There is plenty philosophy behind the idea of language shaping our reality. It’s something that, for the most part, I really buy into; our understanding of the world must be expressed through our ability to communicate reality. Essentially, we shape truth through the vehicle of language. However, there’s a small hiccup in the logic for me.
The guy in my head, the one who makes up all those ideas that construct my reality and tells my mouth-hole how to say those thoughts, is a way cooler dude than I am. It’s true; the guy in my head is a fucking badass. Seriously, all of you would want to hang out and eventually have a one-night-stand with the guy in my head. He’s that cool. The guy in my head looks kinda like Brad Pitt and sounds like a weird, but totally amazing, mixture between Jon Hamm and Maya Angelou. Every word he says makes sense and fits perfectly in a seamless perspective of the universe. He can understand everything, too. The guy in my head masters every new idea or plot or scheme or word or sound or thought instantly.
The guy in my head is awesome.
The problem is the guy in my head is trapped by the sweat and shame covered sack of meat that is my body. Every time the guy in my head is about to eloquently dictate his view of the world, the shitty jaw and tongue part of my shitty body fucks up the message. Whenever the guy in my head is ready to get to new places to gather new experiences, thus furthering his overall comprehension of everything ever, he gets slowed down by my dumb feet as they blister and swell up from being generally shitty and useless. Even when the guy in my head sees something new and riveting, his sight is muddled by shitty glasses-wearing eyes.
The guy in my head has a perfect reality, and he gets to exist peacefully in my soft, fragile brain. He’s probably wearing a suit and playing Vivaldi as I write this, laughing how not goodly I is expressing the stuffs he mades me says.
Language allows us to express our understanding of truth and reality. It’s too bad that the truth and reality we want to know is kept by some pretentious cunt who doesn’t know how to use the rest of us to explain the world.