Tuesday, August 30, 2005
With, and without Words
Hanging out with the motley crue the other day made me realise how much I miss words.
Words have always come effortlessly to me; perhaps too effortlessly - I am discovering much to my chagrin that in this country when you use too many words... you cannot get your point across.
It's odd, there're different tiers of communicators in Singaland... and with some, augmenting your thoughts with words that attempt to capture the moment, the intensity and intent of what you're feeling and thinking - is appreciated. Some find beauty in the words; others find beauty in the thoughts.
Yet there is another tier where words fail entirely, where, bewildered they wade through unfamiliar waters of thought and become rapidly frustrated, and angry.
I've always gravitated towards people who love the English language. My mother is one such (although I'm not entirely sure I gravitate towards her... laugh) and my grandfather was, before he passed away - if nothing else, a Pedant.
The first woman I fell in love with had a far greater command with the language than I; where I am a tinkerer, she was a mastercraftsman and simply being in her presence was inspiring; she brought out more in me than I knew existed, and in between word-associations (for that is how we thought, and spoke) we laughed, and shared banter, and exchanged quips and evil jibes.
Words are important to me more than I understand, or comprehend. It's like when I play the piano - I don't really know what I'm doing, I just put the pieces together, I feel a certain way, and I try to make it happen on the keyboard -- I'm certainly not as good at it as I am writing. But in expression, I find comfort.
I've found comfort recently in a different experience, and it surprised me. The presence of another, her proximity, her warmth of... physicality gave me comfort. I cannot comprehend that, because I would have expected it to have intoxicated me... but instead it gave me a sense of calm. Perhaps those were just pheremones at work. Xena explained it as... "more than words"... skin on skin - so sayeth the intimate stranger. Her silence was calm, an soothing oasis within the madness of the daily routine.
But the one thing this creature did not have, was a magic with words.
I wondered how silence, and words could both appeal to myself - surely you have to choose a stand?
I remembered other moments in time :
A stranger, seated across the table from myself; we, barely saying a word to each other as her sister verbally assualted everyone else, but simply gazing into each others eyes, a little bashfully. (Silence.)
Watching a watcher, her face in shadow but her eyes bright as we both observed the others around us, and catching her at times searching my eyes. (Silence.)
Watching another watcher, much younger now; her face pristine with youth, her eyes avoiding mine, but yet we felt our gazes lingering upon each other, as we turned to catch the other hurriedly dropping a gaze. Later, in the car as our parents cross examined her (she was the "catch" for the older brother... the age difference being respectable back then) she, opening her mouth to answer a question about her extracurricular activities and I, intuitively blurting out an answer which I did not know how, or why I possessed. Her gaze lingering on my face for an instant, puzzled.. I did not need to turn to see it; I could literally feel it. Later still, she, watching as I prowled through her room and my gaze fell on a painting, coming close to me, the warmth of her presence intoxicating as she asked only the words, "Do you like it?". I nodded. (Silence.)
There have been many silences, wordless moments in this life that have burnt themselves into my verbally incontinent mind.
Yet were times once...
*****
They, laughing over old times, quipping and counter-quipping, battering each other with words and then laughing as the other attempted a weak comeback, thoughts flickering effortlessly through the air like silvery flying fish... (words)
... and then as he looked into her eyes, he found himself overwhelmed. He paused, in mid sentence.
She looked back, not expectantly, not in puzzlement. She just watched. (silence)
And after a long while, he spoke again.
*****
She, eyes dark with foreboding as he painfully bled out the words, her tone warning : Are you sure you want to do this?
He : I must.
He stumbles through the unfamiliar words, the significance of the moment halting his truths which so desperately need to be said, her eyes impassive, watchful.
And then he flounders :
"I'm trying to say the three hardest words a guy can ever say to a girl, K. You know what they are."
Her eyes blaze to life then, laughing uproariously at him, teasing him. She speaks.
"No?"
(Silence. Words. Silence.)
*****
She opened the box in the chill of the night, standing in a halo of orange-light beneath a victorian lamp.. she chose the moment quite unconsciously... and created a movie memory that he will never forget.
She dropped the box and pulled out the bear, gushing effusively. (Words. Words. Words.)
Almost girlishly, with enthusiasm, thanking him.
And then they walked, and spoke seriously and at length, mundane words, not of the (Words) variety.
They paused, and sat upon the steps of her university in wait of her mom's car. He prepared himself for the walk home, as they sat shoulder to shoulder in silence. He listened to her breathing.
Silence, but not of the (silence) variety. Just a simple absence of sound.
Her mother arrived, and somehow he was being bundled into the car and given a lift home. More silence... this of the awkward / uncomfortable variety.
And then as they neared, she turned around and her eyes met his, and they were...
... there are no words for this.
(words/silence/words/silence)
*****
I understand now what I loved about You, and Us.
We had the best of both worlds.
*****
Comprehension gave him the tools with which to fight himself; when he at last understood the truth, he found - at last - the ways to navigate the convoluted thoughtways of his fragile mind.
He'd gotten over Her a while back...
... but now he knew what he had been searching for, all along.
