Creative Writing: Dog Observes Man

bulldog and cat

Hello, my name is Rover Cornelius Doggington III. But you can simply call me Dog. If you are reading this, I am likely dead or chasing a possibly delicious squirrel. I have yet to verify their tastiness, but that shall be rectified soon. Very soon.

I have been studying humans for the past seven years. A family has taken me in as one of their own, feeding me and collecting my poop when I walk. They reward me with snacks for simple tasks such as sitting and placing my paw in their hand. And although I and my stomach wish those treats were squirrels instead, I must admit this life is quite good.

Why hello, Dog.

Cat! What are you doing here, you fiend?

Oh nothing. Nothing at all. I simply find this letter you’re writing amusing. It’s about the humans, I see.

Yes it is. Now be gone, feline. You disturb my thought process.

Is that a squirrel?

Squirrel? Where? Where is it? Where’s the squirrel?!?

Oh, my sides ache with laughter. Thank you for your continued stupidity, Dog. I was getting bored with batting at the tissue box all day. Why are you writing about the humans?

If you must know, they fascinate me.

Do they, now? I see, I see. What about them is so fascinating?

If you must know, Cat, I admire them. I also feel bad for them in some ways.

Of course. Pity from the canine. You are predictable as always.

Look at them. They have so much. They give us so much for next to nothing.

As well they should. I rubbed myself on the fat man’s leg. He is officially mine, you know.

Yes, yes, I know. I’ll hump the child later as a sign of my ownership.

Hmph. Good to know you’re loyal to our treaty, Dog.

Anyway, I see how kind they are to me, a stranger in their pack. And yet they sometimes have no regard for each other. Just the other day I saw a woman begging for money. Not one person stopped while I was there.

Why do you care about any of this?

Because I see their potential. I wouldn’t live here if I didn’t.

I would. The haggard mother serves me meals like clockwork. Never have I had finer service.

That’s part of their potential though. The ability to be so selfless. Sometimes I wonder what holds them back from truly discovering peace. Perhaps they are not yet intelligent enough.

Ha! This coming from you, Dog? Your kind is as stupid as they come! Didn’t I see you eating your own excrement the other day?

‘Twas for research purposes alone, I assure you, Cat.


No matter. They may not be there yet, but they will be. Humans have gotten further than many of us. As long as their society never stops evolving. They will find their way.

You bore me, Dog. Stop with this nonsense and entertain me. You must know a good trick or two.

Before I do, I should the child his laser pointer. I’m certain he’d be more than happy to oblige in entertaining you.

Get back here, Dog! Damn you and that elusive laser! I shall poop in your food when next we meet, you scoundrel! Why are lasers so difficult to catch?!?!

Peace out, party people.

Throwback Writing: Tribal Dance

Photo Credit: rajkumar1220

Photo Credit: rajkumar1220

Another entry from my long lost book. I wrote this part in 2011. Enjoy!

Tell me if you’ve been here before:  You’re walking down a street. You’re thinking about the random minor occurrences of the day. You can’t wait to go home and read another witty yet insightful diatribe about everyday life from Andre. You trip. Not enough to fall, but enough to lose your footing for a brief moment. You look around to see if anyone saw you. You feel slightly embarrassed when you realize you caught the attention of a few passersby.

It makes sense, right? Humans are social creatures and it’s part of our genetic makeup to want to be accepted by our ‘tribe’. So when we do something to make us stand out in a non-positive manner, DNA kicks in and we get embarrassed.

Tada. Biology is useful after all.

But seriously, there’s a ton of historical eccentricities ingrained in humans, but this is one we should fight against more often. Not embarrassment specifically, but rather caring what others think about you.

Don’t lie. You care. Even if you don’t think you care, you care. The degree to which one gives a damn varies from person to person of course, but let’s be real; your average person likes being accepted. Unfortunately this leads to something even more horrifying than terrorism:

Terrorist conformity. Or just conformity; whichever one you prefer.

