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Writing

Word

This is an environment composed almost exclusively of words. They may be written, they may be spoken, and they might even be converted into images or code and thus need to be interpreted, but ultimately this is about words.

Some of the words I like, others I don’t. Some of the words may incite me to anger and despair, while others inspire and entertain. I have changed my mind based on words; I may have even changed minds with words of my own.

There are people who can wield words like a master painter his brush, or play words like a concert pianist her piano. The rest of us, we’re usually happy if we can write a post without someone pointing out spelling errors. Oh, and don’t get me started on punctuation and something or other dangling.

I have written words that have sparked a frenzy of feeding and I think wistfully of Amazonian rivers and small, busy fish with very sharp teeth. Other times, the words lay there on the page, not even a quiver of regret to mark their passing. (And one is never so glad, at times like these, to see the reverse chronology in action. I have been known, a time or two, to hasten the end of such words–a mercy killing, if you will.)

I’ve also had my words thrown in my face, slapped across my cheeks like a glove beckoning me to a duel. Sometimes I’ve picked up the sharpest of my words and have cried, “Have at ye!” Other times, though, I wander, confused, through the jumble of scratches on the page and think at it, “What did you do? What the hell did you do?”

My favorite words are the the ones we skip across the page like a rock across a pond; only exposing our selves when the word is in the air. Ha! Try reading these words through an aggregator.

I never tire of working with words. I never tire of reading others work with words. I do weary, though, of reading, “Oh, but I didn’t mean that…” when one is challenged, because its easier to orphan the words than acknowledge or stand by them.