Muse

. . .Consider, for a moment, the naturality and ease with which you speak. From diction to intonation, from grammar to jest, all these things are a still irreproducible mechanical feat, and yet the God-given facilities of man allows each and every one of us to speak with fluency and grace.
. . .Consider, then, Thought. The birthright of man which sets him above all mortal creatures, a living, palpable legacy of our divine origin. Whither else on God's green earth can such capacity for imagination or malice be sought? But what, ask I, is Thought? When one thinks, does one voice oneself in one's mind; concentrating every idea into a finite string of hard words? Or is this divine faculty more transcendental in nature, of which we could never hope to comprehend? It has been said by some of fanciful authority that true thoughts are only those which may be solidified into comprehensible language. But language itself is always changing, and as our history has perpetually proven, our habits and preferences are as fickle as nature herself.
. . .To which I am no exception. In my recent past have both friend and foe remarked on an unnatural change which had occured in me from the poisonous vapours of death which fills the aether of this dreadful town of "erudition". With great alacrity did I hurry to preserve and protect my once notable mastery of the English language -- of which was no small feat for one of foreign birth, such as myself. How damning it was, to see, live and know that modern science no longer held its reasoning, and higher learning had now come at the cost of one's soul. Regardless, I pressed forward, seeking intelligent conversation where I could and fell back on the classics of a past era, which, no doubt, lent to my aniquated handle of the language.
. . .Which leads me to the present. As one should have hoped to see, the writings of this article prove different in both tone and diction from previous entries. And yet, this other dialect of English comes just as naturally. But is this naturalness a subconcious echo of one's affections, as the unsightly, unhygenic Japanophile seeks to sprinkle his conversation with Japanese expletives, or the American Anglomaniac who attempts to affect an English accent? And yet there are those who speak thus with perfect validity and justification. What, therefore, is natural speech?
. . .Anthropologists, Linguists and other professions who claim to hold intellectual authority on this matter would argue that speech itself is unnatural, as "logic" would have us believe? What then of love or honour? Surely emotion too much have its significance, for residing so closely to our analytical nature. But I shall refrain from that exploration for another time, perhaps. Regardless, the popular and official notion is that speech itself is unnatural.
. . .And, of course, one would also consider the writing of a language when one considers speech. And while it may be erroneous to consider the two interrelated -- speech and writing, it does hold equally fascinating exploration in the cognitive sciences. And as both are regarded as equally unnatural, it begs to question why a concious edition in one is less accepted than in the other. How is it that a practised and polished hand receives more praise than a practised and polished tongue?
. . .To that end, why is it that one speech form is considered more metaphysically real than the other? Take for example my present voice, which I'm assured all readers find both superfluous and unnatural. It begs to question whether this tone is more thought-provoking because of the ideas contained therein, or if more thought is required simply because it is necessary to decipher the cryptography inherent in this body of text. I muse aside that it may have been to the latter that we found a relative retardation in the development of science during those times past. Would that the exploration of science were so poetic as it once was.
. . .I write today neither with conviction nor conclusion, but rather with exploration. Aptly titled, I truely only wish to present these thoughts which have sat with me for the past little while. And while I would look twice at those who find my language pretentious, I cannot help but be who I am. While this recent "trend" may well be an echo of my rigorous travels of the literary jungle, the zeal with which I have yet to display in my classes, I should hope that one finds this change as readily acceptable as the change one might adopt in one's penmanship. Additionally might I add that in this text have I also hoped to provide, by means of example, a form of English which while may contain some sesquipedalian diction, does nevertheless refrain from the awkwardness of scientific dissection to which I hope ne'er to fall. Inspired also by those apt youth who would seek to speak with more erudition, would I pray that they find a voice which exudes more their personality than a false veil of intelligence. Impressive though one's diction may be, the ease and manner in which one speaks easily betrays one's upbringing and literary intellect. Therefore would I end with my humble advice: Explore ever freely every facet of English, but be not so quick to employ them.