Posted by | March 26, 2013 | Ormondian, Review | No Comments

I’m sorry if you wound up in contact with yours truly for your first occasion this past half-fortnight.

Our colloquy was probably awkward and unsatisfying.

To clarify; I was only acting oddly laconic on account of my vow to talk without using that handy fifth symbol of our ABC’s for this past half-fortnight-minus-two days. It’s not that I’m cold, or didn’t warm to you. But introductions got confusing straight away: I couldn’t say my own autonym. In fact, I want an opportunity to talk to you again and work on changing that first sighting.

In antiphon to all of you who found this affair totally baffling:

During my vocal circumscription, I said that my study of human imagination was “just for fun”.  This was a simplification. My ‘fun’ bit dust fairly fast.  Actually, it was my adoration for words that was my inspiration to forgo so many.  I am continually struck by that various and multifarious body of words at our disposal in our brilliant labyrinth for communication, ‘anglais’.  Both multitudinous synonyms and curiously particular words abound. In fact, I found a word for what I’m doing right now: a ‘lipogram’ is a book or a hunk of writing that from which an author omits half-two or an additional quantity of a symbol from our ABC’s. Possibly our most famous lipogram is Gadsby, a book of 50,000 plus words by Mr. Wright (ironically, I can’t put down his full autonym), which portrays its protagonist John Gadsby saving his dying fictional city of Branton Hills (Wright omits that symbol which I too am avoiding).

I shouldn’t wholly dismiss my standard antiphon of “just for fun”. Along my way, I had slip-ups and frustrations, but also many instants of humour, and a motility of triumph and commutation upon conclusion of it all.  A short-summary of my past half-fortnight-minus-two:

My instructions:

  • No saying or writing that symbol in any form. Full stop.
  • My trial will last from midnight Saturday to midnight Thursday.

My instructions by day four:

  • Writing that symbol in applications such as Hotmail and SMS is okay.
  • It is okay to say that symbol in confabulations with Dr. Black.
  • Using that symbol is also okay to contradict infuriating individuals in my US politics tutorial, who align with GOP politics.

Good Things:

  • My laconic disposition has brought about yours truly as a good aural participant, and thus probably a compatriot surpassing my normal quality, this half-fortnight.
  • A compulsion to pick words judiciously is not a bad thing. Having to think about all words I said, I was truly cognizant that, normally, I probably ought not to say as many as I do.
  • A highlight was my dawning thought that I could still go to Grill’d. At a minimum, a body was supporting my avocation.  Chomping on my ‘Hot Mama’ as a last hurrah was truly satisfying.

Bad and Ugly Things:

Distributing ‘bins for saving plastics and additional things’ on Day 1 with Sustainability Sub.  All crucial words had that symbol. I was instructing all who brought forward his own utility to assist us with cryptic crossword hints: “with this ‘room passport’ you can go into any room, but prior to that you must say what thou art about to do to warn any individual who is within. Within said room, put your ‘saving bin’ down, crossing off individuals’ rooms from this list as you go around.”

  • Similar complications sprung up during launch night for that BOB program which, in my lingo, had to turn into ‘AAA: Australian Aboriginal Advising’.
  • Using that symbol is most difficult to avoid whilst angry.  Calm as I usually am, I didn’t find this out until day four, upon which I found, much to my dismay that food I had bought for night-food was lost by piracy out of our communal icy-cold-box in Main Building attic. Luckily, most cuss words qualify as non-symbol words, but my huffy words said in that warmth of an instant did not qualify as thoughtful as my word-choosing thus far.