Midnight musings: Language

I finally fell asleep around two last night, by my best guess.  I was up at seven this morning for staff.  It’s one now (so, not really midnight, but allow me the liberty, if you don’t mind)… and despite my nightly handful of sedative meds, and despite sheer exhaustion… well, here I am, once again.


English, Chinese, German, Russian…

Dig deeper.

What about touch?  Or love?  Or expression?  Or inspiration?  Or confidence?

I have two Englishes in my words.  One is the language which I use to communicate to others most often.  It’s what you’re used to hearing.  I’m mostly fluent in it (except for that whole speech totally checking out when it feels like it thing)… but it’s something akin to you taking some French classes then going to France.  You would feel fumbly and limited, no?  As do I.

My native words are colorful and metaphorical and filled with emotion.  They speak in levels.  When I say that my feelings are at the corner of frustrated and defeeated; a thick, low, dense fog; when I speak of thoughts from afar… unfortunately, many a person looks at me cross eyed when I type such things.  I don’t know if they just don’t get it, if they’re looking too far into it, or if they’re not looking far enough.  I limit my use of such thoughts almost exclusively to my blog.  If I’m tired enough, you might hear me say things like “the post office for the planes” or “they’re vacuuming the grass” (both are from a phone conversation with Leigh yesterday)… but generally, I try to speak in your words (“airport” and “lawnmower,” respectively).

We interrupt your usually scheduled blog post for a revelation.  The purpose of talking is not, in fact, to dispose of information or release of a compulsion, but rather to elicit a response from the other person.  Talking = communication.  Communciation = two way street.  So, when I talk, I ought to watch you for signs of understanding, approval, or distaste.  Ought is the operative word here.  I am, in fact, usually too… within… too overcome by what is without… to operate on such levels.  Interesting information nonetheless.  I shall tuck it away for future use when I am more able to make use of it.

Anyhow, the language with which I interact with my environment, mostly when alone, is yet another means of interpreting the world.  You might know this language as “stimming.”  I flap, I tap, I spin, I flick, I hum, I repeat, and I watch.  This language is a means of communication (aha!  Once again, communication = two way street, in which I perform an action to elicit a response from my environment and adjust my reaction accordingly) with my environment.  I have learned that this interaction with the environment is, in the words of Michelle Garcia Winner, well… unexpected.  People don’t approve, and it makes them uncomfortable, and they often told me to stop.  And so I don’t do it.  But, as soon as that door closes and you have gone, I have all the fun in the world.

Too bad it keeps me up half the night.




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