My Word for 2025
At the end of each calendar year, dictionaries across the English-speaking world select a word of the year that reflects key trends or usage.
Oxford University Press chose “brain rot”—really a compound noun and not actually a word but who am I to quibble with the Oxford folks. They define this term as the “impact of consuming excessive amounts of low-quality online content, especially on social media.” It looks like a sound choice, and good for lawyers to keep in mind. Our brains are our tool of trade, and we need them to stay fresh and healthy.
Dictionary.com selected “demure” and Collins Dictionary selected “brat” which I understand to be opposites of each other. Demure, a term in English lexicon for hundreds of years, saw a 1200% increase in usage, and the development of a new context for “demure” representing “how a term often associated with submissiveness and reservation can be empowering, and help people express a “quiet confidence.”
Brat, on the other hand, is “characterized by a confident, independent, and hedonistic attitude" and represents a cultural phenomenon, an aesthetic and a way of life.
I don’t think either adjective epitomizes lawyering. If we are making submissions, to a court for example, we may be submissive in our demeanour out of respect for the judge—but being submissive to opposing counsel, or even clients, is not a path to success. And “hedonism” doesn’t really work for us. When we represent clients, we must be competent in all senses, which includes being sober when we provide advice or appear in court (among other responsibilities!) So maybe lawyers can be “demurely brat” or “bratly demure” but not just one or other.
Cambridge Dictionary opted for “manifest” as did Wikipedia. Cambridge defines “manifest” as using “methods such as visualization and affirmation to help you imagine achieving something you want, in the belief that doing so will make it more likely to happen.”
Manifesting in this sense is like Olympic athletes visualizing perfect execution of their skills and winning the gold medal, and motivational speakers encourage this. It works for undergraduate students but not for law students. Research about law students indicates that optimistic thinking—akin to believing the perfect race or routine or exam—is linked to dropping out or flunking out since legal thinking emphasizes pessimistic thinking, and law school exams involve identifying issues that could present problems. No law school scenario was ever addressed successfully by assuming that the best outcome would occur! I’m not sure that “manifest” will be a key term for lawyers.
But as I sit in my office in early January, I am using visualizations and affirmations to move the practice of law to a better well-being model. I will let you know if it works.
And, quite fittingly given the political context of 2024, Merriam Webster selected “polarization” as its word of the year. I don’t think we need to expand on that one—we all know what it means.
This year, I am not setting resolutions. Instead, I have selected my word of the upcoming year, and I am going to try to let it set the tone for my 2025.
But first, here is a bit of context. I purchased a new car in 2010 which was perfect for me. I loved this car, and was devasted when, fourteen years later, the dealership informed me that the cost of a repair my car needed likely exceeded the car’s market value. It didn’t owe me anything after 230,000 kilometers, and I reluctantly embarked on a search for its replacement.
In December, I took possession of a 2025 vehicle, a similar model (my perfect car’s model was shockingly discontinued a few years ago). I am very fond of this new car and hope that I can keep it for fourteen years, too.
But the change in car technology over those fourteen years was mindboggling. I evidently purchased a computer on wheels as opposed to a car that had some enhanced systems, and I am still figuring out how to cope with a truly modern driving experience.
When I picked up the new vehicle, a dealership employee provided a tutorial on how to use the new model’s various features. We hit the first problem when she instructed me to download the manufacturer’s app—easy, right? But it seems that you need to have a Gmail account to use the app! There were aspects of the tutorial that we could not complete until I had a Gmail account, and I haven’t had time to go back and complete my orientation since reactivating an old email address whose password I miraculously remembered.
The dashboard on my car is lovely—it displays a map of the street you are on and the surrounding area which no doubt is very helpful when you are lost. At first, I was afraid that it would be distracting, but I have gotten used to it now. But as a hockey mom for many years, I have a good recall of a city map that I studied to learn the locations of every arena in every part of the city. I am going to have to learn to use the dashboard map because it just isn't my "go to".
