Oh, The Mirth Inspired By A Single Phrase!
Though I’ve always loved to write, as a child I refused to keep a diary, or write anything that spoke of my feelings. I had a fear of doing so, in case anyone actually read it. The written word is far more easily used against a person than the spoken word, a phenomenon that has often puzzled me over the past few decades.
Sure, the written word stands as its own proof. It’s hard to deny that you said something if a document exists to prove otherwise. And that’s what I was so afraid of all those years ago. That someone might take my innermost feelings and use them against me, a fear that is not entirely unfounded, though it does seem a lot sillier now than it did then. What was the worst that could happen? I wish I’d known then what I know now: that what exists inside most people’s minds would sound equally crazy. And equally normal.
And, of course, people did it anyway, whether I wrote the words, spoke the words, or simply wore the words on my face like the open book that I am.
But I grow older, and bolder, and I’m not so afraid of words. Quite obviously. However, now I ponder the strength of the written word. Why is it that when something is written down, it is so much more powerful than if it is merely spoken?
And why is it that some people have the idea that if the words are written, they must be truth? In fiction, the story must be “true” if it is to be believed. That is, it must summon from our minds the ring of truth, regardless of how fantastical it may be.
But in fact, in boring old fact, in written works of documentation, merely writing the words on a page does not make them true. And pity the fool who thinks he can fool me that way.
Nevertheless, I wrote certain words that have inspired someone else to write certain other words, and while not all of those other words hold the ring of truth, the actions they necessitate further my goals quite nicely. And in a battle such as this one, it is not the maneuverings of each soldier that matter as much as which army is triumphant.
It would not be prudent for me to share the exact document that summoned these musings, as much as I wish I could spread the mirth for all. Laughter, as you well know, is said to be healthy, and I regret that I must withhold such medicine from you, my loyal readers. But I decided I would share these thoughts, as a sort of commemoration of my long-term relationship with words. They have been enemies, they have been friends. They have been whispers on a wind, and screams into an abyss. Sometimes they are my weapons, and sometimes my defense. And, on days like today, it is with joy that I behold the useful tools they have become.
Sure, the written word stands as its own proof. It’s hard to deny that you said something if a document exists to prove otherwise. And that’s what I was so afraid of all those years ago. That someone might take my innermost feelings and use them against me, a fear that is not entirely unfounded, though it does seem a lot sillier now than it did then. What was the worst that could happen? I wish I’d known then what I know now: that what exists inside most people’s minds would sound equally crazy. And equally normal.
And, of course, people did it anyway, whether I wrote the words, spoke the words, or simply wore the words on my face like the open book that I am.
But I grow older, and bolder, and I’m not so afraid of words. Quite obviously. However, now I ponder the strength of the written word. Why is it that when something is written down, it is so much more powerful than if it is merely spoken?
And why is it that some people have the idea that if the words are written, they must be truth? In fiction, the story must be “true” if it is to be believed. That is, it must summon from our minds the ring of truth, regardless of how fantastical it may be.
But in fact, in boring old fact, in written works of documentation, merely writing the words on a page does not make them true. And pity the fool who thinks he can fool me that way.
Nevertheless, I wrote certain words that have inspired someone else to write certain other words, and while not all of those other words hold the ring of truth, the actions they necessitate further my goals quite nicely. And in a battle such as this one, it is not the maneuverings of each soldier that matter as much as which army is triumphant.
It would not be prudent for me to share the exact document that summoned these musings, as much as I wish I could spread the mirth for all. Laughter, as you well know, is said to be healthy, and I regret that I must withhold such medicine from you, my loyal readers. But I decided I would share these thoughts, as a sort of commemoration of my long-term relationship with words. They have been enemies, they have been friends. They have been whispers on a wind, and screams into an abyss. Sometimes they are my weapons, and sometimes my defense. And, on days like today, it is with joy that I behold the useful tools they have become.
posted by amy at
10:14 PM
