Oh shucks! Selma’s making some life changes! Read all about it. This was supposed to be my comment on her post but it’s gotten ridiculously long that I decided to just blog it here instead.
Well, I say, if one wishes to learn a new language other than what is normally not allowed on TV, it could be a bloody (whoops) battle. But take heart… if I had done it, anyone can. I honestly couldn’t utter them infamous four letter words anymore without stuttering or pronouncing them incorrectly. One day a couple of months ago, I was dicing some onions in the kitchen when my knife accidentally swiped through my thumb a wee bit. No actually, it was a big fat &4%@x#’in gape, alright? You would think it’s only appropriate for me to let some steam out. So, being the mere flawed human being that I am, I unhesitatingly but gracefully shrieked… SHUCKT!
I guess, I couldn’t decide quick enough which word was more proper for that particular moment.
I grew up around potty mouths all my life. But for some reason, something just didn’t sound right to me. I thought it was hypocritical and double standard that one would liberally flaunt his colorful expressions on certain groups of people but hide it from others. At the workplace, I sometimes struggle with this fact. People often use expletives in a hush hush manner, and yet they totally wipe their mouths clean when talking with superiors. Is there an “appropriate” and “inappropriate” time and place for these words? Are they right or wrong? Proper or improper? I’m still confused.
Back in elementary school, if someone cussed at me, I simply gave him a black eye without saying a word. I’m not even angry here. Just trying to say… “Awww, thanks, you shouldn’t have!” And I thought I was being fair. Although, a second FU from the guy would see him at the school clinic and me hanging out at the principal’s office.
So as I grew up, I went on a quest to find out why people even bother with such language. Not that I have anything against it, really. After all, aren’t they all just words? I just passionately hated the double standard that came with it. I still do, in fact. I thought, if you’re gonna say it, say it loud and proud, teach it in school, sing it at church, add a line of it to the national anthem, whatever! Just so everyone’s living in harmony and not getting offended everytime they hear it. If we’re going to cuss, why not cuss in love and harmony? Now, that’s a thought!
Sorry for tangent #36. I get worked up, sometimes.
Anyway, one day it dawned on me. I must’ve been in high school, at the time. I realized, when people get insecure and/or hurt, cussing is a quick and easy way to hit back, so to speak. It’s also like saying the word ouch. An instant relief or gratification (albeit, a short-lived one). Either that or they throw something on the wall. You can say I was an oddball in school. Yes, I was loved and got put on the hitlist, at the same time.
Anyway, because of this, I decided to work on myself, my character, to make sure I was secure in my own skin in all circumstances and at all costs. I searched for my own peace of mind and my own contentment, just so I don’t have to rely on cheap verbal weaponry to redeem myself.
Oh yeah, I had also wondered why my dad threw the television out the window whenever he cussed. That’s a lot of trashed Zeniths and RCAs, I’m telling you. All I could think of then was that… Six Million Dollar Man is on tonight… and he had the nerve? What was he thinking? I just sat there wondering, naively. And when I got married, I realized I hadn’t changed a bit either. Whenever she got mad and threw stuff or slammed the door and cussed like a maniac, all I could do was shut down (better than causing a black eye, I thought). I would literally not utter a single word for days on end because I did not know how else to react to it. I honestly didn’t! And this drove her nuts, to my amazement! Hey, I was just trying to help the situation. I can’t stand fighting fire with fire. Surely I was offering some form of peaceful solution, I thought. Though I remember, I try to cuss back at her sometimes, just curious what would happen. And she seems to like that better, for some reason. I guess, fighting feels better than being ignored. That was news to me, honestly! Then she tells me later, she just snickers inside whenever I do it because I really sound pathetic. And cute. Cute!!! I remember, that’s also what my old roommate thought I looked like, whenever I seemed angry. It’s embarrassing but it’s true. For a time, I tried to relate by looking and sounding “tough” and “cool” but putting up a wall is just not me. I couldn’t do it. It’s crushing to look in the mirror and discover you’re not really Chuck Norris! Oh dear! I’m mean… DARN! And so to this day, I’m still trying to learn to live in an insecure world without feeling like an outcast. To be with everyone, where they are. Because where I am, there seems to be no one else but me.
Though, I’m afraid I may never get there. And perhaps, this is where my own insecurity rears its ugly head.