Saturday, October 15, 2016

Writer's Word Anxiety

Here is a short and sweet post for you.
Letting in you in on a little piece of my stressed out mind.

I love words. I love reading and writing, and listening to a really elegant speech. I just love how words can make an image and invoke a feeling and create a world. I love words to an incredible degree.
They also cause me some of the most anxiety ridden moments of my life.
I can be talking away with a friend, coworker, church friend. I will be blabbing on, so pleased I am finally making a connection with another person - because socializing is hard and scary - when they stop me mid sentence asking "What does that word mean?"
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they ask. I'm glad they don't just smile and nod and have no idea what I am talking about, which means all of my efforts trying to make a personal connection are lost.
But this question is the bane of my social life.
Usually it is because I was not trying to talk at a 'high level'. I do know a lot of words. That comes from reading thousands upon thousands of books over the years. I know lots of strange, big, unusual, or just out of their time words. But I try really really hard NOT to use those weird ones in public when talking to others. I was not trying to speak over their head. I'm not trying to make anyone think I am smarter than I am.
When people ask this I feel like I have been doing really well communicating in what could be considered a second language to me. The language of to-other-people. I am in my own head a lot, and then maybe on paper, that communicating to another is difficult and stressful and, I feel, full of all sorts of unexplained rules that I don't understand or get the context for. So I have been doing so well, speaking this language. And suddenly I am thinking that I have messed it all up. That I slipped in a word that isn't part of their paradigm.
I struggle at this point. Hesitate and looked pained. I know this because people tell me. I am not pulling a face. I am internally panicking and trying desperately to translate a word.
Going from a 'big' word to a 'little' or 'normal' word is not dumbing it down. People need to stop thinking that, because it doesn't do justice to anyone. It is translating the word.
So I stand there, frozen in fear trying to translate a word that I thought WAS in their language. And often I can't come up with the translation, because the word just IS.
While I am trying to translate I am also stressing. Because that is what I do.
I am thinking that I have come off like a total snob. That I look like I was using a big word to make them feel less, which is certainly not the case. That I was talking like I am intelligent, when we all know that is not something I self profess. I am so worried that I have been sounding like a pretentious know-it-all when I was just trying to express a passing thought. This makes translating that word hard. Because I am sorting through where I know the word from and how it is usually used in context to see if that is why the word seems foreign. My brain demands to know if I used that word correctly, and if in my blathering I just misused a word and it is all my fault. I try to remember what decade that word is from. Often I am a generation out. Or more - as I have a serious love for Victorian, Edwardian, and Elizabethan time period writing.
This is all happening in my mind as I struggle to also come up with a more common, but just as poignant, of a word. Something that will convey the exact same message, but that the person I am talking with has most likely heard before. This is usually the most difficult part. So I usually just give a brief definition and worry that I sound like a dictionary recording.

I don't write this to get people to stop asking me what words mean. I want clarity, and if you don't know what in the world I just said, I need you to tell me so I can be aware of what I am doing, and also to explain myself so if I blunder again you will have some sort of idea what I just said. And I prefer people to be honest with me.
I am relating this part of my anxiety to reason away the stupid look on my face when I do this panic translation. I am aware some people misconstrue this expression to be distaste, dislike, annoyance, or like I think they are the most annoying scum of the earth I just found on the bottom of my shoe. I apologize, I have natural stank-face. When I am not paying attention to my expression it often reverts to a look of disgust and hatred. I don't know why.
It drove my mother crazy as I was growing up, as when she would say something that I had to think about she thought I was pulling a face at her when I was just computing the information. I thought hard, which made me look like I hated her and thought she was an idiot. Not a great face to revert to in front of my mother. Don't do that.
So if you ask that question, "What does that mean?", and I suddenly look like a woman that can't stand you, I'm sorry. I don't mean it. I am going through mental files and concentration makes me look like a jerk.
Please keep asking what words mean. I love words and want to share them all with you. Please don't pretend you understand what I'm saying if you don't. We both deserve better than that.
Just know that my social anxiety often looks like I hate you. Oops.

