “I love you” - how they enunciated, where you both were, and what you said back. You will also always remember the deafening silence when they stopped saying anything at all, and the words you wished could be exchanged.
So, my glass menagerie of words is filled with gorgeously carved words on different pedestals. Each has its own dedicated shelf, and each having viscerally made me feel overjoyed, appreciated, enamoured, surprised, hurt, loved, disappointed, frustrated, vexed, confused, energised, tired, and/or sometimes all of the above. It also has dedicated, smooth empty compartments for words that were never shared (in person, textually or otherwise), for words that I hope I can say and hear over and over again, for those that I hope never pay me a return visit, and for words yet to arrive into my life.
Sometimes I’ll use words as intention-setting instruments: “power” for the weeks I need to remain focused through, “peace” for when I know I need to find a respite, “spontaneous” for when my social life is definitely in need of a flavourful condiment…you get the logic.
But most often, I’ll use words to mentally ink an experience. Or many experiences, which is what this year presented with shameless audacity. The variance of feelings I experienced this year, in solitude and with others, presents so much intangible emotion that it is baseline overwhelming to begin to try and summarise in full sentences. This amalgamation of feelings and moments is not one that can be simply summarised as “good or “bad”. Instead, it requires an unabashed intentionality. Thus, a word…or two.
This intentionality, in the past few days, has manifested in a text from me to my near and dear asking not-so-simply, “What is/are your word(s) for 2023?” And I’ve derived great humour and tranquility in reading their immediate reactions**(summarised below):
“Is this an Instagram trend?” (noteworthy question - alas, the answer is no - but lol)
“Does it have to be just one word?” (I then revised the question to include the plural)
“Let me take some time to think about it. I’ll get back to you.” (a reminder of the pensive, patient people in my life, those willing to actually take this assignment as seriously as I delivered it)
“I haven’t even thought about that. What’s yours?” (Ok, mint.)
“What do you mean by this?” (ceci n’est pas une pipe)
“For 2024…” (kudos to my futuristic friends because you inspired this article in more ways than one)
**Honourable mention to my friends who didn’t reply or had no words to identify, a humbling lesson that this question might just be too trippy or negligible for some.
So on that note, for my futuristic pals who asked me about my word(s) for 2024, I frankly confess that I am just not there yet. In reality, I’m still quite desperately clinging to 2023’s word(s) as a way to extend the last minutes of this year, and to grasp onto the experiences (challenges/wins/standstills) I’ve had. Most importantly, I want to forever compartmentalise the curves and edges of their lettered labels in my glass menagerie.
The poetry of my nostalgia tripping aside, the words I got in response are as important as the reactions and while I’m not sharing mine (#ifykyk), I will non-exhaustively and in a particularly whimsical order, list some of the winning entries below in the hopes of inspiring you all:
“Anotha one” (in the voice of DJ Khaled; fitting answer by a v. charismatic friend)
“Contrasts”
“Intense”
“Activation”
“Joy”
“Experimentation”
“No fear”
“Self expression”
“Loss”
“Hope”
“Family”
“Realization”
“Sunshine on my shoulder” (my god, you are a poet)
“Growth”
“Clarifying”
“Sabbath” (This one was so opulently dramatic, it has now resulted in a new nickname)
“Friendships”
“Present”
“Simplicity”
“Botanist” (Bottoms up, friends)
“Life”
“Grief”
“Fortitude”
“Friendship”
“Skinny Mo” (A jazz club in Kolkata…creative!)
“Mirth”
“Exciting rollercoaster”
“Boundaries”
“Reflection”
“Lessons”
“Rizz” (important to celebrate Oxford’s Word of the Year 2023, thanks Oxford!)
And what got me going is the realisation that all of these (English) words were, in fact, either rented more commonly (used by different people to describe different feelings) or subletted (temporary occupants until more permanent ones can be found - punny I know). None of the nearly 40 individuals I asked chose a word that was fully made up, either by themselves or by someone else. I am aware that language is indeed our shared, cross-cultural code and it is, of course, natural that we liberally use and borrow similar words within adjacent social networks. However, I’m still not sure if this pattern in descriptive word usage was due to my sample size.
But I’m a woman on a mission and there are some hot potato questions I must ask:
How many of the words which we associate with our most intimate memories are really ours?
Do these intimate memories become any less ours as a result of using common words?
Can these words still be truly ours if re-purposed across borders, time, and people?
Is the only way to make words truly ours, to make up our own neologisms?
If I use someone else’s* neologism, does it still count as uniquely mine?
Capitalism-obsessed as we are, why should we bother using certain words if they’ll never be “truly” be ours to keep?
***Vanity trip but it’s likely one of the reasons this community has a neologism (“sonder”) in its name; it will take me some time to slow down on trying to explain my naming decision
As a preteen, I was proud of a *fetch* mauve United Colours of Benetton *bedazzled* t-shirt I wore with authentic sass. The t-shirt had the slogan “I’m unique just like everyone else.” While I will never fully comprehend the link between this iconic quote by Margaret Mead and the target consumers of Benetton, I consider it clever foreshadowing of the woman I am, in search of not just any words, but those that feel uniquely mine.
Humour me. DM me/Comment below on this essay with “your” words for 2023.
So much glory in this post, I am glad that I landed here today, so early into 2024 and into my day. I feel like your questions relate to my love for reclaiming language - I feel like that is a word that so many of those around me embody in this moment, but don't (choose or need to) outwardly say (or claim). I also will sit with your question about our capitalist-obsessed life and how we are able to own and hold what isn't entirely ours to keep. Love this. This: 'I am, in search of not just any words, but those that feel uniquely mine.' is a big vibe too.