Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious - an Essay

This is was the essay I wrote for UVA. I was tired, it was two hours before the deadline, and I had had enough with essays. So I pulled this out of the what-the-fierfek part of my brain...and I got into UVA. Just goes to show... (finish this sentence however you like).             

 “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” seems a cheap response to “what is your favorite word,” but I do not love it simply for its length. It brings back warm memories of watching Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke dancing in a cartoon fairyland; it harkens to a groundbreaking work of cinema and imagination; and it is almost delicious to say out loud. For me, words are everything; as a storywriter, I spend hours looking for just the right word – a task which often involves taking the word itself apart.

“Super” is obvious. In Mary Poppins, everything is super –imagination reigns, from the chimney tops to the cartoon penguins. As a child, I used to dream of living in a world where anything is possible; now I invest my time in making those dreams a reality.

“Cali” is not a reference to California – at least, not in my book. I prefer “calibrate,” reminiscent of adjusting and fine-tuning. I am not an engineer, nor do I plan to be one, but editing is integral to my life as a writer, changing a word here or a phrase there to create the best possible prose.

“Fragilistic” is Ozian grammar for “fragile.” Many of the things I love in life are fragile – languages, cultures, bonds between people, life itself - and perhaps it is their fragility that makes them so precious to me.  The frailty of these things makes capturing them, with a camera or a notebook, that much more important.

“Expiali” is more obscure. Words like “experiment” or “explore” come to mind, as well as J.K. Rowling’s famous “Expelliarmus!” I am an adventurer by nature, not a scientist or a wizard, but someone who enjoys exploring the hidden worlds of the imagination, and making it come to life.

“Docious” has, in fact, become a slang word for those who do not have the time to say its fourteen-syllable parent. However, whenever possible, I try never to abbreviate, for, as a famous slow-speaking tree once said: “It takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish. And we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say.” And as I have already quite exceeded my word limit, I believe that I have spoken for long enough, and I trust that it was worth taking the time to read.