WHITING: A word to the wise: Dictionary.com won't spawn scholars

Words, words, words.

I get it: Sporting a high-end education label comes with a price, as does anything of brand name status. But at times, I question the true value of every dollar I spend attaining “higher learning.”

It is true that the collegiate environment I pay for infuses scholarship into my untrained brain, and that college degrees are regarded as essential keys to the future. But I have recently found a more frugal yet equally effective method of enhancing the intelligent aura I’m told I’ll give off upon graduating from Boston University &- and it doesn’t cost me a thing.

The method is simple, unlike reading “War and Peace” or “Jane Eyre,” in which I circle every other unknown word: I gave Dictionary.com my phone number, and Dictionary.com sends me Words of the Day.

I received message that said “Cacophony,” on my phone a few days ago as I walked past the dissonant noises of construction on Commonwealth Avenue: “n. a harsh discord of sounds.”

“How fitting!” I thought.

Aside from that moment, however, the questions of where and when I would ever use the word cacophony &- or any of the words Dictionary.com sends my way, for that matter &-are yet unanswered. Nevertheless, I’ve taken to recording the words just in case they come in handy, since there may come a day when I choose to incorporate more academic lingo into my daily speech.

I’ve written down such words as lucre &- monetary gain; absquatulate &- to depart in a hurry; exiguous &- excessively scanty; and sylvan &- associated with the woods, or rural.

And I imagine I would sound quite silly if I were to utter such terms. Running late to class, I once thought about exclaiming, “It’s 11:55! I must absquatulate despite my exiguous understanding of today’s notes.” But not only would no one understand me, it’s very possible I would completely misuse the words.

I did try to sound intellectual this weekend. Someone asked if I’d join her on a trip to Newbury Street, but I very eloquently declined to make this semester’s first set of Biology flashcards.

“I can’t go with you today, I’ve really become far too impecunious for such activities.” I thought about adding that my innate, fatidic extrasensory perception deemed it necessary to make my first-ever set of Biology flashcards in preparation for our upcoming midterm, but then considered that I might be going too far.

For the laypeople not in the Dictionary.com loop, impecunious means poor. Fatidic is synonymous with prophetic.

My friend was not amused.

I mostly look ridiculous instead of smart if I try to employ my random knowledge. I once tried to refer to a certain batch of French fries as “overly saliferous,” but it turns out saliferous only refers to a rock or a strata that contains much salt&-not foods.

My favorite word of the bunch, though, is one I have written just next to my alarm clock, which I glance at regularly when reading (and misconstruing) French literature after the stroke of midnight has come and gone. It’s hypnagogic, which means inducing drowsiness, or relating to the state immediately before falling asleep. It pertains perfectly to the process of reading foreign novels without the aid of Dictionaire.fr Mots du Jour.

My eyes have been opened wide to the truth that without pinching pennies, my daily vernacular could someday and easily resemble one of an Oxford literate. So whilst our university officials soil their hands with filthy lucre, I could go Daily Free Press to New York Times overnight without paying a dime.

Oh, wouldn’t it be nice.

But really, this technological age of Dictionary texting could be all anyone needs to achieve perfect Verbal scores on the SAT.

Alas, I will not drop out just yet. A meagerly expanded vocabulary has raised my zeal for higher learning to the zenzizenzizenzic power &- zenzizenzizenzic being the word with the most z’s in the entire dictionary, and referring to a number raised to the eighth power &- I need an outlet for my new literary depth, seeing as if I were to try using saliferous in normal conversation again, that conversation would become the opposite of normal.

“Dun,” my phone read yesterday morning: “of a dull grayish brown color.” But looking out the window, I was overjoyed to find that the presence of sun promised a far from dun day. The word jocundity came to mind &- cheerfulness and lightheartedness &-&- as I waited for my newest text from 44636.