Word: Lionize

lionize

[lahy-uh-nahyz]

verb (used with object), lionized, lionizing.

1. to treat (a person) as a celebrity:

to lionize the visiting poet.

2. British. to visit or exhibit the objects of interest of (a place).

verb (used without object), lionized, lionizing.

3. to pursue celebrities or seek their company.

4. British. to visit the objects of interest of a place.

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             Jill and Kelly stood among the crowd, just two more teenage girls waiting eagerly.  And, just like the other teenage girls, they simply did not care that they were just two more faces in the crowd.  They squealed and yelled and leaned over the railing, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol.

                “Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Jill squealed, “He’s coming, I can see him!”

                “Where where where where?” Kelly nearly screamed, joining her friend in searching for the celebrity.

                He was nowhere to be seen.  A few people left the concert hall, but none of them were who the girls had journeyed so far to see.   It was just a few members of the crew.  That did not diminish the noise level of the crowd though.  In fact, it seemed to be amplified, since there were that many fewer people in the building now, meaning the teenage heartthrob would be that much more likely to emerge next.

                “Quick, get your book out.” Jill said, pawing Kelly’s shoulder.  “He’s coming soon, I know it.”

                “Oh man, I can’t wait.” Kelly said, bouncing with joy.  “This is going to be so great.”

                “I know!  Oh, I bet when he sees us, he’ll invite us to come with him.”

                “Do you think so?”

                “Yeah!  And then he’ll take us to his home and serenade us.”

                The girls stopped screaming in favor of swooning at the very idea of being noticed by him.  Both had their own fantasies about what would happen should he pick them out of such a large gathering.  And both quickly became convinced that was what would happen.

                The intensity of the cheering grew by several magnitudes.  Both Jill and Kelly were shaken from their dreams and reminded why they were there.  And, judging from the noise level, it was finally time.  They were about to meet their idol. The one both longed to meet was leaving the concert hall and walking down the closed off lane.  He was surrounded by people, the nature of which no one else cared about.

                He paused occasionally, quickly signing an autograph book, poster, photo, or occasional album cover.  And he drew ever closer to Jill and Kelly, who held out their books eagerly.  He took Jill’s first, scrawling his name on the blank page.  Kelly’s came next, and was immediately followed by another member of the crowd.

                The girls fell into an oddly hushed silence.  They had been passed over just like any other over eager teenage girl.  They looked at each other in shocked silence.

                “Oh…my…god…” Jill said, so quietly that the words almost went unheard over the screaming fans.  “He totally touched my hand!” She squealed before erupting into a fandom fueled squeal of delight.

                “I…I think he winked at me.” Kelly said dreamily.  “It wasn’t long, but he did.  He definitely did.”

                “He noticed us.  He really noticed us.” Jill said with a broad grin.

                “I bet that when he drives off, he’ll tell his people to wait out of sight for the crowd to leave and then come find us again.”

                “Oh that is totally going to happen.”

                “Oh yeah.  Definitely.”

                The two girls screamed in delight at their own dreams.  They didn’t even notice when the object of their desires entered his limo and drove away.

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I used to work at a concert hall.  One of the shows was one of those trendy singers that appealed to young teen girls.  I didn't see anything backstage or anything, but I saw the crowd when the show was starting.  It was like watching a large heard of buffalo running you see on nature shows.  It was both awe inspiring and terrifying at the same time.

Word: Harum-scarum

harum-scarum

[hair-uh m-skair-uh m, har-uh m-skar-uh m]

adjective

1. reckless; rash; irresponsible:

He had a harum-scarum youth.

2. disorganized; uncontrolled.

adverb

3. recklessly; wildly:

He ran harum-scarum all over the place.

noun

4. a reckless person.

5. reckless or unpredictable behavior or action.

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                How had everything gone so wrong?  It had started out great, and the plan looked great on paper.  And yet, everything was going out of control.  Maybe they had been a bit rash, but they thought they could handle any problems that might pop up.  They had all done their research and knew what they needed to do.  Or at least, they thought they did.

                It had started out fine.  Everyone knew what they needed to do.  Everyone had brought the things they needed to bring.  It had been a bit tricky to organize everything at first.  After all, all the people involved had their own ideas and ways of doing things.  But a bit of disorganization was to be expected at the beginning. 

                They had all gotten together and organized themselves, and the project started. In fact, it was going better than any of them had hoped it would.  Everyone played their part perfectly.  Then one of them got a bit too happy.  He became reckless and started doing things on his own.  The others thought they could compensate for their cohort’s unsavory actions, but it was all for naught.

