I was probably 10 years old. Joel and I shared a room at the time (actually, I think at the time we shared a home-made bed that was basically some planks of wood on stilts in the laundry room). I don't know where he had learned this, but one night while we were laying in bed and talking rather than falling asleep, he told me that bad words are only bad if you really mean them. Just like saying "God" isn't bad unless you're taking his name in vain, swear words don't mean anything unless you're yelling them at someone.
So, we laid there saying swear words for the next 15 minutes. Because we could. They weren't "bad" because we didn't mean them badly.
I wish I could reproduce the words here, for effect, but this isn't an "adults only" blog and I don't want to upset any parents (including my own). But yeah, I'm talking about those words. If you can think of a bad word, we were saying it that night. Over and over.
I felt like a little rebel. For maybe the first time in my life. Come to think of it, maybe the last time too?
4 comments:
so funny and so cute! I was kind of the other extreme. wouldn't say words because I thought they were bad. come to find out they aren't.
I don't remember this.
It happened. I swear.
Yes, you do swear. And now everyone knows.
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