48

THE BITTERSWEET

Glee. It’s such a funny word.

So many meanings. The thesaurus is full of synonyms, all implying something beyond happiness. Delight. Joviality. Mirth. Merriment.

A song written for men in three or more parts. That’s highly misogynistic, don’t you think? Let’s give it a fix, shall we?

A song written for women in three or more parts.

There. That’s better. And it’s more appropriate. We are at an all-girls school, aren’t we?

Perhaps this story should have been called glee.

Then again, there’s nothing about lying in these synonyms. Or is there? How much happiness really exists in a person? We’re capable of great emotional swings, yes, but they shuttle between two normatives: happy and sad. It is only when we wish to impress or impart that the sliding scale of nouns goes into overdrive.

If we’re trying to rouse someone with our vocabulary, we can find hundreds of words to use in place of these base terms. For example, I would hardly write an essay and say I am happy to be accepted to The Goode School. No, no, no. My essay would be littered with extremes: ecstatic to be accepted, thrilled to be joining you, elated to make the move to America.

You, reading my words, would smile, pleased with yourself (happy? Yes, of course, there’s another, but the more sedate pleased is so genteel) at how enthusiastic I seem to be.

You would write back, a pretty little letter, more personal this time, about how genuinely delighted you are to have me joining you.

So sweet.

Yes, glee is a very funny word. A funny word indeed.

Though you really should start looking at the synonyms for sad. You have no idea what’s coming. None of you do.