Carefully Worded

My husband gets it done.

He doesn't say nearly as much as I do, well - at least by sheer volume of of words emitting from his mouth. But if the best measure of communication is being able to convey your exact self while conserving both words, airspace, and the sensitivities of the audience (and usually your wife's heart), Mark is a master at the art of communication. His skills eclipse mine, but quite by accident. He does not orate, he just puts himself out there with a direct, no frills, but brilliantly lucid series of words that allows everyone who hears him to sincerely just "get it".

My words are complex, carefully crafted and melodic. I have sought beauty and joy in the written word since my earliest memory. It is a far superior method of communication, leaving anything I could muster verbally a distant second. I have a love affair with manipulating thoughts two-dimensionally, and especially with the way words dance and play on paper and allow what I am feeling, dreaming, thinking, or pondering to spill out - legitimating my mind.

Or, better put, legitimating that I choose to I spend quite a bit of my moment-to-moment time simply thinking, creating arguments, considering the thoughts of others or the happenings of the day. I am in thought almost constantly, and from this constant process, my words spring to paper. My stream-of-consciousness style of writing has always been for me an accountability tool of sorts. And though I embrace it and find it freeing on occasion, I am unable to express even a measurable ratio of my thoughts out loud or on paper in words, despite my lifelong effort. I LOVE the journey, but I am always left wholly unexpressed.

Mark is rarely left unexpressed in written or oral versions of his thoughts, unless he curtails himself for the sake of others. As he speaks or writes, his thoughts are accurately conveyed ~ simple as that. Communication and understanding is achieved and without the fanfare and craftmanship that so often accompanies my efforts.

His words often fall out so quickly that one wonders if his most desired audience is a group of medical transcriptionists or court reporters. He speaks with hurried exasperation and writes as though he is running a race. But his simple style of eloquence has NEVER failed to move me, never failed to miss it's mark, and only rarely caused residual confusion or need for clarification.

Writing,for me, is a sheer joyous ends to a mean. For Mark, it is a somewhat enjoyable means to an end. Where I may get lost along the path to my point and enjoy the detour, Mark finds an even faster route by cutting new corners. But his point is never missed. Mine tend to be buried in more important periphery (case in point this particular journey whose destination eludes even me).

Mark gets it done. I just get it.

Done.