Why?

Being a Very Frequently Asked Question

"Where... are my glasses? Oh, I'm wearing them. Ha ha, I'm such a silly Nietszche!"

Of all the six Very FAQs, this one might be the toughest. Certainly, it's the one that's caused mankind the most insomnia. Friedrich Nietzsche didn't stay up all night thinking "Where?", you know? (Nietzsche might not be the best example, but he has the best name.)

I don't know why I'm doing most of the things I'm doing. I don't know why I studied linguistics and Spanish. I have no plans to put either degree to use—no more than I would any other B.A.—but I find the subjects interesting. I don't know why I write, either, though I don't get quite as angstlich about that. If I had to give an answer, I'd say I write to keep my brain in check. It keeps coming up with vague ideas and demanding they be turned into literary masterworks. So I put the vague idea down on paper, get writer's block, start writing down the next vague idea, then have a vague idea related to the first vague idea, and now you know what my life's been like the last few years. I blog for the same reason I write, only even more so—a thought pops in my head, and either I blog about it and it leaves peaceably or I don't blog about it and it nags at me until I manage to forget about it. I don't blog for an audience, really—if all I have is pen and paper, I'll happily jot things down there instead—and to be honest I don't write for an audience either, which is good because I don't really have one to speak of. I just do it because I have to.

I also write (and blog) because I enjoy writing (and blogging). I've always liked the idea of creating an entire Universe—I have yet to make my fictional characters worship me as their God, though Zhuwusianism is arguably close—and that's one of the main reasons for creating the Eleventh Volume. I taught myself to read at two, and I've been a voracious reader ever since; crossing over to the other side seems only natural, despite what the Other Reader may say:

There's a boundary line: on one side are those who make books, on the other those who read them. I want to remain always one of those who read them, so I take care always to remain on my side of the line. Otherwise, the unsullied pleasure of reading ends, or at least is transformed into something else, which is not what I want.
- from If on a winter's night a traveler, by Italo Calvino. (Trans. William Weaver.)

More than anything—and this answers both "why writing?" and "why linguistics?"—I really like words, always have. Alone, in conjunction, doesn't matter. (Ooh, conjunction, now that's a good word. The affricate really works there, especially after the alveolar nasal.) J.R.R. Tolkein had his cellar door, but I prefer pointier phrases. I like rented blender. Or mendicant otter society, that's a long-standing favorite. An anecdote—ooh, yes, anecdotal evidence, that's a pretty good one—when I was sixteen, I had a rather painful surgery involving the implantation of a large steel bar underneath my rib cage. This was in response to one symptom of a congenital disorder of the connective tissue, Marfan syndrome, which may well affect me, albeit not severely. But regardless of all of the aggravation of the surgery and so forth, I don't really mind at all, and for one reason—not because having Marfan might give me something in common with Ann Coulter and Osama bin Laden (hooray?), but because one of the other symptoms is now one of my favorite words: arachnodactyly. Just groove on that triple iamb a second. From the Greek ἀράχνη + δάκτυλος, or "spider-fingered"—which is a pretty good description of my hands, in fact. You can bludgeon me into insensibility if you like, but just read off entries in the Oxford English Dictionary while you do it and I'm yours for life.

As for why I'm so addicted to semicolons and the word "actually"... well, that I can't explain. If you know of a punctuation and/or adverb rehab center, please, let me know. I do try and keep them to a dull roar.