Dictionary No More

Do you ever hold onto something that you might need? Something that may be a perfect fix for when you're in a jam? That twisty tie that closes something else in need of closing; that cable you knew you needed to keep because a different electronic needs it.

That one pair of jeans you were sure you were going to get back into.

We're all guilty of this ubiquitous idea that we're doing the right thing by holding onto something "we may need in the future." It's frugal, it's smart, and it's rational thinking - because hey, how many times have we gotten rid of something we should've kept, right?

RIP, my dictionary

As a self-proclaimed minimalist, an ideology I've been holding tight to for the last seven years or so, this goes against my current philosophy. Yes, it's good to hold on to certain things in the household I know I will use. Like the plastic bags I need for cleaning out or taking out the garbage - despite the ban, again, that our state will be imposing - I use them, need them, and when I get one, I proceed to stuff it in the plastic bag drawer in our kitchen. These plastic bags will be used. I can guarantee you that.

But, how many plastic containers do I need to hold on to? Leftovers can be put in glass dishes to refrigerate. How many boxes do I need to hold onto to recycle? (I do use boxes all the time for shipping, but surely not all of them).

And here is my most recent example of holding onto something I will never use again: the dictionary.

For twenty-five years, I've lugged this thing around from home to home, knowing - without a doubt - I would use it. And in the early 2000s, used it I did. I used it to write my master's thesis on the veracity of the book of Esther for my Humanities degree (with an emphasis on Literature, thank you very much). I used it as I began to write freelance for my burgeoning career. I used it when an author bushwhacked me with a word I'd never heard of. 

Which was constant.

This may be a throwback to my Gen-X ways (we didn't have smartphones, which means we didn't have dictionary apps on our non-existent smartphones), but, why was I holding onto this book? Why did I insist that this five-pound work of art was necessary anymore?

Language is a beautiful thing. A larger vocabulary helps us to communicate how we feel. But my youth, which is no longer an active participant in my life, insisted I keep it even when I didn't need it.

I took it out of my bookshelf just a few weeks ago and told my husband I was going to donate it. Truthfully, I should've recycled it. Except for a few teachers or professors - or vintage lovers, like myself - no one will buy this from the local thrift store. It will sit in obscurity, fading away into the background of modern life.

I knew it was time to get rid of it when I realized I hadn't used it in over a decade. While this is a bit sad, it also isn't. The dictionary is in my e-reader so if I want to look up a word, all I have to do is tap on the word. It saves me minutes. The dictionary is also an app on my phone. What used to take a minute to plow through in book form, now takes seconds on the tap of a phone. Yet, for a book lover like myself, letting go of the dictionary feels like I'm committing a crime; surrendering my baby, if you will.

But, time is of the essence, after all. Or, that's what they say.

I realize getting rid of a dictionary is the opposite of slow living. But, alas, hear me out. When you're reading a great book, and the tension is thick, and the protagonist is about to find out the meaning of their existence and I have to stop to look up a word, having the handy dandy dictionary app allows me to slow my reading speed for a few seconds rather than a few minutes.

And for every voracious reader, this is of the utmost importance. I need to know what happens now.

While the physical dictionary is a mass of fond memories for me, it's not like I won't use the dictionary at all. It isn't obsolete. Rather, I've just found a newer - and better, I might add - way to look up those obfuscating words that render a reader stupefied. 

While everything changes, and while I'm not used to the blank spot in my bookshelf without it, this book of words has helped me learn everything I've needed to learn about my basic lexicological education. 

If you have one of these on your shelves, it's okay. Don't feel bad. You can let go if you want to. I held onto it even though I hadn't used it in years. Sentimental reasoning is a fine reason to keep items we don't use. It's not logical, but it's why we do what we do.

Here's the moral of the story: If you haven't used an item in over a decade, odds are good you don't need it.

Dictionary, my book of all books, I will miss you. But, I'll see you online. And while I can't use you as a weight-lifting component anymore, the weight of your influence will always be with me.