A Love Letter to Words

Dear words,

In the summer of 2012, blogger Ted McCagg created tournament brackets for words beginning with every letter of the alphabet and let them duke it out on his site to determine the best word ever. The winner was diphthong, which is a grand old word, but it's no hobgoblin. The whole thing was just fucking thrilling, and while I agree with several of the words on the list (like rapscallion and juggernaut), there are words that I love so much more than his top eight. The sound of a word is so personal that it's hard to completely agree.

It is probably totally pointless to explain why I like words. They are words. I like to use them for writing and speaking. I would write a love letter to just general literacy, but that's kind of like saying, "I love the concept of currency" or "I love the distribution of resources" or something, and thar be monsters and repercussions. So instead, here is a list of words that I really, really, really love, and not because of their meaning, but because of how they sound.

azure bamboozle blurt bungalow cahoots cinnamon copacetic dusk egregious epitome esoteric forbidden

fuck glutton gossamer hobgoblin incognito jade jam jaunt juggernaut keelhaul lasagna lullaby

magnanimous nemesis neologism ogle pandiculation phallus pilfer quicksilver rapscallion ripple shuttlecock slaughter

somnambulism spelunking thrum tyranny ubiquitous velvet verbose warlord woebegone xenolith yonder zealous

Some of these words sound the same, like dusk, lullaby, and bungalow. They got that "uh" sound. (Typing out "that 'uh' sound" looks ridiculous. I don't like it. Phonetically that "uh" sound gets a symbol that looks like an upside-down v, but I can't be all like, "you know, the phonetic symbol that looks like an upside-down v sound" because that is a silly thing to say, and it would confuse people.) All I'm saying is that I love the soft u. Shuttlecock. 

Who's with me? Don't you all have favorite words too? Words that pilfer, ripple, and thrum? According to the google machine, a common favorite word is serendipity. Not my jam. It sounds like saccharine smarm. But that's one thing that makes a word great: my saccharine smarm could be your blessing and truth. Another that seems to pop up all the time is loquacious, and that reminds me of a racist joke so fuck that word. Ephemeral is popular too, but it's a little too melancholy for me.

Pandiculation is a word I discovered like an hour ago:

A stretching and stiffening of the trunk and extremities, as when fatigued and drowsy or on waking, often accompanied by yawning.

I pandiculate pretty much every time I stand. I like it. It's like a scientific surprise. There are other words like that on the list. Cahoots sneaks up on you, because it sounds like a cartoon rabbit instead of a sneaky alliance.

Sometimes a word is almost too well-tailored. Glutton is brutish. It catches your throat and forces you to stop breathing, just for the tiniest of spans. Magnanimous sounds all ancient and grand, and it stretches out like an extended hand. Or a hero, standing akimbo. Ah! Akimbo! Great word.

I suspect I've always been better at words than nearly everything else. Or more accurately, I've always felt more confident in my words than nearly everything else. Words are about sharing something personal and valuable, and about believing your rhetoric is impressive enough to be shared at all.

Words are an antidote to loneliness. They're bridges. Words are about pride. They're paranoid and lovely and full of brass and balls. Brass! Balls! Also excellent words.

Each word has a specific function, and words chosen are just as significant as words that aren't. At the moment of use a single word is the most important part of a person's vocabulary. Even if a word isn't carefully and consciously selected, word choice is so damn particular. It's mesmerizing. I love listening to a well-crafted sentence. The rhythm of a phrase is salient. Cadence is captivating.

Words are just plain dreamy. Yes you are. Yes you are.

Love,
Me

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A Love Letter to Quizzes

Dear quizzes,

I guess this can go back to assigning things, in a way, but not really. Because this is more...I don't know. This is more.

Yesterday my dad sent me an article called "Why Are Social Media Quizzes So Popular?" and my first thought was, obviously: um, because they're fucking awesome.

I love internet quizzes. At first taking them was kind of fun, but now it's a full-blown obsession. I'm fascinated.

