Linguistic Ponderings

It’s funny how we use language so frivolously.

We say things without thinking, hoping the person we’re talking to can grasp hold of anything resembling what we actually mean, in the vain attempt of having a successful conversation. Yet when it comes to writing it, suddenly every word holds some kind of weight that you can use either to cling onto and gain stability, or to completely crush yourself or someone else.

When you write it down, it actually matters.

There’s no shaking of the head, no waving of the arms to help the reader know what we mean; no intonation to tell us whether we’re being serious or merely entertaining a thought. It’s a fine line between a joke and an insult these days, especially if you’re from the land of the dry sarcastic wit. It’s a line that I tread ever so carefully every day, lest I fall to my linguistic death.

All of a sudden the click of the send button becomes the scariest thing in the world.

Did I just offend someone?
What if they take it the wrong way?
Do I just sound like an arrogant ponce?

Suddenly you feel like an acrobat trying to find your balance, flailing about in mid conversation and doing anything you can to avoid plunging into the depths below. At that point it’s frighteningly easy to accept defeat and jump, but then there’s no going back.

Perhaps it’s because I’m an aspiring writer that I over-analyse everything I read and, more importantly, write. I’m sure the average person doesn’t just sit there and pontificate over whether the sentence structure of an e-mail indicates a sombre or lighthearted tone, or worry that their use of punctuation makes them seem distant or anxious.

Maybe it’s all just a fuss about nothing and I’m simply over-exaggerating the lure of the written word.

But then, language is a very powerful thing.

Use it carefully