The small tiny ones are so numerous and they will continue multiplying because I don't believe in saving the trees. I do however believe in expanding my vocabulary so the population of neo-bright post-its will continue to explode. They would have numbered an additional 300-odd, but I transferred the words from last semester onto pieces of foolscape which cover the remaining surface not covered in post-its.

I'm running out of space. And the glue that keeps them adhered to my work area is slowly disintergrating through age, hard re-usage, and dust.

I can just see my parents' face when they unpack my boxes. Oh, what do we have here? She ships home at 3 dollars a box, 2 dollars a kilogram, used post-its?

I can just hear the slightly hysterical edge in my mom's voice. I kid you not. I just heard it not 8 hours ago, but that's a completely different story.

Why do I need so many post-its? It isn't as if many of the words are unknown to me before I wrote it down. Indeed, while a number consists of words I have never seen before, the remainder are words that I often use. Moreover, in a vocabulary test, I should be able to tell you a word's corresponding synonym. I cannot explain the precise meaning of the word, but I should be able to use it in a sentence.

But let's face it.

What comes naturally to many scholars and intellectuals requires a great deal of effort on my part. I would like to be able to pluck the perfect word from out of thin air when I am writing. However, more often than not, due to my shortcomings in intellectual prowess, I am reduced to long rambly sentences to explain what can be reduced to a singular, nice, neat, word. But I am unable to do it all the time or even much of the time.

So I have nice, neat, post-its to attend to this problem. Also, it makes it easier for me to to memorise odd words that are only of interest to the antiquitarian or an etymologist. I think I would love to be an etymologist. "The etymologist finds the deadest word to have been once a brilliant picture" [Emerson].

You could say I am fearful of ridicule in the only language I can communicate well in. I guess the blunt criticism on my writing last year has only added fuel to what I perceive is a terrible failing. If you are unable to be multilingual or even bilingual effectively, the very least you can do is to train yourself to a certain degree of competency in the only language you are able to do so.

It is not self-abnegation, but rather an assiduous application of self to excel at one thing, even if through circumstances or choice, I am assigned to mediocrity. One personal ideal to dwarf every other achievement through triumph of perfection.

That being said, I suppose this whole exercise of excellence is highly dependent on the external perception of others. But the entire exercise is also dependent on the actual circulation of such knowledge. Having a rich vocabulary and properly trained grammar is nigh on useless if my elocution fails me.

I stutter, stumble over pronouciation and land into the many pitfalls that litter the landscape of non-native English speaker. Nevermind that English is my first language, and in the demise of my Mother tongue through disuse, my only language.

And I am sorely reminded of my imperfections each time I open my mouth. I am constantly inudated by my mistakes. It isn't as if I don't try. I try to enunciate the words as I have been taught (or heard) but something always arrives to shore up the destruction of my shaky self-esteem.

I don't mean I make mistakes when I use pompous words in my every-day speech. I stumble over the simplest of words. Needless to say, to think of attempting to incalculate anything beyond basic speech is rather terrifying. Any word beyond two syllables is a landmine. But I get on well with simple speech and the occasional fumble over the three-syllable and more hurdle. Yet I do find myself speaking less and less, often lapsing into self-conscious mumbling.

Sometimes it scares me to speak to my friends. When I returned in the first year for the holidays, an ex-JC mate told me that I had a fake Aussie accent. I vehemently denied it. I certainly did not consciously put on a fake accent to impress anyone.

But I was awfully hurt to be told my accent was anything but authentic. I don't mind stumbling over pronouciation. I have grown used to criticism on my pronouciation, because I came from a rather snobbish school where people do laugh unkindly when someone slips up. But I am still rather raw about the edges for having an accent. Even if it is an accent that incorporates what I hear, and is solely an unconscious manifestation of self. In other words, an authentic accent.

As a result of that edifying comment, I always wonder if I have a "fake" accent when I speak. Sweet Teeth observed that when I talk, I have a mish-mash of accented words, probably a consequence of American television, BBC English and assimilation of local culture, both Singaporean and Australian. I do know I try and enunciate words more slowly and deepen my voice when I am required to speak to a stranger or an acquaintance. (I have one of those high pitched childish voices.)

I feel lost sometimes. And very afraid. I should be proud of my accent, a sad motley of disparate elements, but I do wish I can adopt a heterogenous accent. That would be ultimate hypocrisy. Although, it would be wonderful if I can perfect an accentless speech.

Can I order that for Christmas this year?

Maybe when I return to Singapore, I can shed all the confused mumbo-jumbo and assimilate into the general populace.

Which reminds me. I can't spell very well either. But spelling is memory work so it is easier to work on.

As an afterthought to this whole entry, but one that hovers constantly in my mind, I'm going to miss the online OED subscription the university has. I suppose my very first paycheck will go into either an online subscription or the Shorter OED that comes in two beautiful volumes. I can just drool at the thought of it.

And 3M makes a lot of money from fastiduous compulsive obsessive freaks that only use their post-its.

***

I believe I wrote a similar entry some time back; same subject matter, different approach and certainly not about post-its. All in all, which goes to show I still have not resolved the conflict yet. And that I am repeating myself.

I can't trace the location of the entry though.