Word Play

I've been thinking a lot lately about language. Mine, in particular. To be more specific, my use of "foul" language.

See, The Man and I have decided to make a conscious effort to clean up our language. We both cuss too much. He was in a conversation with a coworker a few days ago who commented on the incredibly foul language of another colleague (let's just, it would make a sailor blush). She pointed out that he does cuss, not as often the others they work with, and he almost always checks her (the colleague he was talking to) reaction. She doesn't like the language at all. It pushed him to do something about his own habit.

I've spent a good few months feeling guilty lately when I cuss around him. A random "damn" or "hell" has never bothered me, but I know I've gotten comfortable and that's not all I'm saying anymore.

I will admit that sometimes, there just aren't other words--either for emphasis or intensity. I mean, come on, when I fell a few weeks ago and nearly broke my tailbone, saying "shoot" just didn't do the pain justice. And I've always thought you should say what you mean (and mean what you say, of course.) I've even been known to use the "f" word for shock value, or to make sure I'm getting the attention I'm needing from the person I'm talking to.

A friend of mine said that swearing wasn't banned in his household. However there was a rule about the use of certain 4-letter words. You couldn't use them just 'cuz. You had to be creative in your use. In my house, creative use or not, you got punished. But we're all different.

I know I need to curb my mouth. Does that mean language will disappear from my writing? Not all. Some words just can't be replaced, specifically because of the implications to writing.

I mean, really--would "fudge" really replace "fuck?" I think not.

The body knows...

**Pardon me whilst I stretch a bit. I'm a little out of practice again. Dang it, I need to write more--well, write more here, as opposed to there. (I know, I know, that makes no sense, but it sorta does, doesn't it?)

The prompt at Poetry Thursday this week is "the body knows." What does the body know, you ask? Well, all kinds of things. This morning, it happens to know quite well that I was out until 1 this morning. Quite well.

But that's not what's on my mind. Sticking to my "theme of the year," here is what my body knows, this morning. This one's even titled, and I rarely ever do that.

Because of a look...

Beating heart ceases, briefly,
then rushes to catch back up.
Full-body flush,
the color rising just before the heat.
Twinges of dancing in my toes
My eyes go wet, not quite welling.


Hm..that felt rusty. I'll have to get back to writing/blogging on a more regular basis.

For other body-knowledge, check out Poetry Thursday.