I’ve always had a terrible time remembering the word ambitious.
Mind you—that’s not the only word to regularly evade me. I keep a long list of such words, which I consult whenever I need to recall one of the troublemakers. Here’s a screenshot from my Notes app:
Mind you—that’s not the only word to regularly evade me. I keep a long list of such words, which I consult whenever I need to recall one of the troublemakers. Here’s a screenshot from my Notes app:
Looking at the list now, I see a few words I need to remove. I used conceit last night at dinner, in fact. And I’ve definitely mastered both magpie and piebald. (You can read why here.)
When the perfect word runs and hides, you can always grab a good-enough synonym. But substitutes never, ever satisfy me. When I know there’s a particular word I want, I become hell-bent on digging it up. That’s why I discovered the magnificent hyper-thesaurus OneLook.com. (It’s probably my favorite spot on the Internet and just one of the excellent writing resources you’ll find on this list I put together for you.)
Why do some words refuse to come when called? I can understand why it’s hard to master a weirdo like paraprosdokian, but what’s the deal with bromeliad or oracle? I’m generally pretty good at accessing the vocabulary I need, so when certain words consistently conceal themselves, I have to wonder if my subconscious is at work. Maybe there’s something about a fugitive word that I find repellant or troubling, and my brain does me the favor of submerging it for me.
For example: When I was a kid, my grandmother suffered a stroke that left her unable to access almost all words—a condition called aphasia that scares the sweet bejeezus out of me. So a few years ago when I couldn’t pull aphasia out of my brain-bank (XXL irony), I thought maybe I was too afraid of aphasia to even name it.
Side note: While ruminating on emotionally hazardous words, I had to wonder about the term verboten. Does that verb business at its beginning have anything to do with words, as in verbal? I looked it up, and the Online Etymology Dictionary, as always, had the answer for me: nope.
Now, back to ambitious (and its sibling ambition). Historically, this pair has evaded me like a healthy housefly. So much so, that I casually wondered if the concept posed some sort of discomfort for me. But I never really focused on that hypothesis until recently.
A few weeks back, on the recommendation of my friend Carolyn, I listened to the audiobook You Are a Badass at Making Money by Jen Sincero. And if the title of the book makes you squeamish, its thesis definitely will too. Sincero posits that money isn’t inherently evil—au contraire! Money is what enables us to do everything we need to and want to in life, whether that’s living under a roof, traveling around the world, bestowing philanthropic gifts, or any of the countless other opportunities life presents. She encourages us to get very comfortable with both desiring and pursuing money. Mantras are involved. À la: I love money because it’s the root of so much awesome. Yikes, right? If this makes you want to unzip your skin and run out of the room, I totally understand. And yet. The woman makes a good point.
So I bought the book in paperback for both Carolyn (birthday gift) and me. And I’ve been working my way through the exercises chapter by chapter, giving thought to my long-held, deep-seated attitudes about the pursuit of money. And in the process, I realized something: I’ve always been comfortable with being industrious—in academics, in parenting, in my career. In fact, I think my industriousness is a dominant part of my character. But I’ve been far less comfortable with seeking achievement. Or, God forbid, pursuing filthy lucre.
When the perfect word runs and hides, you can always grab a good-enough synonym. But substitutes never, ever satisfy me. When I know there’s a particular word I want, I become hell-bent on digging it up. That’s why I discovered the magnificent hyper-thesaurus OneLook.com. (It’s probably my favorite spot on the Internet and just one of the excellent writing resources you’ll find on this list I put together for you.)
Why do some words refuse to come when called? I can understand why it’s hard to master a weirdo like paraprosdokian, but what’s the deal with bromeliad or oracle? I’m generally pretty good at accessing the vocabulary I need, so when certain words consistently conceal themselves, I have to wonder if my subconscious is at work. Maybe there’s something about a fugitive word that I find repellant or troubling, and my brain does me the favor of submerging it for me.
For example: When I was a kid, my grandmother suffered a stroke that left her unable to access almost all words—a condition called aphasia that scares the sweet bejeezus out of me. So a few years ago when I couldn’t pull aphasia out of my brain-bank (XXL irony), I thought maybe I was too afraid of aphasia to even name it.
Side note: While ruminating on emotionally hazardous words, I had to wonder about the term verboten. Does that verb business at its beginning have anything to do with words, as in verbal? I looked it up, and the Online Etymology Dictionary, as always, had the answer for me: nope.
Now, back to ambitious (and its sibling ambition). Historically, this pair has evaded me like a healthy housefly. So much so, that I casually wondered if the concept posed some sort of discomfort for me. But I never really focused on that hypothesis until recently.
A few weeks back, on the recommendation of my friend Carolyn, I listened to the audiobook You Are a Badass at Making Money by Jen Sincero. And if the title of the book makes you squeamish, its thesis definitely will too. Sincero posits that money isn’t inherently evil—au contraire! Money is what enables us to do everything we need to and want to in life, whether that’s living under a roof, traveling around the world, bestowing philanthropic gifts, or any of the countless other opportunities life presents. She encourages us to get very comfortable with both desiring and pursuing money. Mantras are involved. À la: I love money because it’s the root of so much awesome. Yikes, right? If this makes you want to unzip your skin and run out of the room, I totally understand. And yet. The woman makes a good point.
So I bought the book in paperback for both Carolyn (birthday gift) and me. And I’ve been working my way through the exercises chapter by chapter, giving thought to my long-held, deep-seated attitudes about the pursuit of money. And in the process, I realized something: I’ve always been comfortable with being industrious—in academics, in parenting, in my career. In fact, I think my industriousness is a dominant part of my character. But I’ve been far less comfortable with seeking achievement. Or, God forbid, pursuing filthy lucre.
Illustrative stock photo. Does it give you hives? I totally understand.
Now, my peers and I all had well-understood goals growing up—to make good grades, to get chosen for the “A” teams in sports, to be accepted by the most prestigious colleges. Yet I’ve generally felt pretty uncomfortable saying such goals out loud. It’s always felt sort of gauche and desperate to me. But then, if I’m being honest with myself, there may be some self-protection in there. If you don’t name your goals, you can’t be a failure at achieving them.
Which brings us to that elusive word ambitious, the conceptual crux of all this striving and wanting. I think I’d like to get friendly with it and everything it represents. Writing this very blog has felt like a long date with it. We’ll see where things go.
At least I can remember the word now. That’s a step in the right direction.
________________________
Yes, I used an affiliate link for the book mentioned above. It must be my burgeoning ambition driving me to grab that nanofraction of a penny.
Which brings us to that elusive word ambitious, the conceptual crux of all this striving and wanting. I think I’d like to get friendly with it and everything it represents. Writing this very blog has felt like a long date with it. We’ll see where things go.
At least I can remember the word now. That’s a step in the right direction.
________________________
Yes, I used an affiliate link for the book mentioned above. It must be my burgeoning ambition driving me to grab that nanofraction of a penny.
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