I`m absolutely flabbergasted by the level of language inadequacy that I see on (South African) internet sites. I often want to tell my fellow Afrikaans speaking users that, if you cannot put the effort of proper communication skills for written English in, rather post in your own language, as I`m sure that the English speaking users would actually put the effort in to read, contemplate and grasp what you`re trying to get across. BUT, at least they will not perceive you to be an ignorant fool...!!
So, what is language, why is it important...??
(Any) Language is a system of symbols developed to communicate ideas between intelligent entities. We try to communicate our thoughts, our ideas, in language every day. Especially on the Internet, and indeed in everything we do, we rely on it. We often like to pretend that language is adequate, indeed good, for the task. But to communicate our meaning to others with language is a difficult task. With every conversation, every piece we write, every node we create, there is a battle taking place. A battle between ourselves and the language. For some, the very few who are lucky enough to have a talent for tangling with language, it is a relatively simple battle. But for everyone else, the huge majority, it is not such an easy task. Even as I type this writeup, I`m struggling to convey my meaning to whoever reads this. It`s not as easy as it looks, but...
Language electrifies me. There is a power to the interplay, crush and tumble, of words that provides me with a satisfaction and a transcendence nothing else (praise, chocolate, etc.) can give me. In those moments when I am alone with the linguistic elements that define language, alone to concentrate on the tempo, the tone, the way one sound melts into another in the transmutation of one idea to another, I feel filled with a power almost physical, a current that runs through my body. It is as though the appendages through which I use language (my hands, my mouth) are the outlets and I am the generator, churning away, electromagnets energizing, that converts the energy.
I am both the omnipotent wielder of this power and the leaf fluttering tenuously under the barrage of its currents. Because the possibility inherent in this discrete combinatorial system--phonemes, listemes, words, sentences, and ever larger structures, from paragraphs and pages to books and treatises--is limitless, that created by those who use it, too, is limitless. As a user of words, I can express any idea, whether witnessed or imaginary, to as extensive a detail as I wish. I can make anything happen. To someone like me (okay, I`m not so great at sports or lifting heavy things, but can at least open the tops of jars) this ability is a treasure. To realize that I can bend and shape this current of energy to express whatever I want is like winning the lottery. Suddenly, I am able.
Yet, at the same time, being open to the phenomenon of language, whether it is instinct or acquired knowledge or both, as it most likely is, means not only that I can effect changes with the combinations I create but that I can be affected by the combinations of words that others create, sometimes profoundly. It is a sort of danger of being short-circuited. A hurtful phrase, a mesmerizing book, a catchy lyric: all of these can, in a sense, disrupt my ability to function. A well-constructed phrase is a joy, enjoyed both by the organic side of me, who appreciates its aesthetic attributes and by the intellectual side, who admires its logical structure, but I can be so caught up in it, in the rhythms and cadences of someone else`s use of syntax and sound, that I am paralyzed; I cannot free myself to string together my own words.
In the end, it is a matter of choice. I may choose to be open to this uniquely human mode of communication, complete with benefits and risks, or I may choose to bury my head, read little, write less. It is just like the very basic gift of existence. I have found that I can step out the door most mornings and, in the distance between my home and the office, be so bombarded with sensory stimulation that I am overwhelmed; the wildly improbable has happened, life thrives, and I am here to make sense of it all.
