What good are words?


“The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn’t be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or worldly tricks to make us feel better.
What good were the words?”

Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

I just finished The Book Thief and I can’t help thinking how timely it is, how appropriate that I find it ten years post-publishing instead of as a high school student. I can’t help but parallel its setting to present day, as the United States slowly reduces the boil that’s been bubbling over for a majority of this year.

An elected president most would never have expected, yet we are all implored to offer him respect and support as he criticizes the manner in which people congratulate him on winning the presidency.

Confusion as we just “don’t know what to believe,” everything is questionable, unless it directly lines up with what we want to believe. Is the media rigged? By whom? Aren’t we the media now, too? Are we just as unreliable? Or are we entitled to our opinions as fact – if we believe it just enough, will it be, and is it, true?

I relate to Liesel Meminger, a foster child living in Nazi Germany as Hitler comes into power, in the above quote. She’s sitting in a home library in 1943 with the snowflake-remains of a book she’d just shredded surrounding her on the floor.

What good are words anyways?

If it weren’t for those damn words, we wouldn’t be fighting with relatives, friends and coworkers – or complete strangers. If it weren’t for words, how many wars, ranging from spats between neighbors to global entanglements, could be avoided?

If it weren’t for words, people wouldn’t have to be comforted and told that a threat made on their life was empty and shouldn’t be feared, or reassured that what kids say about you at school doesn’t have to define you. Or should it? Is it fact? According to him, or her, yesterday or today?

As usual, I’m looking at the big picture, which I’m often criticized for, but I naturally lean towards that.

In the traditional sense, I’m not all that cultured: I’ve never been out of the country or west of the Mississippi (though my eastern experience is better), all my closest friends are white just like me, and my permanent address has been in the same small town from the time I was about 7 months old. So when considering my “big picture,” I recognize that plenty of others have a lot more to work with, and just as many have a lot less.

What I have had, like Liesel, are books and an environment that gave me lots of little experiences to shelve into my library of The Big Picture.

And for most of 2016, I’ve been writing about a lot of these little experiences in a green military log book (so sturdy. so vintage.) given to me by an internship supervisor while she purged some file cabinets. So, I guess words are good for something like that.

There’s other things, too.

I was in a used book store recently, one I’d never visited, but was incidentally located in the city I was born in (this would be those 7 or so months not in my current town). Whether because of the physical size or because I don’t remember the last time I was in a shop of this sort, it just felt inherently good. Just as I found a book to take up to the register, a woman came in asking if the store was hiring. I thought it would be quick, but after the older woman behind the counter explained that they weren’t, the visitor asked if they knew of anywhere else that might be hiring; her voice cracked as she continued on and said she was homeless, then quickly thanked them and turned around to leave.

Whether real or imagined, I felt rolling waves of shame, disappointment and then self-criticism at too-high hopes, coupled with an overwhelming urge to just go and hug this lady. To encourage her, find a resource for her or guide her in the right direction, something.

When she was almost to the door, the older woman called out to her, took some tissues and then walked her back. More words. Maybe they could help her. The shop visitor said she was a military veteran, and that she just wanted to get her life back together. It felt so trivial to be waiting to buy my silly book, and prying to listen in on this conversation about someone who’s basic needs aren’t being met. From the remaining snippets I gathered, it turned out that the older man also behind the counter owned the book store and was involved in the social assistance agency next door. It sounded as though proceeds from the shop went towards the agency and helping people find work.

What were the odds? Some information was given to the woman, plans were discussed, and seeing as it was already after-hours, she promised to go to the assistance agency the next day it was open. Thanking them again, she left.

Was she really homeless? Or a veteran? I can’t prove anything she said. But if it is true, timing and words and a kind man and woman and their words may be able to do a lot of good for her.

Words can do so much harm, cause so much confusion, but also so much love, laughter and knowledge and that’s where their real strength lies. That’s what I intend to draw from going forward, using the strength of words rather than their divisiveness.

What good will they do for you in the next year? How will you choose to use them?


When Post-Grad Isn’t What You Pictured

Seeing as I now write for The Mighty and The Odyssey in addition to this quiet corner of mine, I’ll probably be cross-sharing more. Hopefully it’s not seen as laziness; if I write something, I now have three disjointed arenas I’m considering, and I’d like to try and have all my original work at a home base of sorts. Right now, that’s not very organized, but it’ll improve. So, without further delay:

A quote I see floating around on Pinterest frequently is “what screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it is supposed to be.”

I had a specific idea of how my life should be six months out from graduation. At the time, it seemed pretty realistic; I accounted for some struggles, but also assumed there’d be some successes and left space for “come what may.”

For instance, my new home didn’t have to be anything fancy, though I really wanted a porch or balcony and a cozy corner where me and and a dog can cuddle up with a book on a rainy day. I probably still have ten “what the hell am I doing” moments a day at my job, but love the people I work with and am making enough to cover my loan payments and complain when I can’t do something because of said loan payments. When I get a little overtime, I treat myself to some riding lessons and a deposit in a piggy bank designated “world travel.” I’ve probably made some friends whose company I genuinely enjoy, though still likely feel lonely or a little lost sometimes (and have already downloaded and deleted Tinder at least twice); but when a cute boy takes me on an honest-to-goodness date, and I come home and tell the mutt puppy I adopted about how much fun I had, I am wholly and completely in the moment and ready for whatever comes next.

Start going too far and it’s easy to see how you can get lost in it. What do you do when it’s not how you pictured?

You’re hella confused, first off. Especially if you supposedly followed the steps to get to the picture. AP classes in high school? Check. Plenty of activities and sports? Check. Accepted at a good in-state university? Yep. Graduate after being involved in more things than you can keep track of, a full-time internship, and with some honors? Check check. Then you’re angry – you put in the work, where’s your prize? Why did this turn out so differently? They say to begin with the end in mind, and you’re sure you did that; like that one frame on your wall that just won’t stay straight, you’ve dutifully tweaked and tilted it almost every day back to where it should be, and should stay.

One day you come home to find the whole thing on the floor, glass shattered and picture ripped and punctured in places. Where the frame used to be are all the additional holes and knicks made in an attempt to get the damn thing to just. stay. straight.

I’m realizing that while I was so concerned about keeping this frame of “how it should be” straight, I never considered that I could move it somewhere else or change the picture itself. Why do I let myself be constrained to this one picture in this one place?

“There’s no time like the present.”

When was the last time you just thought about yourself in this very moment? How about this one? And now? Have you moved since three moments ago? Been in the presence of other people? Checked your phone? Felt some sunshine? Felt cold?

If you’ve read this far, you’ll never go back to the exact moment when you started reading this. I’m not in the same moment as when I first started writing this, and actually this has turned out very differently than what I was expecting. For several days I was determined to write exactly what I had in mind, and I made zero progress. Frustrated, angry, and ready to say screw it because what am I even trying to say?

Then I deleted over half of this and decided to just write. Funny what happens when you decide you don’t need to be anything. I know I’m not the only back living at home, or the only one who’s health has derailed more than one plan. I know I’m not the only one who misses the comfort and vibrancy of my college town, finding myself wistfully scrolling through this feed or that of all the people still there. I know I’m not the only one who wonders if they’re a failure for not getting that first job break in spite of being fully qualified and “doing everything you were supposed to.”

So, what do you do when it’s not how you pictured? You decide if you want to leave the mess as it is and complain about it, or if you’re going to take what you can, clean up the rest, and start making something new. I’m making something new; no idea what it’ll turn out to be, nor do I want to know right now. The important thing is starting.