During the first few days with my new car, I noticed the car pulling against my steering and concluded that the dealership had failed to perform a wheel alignment after installing winter tires. Fortunately, before calling the dealership to complain, I decided to research whether there was some type of system that could be at play. And I learned that my car has something called Pilot Assist to stop the driver from straying from their lane. So, if you swerve mildly in your lane to avoid a pothole or ice, the car fights you. It also means you can’t straighten curves if doing performance driving (safely, of course.).
Now, I hate autocorrect on my computer and I feel the same way about autocorrect on my car. I believe that I am best able to judge where my car should be relative to its lane, other cars and road hazards—so I have learned to watch for signs that it doesn’t like my road placement and implement a compromise.
An alarm also sounds if I get too close to another car, which happened for the first time this week. I believe that my car’s functionality also slows the vehicle down to create more distance. Again, I think I know how to drive and can safely manoeuvre through traffic without AI assistance (if that is, in fact, what it is.)
And that’s not all. The dashboard shows the posted speed limit within the speedometer dial. If I exceed the posted speed limit by a factor that I haven’t yet figured out, the dash starts flashing at me. But at least it doesn’t adjust my speed—it works more on guilt.
I am uninformed about how these new functions actually work. Normally, when I get a new car or a complex appliance, I sit down and read the owner’s manual. But the owner’s manual for my new car is on the dash display and not in the glove compartment. When you take possession of a new car in December, you generally don’t want to sit in your car working your way through the manual. Perhaps there will be a sunny and warm day soon.
Of course, my car is equipped with Google, and I am learning to use it to control the sound system and to get directions. But the first time I asked for directions to a residential address just before Christmas, it told me that the address I was seeking did not exist. I repeatedly spelled “mews,” one of the components of the address that I thought was causing the problem but no luck. Since I persist in my belief that I know better than my car, I drove the neighbourhood in question and then relied on the map on my dash which showed me how to get to a street with a similar name, and then I cruised that crescent until I found the “Mews.” One for Loraine and 0 for car AI.
I discovered my favourite thing about my new car when I took possession, however. The dealership representative presented me with two electronic keys. One was a very conventional looking electronic key, a black rectangle with buttons on the side. But the second key caught my eye. It was a rectangle with buttons on the side as well, but it was bright orange.
Now, I am not very fond of the colour orange. I have an orange shirt that says “Every child matters” for Truth and Reconciliation Day but it may be the only thing in my home that is orange. That is, until the arrival of the new key. I fell in love with it on sight and quickly relegated the black one to spare status. When I set my orange key down on the counter or it drops into the dark abyss that is my purse, I can quickly find it.
I don’t really value all the fancy tech on my new car, but I love my orange key. I don’t know how much fancy automotive tech costs, but I know that electronic key costs about $400—shocking the first time you lose one and ask for a replacement. There is undoubtedly a cost associated with having a second colour, but it will be much less than $400. A simple solution rules over complex technology. It even brings joy.
So, with this in mind, my word for 2025 is “simple.” I want to find solutions that are simple, at work, at home, and in my relationships, like making a key in a visible colour as opposed to attaching technology to it.
And on that note, I want to share a story that I have shared before, but it is a good one. Here is how it goes:
An investment banker was vacationing in a small fishing village and noticed a fisherman having a siesta in his boat, with several large-fin tuna carefully stored. The investment banker complimented the fisherman on the size and beauty of the fish he had caught. He asked the fisherman how long it took him to catch them.
The fisherman replied, “Not too long.”
The investment banker then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish.
The fisherman said he had enough to support what his family needed.
The investment banker asked him what he did with the rest of his time.
The fisherman replied, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”
The investment banker snorted. “I have an MBA and I can help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the money you make from selling fish, you could buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from selling more fish from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to the big city where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The fisherman asked, “But how long will this take?”
And the investment banker told him, “Fifteen to twenty years.”
“But what would I do that after that?” asked the fisherman.
“That’s the best part,” laughed the American: “When the timing is right, you put together an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich! You would make millions.”
“Millions?” asked the fisherman. “Then what would I do?”
The investment banker said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evening, sip wine, and play guitar with your amigos!”
Loraine