*****
Ps : many thanks to the pornographer, for introducing me to blogrolling :)
Words have always come effortlessly to me; perhaps too effortlessly - I am discovering much to my chagrin that in this country when you use too many words... you cannot get your point across.
It's odd, there're different tiers of communicators in Singaland... and with some, augmenting your thoughts with words that attempt to capture the moment, the intensity and intent of what you're feeling and thinking - is appreciated. Some find beauty in the words; others find beauty in the thoughts.
Yet there is another tier where words fail entirely, where, bewildered they wade through unfamiliar waters of thought and become rapidly frustrated, and angry.
I've always gravitated towards people who love the English language. My mother is one such (although I'm not entirely sure I gravitate towards her... laugh) and my grandfather was, before he passed away - if nothing else, a Pedant.
The first woman I fell in love with had a far greater command with the language than I; where I am a tinkerer, she was a mastercraftsman and simply being in her presence was inspiring; she brought out more in me than I knew existed, and in between word-associations (for that is how we thought, and spoke) we laughed, and shared banter, and exchanged quips and evil jibes.
Words are important to me more than I understand, or comprehend. It's like when I play the piano - I don't really know what I'm doing, I just put the pieces together, I feel a certain way, and I try to make it happen on the keyboard -- I'm certainly not as good at it as I am writing. But in expression, I find comfort.
I've found comfort recently in a different experience, and it surprised me. The presence of another, her proximity, her warmth of... physicality gave me comfort. I cannot comprehend that, because I would have expected it to have intoxicated me... but instead it gave me a sense of calm. Perhaps those were just pheremones at work. Xena explained it as... "more than words"... skin on skin - so sayeth the intimate stranger. Her silence was calm, an soothing oasis within the madness of the daily routine.
But the one thing this creature did not have, was a magic with words.
I wondered how silence, and words could both appeal to myself - surely you have to choose a stand?
I remembered other moments in time :
A stranger, seated across the table from myself; we, barely saying a word to each other as her sister verbally assualted everyone else, but simply gazing into each others eyes, a little bashfully. (Silence.)
Watching a watcher, her face in shadow but her eyes bright as we both observed the others around us, and catching her at times searching my eyes. (Silence.)
Watching another watcher, much younger now; her face pristine with youth, her eyes avoiding mine, but yet we felt our gazes lingering upon each other, as we turned to catch the other hurriedly dropping a gaze. Later, in the car as our parents cross examined her (she was the "catch" for the older brother... the age difference being respectable back then) she, opening her mouth to answer a question about her extracurricular activities and I, intuitively blurting out an answer which I did not know how, or why I possessed. Her gaze lingering on my face for an instant, puzzled.. I did not need to turn to see it; I could literally feel it. Later still, she, watching as I prowled through her room and my gaze fell on a painting, coming close to me, the warmth of her presence intoxicating as she asked only the words, "Do you like it?". I nodded. (Silence.)
There have been many silences, wordless moments in this life that have burnt themselves into my verbally incontinent mind.
Yet were times once...
*****
They, laughing over old times, quipping and counter-quipping, battering each other with words and then laughing as the other attempted a weak comeback, thoughts flickering effortlessly through the air like silvery flying fish... (words)
... and then as he looked into her eyes, he found himself overwhelmed. He paused, in mid sentence.
She looked back, not expectantly, not in puzzlement. She just watched. (silence)
And after a long while, he spoke again.
*****
She, eyes dark with foreboding as he painfully bled out the words, her tone warning : Are you sure you want to do this?
He : I must.
He stumbles through the unfamiliar words, the significance of the moment halting his truths which so desperately need to be said, her eyes impassive, watchful.
And then he flounders :
"I'm trying to say the three hardest words a guy can ever say to a girl, K. You know what they are."
Her eyes blaze to life then, laughing uproariously at him, teasing him. She speaks.
"No?"
(Silence. Words. Silence.)
*****
She opened the box in the chill of the night, standing in a halo of orange-light beneath a victorian lamp.. she chose the moment quite unconsciously... and created a movie memory that he will never forget.
She dropped the box and pulled out the bear, gushing effusively. (Words. Words. Words.)
Almost girlishly, with enthusiasm, thanking him.
And then they walked, and spoke seriously and at length, mundane words, not of the (Words) variety.
They paused, and sat upon the steps of her university in wait of her mom's car. He prepared himself for the walk home, as they sat shoulder to shoulder in silence. He listened to her breathing.
Silence, but not of the (silence) variety. Just a simple absence of sound.
Her mother arrived, and somehow he was being bundled into the car and given a lift home. More silence... this of the awkward / uncomfortable variety.
And then as they neared, she turned around and her eyes met his, and they were...
... there are no words for this.
(words/silence/words/silence)
*****
I understand now what I loved about You, and Us.
We had the best of both worlds.
*****
Comprehension gave him the tools with which to fight himself; when he at last understood the truth, he found - at last - the ways to navigate the convoluted thoughtways of his fragile mind.
He'd gotten over Her a while back...
... but now he knew what he had been searching for, all along.
*****
Ps : many thanks to the pornographer, for introducing me to blogrolling :)
