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SoCS - 20190119
As I plunk myself down here prepared to unleash a stream of verbiage, I find myself thinking about language, and my own use of it. In recent days I have thought of it a few times and those are coming back to me now.
On so many occasions, I have been talking with someone, I'll say something, and then I think to myself I will bet that I am the only person in town who used that word in casual conversation today. Sometimes (esp. if it's Sharon) I will even say that out loud. It makes me conscious of the fact that the way I sling words around appeals to my vanity. My vocabulary and the turns of phrase that come to my mind make me feel special, and I suspect in some ways superior. At the same time, I don't feel like I am deliberately trying to lord it over other people, this is just how my words naturally come out. This is just me. But it's one part of me that I really like -- as opposed to many other parts -- and right now I do worry if I come off as arrogant or wanky to other people, just because I sound the way I do. Sometimes I just try not to worry about it. Also not sure if dumbing myself down is the right thing to do, either. Look, I am waffling about myself -- there's a switch [not].
A few days ago, I was introduced to the poetry of Mary Oliver when so many folks posted regarding her passing. And I was struck by how her poems resonated with me. All my life I have told people that I don't like poetry, I don't get it, I don't do it, etc.... but hers, I immediately felt like I did like them and I did get them. Quite unexpected. I have ordered in a couple of her books from the library and hope to pick those up today.
And right now I am aware of feeling like part of why she resonates with me is that she feels like a kindred spirit. Her work has a sense of exactitude without being florid -- and I feel like that is what I aim for when I write. I try to pick the right word whenever I can and try not to pick too many. I find myself thinking that, if I wrote poetry, this is how I would want mine to be. Maybe, even, this is what mine could be. Which also feels arrogant as hell. Still, I feel like she sets an example that I might be able to follow.
Back in November, Sharon asked me to read her my NaNo novel as I was going along, rather than read it herself -- she has always liked hearing me read aloud -- so I did. And once or twice she stopped me after a sentence and said "That's poetry!" I was surprised -- and also really flattered. But I never got as far as thinking I should try writing it... until now, when I read Mary Oliver. If you all are lucky, I will never get as far as actually trying. I actually did try writing poems a few times, back in the 70s, and in retrospect they were cringe-inducing. Part of what convinced me that there is no poetry in my soul. Today I wonder if I could be wrong about that, a little.
My sore hands timer is going off -- ta-ra.
On so many occasions, I have been talking with someone, I'll say something, and then I think to myself I will bet that I am the only person in town who used that word in casual conversation today. Sometimes (esp. if it's Sharon) I will even say that out loud. It makes me conscious of the fact that the way I sling words around appeals to my vanity. My vocabulary and the turns of phrase that come to my mind make me feel special, and I suspect in some ways superior. At the same time, I don't feel like I am deliberately trying to lord it over other people, this is just how my words naturally come out. This is just me. But it's one part of me that I really like -- as opposed to many other parts -- and right now I do worry if I come off as arrogant or wanky to other people, just because I sound the way I do. Sometimes I just try not to worry about it. Also not sure if dumbing myself down is the right thing to do, either. Look, I am waffling about myself -- there's a switch [not].
A few days ago, I was introduced to the poetry of Mary Oliver when so many folks posted regarding her passing. And I was struck by how her poems resonated with me. All my life I have told people that I don't like poetry, I don't get it, I don't do it, etc.... but hers, I immediately felt like I did like them and I did get them. Quite unexpected. I have ordered in a couple of her books from the library and hope to pick those up today.
And right now I am aware of feeling like part of why she resonates with me is that she feels like a kindred spirit. Her work has a sense of exactitude without being florid -- and I feel like that is what I aim for when I write. I try to pick the right word whenever I can and try not to pick too many. I find myself thinking that, if I wrote poetry, this is how I would want mine to be. Maybe, even, this is what mine could be. Which also feels arrogant as hell. Still, I feel like she sets an example that I might be able to follow.
Back in November, Sharon asked me to read her my NaNo novel as I was going along, rather than read it herself -- she has always liked hearing me read aloud -- so I did. And once or twice she stopped me after a sentence and said "That's poetry!" I was surprised -- and also really flattered. But I never got as far as thinking I should try writing it... until now, when I read Mary Oliver. If you all are lucky, I will never get as far as actually trying. I actually did try writing poems a few times, back in the 70s, and in retrospect they were cringe-inducing. Part of what convinced me that there is no poetry in my soul. Today I wonder if I could be wrong about that, a little.
My sore hands timer is going off -- ta-ra.
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Now, an intelligent limerick or subversive haiku, that I can appreciate.
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