I don’t know about you but…
There’s something that happens when you don’t write for a while. I can’t quite point my finger at what it is. It’s a lack of fluency. A loss of fluidity that leads to strings of badly punctuated, far-too-long, sentences, with far too many words imputed straight from the Free Online Thesaurus. With green squigleys underneath. How can I explain this? It feels the way speaking a second language must. Yes, I’m invoking the presupposition that writing is my first language.
I suspect that speaking is my second. A work in progress. It a daily frustration; the awareness that virtually everything I said, could have come out umpteen times more eloquent, given a writing device and 5 minutes. 5 minutes to activate and centralize the less frequently used word toward the active zone of my lexicon. (Gile, 1995) 5 minutes and you wouldn’t have to help me find ‘the word I’m looking for daily. 5 minutes and I won’t run to my ‘go- to’ word that I’ve been overusing this month, that annoys my best friend.
So, with my L1 (first language, because that’s how intelligent people abbreviate it) deteriorating, I figured I should better my L2, and learn how to freaking speak. Because this is bloody embarrassing. At least to me who’s terrified of pauses, imprecise word choices, and ‘um’s, which at Toastmasters, I learnt, are called ‘çrutch’ words,’and not crunch words. Crunch words sounds like alphabet shaped cereal.
I mentioned that it’s embarassing that I feel like I can’t talk. Isn’t it mortifying that I’m aspiring to be a Speech Pathologist. Oh well, I hear swimming coaches aren’t the best swimmers themselves.
And maybe I should stop complaining because there are people who actually can’t talk. Me, I just want access to the exact word that I want, at the precise moment that I want it. Sometimes beforehand. Wonder if this happens to you?
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