Collection of Thoughts – Am I Good or Bad? (neither) # 3

 September 8, 2020        

October 1, 2020

        

 

I’ve cursed. 

A bunch. Still do. Maybe because I grew up in a household where no one cursed, so I feel like I have to make up for the time lost. My father hated two things (well, maybe more than two, but…): curse words and cigarettes. None of us ( and I am one of the six kids) was allowed to curse or smoke. Ever! Well, so he wished.

One time, when I was young, I heard my mom mumble between her teeth, “merda.” I looked at her with what may have appeared to her as big eyes, and she just returned my look with a “shhhhh,”  placing a finger over my lips.

            At that moment I felt even more admiration for my mom. She had broken the rules somewhat. She understood that those words that we were forbidden to say also released frustrations, helped sooth pains, and helped manage some anger or shock.

            As I grew more and more independent, my vocabulary expanded: both with more "adult"  words and words I liked, including curse words. But I’ve never used them at my parents’ home. I still respect my father’s wishes. Outside of his earshot my mouth ran, and still runs, freely, allowing me to savor some of my favorite Brazilian curse words. Nothing like a good curse word to express exactly how I felt in some situations. Now, mind you, I didn’t use them with the intention of hurting or insulting anyone. They were spoken as an outburst of whatever intense emotion needed to be released out of my chest. It would escape like air from a hole in a tire. 

            Then I became a teacher in the US, and I had to lock my lips once again. In my mind, if I kept them locked out of my lips when I needed to have an outburst, I would not make the mistake of saying them in front of the children, so I kept my lips locked, and I believe I have never said a curse word in front of my students – at least, not that I am aware of.

            Now, there’s a whole’nother  set of emotions that gets released with American curse words. I actually have a much more colorful vocab in Portuguese than in English, but there are two in English that I really care for: the one with f*** and the one that means the same as merda: s***

            These two four-letter cursed words have the capability to express many, various emotions. They are very flexible and useful. I am content to use either one at any given time.

            But nothing, and I mean, nothing compares to the colorful Spanish curse words I learned from a dear friend of mine. They come as a string of words put together; they are not singular. Well, at least, the ones I heard coming from her mouth during our Sunday volleyball games: “me cago en la puta de la madre que te parió,”  which a mutual friend decided that it should not be translated with its real meaning, but instead as if she had just said, “I see fluffy bunnies running in the meadows.” Now, what kind of release would that provide? For us, listeners, it made us laugh. A lot!