I'm not linking the article my dad shared because it's stupid and it's basically an advertisement for the Chicago theater scene, full of clickable cues to determine which character you are from Sound of Music or Peter and the Starcatcher. Also, what the devil is Peter and the Starcatcher? The article doesn't let you know, but it's playing at the Goodman. No, sorry, it's playing at the Bank of America Theater. Honestly? Who gives a shit?

And then, in the most telling fashion, the article lists and links all of these quizzes you can take, and how theaters are using these quizzes to do absolutely fucking nothing. They're doing it for the clicks. Theater employees even explicitly admit they don't know how to use the data they're collecting to their advantage, which is probably why they're in media.

Well done, college. People like to write stuff, and no one can draw a fucking conclusion that isn't a personal preference. This, by the way, is why I hate Buzzfeed.

But I loooooooooooooooove their quizzes.

Sometimes I feel like the way a quiz is worded lets me understand the motivations behind changes in pop culture. When Buzzfeed asks which city we would like to visit, do their marketing algorithms change the ads I see to echo my choice?  I mean, if they're not doing that they're idiots.

Why do quizzes ask about food? Pick a Beyonce? Pick a social media platform? Pick a sunset? What is the relevance of these things now, after a year's worth of collected information? Do they write quizzes on a whim, or are they specifically tailored to learn something about their audience? I'm trying to figure it out. It's probably Google's fault. Fucking Google. Google is the worst.

Major money-making websites generate a massive amount of income by creating pointless quizzes that we choose to share. The company thinks anyone who pays attention is their target audience. They will pay attention again. "Keep them doing useless fucking crap," says the company, "maybe we can sell it to someone who knows what to do with aggregated data."

Apparently people cheat on these quizzes to yield an expected result. Because...why? They're trying to create a way for people to identify them, so people will see them the way they want to be seen. So as far as the audience is concerned, it's is less important for them to find they're own voice than to be told that they identify with an already substantiated voice.  That's just...it's so sad.

That meas we're a society of personal branding instead of a society of people. That is terrible. How is it that some 20-year old asshole that works at Buzzfeed is granted the authority to determine which character I am from Star Wars? Why do I believe Buzzfeed? Why am I happy or dissatisfied with my result? WHY DO I GIVE A SHIT?

The article, by the way, doesn't deal with any of these questions, and that pisses me off. But maybe the most telling thing about the article is that without saying anything, the message is clear: social media quizzes are popular because companies are telling us they're relevant, and we believe them. Pop culture is about money, which means it does not reflect the culture, it controls it. I give a shit because Buzzfeed and Facebook tell me to give a shit.

Look at that: they are telling me they are relevant, so what did I do? I spent an entire post trying to fucking justify their relevance.

Goddammit, they are villainous, dexterous, bastardous geniuses. I love quizzes.

Love,
Rassles


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This Love Letters series is for true. Click here for the list so far.

A Love Letter to Dogs

Dear Dogs,

In my oldest and happiest dreams, there is a small house swallowed by a gluttonous porch on top of a hill carved like bundt cake.  And I'm with a dog. 

Those are the consistent elements.  Sometimes I'm reading or writing or napping, sometimes I'm laughing.  Sometimes there is a man, sometimes we're in love, sometimes there are children, sometimes there's a pony. But there is always a house on a hill with a porch and a dog.

Sometimes the dog is a swarthy, enormous beast, like a lethal, cuddly tank with a bright pink tongue.  It would be suitably named Samsquamch (or something) and together we would gallivant throughout the countryside or lazily laze about the porch. What does the name "Samsquamch" say about me, as a person?  Is Samsquamch magic?  I don't think it matters anymore, that conversation is so 2013.

Sometimes it's small and whiskered.  Not too small.  Maybe more...medium?  Knee-high, or a bit taller.  A proper mongrel, not a barking rabbit masquerading as a "Pomeranian" or a "Pekingese."  Those little monsters are cute and everything, and I will hug them and giggle and say embarrassing things like "why are you the cutest little cuddles?  Yes you are.  Yes you are! What's that squeaky noise?  WHUSSA BUBBA DUBBA SKWEEKY NOSE? Bestest widdow skweeky sounds. You. Yeah, you do.  That's right."  And then I'll turn to the dog's owner and say,  "Oh my stars, your dog is fucking adorable."

