Communication and humanity are two words that have been linked since our cave-dwelling days. In the days of old, we used our voices, symbols and bodies to convey our thoughts. In the beginning, every grunt meant the difference between, “I’ll give you dinner, my love” or “Lovely, you are my dinner.”
Our ability to inform others on our views and experiences allowed us as a common species to push past the natural odds against us. It let us survive.
But that is no longer the case. Humanity has spread across the majority of the planet and as a result of our relative safety, our words have become not a means of survival, but a means of connecting our ideas into a unified mind.
Unlike the past, however, the near instantaneous communication provided by the Internet, texting and other mass media has lead our species to the idea that we may not need linguistic accuracy for us to understand each other. This is an idea supported by various studies, namely one done in 1976 at the University of Nottingham by Graham Rawlinson, which found that people can read jumbled words if the first and last letters are untouched.
In a more general way, it makes sense why many have begun to warp words from their previous state. Two highly popular means of communication, texting and Twitter, restrict the character count of messages to 140 and 160 characters, respectively. Note that I didn’t say words – I said characters. This logically leads to a change in the way we write.
A new style so as to fit these new guidelines arises: “people” becomes “ppl,” “great” becomes “gr8.” The Bard himself can be shortened to a mere “2 b or not 2 b," a fraction of the original character count. The tides of time don’t stop there, though. My generation – much like Shakespeare himself – has gotten into a habit that makes most literary pedants cringe: we turn our nouns into verbs. We text our friends, we police our animals and trash our foes. We take something that is and turn it into something we do.
Is this a problem, though? Doesn’t our point get across to those that need it? Quite simply, yes. It’s not what is said that matters to those who truly listen; it’s only what the message means. What’s the point in a novel that has perfect diction, dead-on grammar and absolutely no plot? If a story is well-written, but not enjoyed, then what’s the point? No one cares if a character is “tall,” and “handsome,” they only care if he has a wry smile and is as sharp as a knife. Shouldn’t language inspire and intrigue? Think about the tip of the tongue tapping tenaciously, tantalizing the top of our collective palate. Surround yourself in the simple sound of an “s,” as it swirls and swoops all the while stirring sexual suggestion.
Do not think about the words that are being said to you. Think beneath the veneer of typical diction and look for the same things that our ancestors before us sought after: the meaning of the words we need to keep us alive and deeper meanings that make life all the more worth living.