Peace of Mind

So, I've been flat in bed or watching daytime television for nearly a week now with some horrible illness. After I had suffered three days of burning fever, aches to keep me awake all night, and delirious dreams when I could sleep, I finally decided to go to the doctor on Monday. I called the nurse before I went to make sure she thought it would be worth it. I didn't want the doctor to say, "Yup, you're sick with something. Now go home and rest." I don't need a doctor to tell me that. I barely managed telling the nurse anything because I had no voice to speak of, so she thought it best I come in possibly for a strep test.

After I managed to get myself there (thank goodness for moms when you're not coherent enough to drive yourself), I finally got in to see the doctor. She asked me a series of questions and said, "Well, would you like to be tested for the flu or for strep? It's possible it's one of those." I had never been presented with options like that. I was kind-of hoping she would just tell me what tests she was going to do. Rather that answer, I deflected and said, "Well, there's not much you can do if it's the flu, right?"

She said there wasn't but then proceeded to convince me that I needed to be tested for the flu. Her argument went something like this, "Well, doing the test will give you the peace of mind of knowing that you've got the flu, and giving everyone else the peace of mind that that's what you've been exposing them to and what they have exposed you to." I wasn't really in the mood, or presence of mind, to argue with her on that. And, hey, who doesn't need a little peace of mind? Besides, I thought maybe she'd do a strep test too, which I would consider beneficial. No one wants to end up with rheumatic fever two weeks down the road.

A few minutes after some guy stuck a Q-tip up my nose, she came back and said, "Congratulations, you have type A influenza. The good news is, it's the more mild version, and you get to be an official flu statistic at the state health department." I felt so privileged--I was official. I celebrated by going straight to the pharmacy to stock up on Sudafed and NyQuil. I'm not sure the knowledge that I had the flu brought the peace of mind she expected to me or my group of fellow sickies, but that NyQuil brought 13 hours of sound sleep that night. That's what I call peace of mind.

So, to all you who feel there may be something keeping you from finding peace, let me suggest being tested for the flu. The doctor says it brings peace of mind, and hey, she's the expert.

All hail the mighty semicolon

I think it quite appropriate here to send out an alert to all unassuming readers: "word snob alert!" as Annie so deftly warned in a comment a few posts back (and Annie, you know you're just as much of a word snob as I). While this isn't about any particular word, it is in the same vein, since it's about what punctuates those words. So, if the scintillating dramas of semicolons doesn't excite you, move on. Read elsewhere. This is no place for you today.

I came across a wonderful article in the New York Times today entitled "Celebrating a Semicolon in a Most Unlikely Location." I'm amazed the writer could fit the mention of a serial killer, the No Child Left Behind act, a New York Times bestseller, and Kurt Vonnegut all in an article on semicolons. That's quite a feat, but I digress.

I am quite happy to see people being recognized for good punctuation, and I think it should be done more frequently. Perhaps we ought to have an annual award that recognizes one person's quest to use the semicolon in a felicitous manner, and maybe we can give extra points or the Miss Congeniality award to the person who uses it in the most amusing manner. Imagine where some of the Bulwer-Lytton contest entries could go with the correct usage of a semicolon!

In fact, in celebration of this semi-colon recognition and general literary amusement, perhaps we ought to all enter the Bulwer-Lytton writing contest this year (the official deadline is April 15), and make sure you include plenty of well-used semicolons!

Pews of Distinction

As I was traveling home this evening, I saw a large truck drive into our neighborhood. This wasn't out of the ordinary by any means, particularly in a neighborhood that is fairly new and has a lot of construction going on. What caught my eye was the writing on the side of the truck as it passed in front of me: "Church Furniture of Distinction." Sure enough, there was a large picture of church pews next to the verbiage. Okay, it isn't a sight you see every day, but it isn't that unusual considering they are building a couple of new chapels in the area as well. What triggered the irony radar was that today is Sunday. Isn't it a little strange that a company serving the religious population doesn't follow the law of the Sabbath?

I can just see the scene now:
Phil: "Hey, Bob--looks like we've got another fireside going on this evening."
Bob: "Yup. I think we're gonna have to kick people out of church again."

The ensuing scene consists of people standing (if they are deacons, they are running instead of standing) in the snow consuming their punch and cookies after the youth fireside ends 30 minutes early. Good times.

Superfluous

Have you ever noticed that the word "superfluous" is, well, superfluous? It's a rather ironic situation, but it has me pondering this evening. I realize that on the eve of so-called "Super Tuesday" I could be pondering on the political significance of this cosmopolitan election year, or on whether the large amount of snow we received yesterday in this colder-than-normal winter is some strange sign of global warming, or whether, in fact, there is enough scientific evidence to suggest that anything we do contributes to global warming. But my mind goes back to my initial query--why are there so many words that have another word that means the exact same thing? I realize this cries heresy, considering my training in the English language and its literature, but let me explain.

I can understand words of similar meaning existing. "Assassination" and "murder," for example both have a legitimate place in our vocabulary (although, it does make one wonder how famous a person must be in order to be assassinated instead of murdered). But why must we use both "large" and "huge," not to mention the recent ghastly edition to our lexical canon, "ginormous"? A "tome" is really no more than a "book." And then there are the words that are longer than their definition: Triskaidekaphobia=fear of 13. Let's not even mention words that are in common usage but aren't used correctly or don't really exist (think of business-ese and education-ese, and their need for the word "metadiscourse" to exist).

I am not suggesting we remove these words from our dictionary (except maybe "ginormous")--poor Mr. Johnson would never approve of such things--but merely look at the words we use. Are we using them because they are the best word for the purpose, or are we spouting them merely because they are there, floating in some undefinable nebula waiting to be utilized (or, ahem, used). Do they truly enhance communication or do they detract because they muddle meaning instead of clarify? What are words but a venue for communication, and if they don't add meaning, they ought not to be used.

Perhaps it was the poets who encouraged this extensive language--in order to fit their meter and rhyme, but I doubt it. Or perhaps this entire musing is superfluous; not just the word "superfluous."