Being censored isn't fun for anyone, and as I'm transcribing footage where a character curses, I'm left wondering if I have to leave it in the transcript or not.
I curse a lot and this bothers me. Sometimes there are not enough words in the entirety of the English language that could convey certain feelings of anger or pride or shame or empathy or companionship.
Casualness and cursing are part of every day life, and I feel like I want to be better than that, to have a more developed vocabulary than that of a junior in high school.
But, fuck, man.
My frustration with parts of my life can only be defined using a four-letter-phrase that my mother would be horrified to hear shoot past my lips.
Maybe that's something I'll address on my Lenten journey, my honest-to-God first ever attempt at this holy and bizarre thing.
Just an update to let you know I am still writing, though it never is on paper, electronic or wood. Floating in my heads are words that I've forgotten and stories that I need to share. Perhaps this could also be part of my journey. Honesty in the guise of art.
We'll see.
