Addicted To The Written Word

Words have weight. Words, whether we choose to react to them or not, are as powerful, if not more powerful than physical presence. Words inspire, challenge and instigate without limit. Words can bring a nation to its knees.

This is why I don’t make light of the misuse of words, or the intent behind them. When someone says a racial slur, whether said as a joke, or said in frequency to make the term seem less offensive, the truth is, they aren’t draining it of its power. They’re making it seem more acceptable to say out loud. Even if a word means nothing to you, it can mean the universe to those who hear it.

Even when you say nothing at all, words remain all-powerful. Silence becomes effortless and simple. The longer you go without saying anything, the more powerful the next words you will say, become. The difficulty then lies in whether to say anything at all, and then at last, there is nothing left to say. You become walled off from others by the words you kept silent. Silence is an easy thing. Words, my friends, words are a blessing and a burden. They can damn you or save you.

A wise friend once told me that we never have nothing to say, we are just lacking for the words to say it. That said, if I felt confident enough to say how I feel, the wall may find itself a permanent fixture between myself and others. I remain somewhat disheartened, a little wounded, and slightly insulted by unfolding events (or lack thereof).

Onto better things now…
Next time I find myself with some time off, I may join Ben on a geo-cache. We’ve been talking about it for months, and now that he’s got a new cache to hide and register, I may join him on it. I’ve actually been considering a cool cache idea of my own: spend $10 on a 2GB thumb drive and post a public online blog post to a blog created specifically for this cache, detailing the day you found it and all of the interesting things you saw, including pictures (sans any info that would make the cache easier to find). Save the blog entry to the thumb drive. I don’t know if that’s any good, but I thought it was pretty cool.

This cast is becoming quite a burden. I’ve still been working, and let me tell you, my job can be challenging with both hands, let alone one. If I have to explain to even one more person why I’m wearing the damn thing, I’m going to scream. And for that matter, I get showered with verbal pity while I’m taking orders, and then people leave their shit all over the place, ignorantly, which makes my job exponentially harder to do with one hand. People keep asking me to do things that I obviously can’t. The day I broke my wrist, my Mom asked me to help her move the couch. Today Duane asked me to cook… and yesterday some ignoramus in our house put a bunch of heavy boxes on my bed and left them there. More importantly, it’s hot, I sweat, and this cast begins to itch until it BURNS. I want it off!!! Showering with a garbage bag on my arm is gross and uncomfortable. Besides, I’m Rambo. I can handle pain. I will likely be getting the cast off tomorrow. I’m hoping I just fractured the damn thing, because then I can work in a tensor bandage. I may come home in another cast. *gloom* I’m feeling pretty positive about it, though. The pain is pretty minimal. I almost don’t feel it at all. It just feels bruised.

One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can’t utter.-James Earl Jones



~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 07/24/2008.

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