Lexophilia: words, passhone and practical self expression

Ciao fellow readers! It's Sunday night so I thought I'd jump on to my favourite website (my own) and scratch a few things down.

This week I'm going for something a little different. I'll see how I go for ideas, but from now on, I've just decided to go ham with the whole project. I started this blog as something fun and enjoyable to do with the added possibility of bringing encouragement to others. Sometimes, however, receiving a somewhat positive response can ruin things because you can feel as though you need to continue to deliver to a certain level. Well not anymore. So if the style is different, poetic devices are less apparent, and I'm possibly less polite (I'm always far too polite anyway, so no risk of written assault is upon us), just know it's because I've discarded of my eagerly-referenced thesaurus, as well as of my paranoia.

Tonight I'd really like to relate to you what I enjoy so much about writing, and on a slightly diverged topic, why I think it's so important to pursue those things you love and are passionate about, without holding back.

For me personally, I think that my love for words (lexophilia if you like) started at a young age. As much as I tried to conceal it as a coy seventh grader, it always gave me quite the thrill to enunciate any single term equal to or exceeding three syllables; especially when doing so wasn't necessary to convey my point. This obsessive enthusiasm followed me into my tertiary years, assisting in the completion of innumerable essay drafts. While casting points and ideas from mind to paper was often a trial, the opportunity to poeticise the dietary and lifestyle affectors of atherosclerosis in older caucasian men, was what eventually brought me through.

Language is quite a beautiful thing, if you truly think about it's origins and what compelled it's development amongst Homo sapiens. Evolutionary linguists argue that the development of language in primates had a lot do with the size of the pack, which in turn was influenced by the size of different parts of the brain. Primates with greater visual acuity had greater ecological success as individuals and small groups, while those with smaller primary visual cortices compensated with greater neocortices. These primates used this enhanced executive function to develop more numerous social alliances, and to achieve ecological greatness.

To establish and maintain the social bonds necessary for survival, an estimated fifth of primates' time had to be spent 'grooming'. It is estimated that modern day humans have around double the close relationships that Old World primates had, and it is thus arguable that language evolved to ensure bonding requirements were met in a more efficient and (dander-free) manner.

Glorified grooming or not, we've gotta give it to the Neanderthals. A major characteristic distinguishing human beings from our primitive counterparts (on a neurophysiological level) is our ability to coherently and accurately express our ideas, as well as to be able to predict the thoughts and intentions of our 'special' (for lack of a better adjective) counterparts. With all of this in mind, language and writing for me is a love which goes far beyond alliteration, allegory or oxymoron, but reaches that celestial latitude of concept. (Oh dear, I know I promised this post wasn't going to be flighty, and I've now searched ''x' synonyms' more than I care to admit). The expression and subsequent comprehension of a thought, idea or emotion, especially when done simply, succinctly and even gracefully, is a beautiful thing in and of itself.

As a teenager and young adult upon first entering the world of academia at uni, as well as getting started on the books mainly purchased to add charm to my dorm (I never really read as a teen), the expression of simple yet to my mind previously unrecognised or defined phenomena; environmental, relational, conversational, cognitive, meta-cognitive...you name it, was invigorating beyond description. There's just something about being able to label and name something not previously recognised; to place one's finger on something popularly understood and accepted, yet in some way not known.

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Tea-break: fellow bloggers out there, if you're reading this, or really anyone with an ear that hears. I just need a moment to vent, and I promise I'll get straight back to it. I wanted to publicly acknowledge that my plan to be a fun, edgy and fancy-free blogger this week, has indeed been in vain. It's no longer Sunday night. My obsession with synonyms has prevailed yet again. I somehow developed a need to excavate a linguistics assignment written mid last-decade. And in spite of the misty, ephemeral treatise above, the high-moon has only caused me to embody the manners of an RV-park pest (read: raccoon or close kinsman). Condolences to my housemates; thanks for the chocolate wafer flutes. What am I doing wrong? Help me to be a better blogger. Comment below ;)

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On the line of being known, the charm of the written word brings with it yet another captivating allurement: the scripter herself. (Please do bring to mind the menacing North American native mammal alluded to above (myself), and appreciate that syntax always has a mysterious capacity for ambiguity and misinterpretation). An epitomising beauty of the 'script', whether she be offered in letter or text, article or report, novel or poem, list or doodle, is the inherent and inextricable recognisability of the author through, with, and in-between every scrawl. Take the classic authors for instance; this isn't necessarily apparent on a surface level, however with a small amount of exposure, many people could easily learn to distinguish between the Russian and English novelists simply through a developed perception of their unique and characterising 'tones.' A literary Russophile, (just pretend that makes sense) furthermore, may be able to deduce Dostoevsky from Tolstoy with the help of no more than a short and obscure line.

With the individual, it really is no different. Whenever pen touches paper, and curls of ink illustrate trains of thought, something innocent remains that maybe we didn't try so hard to put there in the first place. It's ourselves, pure and simple. Try as we may with styles, structures and historico-cultural influences, nobody can separate themselves from what they write. The predictably clumsy sentence structure of a letter from a younger cousin. The endearing passive-aggression present in your husband's engineering report. The sensible frugality apparent in your daughter's grocery list. At the end of the day it's who we were, not what we did or said, that people will remember the most. Writing, thus, has the capacity to capture, in a somewhat permanent manner, the heartfelt and irrepeatable essence of a human being...and I think that this is something very worthwhile.

Anyway. I better get onto that second topic I promised before I run out of characters (and your time). I'll try and keep this part brief. Productivity, needless to say, is a huge driver in the daily choices we make both in and outside the workplace, and we'd honestly be nowhere as a society without it as a motive. With that said, productivity shouldn't stand in the place of passion more than it is necessary so to do. Enjoyable pursuits and hobbies allow for self-expression, mental decompression, creativity and thinking outside of the square. Working under the natural bureaucracy which comes with teamwork and obeying superiors, if not counterbalanced in our free time, has the potential to suppress our desires to be unique and different and give way to social conformity in situations where it's value is obsolete. (On that note, I'm still *beaming* after my physio revealed (in confidance: I hope you don't mind :D don't worry not many people read this ahah) that he'd taken up knitting as a result of our conversation about this very topic; it's moments like these that make it all worth-while).

And just a final note, it isn't bureaucracy plugging our potential, it's ourselves. Sometimes we're scared of what we'd become if we just let fly; that we'd slip into quicksand with no hope of return from the dismality that awaits. Allow me to comment as a control-freak that there is nothing to be afraid of. Unless our own greatness and fabulosity counts as a threat. Most of the time when we loosen the reigns in life things seem to work out for the best; don't ask me why because I still don't understand it, but I'm happy to go with it.

This week I challenge you just let fly. Even for five minutes try to do something that goes against the norm for your routine, or just consume a little extra cake than dietarily necessary, making a mental note of how it made you feel. I hope that liberated is amongst the abounding descriptive terms. Our passions are a good thing, they probably need a bit of tweaking but when they're moderated they are a necessary constituent to revealing our own beauty and individuality. I hope you enjoyed my speel on writing as much as I enjoyed iterating it. Have a sumptuous week.

Vonnie x