Skip to main content

It is like this.

I overheard a young(er) woman on the bus a few weeks ago talking on her cell phone.  Listening to her made me innerly grimmace.  Every phrase (not sentence, mind) was punctuated by "like". I was cringing because I could hear my voice in hers.  I distinctly remember training myself to use like when I was about 12 or 13.  I trained with the dedication and discipline to adopting this useless habit that I applied to skills I have forced myself to learn: typing without looking, driving in snowstorms and navigating the photocopier.  It is hard to believe now that I willingly and intentionally threw the chances of a credibile sounding speech pattern under the bus like that, but here we are.  I find myself rummage around in the dark for the right word or the willingness to say what I want to say directly and, unsure of my next step, "like" lights the way. But just like any adult who picked up smoking in her teens, now I need to quit before my kids get wind of it.  It is overserving its purpose and making me sound tentative and ridiculous.

I have always been quite reliant on similes* if I am honest, but similes are a force for good in many instances.

On one of the early days that I had off from my paying job to care for my infant son, I had to return to work for a one day training session.  As my mom kept my son's insatiable hunger at bay in the library next door, I propped myself with a coffee and participated in the training.  So at a loss was I for the right words, not having needed proper words for concepts for a few months, I reached for what has always served me at these times, shiny, reachable, incomprehensible to everyone except me, similes.  Since I was the one being trained, and not the one training others, I figured however I grasped the concepts should be fine.

Ah, the simile.  All day long, as we discussed principles of adult learning and English as an Additional Language acqusition I spluttered out simile after simile.
"Oh you mean like when you try to juice a kiwi? You know there is juice in there, you've tasted it, but all you get is a squeezy, pulpy mess"
"Oh, like when you get wet boots as you walk in the slushy icy snow between curbs?"
"I know what that's like, that is like when you mix lemon juice and caramel sauce together!"

The limp smiles of the trainers betrayed that my similes were not really helping them measure their outcomes, but I knew deep down that this was why "like" was invented.  It was invented for the times when we do not have the words we need but we still require understanding and connection. It is for unmasking obscure ideas that others are trying to get across. For all the other times,  it is not required.  Deciding when those times are occuring is the challenge.


sim·i·le

 [sim-uh-lee] 
noun
1.
a figure of speech in which two unlike things are explicitly compared, as in “she is like a rose.”Compare metaphor.
2.
an instance of such a figure of speech or a use of words exemplifying it.
Origin: 
1350–1400; Middle English  < Latin:  image, likeness, comparison, noun use of neuter of similis similar

Source: Dictionary.com



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...