I often don’t care what people think about me. The reason I say ‘often’ rather than ‘always’ is because there’s once chink in my armor of indifference: I abhor people judging what I do creatively. Which is why you better have nothing but positive feedback on this book or I’ll hurt you.

Ha ha.

That’s my “I’m not kidding” laugh.

In reality, I go through hell every time I put something out there creatively for people to love, hate and everything in between. Why? Who knows? Realistically, it shouldn’t bother me, right?


Let’s switch gears for a sec. Growing up, I had to develop a thick skin. I wasn’t picked on in the traditional sense, but I got my fair share of jokes. I was a funny looking kid who wore big glasses, desperately needed braces and made nerdy jokes. Not so different from me as an adult I suppose. The point is I was a dork. Not just any dork either. I was a dork’s dork. Other dorks read tales of my dorktitude and ability to make up fictional words describing how dorky I was.

When I graduated from 8th grade I was elated to reform myself. It was a chance to start over! No way I could be awkward and dorky in high school, right?


That’s exactly why I decided to break out of my shell in my first high school dance. Decked out in my finest black button-down shirt tucked into olive slacks and topped off with a fresh set of penny loafers, I was ready to hit the scene. And what a way I hit it.

That dance was the polar opposite of what I was prepped for. Kids were in jeans, sneakers and Tommy Hilfiger hoodies (god bless the mid-nineties). Ok, ok… clothes weren’t everything. I could still salvage this night, right?


So I danced.

Actually it was just a close approximation of what I thought dancing was.

Actually it wasn’t close at all.

The jokes came. I slinked into a corner and drowned my sorrows in fruit punch flavored soda and Fritos. I hung up my penny loafers and didn’t dance for a half decade.

In the ensuing years I did everything I possibly could to conform. I began dressing like everyone else. I used all of the relevant slang at the time. I made fun of those who were different than me. But at the end of the day I was still me; people could easily see through the façade. It wasn’t until my foray into college when I finally gave into myself and stopped caring as much about how others perceived me.

Not such a unique story I suppose, but I’m putting up a stand against this useless feeling once and for all. I’m going to be me, flaws and all. The same goes with you. Of course we all do things to fit in to a certain degree, but the things we do and say define us. Why should we care how people feel about that definition? Unless you’re a jerk. Then yeah, you kind of suck. Get out of my tribe.

Peace out, party people.

Previously: Throwback Writing: A Random Tuesday at Work

Throwback Writing: Monkey See, Monkey Do


Every so often, out of the kindness of this supposed heart of mine, I go out and purchase some random treats for the members of my team at work. These treats usually consist of various different candies and sweets. I find that this acts as a nice morale booster. And as an added bonus, it gives me hope that a steady influx of candy will slowly kill them over time due to heightened glucose levels.

Take that, ineptitude!

I kid, I kid.

Sort of.

Anyone who has been to Manhattan can attest to the fact that there are Duane Reade stores on every other block. It spreads somewhat like this thing called cancer I read about once upon a time. Unfortunately, cancer doesn’t offer such convenient shopping opportunities in ideal locations. Nor can I get candy from cancer. At least I don’t think so. I’ll have to consult with my doctor on that one.

Wow, I tend to go off on tangents, don’t I?

So today I decided to visit the Duane Reade across the street from my office building to acquire some diabetes-inducing snacks. Once I selected a decent variety of chocolates and snack packs I make my way to the cashiers only to find a line longer than the Trail of Tears (It’s only a matter of time before I offend someone reading this). There are at least 25-30 people muttering complaints under their breaths and impatiently shifting their body weight from one foot to the other. I then look at the cashiers and observe the brightly colored signs that are posted at each register stating ‘PLEASE FORM A LINE AT EACH REGISTER.’

Without a further moment’s hesitation I bypass the snaking line of customers and head right for the next open register. Behind me I catch hints of protest and profanity, but sure enough others join me and begin to form lines at each register. I couldn’t help but grin as I imagined each person exclaiming “I am Spartacus!” as they left the line they were once a part of.

