Meatballs

It went something like this.

Husband: “I was actually offended by that. Like if I promised you meatballs, and at the very last moment, I told you that you weren’t getting meatballs today.”

Me: “I might have meant something more like: yes, I promised you meatballs, but now your tummy is sick, and the meatballs will still be there in the morning. Taking care of you and making sure you’re all right is more important to me that the meatballs.”

The conversation got me thinking that we’d both heard and said the same words, but whereas one of us perceived them as kind, the other didn’t. And it took still more words to explain what each of us meant.

And then this conversation happened on Twitter of all places:

Me: “ I feel like the words Social, Justice, and Warrior placed next to one another in that order should be a good thing. In theory, anyway.”

Friend: “Take it back. Reclaim!”

Me: “Can one ever really reclaim language or words, I wonder.”

Can we? I’ve always wondered about that. Words aren’t static — they only represent what we want them to. If I define “kitten” differently from the next person, then we could have a conversation, use the word “kitten” and yet completely misunderstand one another. Meanings are often what we make of them. People go to war over words alone — some in books, some otherwise.

So I wonder if we can reclaim a word. Any word. Will there be a time in some better future where the word “fag” won’t be horrible, awful slang for a gay individual? Will that word simply disappear into obscurity? Will we reclaim it for other purpose entirely.

There’s something almost magical about the nature of language; it’s abstract by its very definition. Every child likely knows what a fire truck is, for example, and yet no two are alike. Humans seem to be good at generalizing words, into fitting pegs into holes, even when one doesn’t quite match the other.