don't tell me they don't matter

[chadfu]

writing was easier when i started livejournal. i'd feel something and need to say it, and it would come out. i'd edit, re-edit, re-edit it, read it, edit it, re-ead it, but when i was finally done obsessing, i'd feel some sense of release. and there it was, on the internet. sweet. maybe someone would read it. it was easy to be passionate and unapologetic, because even though i *knew* it was going on the *internet*, i wasn't quite conscious of what that meant -- that anyone could come along and see what was hanging out there. maybe i wasn't quite sure what the internet was. so here, at my little internet-house on the internet-prairie, i was hard at work, hanging my laundry out on the front porch. they see your good shirt, the one you wear too much, and your favorite socks, but also your boxers after that unfortunate episode of food poisoning. gradually, your laundry starts accumulating, until you're stringing lines across the front yard, until you're hanging it on the mailbox, until you're throwing it in the street.

by now i know that words can be more than just words. they can cause confusion or worry. chosen carelessly, they can be misunderstood. feelings get hurt, something gets left out, you say something you can't take back, you make yourself crazy. someone might think you're a bad person, or worse -- a bad writer.

but i believe that words can also do good in the world. words can inspire, explain, clarify and illuminate. they can make your despair feel ridiculous. just as a person can use words to confuse you, or convince you of something that isn't true, someone who is true of purpose can use words to unite us, to bridge old and tired gaps, to build coalitions. words can set things in motion. they can change things.

now i'm not saying i'm that guy. most of you know who i meant when i made that detour. i'm not that guy. but i am one of those people who needs to use words, if for no loftier purpose than to ease my own mind.

i just need to find the right ones.