I’m reading a novel that seems to use ‘disoriented’ quite often. And each time I read the word I cringe, and change it in my head to ‘disorientated’.
After becoming increasingly frustrated, I googled the two words to find out the history and origins of them (yes, I’m sad like that). Eventually a small part of me accepted this Americanism, and the next time I read ‘disoriented’ I cringed ever so slightly less. Like I do when I read ‘color’, or anything with a ‘z’ where an ‘s’ should be.
Until, that is, on the very next page, I read the word ‘disorientation’.
Ha! It was like an admission; the whole novel’s acceptance of guilt for every use of the word ‘disoriented’.
For if ‘disoriented’ was really OK, then a word ‘disoriention’ would exist. It doesn’t. Not anywhere. Not even in America. So I shall therefore continue changing all the ‘disoriented’ words in the novel to ‘disorientated’.