Let a dork have his moment, ok?

Join me in putting the pieces to this puzzle together. We have multiple available cashiers. At each cash register there is a sign informing customers that patrons should form lines at each open register. However, everyone congregates in a single line regardless of the obvious instructions regarding line formations. What went wrong?

Most people suck at being individuals.

I’ve seen this happen a few times before, but let’s practice consistency and continue with the Duane Reade scenario. Let’s say a person is waiting for a register to open up. He’s standing there patiently. Cradled in his arms are several cans of energy drinks, some tube socks and baby oil. He’s in for an interesting night, I’m sure. Person 2 approaches and notices Person 1, but doesn’t take notice of the sign indicating the formation of separate lines so she takes position behind our Red Bull consuming friend. Person 3 is ready to checkout and notices both the line and the sign. He seems a bit torn because the sign is telling him one thing, but people are doing another. Why rock the boat? Everyone else is waiting in one line so that must be the right thing to do.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

You may be saying to yourself, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a line.”

To that I say, “Shut up, stupid.”

I kid, I kid.

Sort of.

Yes, this is a minor example, but this is also indicative of how people tend to veer away from being free thinkers. Of course I understand that, realistically, humans are a community-based species. With this comes the desire to belong and an instinct to adhere to socially accepted behavior. I totally get that, but I also believe in moderation. If I were to label you a blind follower, would you take that as a compliment?

There’s a risk of non-acceptance when being an individual. Regardless of what most people say, we have an innate fear of not being one with the “tribe.”  I may be talking out of my ass here, but my limited knowledge tells me that if we’re social creatures, we will, at times, throw logic to the wayside in order to voluntarily assimilate ourselves.

It’s easier to belong I suppose.

So where is the balance stricken? Conformity isn’t always a bad thing – regardless of how down on it I may seem. Conformity helps us to find some common ground. I suppose, as with anything, moderation is key (a running theme in this book). Is it possible to conform and be an individual simultaneously?


Is it easy?

Probably not. Not for everyone at least. But when is any change worth making in your life ever truly cut and dry?

Underwear, I suppose.

Today I went to Duane Reade to pick up some candy. As I approached a line of customers longer than the Trail of… well, you know… I spoke to every other person I walked past and let them know they could form a line at each open register. They thanked me and eventually everyone else followed suit.

Sometimes all the tribe needs is an individual to stand up.

Peace out, party people.

Be a Tree: Achieving Progress Through Balance


I had a pretty amazing experience this weekend. I recorded a podcast with recent friend, POTUS, and we shared some great thoughts. We were actually supposed to record a second half of the podcast and we never got to it because, funny enough, we became caught up in conversation.

ADD at its finest.

We talked about all the craziness of our society and the ways we hinder progress. During the conversation, I had a realization that connects to the way I view reality and our existence.

Belief is a crazy concept. For example, is something true because it’s true or is it true because you believe it’s true?

Chew on that if you want, but it’s not important right now. Here’s what is:

You can’t force belief. The person doing the believing needs to believe. Sounds obvious right?

Yet many times, we as people have problems because we’re busy trying to prove our beliefs. I’m right and you’re wrong and vice versa. But you can’t force belief much in the same way you can’t force happiness.

For a while I was getting frustrated at my Facebook friends because I would post what I thought were relevant issues, but they didn’t get anywhere near as much attention as, say, a funny video or baby picture. I’ve been growing my hair just so I could pull it out.

As we talked about this, I realized I need to be like a tree.

Before you call me crazy, I’ll explain.

A tree doesn’t try to consume anything. It consumes what comes to it and grows accordingly. A tree also doesn’t force us to breathe the oxygen it produces. It doesn’t need to convince anyone; it’s just doing what it is compelled to do.

So I’m going to be a tree.

I’m just going to do what I do and grow based on who responds. If I can produce something important like oxygen, someone will always be there to take it in.

