Last night I was reading an article that was just a
collection of some of the most enticing phrases found in classic
literature. A friend had posted it on
social media and I clicked on it, half out of boredom, and found myself falling
in love with some of those phrases all over again. Whether it was lamenting a love lost,
admiring the landscape, or pondering the human condition, these writers had
managed to weave words into art. It’s
what all good writers do, what all good artists do – help others to see the
world through their eyes.
“She wasn’t doing a thing that I
could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the
universe together.” - Salinger, A Girl I Knew
With one well-turned phrase, I am seeing the world through
Salinger’s eyes. I can picture the girl,
and I want to know her. Words are
powerful things, people. Knowing when to
use them is an even deeper art. There is
a profound strength in using just the right words, just enough words, and
letting silence speak in between. I’m
still grappling to find that strength, to restrain my words, to not over use
them or abuse them. I find myself loving
the words themselves, collecting them and gathering them into neat phrases, to
be savored and shared and blurted out, sometimes without thinking. For I often expect others to share my
enthusiasm for language.
“Once upon a time
there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to
spend his whole life answering.” – Krauss The History of Love
And I feel that way about words, and stories, and
conversations. It’s how I connect myself
to the world at large, to other people, to the universe I have yet to
comprehend. It’s always been that way
for me, listening to conversations of others, even as a child. Marveling at the sound of words, the way the
sounds themselves could have edges, curves, undulations. Some words are sharp and hard, regardless of
meaning. Some sound slinky and seductive
and hypnotic. Some words are fun to say. Even as a child, I collected words, hoarded
them until I could share them in a choice setting.
All good writers know this.
I am a writer, though not an author.
That would imply publication, while I merely write to amuse myself, to
organize my thoughts, or to find the end of a story. But the words, themselves, even as I type
this, seem right on the page. There is a
satisfaction in spitting them out, seeing them in black and white.
English is messy. It’s
vague and imprecise, leaving room to argue or ignore. Other languages are specific and leave no
mystery. In Russian, there is a single
word that means to become so lost in reading a book that you lose track of all
around you. A single word, to express
how I’ve spent a good bit of my life – seems like we should have a word for
that state of being, in English.
”And now that you don’t
have to be perfect, you can be good.” -
Steinbeck, East of Eden
Words are also my weapon of choice. Like many of my friends, I hide behind
sarcasm and double entendres. I cuss
like a sailor, taking great joy in the sound of those words being flung out
into the air. I can almost see them
hanging there. I remember the first time
I dared to curse out loud. My heart beat
a little faster, as I looked around, making sure that no grown-up had
heard. How freeing to tell my friend to
go to hell, how absolutely freeing. The word
has power because we bestow that power upon it.
And in my eleven year old mind, it felt like a pretty big word. I found bigger ones over the years, and added
dire wishes to accompany them, in the fashion of the Romans, hoping great
tragedy would befall someone’s entrails.
That was fun, but then again, so was dropping the f-bomb. My teenage years were a gluttony of cursing
and swearing. Once again, there is strength
in knowing the power of a word and when to use it. A well timed, well crafted insult, I find to
be a thing of beauty. Even when I’m on
the receiving end of it.
One could argue that technology has whittled down our
vocabulary. One could even say that our
society is devolving into users of text acronyms and murdered punctuation. But there are still wonderful words being
used. New words creeping into our daily
use, words that evoke images of a new millennium, while leaving room to embrace
the words of the past. There’s room for wifi
and ottoman to exist in the same world.
Me, I’ll continue to collect words. Picking them off the pages of books, from
movies, and magazines and conversations overheard in hallways. I’ll string together phrases, and use them
to both amuse and to anger. Words are my
solace, my weapons, my art and my
passion.
“One must be careful
of books, and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.” - Clare, The Infernal Devices
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