“Words. Words.Words,” replies the titular whiny Prince of Denmark when asked what he is reading in what is arguably William Shakespeare’s greatest drama Hamlet. While the sentiment is meant more as a snarky response from a thirty-year old the needs to learn how to take revenge instead of whining about it for an entire play, the quote itself summerizes my life and the world quite nicely.
Words. Words. Words. Sure, the world is made up of atoms, molecules, and other science-type stuff, but we are more than the physical world, my friends. We are ideas, concepts, creativity, and thought. To express these things, including the concepts of science, we need words.
Spoken or written, words matter, and there is not much else in this world I love more than words and language.
I just wish I could use it well and consistently both vocally and in written form.
Ask me to vocally utilize vocabulary, and I will speak shortly and simply. Put a pen in my hand, and watch me express my mental concepts and ideas in a way that could rival William Shakespeare.
I consider myself an artist when I write. Some paint pictures and ideas with paint, crayons, or pencils. Others create with clay or wood. I create with words. As a student of linguistics, I studied language extensively and hold a great reverence for the power it possesses to shape the world, especially when utilized properly. Words, both elaborate and simplistic, can affect the smallest and greatest of the world around us because they are the expression of the ideas that can create and destroy .
I love words. I love how language can be broken down to the smallest of units and phonemes and built up to construct some of the greatest literary works and ideas of all time.
I just wish I could translate my linguistic love to my normal speaking voice.
When I write, I can be the most intelligent and eloquent person. I can construct a singular thought in a singular sentence that can last and stretch an entire paragraph, with grammatical twists and turns that match the very ideas I am attempting to convey to any given audience. However, vocally, I’m unable to express as elaborately as I do when I compose a written piece.
I…tend…to speak..particularly..and…stumble a lot.
Call it shyness or social anxiety or both. For some reason, I am unable to translate my thoughts clearly to my vocal cords.
This has been a problem since my younger years of When I was in high school, the school required, unfairly in my humble opinion since some people are better listeners than talkers, all of the students to take speech class. I vocally stumbled over every line of every speech but kept talking just to fill the silence with something other than the quite. It was anxiety provoking and awkward.
I hate awkward silences, but I hate having to be the one to break the ice.
I can talk. My vocal chords can make sound that sort of sounds like a coherent thought every now and again, but my true voice will always come from my mind with the pen as my microphone.