Do you ever get that notion that you're walking on eggshells with every comment, interjection, laugh, or thought? I do.
Excuses flood our conversation, posing ornately like robed magicians waving smoking wands in deflection of what's really on its way our of our mouths: an idea. God forbid a lucid idea penetrates the air, slicing normativity like Samurai Jack or Kung Fu Panda in attempt to actualize thought precision. God forbid we use language as it was crafted for, as a utility to communicate and deliberate.
It's almost like we are the samurais of excuses...
Two summers ago, a cousin from Ireland visited my family's home in New Jersey. It was his first time in America and on the plane ride over he was in possession of an aisle seat--a setup triggering bipolar allegiances (the choice is yours: unlimited, unhindered access to the rest room, or doomed to climbing over your neighbor about 67 times within 6 hours)--and a college-aged American student asked to swap seats. His narrated imitation went a little something like, "Hi! Um, so I was wondering--but like, you totally do NOT need to say yes at all because you are so not obligated to--really I hope I'm not interrupting? Am I being rude? Alright, okay, so sorry, but would you mind if we switched seats? Again--no pressure at all but I get sick on airplanes and might throw up. No. I'm definitely going to puke." So what is my cousin to do? Of course he gave up his seat. Nevertheless, couldn't this word vomit have been solved in a succinct, "Excuse me, I get sick on airplanes. Would you mind switching seats?" Bingo.
In my opinion, that's the problem with my generation. We don't want to step on anyone's toes and would rather die than ask for favors. We schmooze the excuse. If I'm late to class, I come up with some excuse to make my tardy entrance look better. Why can't I just suck it up and say, "Hey, I'm late, my fault!" (drop mic, pat myself on the back, sit down all noble, and relish in having taken responsibility and strides towards adulthood).
It's not even necessarily what we say, but how we say it. Language poses as a pretty deft trickster. Last week I read George Orwell's famous essay "Politics and the English Language" which discusses just that: "It [language] becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts." If I utilize "like," "really," or "legit" an exorbitant amount of times throughout my day, soon enough the rest of my personalized lexicon will begin to decay too. If I speak in "text speech," and pardon my prescriptivist attitude, I will start responding, "Retweet!" instead of "I agree," or "LAWL" in exchange for "That was a brilliant and witty comment!" Habit erodes habit.
Much to my surprise, Saturday, April 30th the New York Times came out with an article entitled "Stop Saying 'I Feel Like'", arguing much of the same case and similarly echoing Orwell's linguistic composition: "If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."
And yet, in all seriousness, almost every aspect of our lives is cloaked in goody bag-esque, irrelevant phrases and frankly, wastes of said language. Then again, perhaps it's not language's fault--it's us. So what is wrong with us? Do we hide behind words in denial of lacking in knowledge? Are we fearful of triggering offense? Of disagreeing? Actually saying what we think or believe? Looking stupid, unimaginative, or not-normal?
We should quit it with the excuses. Enough with scurrying about when it comes to taboo topics like politics, religion, family life, death, etc.--this is the meat of humanity! We should be discussing what matters most, and it's completely fine to disagree. Who wants to deal with unanimity all the time? I do not for sure.
Be wary, walking on eggshells in simple matters may one day turn into shredding the underbellies of our feet, whilst treading on broken glass.