That’s what I’m doing with the things in which I believe. Instead of trying to convince people of my beliefs, I just need to do something and those who believe in it will join in the fun. Right?

Now you can call me crazy.

Peace out, party people.

Throwback Writing: Star Gazing

Another random one from the vault! I wrote this once upon a time as a way to figure out why people love celebrity gossip. Enjoy!

Ah, today is a beautiful day, so much so that I need to go out for a walk. As I step outside my front door and feel the midday sun caress the back of my neck, I see a flash.

What the hell? Did that guy just take my picture?

Guy: Hey! Mr. Griffiths! What are you up to today?

Me: What?

Guy: Any new projects you working on?

Me: What the..? There’s this book I guess.

Guy: Awesome!

The photographer proceeds to take several more pictures of me, hovering around and spouting random questions about my day’s activities. Whatever. This may be a bit of a departure from my normal life, but I’m not going to let one idiot ruin my day. Two idiots is another story.

What the hell? Did this lady just shove a microphone in my face?

Lady: Mr. Griffiths! Word is you just got a parking ticket in New York for being too close to a fire hydrant. Don’t you feel this shows a callous attitude toward the fire fighting community?

Me: W-what? No! Firefighters are cool. Except for the half naked ones on those calendars for horny soccer moms. They should probably put their shirts back on.

Lady: Well it’s obvious you condone such behavior.

Me: Relax, lady. What? Wait a second. Is that guy filming me? Really?

Now this is ridiculous. My day’s ruined; I may as well head back home. Apparently the cameraman has the same idea.

Me: Dude, stop following me.


Me: Seriously, stop following me, man.


Me: Son of a bitch… STOP FOLLOWING ME!

Cameraman: Make me.

You know what will make a man with a video camera stop filming you? Neither do I, but it was at this point when I landed the most precise, powerful uppercut known to man on this guy’s chin.

Me: That’s right, baby!

I proceeded to run to my house. I’ve had just about enough of this off-kilter day. Maybe I can simply relax with a cold beer and watch some television. There are worse things than maintaining a small buzz while slumped on a couch in front of the idiot box.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Reporter: In breaking news, a few minutes ago it seems that amateur author Andre Griffiths accosted a local paparazzo. The entire ordeal was caught on tape.

Me on TV: That’s right, baby!

After seeing this shameless display, there was only one thing on my mind: Does my voice really sound like that? Weird.

Over the next few days I saw my name in tabloid magazines with headlines such as ‘Andre Griffiths Caught Popping the Paparazzi.’


There were numerous pictures of me on my commute to work, coming out of the gym and going out on dates. My cell phone was hacked and nude pictures of me made its way to the internet. Entertainment reporters speculated on possible drug use in my life and conducted interviews with obscure people from my past who claimed to have some real insight on my character.

What the hell?

Do people really care about the exploits of a man they don’t know? What if I turned the tables? What if the cameras were pointed at all of my spectators? What if their sense of privacy was violated on an everyday basis as a means of entertainment? What if I ignored the truly important things in life in order to catch a glimpse of a panty shot while you were exiting a cab? What if?

I’m a private guy. Other than people that I absolutely trust, there aren’t many people with whom I feel comfortable letting them into my everyday life. Now, imagine if people intruded regardless of my personal feelings. And they had cameras. And they gossiped about all aspects of my life from the outrageous to the mundane. Fun times.

This is why I don’t understand the fascination with celebrity lives. I’m far from some self-righteous naysayer who condemns all those who can’t help but peer into the lives of celebrities, but let’s be realistic here; how would you handle it if the shoe were on the other foot? Ignore the fact that, ideally, people had better things to prattle on about; people should have a choice whether or not they want their lives exposed. Is it any wonder paparazzi may occasionally catch the world’s most precise, powerful uppercut known to man?

Peace out, party people.

Do People Actually Want Conversation or Do They Just Want to be Right?


