I love languages! And I especially love beautifully spoken or written languages. I love collecting beautifully written sentences or phrases. I kept notebooks full of them. And I memorized some of those sentences just in case I find myself in a perfect moment where I can be eloquent courtesy of someone else. Later, I would collect my own thoughts crafted with words and phrases painstakingly chosen from my growing reservoir. There is nothing more grand than thoughts cleverly packaged and constructed using only the best permutation of words that perfectly encapsulates even the most simple thought. Carefully choosing the right words to convey a thought or concept is like choosing the perfect pattern of china or silver to serve life's most delectable sustenance. And oh yes--- when necessary, even the most hurtful insult can be expertly crafted. They can be perfectly timed to explode much later when you are no longer present. Or, for the cruel in nature, they can be like extended release capsules.

I'd like to think that my children have a superior vocabulary and that when they express themselves, they talk like intelligent people. And even more so, I do believe that they have intelligent thoughts and opinions. Though I loved to sometimes 'baby talk' when they were little, we often engaged in exchanges of ideas using a level of conversation that I would deem as articulate. I just assumed that if I use a variety of vocabulary words, they would be intelligent enough to either ask for the meaning of the word or infer its meaning from the context. And because English is my second 'oral' language, I did not fall into any category of American dialects. I simply tried to speak proper English.

I still hold on to my old grammar rules from grade school. And I still have to pause many times to retrieve the 'exact' word that describes what I want to communicate.

THE LOST ART OF CONVERSATION
and the diminishing need for live inter-personal communication skills

503219. These numbers were the first series of numbers that I memorized with great relish next to 3.1416. Obviously, the second set of numbers comprise the mathematical constant pi. But the first series is much more personal...and even sexier: our first telephone number. Yes, that is a photo of teenager me holding that funky machine next to my ear.

This heavy handle broadcasted hours and hours of great conversations I've had with many friends and loved ones. In it, I divulged secrets, deep emotions of love, longing, excitement, disgust, teasings, flirtations, great information, personal opinions on matters of great value, fights, dreams and even sometimes, sexy conversation. Yes, many times, I would curl my arms around this telephone and whisper sweet nothings to my boyfriend or challenge him to tell me something that would make my heart quiver. There were times when I let the person on the other line hear my soft sobs so he could quiet my fears and insecurities. Other times, I would have exuberant arguments which would usually end with affirmations of loyalty and love for each other. At times I would sing to my boyfriend as I balanced the handlebar between ear and shoulder and then pluck my guitar simultaneously to the beat of the song. I loved that telephone. I remember momentous life events heralded through the telephone with loved ones on the other line. And even sometimes, miracles commenced or concluded on this wondrous invention.

There were also moments when laugher that bellowed from the deepest parts of one's belly passed through the telephone. Or when someone shared wondrous information that you never even entertained.

When our first telephone was installed in our home, I felt powerful. I felt like the world can be and is in my fingertips. In those days, we had 'party-lines'--people you may or may not know who shared the line. This annoyance was something everybody learned to live with. At times the phone would ring and when you pick up, it wouldn't be 'your' call but your party-line's. So you quietly hang-up when you hear the other line pick up. Or not. You could quietly lift up the phone and engage in eavesdropping. Or they can. In any case, having a party-line can also be an exercise in genteelness that when properly observed can instill sophisticated decorum into one's character. Lord knows we need more opportunities like this.

Because there were no cell phones, it was often a challenge to try and contact people. So many times, people resorted to creative means to communicate. Many times these inventive and clever ways were often most memorable and meaningful. And at times, most romantic. But I never really wished there could be something better...unless I was in a whole lot of inconvenience.

Today, thanks to the marvelous convenience of cell phones, unseen people who could be in another continent or time zone takes precedence over one's company of flesh and blood. I see it happening all over. In restaurants, I see couples sitting across each other, each with their cellphones either talking or texting some unseen person. Conversations or worse, magical moments when two people inlove stare at each other and are engaged in wordless communications of devotion and adoration are often interrupted by clever ringtones. WE NEED MORE OF THOSE HUMAN INTERACTIONS!

The art of conversation is a wondrous way of communication that allows one many opportunities to really get to know another human being. It is, indeed, an art and a skill. And requires effort more strenuous than what a finger can tap. Conversation, and I mean two or more 'live' people who can engage in meaningful exchanges of ideas that can merge into some kind of satisfying conclusion that edifies and enriches everyone is becoming rare. Too often, important moments of value are engaged via texting or electronic mail. Texting is notorious for short, flip 'conversations'. One can opt to not respond, or wait until they can think of a 'safe' non-committal response that can be done in 5 words or less. And rather than exert more effort into listening, which is also becoming a lost art and impossible when engaging in text or ichat 'communication', the texter can become a habitual escapist-- a coward who cannot face moments of real clarification or even opportunities to risk being understood or 'seen'. Often, the result is disastrous.

Texting, email or ichatting removes the most important factors in human interaction--verbal and physical cues. And there is an art to inserting these cues -- and I'm not talking about inserting those stupid emoticons--- the most inane, idiotic invention of the electronic age. I could write a whole essay on that subject and I will. The art of subtle flirtation can be lost when neither man nor woman have as many exchanges and exercises in human contact. The openness of eye contact is lost so that young people no longer know how to be intimate in ways that are subtle and deliciously sensual. Touching another person in muted artful ways is another lost art and I don't mean sexual ways. Facial cues that could relay other messages that lie deeper than just words cannot be enjoyed, discovered or read through ichat, text or email. Even the lilt in one's voice could denote contained excitement, the tilt of one's head that may signal that one may be flummoxed, the trembling of lips that may impart a subtle longing or hurt, the lifting of the brow that may signal suspicion or quandary... these wonderful cues are life's luxuries that are necessary for enriching and enhancing the human condition. And texting, email and ichat all blunt our cravings and pining for these wonderful subleties of human communication. But there is also another treasure that seems to have become more of a rarity and here it is: love letters.

I understand that progress is inevitable and do appreciate this day and age we live in. I love technology and keep myself relatively up-to-date on what's out there. But then again, this sort of progress does evoke in me a hankering for nostalgia and a longing for those days that live only in the past. I suppose we must all pay a price. But I do hope that this progress does not dull our senses nor kill our cravings for human interaction and conversation. Speedy texting and ichat have inevitably created new vocabulary and language that are inevitably starved of descriptive and beautiful words rendering this new language metallic, dull and short. Beautiful sentences that convey a sophistication and genteel upbringing are no longer appreciated because texting and ichat by their nature require only a few hundred vocabulary words. This limitation of words I suspect, will also limit our affections and thoughts...and dulls our sensitivities.

So... b3 ctn TTFN <3 u

Or whatever the hell that means.

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