It's maddening. The English language can be inspiringly precise, or horrifyingly opaque. With this mercurial tool we attempt to convey to others everything about ourselves: emotions, feelings, ideas, and all kinds of complicated stuff. It's incredible, when you think about it, just how much we can move from our heads to others, and pretty accurately too.
At one time I spoke and read fluent Bahasa, the national language of Indonesia, a much less nuanced tongue. My appreciation of her beauty began when I understood just how much better one can express oneself in English. Maybe the reason she is so valuable is because of her flexibility. We use old words, make up new words, steal words, synthesize words and generally mess with Miss English's undergarments without even asking her first. And yet she blushes not at all.
So I'm in love with Miss English, but she sometimes doesn't love me back. It's probably the fact that I attempt to shove her into a blouse that's too small for her, namely texting, and her boobs keep popping out. I loathe texting. The mis-communications that happen over simple things is astonishing to me, and I wonder if I'm not cut out to text. Perhaps I am trying to dress Miss English for a ball, when all she really wants is an old shirt to go get some groceries.
It's a shame to have this beautiful woman, capable of so many things, only to dress her down with the likes of txtng. She'll always be a Princess to me, no matter how others defile her.
Illustration from here.
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