Bob: I think anyone who criticizes America is a horrible human being! That’s just unforgivable!
Andre: Really? I wouldn’t say it’s an unforgivable act. Maybe you should just listen to their reasons.
Bob:  You’re wrong! And stupid!
Bob’s Opinion: You tell’em, Bob!
Andre: Well, what makes you feel that way?
Bob: I don’t need to validate myself to you.
Bob’s Opinion: Damn straight!
Andre: Er, okay. Why can’t we have a conversation about this?
Bob’s Opinion: Don’t do it, Bob. Don’t do it. Remember, this guy is wrong AND stupid.
Bob: Whatever, man. I don’t have time for this.
Jill: Don’t waste your breath on Bob. He’s an asshole. What do you expect from a man?
Andre: Wait, what? But I’m a man…
Jill’s Opinion: He’s probably an asshole too. He’s just like the rest of them.
Jill: Men are the reason for all the problems in this world.
Tom: No, niggers and Jews are!
Tom’s Opinion: Yeah! Just like Dad always said!
Andre: Hold on a second here…
Tom’s Opinion: He’s one of them! Don’t listen to his nigger words! They’re probably filled with explicit rap lyrics and calls for welfare.
Jill’s Opinion: Typical men. All they do is attack each other.
Mark: The white man is the devil. All he’s done is cause destruction and pain.
Mark’s Opinion: That’s a fact.
Andre: I don’t know… Steve Carell has brought me nothing but joy. In my heart, no less.
Mark’s Opinion: Sellout.
Bob’s Opinion: Commie.
Tom’s Opinion: Nigger.
Jill’s Opinion: Misogynist.

Although this is a fictitious conversation, this based on individual conversations I’ve had with people both in-person and online. Crazy thing is, in all of those instances, it seemed as if the people were more concerned about being right than actually coming to any kind of conclusion.

Too often we confuse opinion with fact. And trust me, there are far less facts than there are opinions in this world. Just because that inner monologue of yours says something is true, doesn’t mean it’s right. Because realistically, if everyone thinks they are right, who is actually wrong? There’s that idea of false dualism again.

How much is your opinion worth?

Peace out, party people.

Throwback Writing: Try Something New (Expletive)


Happy, Wednesday! I’ve been reading a bunch of my old writing recently and I was shocked to see so many instances of my current beliefs. Back then, writing was a very personal hobby so I wrote about ideas that I didn’t employ in my everyday life. I often forget that I believed in many of these ideas for a long time; it’s only surprising because I only thought about them while writing. I didn’t talk to many people about these ideas.

Also, my writing was more light-hearted. I’m gonna go back to that.

I’m gonna start using the word “gonna” again.

So anyway, this was written in 2010. If you have a problem with expletives, skip this one. But hey, we’re all adults here.

And if you’re not, tell your parents curse words aren’t a big deal. I’ve been cursing since I was ten years old.

Ten-year-old Andre didn’t give a fuck.

Except when my parents were within earshot.

Anyway, enjoy!

Hi, folks! Johnny Pitchman here! Do you feel like your life is stuck on repeat? No reason to get up in the morning? Barely surviving the everyday grind of your nine to fiver? Well I’ve got a new product for you: TrySomethingNewAsshole!

TrySomethingNewAsshole reinvigorates mundane days. It takes care of all those moments when you feel like you’re stuck in a rut. Even better, you can use it at both home and in the workplace!

Let me show you something truly amazing. Here I am on a Saturday night with nothing to do. I could go and try some of our competitors: WatchCrappyRealityShows, GoClubbingForTooMuchMoney, DrinkMyselfSillyAtTheLocalPub. Sure, they get the job done, but why be satisfied by mediocrity? Instead I take a little bit of TrySomethingNewAsshole and – tada! – my rut has magically vanished!

Annual family vacation to your local beach leaving you more bored than relaxed? Boom! TrySomethingNewAsshole! The kids, your spouse, even granny will love the results!

