A Day in the Life of Chaos

I can speak English, Spanish some Thai and a little Italian and German.  My wife speaks English, Tagalog, Illongo a little Cebuano and some Spanish.  Language is the most curious thing.  It is the illustration of our thoughts, emotions, feelings and desires.  It is the instrument of expression and without it we would be as limited as my loving dog.  I might be able to understand happiness, sadness, pleasure or pain, hunger and when one needs to poop.  Beyond that things start to break down. I have a lot of friends who I communicate with in English but English is not their first language.  This dynamic can frequently create misunderstandings.  Limited knowledge of a language often creates communication without nuance.  Stronger words chosen for convenience can often convey a message that was not intended.  There is always a danger of a misunderstanding, something blowing up that shouldn’t be.  In the face of such catastrophic consequence I maintain the policy of not getting piss

Why do I do this?  I think it is a question many people might ask.  Why lay yourself out to the world? Why communicate your thoughts, fears and reservations?  Is it vanity?  Is it exhibitionism in a literary form? 1916 Journal The answers to these questions cannot be explained in a simple sentence or a thought.  They are more complex, more cryptic.   For me writing is my only creative outlet.  I am not artistic. I can't paint, draw, sing or play an instrument. I can't compose photographs and I am not good at math. I don't even have any party tricks. I can't make funny sounds from my stomach or turn my eyelid inside out.  About the only thing I can do is touch my tongue with the tip of my nose.  While it is helpful in cleaning the errant cream of a latte I don't think it classifies me as extraordinary.  There is one thing I can do and I think I do it fairly well.  I can word smith.  I can assemble little black shapes into a form that is descriptive and emotion