Column:
Stop the f***ing cursing
Published Aug. 31, 2007
I made a list of goals I would like to accomplish this fall, but it does not feel finished. In fact, I still add to it almost every day. I just keep remembering things about the person I would like to be; things like having a green thumb and living a genuine life. The list keeps getting longer and longer. It might as well be "Paradise Lost" at this stage.
I think I might add "stop cursing" to the list. I do not mean altogether, because that would be impossible and unnecessary. I am merely referring to the superfluous nature of the way expletives are normally used.
Please do not misconstrue my statements with some brand of morality. I certainly do not mean that.
I just think a majority of people my age, myself included, use four-letter words as a crutch for speech and as a way to get a point across that, in actuality, strips meaning from the message.
Don't get me wrong. I love expletives. I fully appreciate a well-placed "cunt" in a sentence or a shrill exclamation of "shit" when the need arises.
I like the way "fuck" can give a kick to a sentiment that would not otherwise have any power behind it. I can even like the way "ass" sounds crude. I am just weary of indirectness, people not saying what they mean and losing my voice behind such a worn-thin linguistic hat trick.
My roommate curses like a sailor, filling her speech with "fuck" or some variation thereof in almost every sentence. I do not even hear it anymore, really, because I am so used to it. I can almost never tell when she is actually angry or displeased, because she will tell me that bitch acted like a cunt either way.
In preparation for the feat of stripping my speech down to its most genuine, I have been reviewing the last few times I have decided to spice up my sentences, so to speak. Did I really "fucking hate" that? Or was it just inconvenient? Did that really taste "like shit"? I think it might have been too much dill.
The majority of the time, the subject is never as vile as my descriptions make it out to be, with a few notable exceptions, namely running into awful men I used to date and being forced to speak to them. Or the sewage that has been steadily leaking through my bathroom ceiling over the past few months. Those two are truly pretty fucking terrible.
Through overuse, almost anything can lose its original status. I would much rather utilize tools that still have their sharp edges and original parts than ones that were shiny and complex at first but have now been reduced to almost nothing (even if that might be more comfortable.)
My point is this: I would like to propose that we all return to sincerity.
One of my favorite songs, "Get Gone," by Fiona Apple, provides a most poignant example. The song begins slowly enough, and, as expected, she is angry with some boy. Even though she does utilize the word "shit" a few times, it is not very noticeable. But about three minutes into it, the music pauses a little, and she stops singing for a few seconds before emitting a completely guttural "fucking go" right as the music swells angrily in the background. Instead of sounding trashy, it sounds sincere. She is not going to kick this faceless martyr out of bed and then answer his desperate phone call next week.
Of course not. Didn't you hear her? She fucking meant it.