My achilles heel has always been communication. When I was younger, I used to stutter when was frustrated or excited, and mumble horribly when I wasn't. Nowadays I just have a tendency to skip over words, pause in the middle of my sentences, or to just simply fire out analogies and metaphors in a manner not dissimilar to the use of mortars on a well fortified military bunker.
I'm often accused of not thinking my thoughts through. Rather, I find, myself thinking carefully, refining concepts and relationships and logical proofs. My brain processes the world in little shapes of thought. Unfortunately, my words never seem to fit right over them. In fact, it's much like reaching into a child's closet, for a shirt that is supposed to fit, and after an agony of struggling, and pulling sleeves around bony little elbows, finding that the shirt is sewn wrong, or mis-labeled, or that it belongs in his sister's closet.
Language can be hard for me. Their meanings can be much more fluid than I desire, and they usually get in the way. They are a shovel. A useful tool, with which I always manage to dig myself into a whole.
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