This I Believe

Ashur - Atlanta, Georgia
Entered on May 24, 2006
Age Group: Under 18

I Believe in Other Words

Bindolway. Larmo. Trimunly. Fidge.

If these words don’t mean anything to you, there is a good reason for that. Until about a minute ago they didn’t exist. The particular combinations of letters in those four words are entirely new to mankind, at least as far as we know. But, from this point on, they are real words because I say so. If Orwell and Heller can do it, then so can I.

Bindolway n. An intended shortcut or bypass that increases wait or travel time rather than decreases it.

e.g. “Turning onto E.Morningside Drive to get to Ponce de Leon Avenue ended up being a bindolway rather than a shortcut.”

Larmo n. A state of despondency.

e.g. “I suspect the reason Joel declined my invitation to the party is because he has been going through a bit of larmo lately.”

Trimulny adv. With the fewest resources possible

e.g. “We managed to build the house trimunly, only to find it collapsed the next morning.”

Fidge v. To cause maximum damage with the least effort or likelihood

e.g. “I didn’t mean to fidge his car, but who knew a penny dropped between the seats could slip into the transmission?”

There, now there are four more words in the world. Now I know some of you might groan and ask, “Why do we need more words? Aren’t there enough?” The answer to this question is no. I believe that the expression of human thought and emotion is limited by language. Even if you speak every language in the world, there will still be some things you “can’t put into words.”

That’s why I think there is a new word for every situation. But for some reason there is a rule against making up words to express new ideas. I know when I do it, people think I’m crazy. Well, maybe I am crazy, but I just don’t think “gloomy” was the way I really felt when I told my friend I felt “Monraic”. You see, I’ve acquired the rare skill of transforming my thoughts directly into words, bypassing the censoring filter we call language. Now, I know this sounds insane because the entire point of communicating is expressing yourself so that others can understand you, but maybe we could just leave a little more to interpretation.

It’s like the difference between a road sign and a painting. Hopefully, a road sign will clearly and concisely deliver its message leaving as little room for error in translation as possible. A painting, on the other hand, leaves its message entirely to the eye of the beholder. It becomes its own message. So why is it that language has become a road sign instead of a painting? Sure you can make the road sign attractive and elaborate, and you can probably make it say everything that is essential in day to day life. But where is the mystery? Where is the romance (no pun intended), Where, I find myself asking, is the magic?

The magic, I believe, is in the Fidge.