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Do you know what makes a civilization? They used to ask this constantly in school and after a while, you memorize the answer. A written language. In the time that we have inhabited the Earth, there have been many languages and though some have died and some are just being understood, we are communicating with one another. You will always be able to learn another language. It's hard, but you can do it.
Now, I wonder if you realize how impactful the language that you speak is. Our alphabet, rearranged into more words than you could ever imagine, let alone comprehend, is the concrete base on which we have built. I loved when people tell me that they do not like writing, because I sometimes wish that I also did not like writing. It has made my education easier; in college, all you do is write. However, I cannot help but remember the pleas of med. school when I was a senior in high school. I am not built for science. I am built for words.
You do not love to write. Writing loves you. Words love you. The alphabet that you learned in school, x y z next time won't you sing with me, loved you from the moment you started tracing words onto lined paper in kindergarten. You do not chose to get caught up in the words that you read in books, to let out a heavy breath when you find a phrase that shouldn't be beautiful, that shouldn't attract your attention. I haven't read nearly as many books as I would like. I haven't finished writing things that I thought of in the car, shower, bed.
I love words because words love me. They pull me into the line, ask me to feel very deeply as I roll them around in my mouth, in my head. And sometimes when I stare at a blinking cursor on my computer screen or hold a pencil in my right hand as I'm poised over sheets of notebook paper, I wish that words would leave me alone. I wish sometimes that they did not love me so much. I wish sometimes that I hated to write, but that will never happen. There are too many thoughts, too many combinations of words that mean so many different things depending just on their formation. Do you know what makes a civilization?
The letters that you write to people on their birthdays. The words that you exchange over the phone when you order pizza, call your parents, cancel an account. The lyrics that you sing in the car when no one is with you. The thoughts that swish through your head. The words that you use to form a paper the night before it's due. Your name.
The letters that come together to spell out who you are, that identify you as a unique individual. Do you know what makes a civilization?
catch you later,
Karleigh
“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.” // Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
Now, I wonder if you realize how impactful the language that you speak is. Our alphabet, rearranged into more words than you could ever imagine, let alone comprehend, is the concrete base on which we have built. I loved when people tell me that they do not like writing, because I sometimes wish that I also did not like writing. It has made my education easier; in college, all you do is write. However, I cannot help but remember the pleas of med. school when I was a senior in high school. I am not built for science. I am built for words.
You do not love to write. Writing loves you. Words love you. The alphabet that you learned in school, x y z next time won't you sing with me, loved you from the moment you started tracing words onto lined paper in kindergarten. You do not chose to get caught up in the words that you read in books, to let out a heavy breath when you find a phrase that shouldn't be beautiful, that shouldn't attract your attention. I haven't read nearly as many books as I would like. I haven't finished writing things that I thought of in the car, shower, bed.
I love words because words love me. They pull me into the line, ask me to feel very deeply as I roll them around in my mouth, in my head. And sometimes when I stare at a blinking cursor on my computer screen or hold a pencil in my right hand as I'm poised over sheets of notebook paper, I wish that words would leave me alone. I wish sometimes that they did not love me so much. I wish sometimes that I hated to write, but that will never happen. There are too many thoughts, too many combinations of words that mean so many different things depending just on their formation. Do you know what makes a civilization?
The letters that you write to people on their birthdays. The words that you exchange over the phone when you order pizza, call your parents, cancel an account. The lyrics that you sing in the car when no one is with you. The thoughts that swish through your head. The words that you use to form a paper the night before it's due. Your name.
The letters that come together to spell out who you are, that identify you as a unique individual. Do you know what makes a civilization?
catch you later,
Karleigh
“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.” // Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
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