Why is it that when I use the words "grotesque" or "erudite" in casual conversation, the most common response I get is rolling eyes accompanied by "Ugh, stop using big words?" Rather confused, I always reply, "Why?" Why on earth should I stop making use of a small portion of under-appreciated words which serve to better illustrate my argument and, frankly, make listening to me more enjoyable? A string of words is far less interesting when it consists of only one-or two-syllable words known by kindergartners the world over. Words such as "acerbic" and "serendipitous" roll off the tongue to create poetry spoken aloud. While I do not advocate that Americans channel the likes of Faulkner, I do feel that at least an appreciation of "bigger" words, if not their sporadic implementation, should be adopted by all.

After all, words are not just a medium through which one communicates, they are an insight into one's intellectualism-a verbal rsum, if you will. Statements like "I did bad on the English midterm" leave the listener with no doubt as to why the speaker did poorly on his exam. To the stranger, you are what you say, and if what you say is horribly constructed, then you, by association, are presumed to be equally inept in all that you do.

To my ears, the British, who appear to be better-versed in the English language, are also decidedly wittier and quicker than their American counterparts. This is beautifully illustrated by the comparison between Tony Blair and George W. Bush. Over the past year, Prime Minister Blair could frequently be seen on CNN eloquently discussing the need for an incursion into Iraq. However, President Bush only gave the impression that he would rather be anywhere else than in front of a microphone. While I can understand the sentiment-ad-libbing articulate answers to rapid-fire questions thrown at you by the world's leading journalists doesn't spell "picnic in the park" to me, either-it is his responsibility as the "Leader of the Free World" to answer for his actions to the public.

Americans have apparently decided that a healthy talent for turning phrases and manipulating words is arcane, and that we should be satisfied with inarticulate rhetoric. Setting aside my general abhorrence of Bush's political agenda, his blatant resentment of intellectualism frightens me. Is this a common sentiment among Americans? Is the stigma that has seemingly been placed on using proper and evolved English one of our own choosing? We appear to be whittling away at the integrity of the English language just as George Orwell feared.

I sing the praises of words that are collecting dust on unopened pages of thesauri across the nation, not because I want to sound superior, but because I am captivated by the possibilities our language offers. Though the official number is a bit hazy, there are upward of three million words in English (Shakespeare used nearly 30,000 in his complete works). However, the average "educated" person has just 20,000 in his or her vocabulary, and uses only about 2,000 in a week.

Just think of all of the words escaping our use. Preservation of these elusive words is key to the further development of ideas and experiences. Perhaps this all relates back to the question of whether words define reality or reflect it. But, regardless of the answer, the fewer words we use, the more limited our reality becomes. After all, if we don't know how to use the word "erudite," how can we ever be one?

And if you didn't get that, you might want to invest in a dictionary.