rings a bell..

"Blase"... that's a common word, right? I have run an indifferent (pssst! Can I use blase over here?) eye over it millions of times. In a sentence, running along with other words. Hardly worth a second glance. It's as grey as any five-letter word. Too tiny to qualify a pause in reading, even to pick up a dictionary to find out what it exactly means as a lone word, without the supporting cast. Oh I thought I knew "blase" like the back of my hand. But when someone popped "blase" at me as a stand-alone, I sweated it.
It was like the new girl in the blue sweater in that large group of friends. We all had a fantastic time together... how we gelled! But what was her name again? I don't think I asked. We all did make a great bunch, and the girl made for great company, with a witty remark at every cue. We should do this again sometime, we say earnestly; we shake hands, happy to have known each other so well in so quick a time. But when I see her the at the stationery shop standing within familiar-handshake distance of me, we shuffle our feet. Peripheral vision (thanks to shifty eyes) takes over full time. Then I leave there, telling myself why I found her fun in the first place. She didn't even say hi.
... This analogy is courtesy English teacher, III std., C section. She thought words were people. She thought we had to know the "personality" of the word to understand it as it stood away from its peers. She was batty. I totally loved her.