I hope that clears something up for a few of  you, and gives most of you a laugh. If it does not now, just imagine every time I pull that face that there is actually the sounds of stressed-out-whale in sound rehearsal that I am internalizing being vocalized. It will most likely make the situation more bearable for both of us.

Smile Always.

Friday, October 7, 2016

The Story of the Speaking Walls.

Have you ever wondered what your home would say if it could speak?
Maybe it is the writer's brain in me, but I think of this often. So I decided to write a story about a sentient wall in my home with a lot of attitude and a mouth to match. Enjoy. And feel free to give a reaction in the comments below.

"Okay, but you have been saying that for three months."
Her husband gestured to the wall as if that answered all of the questions to the world and solved a few equations while at it.
Mavourneen held up a finger to the wall in a symbol to wait. It was a very motherly gesture. One she would really have to break before her child came into the world or she would become a stereotype.
"I just want to make a plan for it. And I want your help." She told her Lovely. "I have no talent at decorating."
"Or organizing, or de-cluttering. Or most cooking."
"Hey!" Mavourneen turned to the wall and glared. "I am a great cook."
"My smoke inhalation begs to differ." Snarked the wall of her home. "You set off the smoke alarm every time you cook past 8PM, then I have to choke on that and freeze my paint off because you open all the doors and windows in the middle of the night."
Mavourneen had no response to that. Often her neighbors only heard from her when the alarm went off at 3AM because that is when bacon must to done.
"But I'm putting up the pictures." She offered instead.
"The ones leaning against me in the closet? The ones that have been there since the first week you moved in and have moved only twice to make room for the shoes you don't wear? Those pictures? Or the ones in a box in the corner of the room you never go into? The ones that are going to corrode from being cuddled next to unused computer parts?"
Now it was Lovely's turn to glare. Though his glares always came off as manly pouts. "There is no need for that."
"I'm just saying that the plan of hanging pictures has been restated for three months, if not more, and I see no evidence of progress."
Mavourneen turned back to her husband, who the conversation really should be directed towards. "If we can just get some command hooks so we don't kill the walls, we can hang them this weekend and it will look like a real room."
"A really cluttered room." Came from the wall.
They both did their best to ignore that. "Why can't we use the ones we already have?" Lovely requested.
"Because they are tiny. I thought they had some hold, but they are for less than half a pound of weight each, not the three pounds I thought. They don't even hold up the aprons." Mavourneen explained. She didn't mention the pans. They both remembered the pans incident perfectly well. She no longer worked in the kitchen when Lovely napped for a reason.
"Don't we have photo gripper ones?"
"We can use those on some of them. But I want your help deciding where to put them. You don't want your rug above your computer."
"Because hanging rugs on my isn't offensive." The drywall complained.
"Decorative rug." Mavourneen shot at the wall and then turned back. "I just want the room to look lived in."
"Oh it does, that."
Mavourneen turned to the wall again, pointing at it as if that would change anything. "I've been busy. And you are supposed to only care about spider infiltration and if a mouse comes looking to set up shop. Not critique my homemaking skills. I will design on you any way I please."
"That's what she said."
Mavourneen turned a blank stare to her husband. "Screw it, lets use nails. I'm up for the damage bill."
Before her husband could come into the conversation with her and the supposed-to-be-inanimate object, and most likely regret become referee, the wall was willing to enter into that argument.
"Also what she said. And if you even think of taking nails and a hammer to me I'll drop those pictures so fast the flooring and I will have a blood feud." No paint rippled or texture changed. The wall just had a voice. But Mavourneen could tell it was gearing up for a fight.
While she had no way of knowing if the sentient wall could in fact push nails from itself, she was at the end of her patients. "Then keep your opinions to yourself. Or I will leave crayons out for the kids across the way and let you feel a little art culture. This is our apartment and we can decorate or not how we please. We keep this place clean, if cluttered, and you should just appreciate what you get." She gestured to the largest wall. "This will be a display, and you will like it. Because you are a happy home that is going to reflect a happy family and productive wife, even if it ends you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Or do I have to call the maintenance man about the curving bathroom wall again. I think it looks like mold."
"I was put in that way." Came the now tight voice. "It is not my fault my pipes come out that far. I'm perfectly sanitary, and I don't need people pressing on me like I'm damaged goods."
"A likely story." She pointed again. "But I think some pictures are going up. The closet and the spare room ones. And I think you are going to cooperate to show them off to best advantage. Advantage to me. Or I think that wave might be getting suspicious again."
As she turned away the petulant little voice had to put it one more word, so it could have the last.
"Fine, but don't think I have forgotten about the piece of tank threatening to gouge my perfect finish in the Spare Closet."