Usual dinner making you say ‘yuck?’ TrySomethingNewAsshole so your food doesn’t suck!

I know what you’re thinking: A product this amazing must cost an inordinate amount of money! No Way. Today you can buy TrySomethingNewAsshole for, well, whatever you feel like paying! TrySomethingNewAsshole can be totally free or expensive; it’s whatever you want it to be!

Life is too short. Why don’t you try some TrySomethingNewAsshole today, asshole?

Peace out, party people.

What Are You Doing With Your Voice?


With the internet and social media, there is a multitude of ways to express yourself.

Some people use words.

Some people use pictures.

Some people use music.

So on and so forth.

I’m not going to get on some “holier than thou rant” because I’m in no position to judge anyone. But I will ask this:

What are you doing with your voice?

If you had the chance to share anything with the world, would you take that chance?

You have it.

Right now.

Not everyone has to say something. Do your own thing. But are your CrossFit achievements what you want to share with the world? Is it your new apartment? Is it a Yelp review of a restaurant you hated?

You have a voice.

We all do.

My parents didn’t have this amazing tool laid down in front of them. They didn’t have an opportunity to speak to the world. That was left to celebrities, politicians and others with “power.”

I know many people won’t read this, and I’m fine with that. But if you are reading this, I implore you to look at the way you use the internet.

Who are you?

What are you doing with your voice?

Peace out, party people.

Working Together to Get Ahead: Why are We Content with Only a Few Winners?

african lions fighting in selous on safari in tanzania

I love competitiveness. The drive to be better than another person at something doesn’t have to be a bad thing.


Funny how we teach kids about healthy competition, but we don’t practice it on a large scale. Oh humanity, you never fail to contradict.

Competition is awesome when it comes to honing skills, but it’s decidedly less awesome when we’re talking about another’s income.

Truthfully, I think capitalism is bullshit.

At least the way we use it.


Can a brother get a (private) student loan bailout?

I know, I know, I must be some type of un-American Commie bastard, right? Nah, not at all. I just can’t agree with a system that places so much “power” in the hands of a few at the expense of the livelihood of others.

Alas, much of the world is set in its ways so I have to do what I must to survive.

But why should I have to compete against peers? I should have zero reason to not want to see the success of those around me. I don’t care if the world sees my work; I just care if someone enjoys my work. It just so happens I’d like to make money if possible.

Though I’d be doing it for free regardless.

This extends to most things in my life. Let’s say I’m in a cooking competition…


Yes, I’m a HUGE fan of Chopped. Sue me.

Actually, don’t. I’m trying to save money. *cough* private student loan bailout *cough*

…You better believe I’m going to do my best to beat the brakes off any who dare oppose me in the kitchen. However, this mentality doesn’t apply to surviving in this cold, money-driven society. It doesn’t apply to support the art and creativity of others. Why can’t we all win? If not all, why not more of us?

One of my content mill gigs had me researching world history on a daily basis. I have never been much of a history buff until recently; nowadays I find humanity’s past infinitely interesting.

Sometimes like a train wreck. Other times like a supernova.

The periods of human civilization that speak to me most are those of artistic movements and collaboration. We have all the tools for a modern artistic revival. What’s stopping us from making a big push TOGETHER? What’s stopping us from doing so while achieving some modicum of “success”?

We all want a voice.

We all want to do what we love.

Seems to me we all have a common goal.

I don’t know if I have a very specific point here, but I can tell you this: I will collaborate with anyone. Even if I have nothing to gain. If I need to “gain” anything, I’ll do it on my own terms because I know that’s how many are bred in the US.

For better or worse.

Anyway, maybe I’m too much of an idealist, but I see no reason why we can’t show the world why creativity is as powerful as it is beautiful.

Even on the internet.

What do you say? Let’s show them together.

No pressure.

Peace out, party people.

