The feeling was getting stronger that I should've done more than mechanically
going through the American Heritage Dictionary and leaving only a thick pile of
notes which no one (especially myself) cares to read. Trying to remember everything 
interesting, however, proved futile. There are just too many.

Nonetheless, giving up retaining altogether felt equally wrong. When I encountered for the first time "crape myrtle," e.g., 
the name of the trees in a neighborhood park that bear such breath-taking blossoms 
every spring, the words scratched a decade-old itch. "Crane" suddenly sounded 
special when I read that it, as a verb, could mean to hesitate or to stretch the neck 
to see better and was amazed at how vivid and apt the meanings were. Or how about 
"crick" which nailed the cramp in the neck sometimes when I turn my head to look to 
the left? It would be helpful if I ever need to talk to a therapist about it. What a 
shame to meet and let these gems slip away and at the end of my six-year journey, 
I shall find no improvement!

My sixth sense tells me that I need not worry. It would be like running or
weight-lifting, the two things I practice regularly, and I would become a better person
automatically. My ego disagrees, however, and insists on something to show.

So I've decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and, after reading a page, choose
and record 10 words or so. Five years from now, I will have a list of about 20,000 
entries, for the self and the world.

This list, of course, will be unique and what someone who after studying
English as a second language for 40 years desires the most to master. It
represents the yen to be reborn and to honestly and accurately express himself
as a once culturally emasculated migrant from the East to the West.