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Public Service Announcement: Tricking Treats

Public Service Announcement

Please distribute among all Cackling Community Members, Black Cat Patrol Officers, and Humans Handling Magic Act enforcers.

The Cackling Community would like to congratulate you on another year of service and training. We are pleased to announce it has now been 17 years since a death-resulting-incident related to broom traffic. Please remain vigilant to continue this trend and avoid all planes, fireworks, rockets, kites, and the ever more present drones.
We at the Cackling Community would like to remind you that it is again the time of year that the human Rituals of Candy Accumulation and Consumption. RCAC, also know as Halloween, is understandably a time of year with raised pressure and frustrations, but we would like to keep clear some regulations as you enter this season.

-Poisoned Apples are only meant to be made in small batches for intended 'participants'. Poisoning apples in bulk quantities not only makes them less effective, but it has come to our attention that human children are completely immune to their effects in the weeks surrounding RCAC. This could be due to the side effects of high fructose corn syrup that is nearly half of their blood volume at this time of year, or, as it has been suggested at our last Cackling Cauldron cook-off, children completely reject all produce based products for the entire month of October. Please refrain from giving out any form of apples or pears.
-Sleeping Spells only last a total of 336 hours. Any doctoring of recipes to increase this time frame is strictly prohibited. January is when our community's Spells Potency Competition is held. We congratulate Farrell B., our last year's winner, and her impressive record of 893 snowmen moved/altered in a single spell. We at the Cackling Community ask that you do not test any altered Sleeping Spells on the young children coming to your door. Standard 336 hour spells are of course approved, but any alteration of the spells will be met with ineligibility in the Spells Competition of January.
-Witch's Brew is a highly intoxicating beverage and should not be added to non-Member function punches or eggnogs. Brew is untested in the human society and we ask that you leave all experiments of this nature to specialists and professionals. We assure you that there are studies underway in health offices across the nation. Adding Brew into punches and nogs can lead to serious medical complications to humans that include frog-in-throat voice alterations, and spinning heads that can lead to death.

The Cackling Community would also like to make it clear that razor blades in any kind of treats is a criminal offense. The Cackling Community does not take this offense lightly, as it reflects badly on the community and magic users in general. Any cuts to the fingers or mouths of children will lead, but is not limited, to an immediate Broom Ban for one life sentence and/or the complete revoking of Membership which would include the removal of your Pointed Black Hat and Black Cat Patrol security/surveillance.
It is also to be noted, that while the use of illegal human based drugs is not monitored or enforced by the Cackling Community or their affiliates, any altering drugs used on human children is not only needlessly expensive, but will not reach the desired effect with children. Human children on altering drugs are more unpredictable, loud, and demanding, not less. High Fructose Corn Syrup is not considered an altering drug, though the effects are somewhat similar.

Please refer back to this as needed during this trying time of year and remember that your local Cackling Mentor is always available to help.
Thank you and have a magical day.

Mary Weathers.



P.S. We have been made aware that any potions smelling or tasting like pumpkins or related spices are remarkably effective among adults during RCAC months.