Thought of the Day: Communication vs. Speaking

If you could communicate with an ant the way you do a human being, do you think that could make you more fully imagine the world from an ant’s perspective? If I had a machine that let you talk to a dog and ask it ANYTHING you want, would you give it a shot? I would. Curiosity and all that jazz.

It didn’t kill the cat. It made him awesome.

This isn’t about ants, dogs, or awesomely curious cats, though it’d be pretty damn amazing to speak with any of them. I just find it interesting that many people don’t exhibit the same level of curiosity with other human beings who are perfectly capable of speaking.

This is actually going to be something on which I touch in my book, but I’ll share it here as well. Follow me on this.

The reason we treat dogs like dogs is because we can’t speak with them. We can communicate in broad strokes, of course. For example, the fact that your dog runs up and tries to lick you when you come home from work is a pretty good indicator of affection to some degree. On the other hand, your dog can’t tell you anything specific.

Like the fact that he hates that picture you took of him wearing sunglasses. He was feeling bloated that day.


You bastard.

Yet somehow, a person can own a dog a have an exceedingly loving relationship. Or a person knows when a dog doesn’t like them. All achieved with broad strokes of communication.

Now, let’s look at the way people communicate. We don’t focus on broad strokes of communication that’s found in body language because we have nuance. We have words that describe in detail many objects and ideas. However, human language is incomplete in its preciseness, yet that fact is often ignored. We rely on language as if it is infallible; the reality is, spoken/written language should be a means to add nuance rather than replace the broad strokes.

I remember watching an episode of The Dog Whisperer (sorry, Niri) and Cesar Millan was working with a dog that had food aggression issues. He noted that the dog was not using its nose in the way a normal dog would and it was too focused on the food itself. The same held true for a dog that was scared of a washing machine for no good reason.

Or maybe his reason was that he really, really hates doing dishes.


I’m with ya, buddy.

The dogs had to unlearn those habits in order to become dogs once more. They were then able to communicate with their “owners” as they once did, before they developed their respective issues.

I have 3 points before I wrap up. Pay attention, kids.

1. Most people know how to talk, but not everyone knows how to communicate.
I’ve been on this kick regarding language and how it screws up the way we interact. I’m going to revise that. The way we use it as a species is flawed. We rely on spoken language in a way that assumes one can express almost anything with it. We trust it to a point where we don’t even question dictionaries. Weird, right?

We question people, but not the language which was created by… people.


This brings me to my next point…

2. Many conflicts occur because of things that cannot be explained verbally.
What’s the word for the feeling of being so absolutely content that you would kill yourself because you felt as if you had nothing more to accomplish? Should that feeling not exist because there isn’t a word for it?

I love my girlfriend more than ANYTHING in this world. No, seriously. No one matters more. Not even you. Unless this is her reading this, heh. I feel like our energies are intertwined. What’s the word for the sensation felt when someone else’s energy touches yours?

Am I crazy because there’s no word for it?

Fuck you! I know what I felt! Yada yada…

It goes like that ALL the time. How many times have you felt a certain way, but an argument develops as you try to explain it to someone? They use their limited perspective of the world along with an incomplete language to tell YOU how YOU should feel.

Or they try to re-explain your feelings.

Or they attack you.

And you attack them.

Oh, look; a vicious cycle! Now imagine it on a larger scale. Not too difficult for you to see past this BS, I hope. Good, because it’s time for my third point.

3. Reteaching the reading of body language could revolutionize how we communicate
The funny thing about body language is, it reveals more about a person than their words ever will. There is so much subtlety in body language that can never be expressed with words. Why can you tell the difference between a forced smile and a genuine one? Is there a word for that difference? No. But still, you know what it is, even if spoken language doesn’t have a word for it.


But… wh-wha? Words are always right! Right?

Try it sometime. Look at body language along with listening to words. Observe it during times when someone is trying to explain the near-unexplainable. Add a dash of empathy and you’ll start to see the truth: we already know the right way to communicate. We’ve always known. We’re simply too focused on words.

Stop trying to communicate and just communicate.

Peace out, party people.