Swearing is commonplace among my friends and I. I swear every day. We swear together, cursing the trials and tribulations of our rather cushty lives; eating and drinking and learning in the government's cosy bosom. "This fucking essay", "That bastard of a prick of a tutor"; "That slut that told that arsehole I was a slut"; "The fucking massive checkout at Tesco"; "That motherfucking tuna sandwich" etc, etc. But there's a major distinction between my use of swearing among my friends and among my family. There is also a progressive nature to my use of swear words with my family. Not forgetting the small matter of swearing in a foreign language. Let's start with a few years ago...
"Sugar", said my mum, trying to find that impossible parking space one October afternoon. We had driven around town about three times by now, and someone had just nipped into a parking slot very near our flat. But my mum wouldn't swear, even though she definitely wanted to. I was about 13.
2012. "!Jolin!", said Marta, casually, doing whatever Spanish people do. There was something involving shock. But this wasn't quite as strong as the "!Joder!" I'd become used to. I guess she fluctuates between the two. The former being more fitting for my mother, had she understood a word. Later in the day I use jolin, and she corrects me, telling me to say joder instead. A pinch confused.
It's really fascinating how a certain collection of consonants and vowels can help to relieve a certain feeling. I mean, obviously language is our most powerful tool, and it is what separates us from all other life, but to have it as a true expression of our frustration or fear or moment of brilliance is something that has an affect. Swearing plays a major part in our lives. An affective part (not a misspelling of 'effective' - I genuinely mean affective). Like socks.
Socks are those time-honoured hidden things (unless you are one of those who enjoy socks + sandals, in which case, cease doing so immediately), that still have a function. We all know they are there, that they exist, but we don't necessarily expose them all the time. Like swear words.
Let me turn up my trousers.
My uncle recently said the word "shite" in front of me. Twice. In a car. There was no escape from this language, and despite him only being 19 years my senior, I felt like a border had been breached. I was stuck in this car, windows closed, doors locked, while he just blatantly broke the rules. Adults don't swear?! Uncles definitely don't. Mothers least of all. And yet, there I was, hearing this, this word. From a foreign place, a place I connect with comradeship and youth and frustration. What is going on? My uncle doesn't even swear in front of my mum. Since when did I become eligible to swear in front of? I felt like I was starring in my own 'coming-of-age' film and I'd just met eyes with Patrick Swayze who was about to tell me he ate a watermelon once. I mean... what?
Then the world went topsy turvy. My Dad said "crap", closely followed by "bullshit". What. Is. Going. On?!
I'm sure there are families out there who commonly use such language in front of each other (most likely around Christmas time or at frowned-upon weddings or on changing the television programme without warning or consultation) but this is incredibly uncommon for me to hear. These people are people I have a certain level of respect for and assume a higher level of experience and/or education of, and yet here they are, saying my words, using my language. Another moment comes. My Dad tells me how he only recently learned the word "dystopia". I read Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" two years ago. When did these superior beings start jogging in the relay? Really, when did that happen? Did I miss it? Was I on holiday? Was I pairing socks?
Fuck.
