OED

The nerd in me will do nearly any task, and as for compensation, there is little he will ask.

And the nerd in me certainly took over this morning when I was asked by a professor to transport a set of four boxes from the Research Center to the second floor of the building in which I work. I was informed that the four boxes contained a dictionary, the complete printed version of the Oxford English Dictionary. I personally have never seen a complete volume of the OED until today, and I must digress to the vernacular by saying that it was a complete mind-fuck. Or at least the nerd in me thought so.

20 books in the volume, each lavished with a sexy navy blue cover and gold roman numerals stenciled on the spines. Over 350 million printed characters total. 137,000 pronunciations. 2,412,400 illustrative quotations! The sheer vastness and semantic possibilities of the English Language now sit in 20 thick vessels, right next to my desk in the English Lounge where the majority of the conversations I have deal with what kind of food I like and don't like. Ironic? Perhaps. Appropriate, I’m not sure. Overwhelming? Absolutely. Listen to the erotic preface from the 1933 edition:

The aim of this dictionary is to present in alphabetical series the words that have formed the English vocabulary from the time of the earliest records down to the present day, with all the relevant facts concerning their form, sense-history, pronunciation, and etymology. It embraces not only the standard language of literature and conversation, whether current at the moment, or obsolete, or archaic, but also the technical vocabulary, and a large measure of dialectical usage and slang.

And, yes, you'll be happy to know the word “fuck” is actually in there and takes up half a page with all its various uses and combinations! So, is the phrase “hang out.” And “quemadero” and “rynchokinesis” are in there, too, even though the spell check on my computer has foolishly underlined them in red. In short, it’s inconceivably conceivable that every intelligible utterance in the history of English is now stacked in a cupboard in the English Lounge, and although I feel exhilarated, I'm somewhat uneasy about all this language next to me.

Volume 13 sits on my lap now. It contains only R's and Q's, and it is heavy. Of course, there is the physical weight bearing down on my thighs, but when I think about what's actually inside this midnight-colored mass, it gets heavier. Words that get used every day. Words that haven’t been used in a thousand years. Words I know, but, more likely, words I don't know. Different countries' usages of these words. Medical vocabulary. Names: fictional one's from literature, historical figures, even common first names (yes, I was egocentic enough to look up--and find--my own name). Colloquialisms. Examples. Sometimes even alphabetical characters that look like hieroglyphic drawings. Just think: everyday, ALL my written sentences and attempts at oral communication can be found somewhere in one of these 20 books. This is an amazing and altogether unsettling realization; it makes the OED not just a reference or a source—it is what is making it possible that I write these words at this very moment.

And this is unnerving for a simple yet enigmatic reason: even though I have all these words within my fingertips, there are still some things impossible to communicate. I fear what would happen should I look up a word, read through all the definitions, parts of speech and uses, etymologies, and pronunciations and it still not be enough to describe an emotion I'm feeling. How could the OED possibly capture what something like "love" means. What would “happy” and “sad" look like? How about “funny?” Or even something like “stinky?”

I’m aware that thinking like this might cause one to step into a pile of metaphysical dogshit , so I’ll digress and simply say how paradoxically wonderful and unnerving it is to be in the presence of such an extensive, glorious, wide-ranging, and undeniably insufficient piece of world history.

I believe that I will now look up the word “buttnoid” and see if there is a picture of my younger brother under the definition.