The Wordsmith

I was thinking about the way I write, the way I talk...... me.  Sometimes  from growing up a good Catholic Girl, I think I am supposed to write a way that is according to  "The Rules." Not mine, just so I can stay middle of the road,  not to shake things up too much. Sometimes the real me is a little too real, or boring. I definitely swing either way. The way I talk, the  people closest to me.... know I just let it rip. What I think is funny, deep, whatever it may be.  Unfortunately, I have a slight fascination with certain cuss words. When I said them as a child, I got soap down the throat for saying just the  mild ones.
Makes sense I would go for some reactionary words later. I am still chuckling thinking about what old senile nuns would do, hearing it.  I must not get out much.
Things like that have always made me laugh. The price was so steep, so when you got in trouble for anything in Catholic School, or at home, you'd better be willing to pay. It wasn't that I dug paying, it's just that I always loved the reactions, and could live a while on  them. So pleasurable to me, especially coming from so much repression. So, life's simple pleasures for this gal, an occasional cuss word still has me sheepishly grinning that I am going to The Confessional for it..... for certain.

I have always played with words, much to my Mothers dismay. She was a Teacher, speaking  English  correctly being critical to her life .  It wouldn't make sense if I didn't say "Ain't" constantly. Unglue her with her hillbllly daughter's ways. She is so literal, that it made the game all that much more fun. Content of what we were saying mattered so little usually, and with six children, it was a free-for-all.  Usually as long as we said it right, that was good enough. But boy oh boy  did  those ears perk up when we threw a  few choice cuss words around. She seemed to have a spark in her eye...... get the biggest friggin bar of
Ivory Soap known to mankind out. No worn down ones with this gal. She had a mission.
She was going to teach us Heathens  a lesson. That soap was crammed so far down our throat.
Good times at the Gagliardi household.

I actually am realizing as I write this, I have a lot to thank that Old Dame for. Through her constant criticism, it actually made me play with words. Have fun with them. I have always enjoyed
words so much. I never realized the backwards gift she gave me. It takes what it takes.
Sometimes to create, we have to come at it from a different angle. Maybe I needed an angle like her to be me. Not one I would wish on the feint of heart, yet somehow I am starting to see, just this year....
is it in spite of? What would be the proper term and who would care. I am here, I have figured it out, or am well on my way, and I am leaving the Ghosts behind. Ain't that something?