And I would mean it.  But not the dog for me.

If I have a dog, it's going to be a tangley mess of everything, probably with too much fur or scruff, probably with spots or stripes or patches, and probably way too smart for its own good.  Most likely this dog will not be the biggest looker, although I'm sure I'll think it's gorgeous.  Not like...the kind of smart where people say, "omg, my dog/child/boyfriend/wife is soooo smart" but they're using that word because they have never met a dog or a child or a person who actually IS smart.  I'm talking enigmatically brilliant, loyal, and wonderful.

We attribute human emotions to dogs as if they are human, but we really have no way of knowing how similar the emotions actually are - relief, despair, joy, agitation.  I don't even pretend that my best friends, or my family can feel the way I'm feeling sometimes since emotions aren't cut and dry, but when I'm with my dog (more accurately my parents' dog) it's as if he hurts when I hurt, that he's happy when I'm happy. 

Maybe not a mongrel, but Rusty is rad.

Of course that's on me.  When the dog is hurt, I hurt.  When the dog is happy, I am happy...so I just kind of assume he's the same.  How brilliant is that?  That we have furry mammalian emotional barometers that can not only gauge but influence our emotions?  We form intimate bonds with them, we feed them, exercise them, pick up their shit with our hands.  We choose our dogs to reflect the things we value in ourselves:  aggression, agility, playfulness, intelligence, gentleness, loyalty.  Adorableness.  They are our household gods. 

God created man in his image.  Or is it the other way around?  Humans created gods in their image. Sometimes with too many arms (or do we have too few?) and sometimes with animal characterizations, because humans tend to associate certain behaviors and virtues with different species.  Athena has an owl for wisdom. Ganesha has an elephant head for strength and fertility (and because Shiva cut it the other one off). Ravens are vocal and opportunistic little bastards, so Odin has two for Thought and Memory.  Bast is symbolized by a cat as a protector of the weak, for motherhood and grace.

Dogs, however, are guardians or helpers, but rarely (and as far as I know off the top of my head, never) the manifestations or companions of a specific god.  Wolves and jackals, coyotes...those are gods.  But not the dog.

In Zoroastrianism, dogs are not gods, but sacred in their own right.  A dog's gaze purifies the soul.  Murdering a dog is a crime punished by eternal damnation.  Dogs are granted funeral rites and puppies are precious.

The point is this: we didn't create dogs, but we assign them our image, like gods.  Dog = god backwards, duh.  It's a non-but-way-awesomer-and-better-than-usual palindrome. Dogs are anthropomorph-ized (is that a legit derivation? yes.) the world over.  Some people beat them and some people eat them, and some people force them to fight to the death for sport, but societies across the world have partnered with dogs for as long as...like...forever.  

But they are still dogs.  They're coworkers and friends.  They're our counterpart.  We assume they feel a range of emotions comparable to humans because we want them to.  We study and write books on the language of dogs, we train them to value what we value, we breed them to value what we value.  We genetically control their behavior and physical traits, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the tragically worst. 

At the same time, the idioms associated with "dog" are rude and terrible.  Sick as a dog.  Underdog.  Dog-eat-dog.  Go to the dogs. Work like a dog.  Dogs of war.  Put your woman on a leash. Get that kid a muzzle.  Bitch. 

I don't like any of that.  We should stop that.  As humans we deserve better.  Dogs deserve better.

I'm no expert, and I might have gotten some of this wrong.  I'm just writing what I know.  Maybe this isn't a proper love letter to dogs, or about dogs, because I'm not describing all of the wonderful things about them.  I don't really NEED to do that.  That's what Buzzfeed is for.

I guess what I'm saying is: hey, dogs!  I love you because no matter what we belong to each other. You are the best.  You do everything like you mean it, and like you mean it just a little bit more than your human counterparts.  You're us.  Cubed.  Dogs are love. 

Love,
Rassles

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