So, my very wonderful mother (who is on her way here as I type!) really doesn't like it when I use profanity on the blog, and I believe she found yesterday's post a mite offensive and markedly without happy. I have to disagree - for two reasons.
First, let's look at the issue of profanity. I'm not, perhaps despite appearances contrary, an advocate of using expletives willy-nilly. Swearing can be greatly efficacious when used appropriately, but nobody benefits from poorly utilized f-bombs. Example: Yesterday, I had some f*cking cottage cheese for lunch. See? Totally superfluous and distracting. But, with practice, profanity can be used judiciously to convey emotion in powerful ways, which is what I strive for.
Secondly, and more importantly, let's ignore the pottymouth and look at the purpose of yesterday's entry. I had been angry - nigh on furious - all week long. After yesterday's entry, I felt better. Relieved. This may sound eight kinds of hokey, but writing it was cathartic, and, really, that's what this blog is about. I'm trying not to let my anger fester unexpressed; that shit will eat your insides (see: generations of Southern women). I'm not talking about being rude or snarky or banging your fists on your steering wheel. I'm talking looking at what's really pissing you off and giving it the old one-two. Knock that shit out, and then you can deal with it without killing anyone. Remember, you're doing remarkably well.
So, if you're not a fan of the occasional expletive, then maybe this isn't the blog for you. I mean, it's a blog, not a Christmas letter. I hope you enjoy it. I really enjoy writing it. And that's about as touchy feely as I can get.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Sorry mom, I found yesterday's post to definitely have happy. I've even been practicing saying "remarkably well" in my head. It's not ready to make its debut yet because I still even think it with a trace of a faux-British accent.
My explanation to people of why expletives are important is this: If you were to say "It was really, really big," I really wouldn't know how big this thing actually was. I mean, yes, I'll concede that it's large, but I just have no clear picture in my head. If you were instead to say "It was really fucking big," I would immediately be impressed with the enormity of the object in question.
i thought yesterday's post was a f***ing appropriate blog entry. maybe it wouldn't make a good scene for Sesame Street, but it was definitely f***ing appropriate.
As huge fans of the well timed expletive I give you words of wisdom from Uncle's Joe and D.
F*ck 'em if they can't take a joke.
I actually saw this on a shirt at bike week...
F*uck you you F*cking F*ck
I haven't hit that level of pissed off in a while .....but I UNDERSTAND IT.
Post a Comment