Trapped In My Own Words

I sit. Hands on my keyboard typing these very words. There’s actually a lot to say, but that’s reserved for more private settings. What’s something that I can write that is uncontroversial yet unconventional, something that I can be proud of yet done humbly, something shallow yet profound?

If good writing is something that comes from the heart, then what’s the quickest route to mine without cutting open my chest. If I am to write something personal, how can I veil it with passive metaphors or allusions? Or better yet, how can I elevate myself with metaphors or allusions! How can a create this image of myself for people to read?

I can only speak for myself. The things I write never really represents who I am and what I want to express. Nor can it ever do such a thing. I write to find myself in an ever growing maze of life. Ha! Here I go again. Caught myself doing what I talked about a paragraph above.

Ironically, this enigma of words represents me. Trapped in a web of words, unable to break free from the intricate fetters of 21st-century language. Puns, sarcasm, flowery and course language, fill my vocabulary more so that truth and honesty. Everyone needs a good laugh. It’s necessary and essential. But we all know laughter is not the only thing we can get out of language.

Language is like a beautiful gift, so fucking grandeur, yet sometimes hard to “guage”  its true meaning. This leaves quite a satisfactory ending, no?

 

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Seriously Pun Times

I’m going to take a break from all these serious posts to talk about puns. Some of you may think puns are the lowest form of humor and believe that people who use them should be shunned from all social gatherings as pun-ishment. You may be shaking your head right now and have your mouse over the un-follow button, but hear me out because I think it can be quite punny. He-he

I recognize that I started this post out with the lowest form of puns possible. You probably lost all hope in anything else I have to write and I wouldn’t blame you. A friend once told me that every time I make a pun, a child somewhere in the world dies. I feel like this hyperbole expresses our love-hate relationship with this form of humor. We love to hate puns. Whenever someone in a pretentious coffee shop comes up with a brewtiful pun expressoing his feelings about you always bean latee, the first reaction is to scold them…with a cup of hot coffee. But that reaction tends to come with a tiny grin on their face. So the next time you see me, you may have this random thought to mortally injure me, call it deja brew or whatever, but before you mug me please let off some steam first by hearing me out over a cup of coffee. I’ll pay for it with my starbucks.

To me, this pure hatred combined with laughter is quite intriguing. For a punner who still wants to have friends, he or she must master the art of balancing hatred and laughter. Puns are different from other forms of humor because it tends to have negative attitudes attached to it. I have given my share of terrible puns, but I’ve also been on the receiving side of them. I love puns, but sometimes I grind my teeth and pull my hair out at poorly executed and incredibly lame puns.

I find pun making similar to chemistry lab. For both, we balance different substances in hopes of a certain reaction. Too much of one thing can lead to an overreaction of your friends or have no reaction at all. They may explode with disgust at you being such an ass(id) if you do not have enough basis for the joke. Or they may remain noble and not react to the joke. (You can see why I didn’t continue being a chemical engineer major).

In all seriousness though, I didn’t write this to go deep into the philosophy of puns. I Kant always be thinking about philosophy all the time. Sometimes it makes me Socrazies that I Nietzsche a break. Think of me as being in stuck in denihilism, but I virtchoose to make my post this way. It’s the ethical thing to do.