Foreign Language

Writing this blog is the most difficult thing I’ve ever tried to do, excepting the horrific experience I had of writing an undergrad honors thesis for my anthro major.  There’s something about using language to communicate inner thoughts, ideas, and feelings that is downright foreign to me – and frightening.  After all, one’s application of language is, in practice, equally an expression of the speaker/writer’s level of intelligence, comedic sophistication, social facility, etc., as it is a tool for communicating said thoughts, ideas, and feelings.  So much could so easily go awry, and often does.  I have found myself paralyzed at times by this fear, knowing that my very next word or phrase could likely provide the evidence needed to confirm stupidity, short-sightedness, naïveté, or worse, single-dimensionality of person.  Other times I have overcompensated by rambling; hoping I could flesh out a gist, if only the listener would squint his ears just enough to hear what I’m meaning and not what I’m saying. 

What happens most often, however, is that I end my half of the conversation (or essay) with a sigh, knowing that the person(s) on the other end have no clue that I just completely failed at something.  It is precisely this sense of unremitting inability to share or satisfactorily participate, that fuels my desire for, and love of, the visual arts.  Yes, one can fail at art.  Yes, the fear of failing at making art can also be paralyzing or drive one to overcompensate.  Yet when I sigh after a work is completed, it is in relief.  My person is no single work; my person is that proverbial work in progress.  If it takes me a lifetime to express through art that which is inside, all the more exciting and sustaining.  Certainly there will be times when the inside-come-outside is trite, unimaginative, overcompensating or stale, but if that is all my sweat leaves behind, then I accept my fate.        

In honor of all those who fail, please enjoy the following bad poem and artwork.  I am not making fun, rather I delight in their indefinable genius:

A FRIEND MOST TRUE

By “W. Hinson” (read more “friend poetry" here: http://www.friendship.com.au/poetry/

I need to know if you’re my true friend,
will you be by my side until the end?
Can I tell you my secrets deep,
and trust them in your heart you’ll keep?
We are neither of us without our flaws,
can you accept mine as I will yours?
I’ll be a shoulder to cry on when you’re blue,
will you be there for me when I need you?
No matter how busy I will make time for you,
if you are busy will you make time for me too?
I will take your hand and comfort your tears,
will you hold me and soothe my fears?
I will give you joy and many warm smiles,
can we share that even across many miles?
I will not forget what’s important to you,
will you remember what’s important to me too?
With you my most favourite things I’ll share,
If only I know do you truly care?
If you can accept me as I do you,
then I will know you are a friend most true.