                Once one of them started going outside the plan, it all fell apart.  They had worked for months, carefully planning every detail, and yet it fell apart in a matter of hours.  What they thought was a solid, stable plan was nothing but a precariously stacked house of cards, and that one man was the unexpected gust of wind.

                They tried to regain control, they really did.  Everyone worked harder and longer than they ever had before to get some semblance of control.  But when one problem was solved, another three would rear up, often because of the one problem being solved. 

                Plans were made, and then thrown out.  Order was restored, only for chaos to take over.  Someone would say something that would render hours of planning useless.  Another would ruin a plan by his or her actions.  No matter what the team did, the results were the same: raw, uncontrollable chaos.

                It became so bad that several of them left the project.  Others threatened to try and shut it down completely.  Others went mad, or else seemed to.  Only the few strongest members of the team held on.  They tried their hardest to keep the project afloat, and the team members all together.  But it was an uphill battle, and once the ball started rolling, there was no stopping it.

                The project had started with twelve people.  Twelve dedicated people that perhaps acted too soon or too rashly.  By the time people stopped abandoning the project, there were only three.  Three people left to carry on the will, the spirit of the project.  Three people that were in far over their heads.  They had no idea what they were doing, how to proceed, or even why they continued hold on.

                All they knew was that running a daycare center was harder than they thought it would be.

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It takes a special kind of person to run a daycare center.  All those kids running around, screaming and making messes with things that you didn't know could be used to make a mess.  The very idea terrifies me.  So my hats off to those poor, brave souls who enter into that field.  

Word: Dilatory

dilatory

[dil-uh-tawr-ee, -tohr-ee]

adjective

1. tending to delay or procrastinate; slow; tardy.

2. intended to cause delay, gain time, or defer decision:

a dilatory strategy.

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              Carl stopped the moment he entered the shared office space.  His coworker, Adam, was clearly dozing with his head on the desk.  That was no surprise to Carl.  Adam spent far too much time awake at night, and had the bad habit of sleeping on the job.  What made Carl freeze was the massive pile of paperwork on Adam’s desk.  Very important paperwork.  Paperwork that was supposed to have been done already.

                Carl stomped to the sleeping man’s desk and slapped his coworker.  “Wake up you idiot.” He growled.

                Adam took his time lifting his head and opening his eyes.  “What’s up?” He asked through a yawn.

                “What’s up?  What’s up?  Look at your desk, man.  Why is there so much stuff on it?” Carl asked.

                Adam looked at the pile of papers and blinked slowly.  “Oh right.  Forgot about those.”

                “You forgot?  My god man, what’s wrong with you?  Seriously, I know you like to put things off, but this is ridiculous.”

                “Oh, it’s fine.  Don’t worry about it.”

                “How can I not?  You mess up and the boss punishes both of us.  And now it looks like you haven’t done any work for, what, three days?”

                “Four, I think.” Adam said nonchalantly.

                “Four?  How?  How do you do it?  How do you not do anything for four days?”

                “I haven’t done nothing.  I just haven’t done this.” He said, patting the stack of papers.

                “You say that like everything’s fine.”

                “It is.”

                “No, no it is not fine.  You have an hour to fill out four days worth of papers.  How is that fine?”

                “You worry too much.  I’ll get it done on time.”

                “How?  How are you going to manage that?  You can’t stay late, since all of this stuff is supposed to be in today.”

                “Just leave everything to me.  Besides, none of this is hard.  It’s all just coloring in a few boxes and signing stuff.  Thirty seconds per page tops.”

                “Okay, yeah, fine.  That’s great.  Except even with that, you have at least five hours worth of work here, and only an hour to do it.  Unless you spontaneously develop super speed, how will you manage that?”

                “Just wait and see.”

                As if on cue, the door burst open and their boss, Mr. Tanner, ran in.  His pudgy face was a mask of blind panic. 

                “Reynolds, Reynolds, I need something from you.” He said to Adam.  “I need some papers from a few days ago.  Do you still…ah, good, yes.  Wonderful.”  He furiously began looking through the pile of papers.  “Ah ha!” He roared, holding up a few sheets.  “Here it is!  Yes!  Great!  I knew I  could count on you.”

                “No problem, sir.” Adam said.   

                “Now then, as for the rest of this stuff, you can get it done whenever.  I don’t think any of it is critical for another week or so, so get it in any time before then.”

                “Sure thing, boss.”

                “As you were, gentlemen.”

                As Mr. Tanner left the office, shutting the door behind him, Carl looked at Adam with awe.

                “How did you do that?” Carl asked.

                “It’s a skill I have.”

                “A…skill?”

                “Yes.  You see, procrastination, true procrastination, is an art.  It takes careful study and practice to know when, where, and why to put things off so that it seems like you aren’t.  But, if you can master it, the world will open before you like never before.”

                Carl clasped his hands together and lowered his head.  “Teach me, master.  Teach me the art of true laziness.”

                “Ah, my student.  Come, I can see we have much work to do.”

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It's true.  Laziness and procrastination are much different.  Being lazy means just not doing anything.  True procrastinating is knowing when to do something and when not to do something.  It might seem similar, but there's a huge difference between the two.

Word: Deleterious

deleterious

[del-i-teer-ee-uh s]

adjective

1. injurious to health:

deleterious gases.

2. harmful; injurious:

deleterious influences.

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                 Dr. Green could hear his heart thumping.  His hands trembled despite his best efforts to keep them steady.  The small dropper in his heavily gloved hands felt heavy.  Heavier than it should have.

                “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Dr. Tam said.  “It’s too dangerous.”

                “I know, I know.” Dr. Green said, grateful for the distraction.  “But we have to try.”

                “Why?  Why do we?  Why can’t we just leave well enough alone.”

                “Because if we don’t someone else will.”

                “Let them.”

                Dr. Green inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly.  He let a few drops of liquid fall into the Petri dish.  Nothing happened.  Sweat dripped down his forehead.  He couldn’t wipe it away because of the face covering helmet he wore.

                “No, that would only end in disaster.  At least here, we can keep things from getting out of hand.”

                “It’s already out of hand.  The fact that such a thing was thought of at all is terrible.  The damage has already been done, why do we need to make it worse?”

                “Would you rather someone in less controlled circumstances try this?”

                “I’d rather no one try it at all.”

                “You know that won’t happen.  Someone, somewhere will try it.  At least here, the harm it can do will be minimal.”

                “Yes.  To us.”

                “Better two people than two million.  Besides, we’re in an airtight room wearing hazard suits.  Even if—“

                “When.” Dr. Tam interrupted.

                “If,” Dr. Green said again, more forcefully, “If something goes wrong, then we have the best chance of surviving unharmed.”

                “The chance is still there.  This is just too dangerous.  We can stop now and just tell people it failed.  That way—“

                “Someone will try it again.  That’s the way things work.  One person fails, and another thinks he can succeed.  The only way we keep this from getting out of control is to get it right ourselves.”

                Dr. Green picked up another dropped and filled it with another fluid.  This one was an unhealthy blue.  He paused just before applying the new liquid to the dish.  He knew what could happen.  If even the slightest thing went wrong, it could prove disastrous.  Even knowing that, he proceeded.  Again, there was no reaction when the blue liquid met the existing concoction.

                “This could ruin society itself.” Dr. Tam said.  He took a few steps away from the chemical mixtures.  “This could ruin everything if it gets out.”

                “But if it succeeds, think of what it could mean.”

                “It won’t succeed.  You know it won’t.  All that’ll happen is we will suffer in horrible ways. It’s too dangerous.”

                “I know.  But I have to hope it’ll be fine.  That no one will be harmed by this.”

                Another drop of another liquid went into the dish.  This time, there was a reaction.  It was slow at first.  A single bubble formed on the surface.  Than another.  And another.  Faster and faster the mixture bubbled and boiled.

                “No…no.” Dr. Green said, backing away from the bubbling Petri dish.  “It didn’t work.”

                “I told you!  I told you it would fail!  Now look what you’ve done!”

                Dr. Green ran and hit a switch on the wall.  Heavy steel shutters fell down around them, completely isolating them from the outside world.  The room was now perfectly airtight.  Nothing would come in or out for a long time.

                “That’s won’t help for long.” Dr. Tam said.

                “We can wait it out.  Wait until the gas settles.  Wait until it’s safe.”

                “No.  It’s too late.  Too late for us.  It’s—“  Dr. Tam coughed.

                Putrid black blood splattered on his face plate, blocking off the sight of him.  Dr. Green head gasping and wheezing, then his fellow scientist fell, trying to clutch his throat through the heavy material of his suit.

                “No.  I…I didn’t want this.  I didn’t mean this to happen.” Dr. Green said quietly.

                Then he felt it.  A burning in his throat.  He gagged as he tasted a vile, metallic taste welling up in the back of his throat.  He coughed.  He saw the black liquid splatter heavily against his helmet.  His throat seized up.  And there was nothing more. 

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 A word to the wise.  If you're trying something that has the potential to produce deadly gas, maybe take a few extra precautions to make sure you don't, you know, die.  Maybe something involving robots would work.