#i binge wrote this so sorry if its lackluster

[sunstranded]

INTJ: Sounding Smart

Highfalutin words are not paraphernalia. "Big words" are not accessories to impress. Just because that is the common effect does not mean it is its purpose. They may feel exclusive but the point of them is to capture that nuance, that impact, that ambiguity. The death of intellectual discourse is clarity.

First: I did mention my disdain for clarity before and this is not to reiterate and say I'm so right and the world is so wrong. This is my attempt to explore that idea of mine.

I do not enjoy self-studying. I can't bring myself to binge watch. The former makes me feel lonely and more uncertain. The latter makes me feel numb and restricted. Here's why:

In self-studying, you must first assume your interpretation and understanding is correct. Otherwise, you are not learning anything. Next is, there is a chance you've understood it differently but the world will tell you you've misunderstood it. For works so clear in their description of an orange, others will call you a dumbass for thinking it's a tangerine. By that, I meant to say, you can be describing the same thing but people can receive, interpret, imagine it all differently. And that is OKAY. That is the point of asking! That SHOULD be the point of written works. It should give answers, yes. It should be useful, yes. But it should not convince the reader that they have learned it all and need nothing else. It should not convince the learner that that is all there is to learn! That is an insult to the writer, the reader, the language, and the topic!

In binge watching, other than the obvious and commonly mentioned concerns, I cannot do it because I want to deep dive and explore a scene. From the implications, impact, interpretations, intended message and the like. I used to write stories for others and I found myself more thrilled when people interpret my work differently from my design. It makes me curious about people. I like being curious. Watching so much leaves so many things unexplored and taken at face value. I don't like that. Especially for shows I enjoy but this has always been the recipient of snide comments. People call me out for "overanalyzing" it or "overthinking" it. I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't think enough but don't make me feel bad for doing what I like.

So how the hell does this relate to the title, to clarity, to big words?

First, in clarity our intention is to deliver our point and ensure people are on the same page. That is a sensible thing to do. I agree in the importance of that. What I do not agree is the imposed and forced standards upon me. I have a lower score because I left you curious and questioning? Is that not the beauty in the pursuit of knowledge? Am I, the supposed learner in this equation, supposed to leave you satisfied with the object of knowledge? No! It is frustrating to have a lower score because my word choice had left people wanting more when they should! The very reason Plato (and I feel like I keep mentioning this) feared and hated writing is because it will be the death of discourse! Have people not wondered why he wrote so much anyway? Witness his writing style! The original version had nuances lost in translation, the details that is trapped by time! It leaves a reader to open interpretation, to continuous questioning!

I really think that is how writing should be. In researches and science, I understand the necessity of certainty and closed-endedness. It serves a purpose: to ensure the research question is answered. However, I find it ill-justified to have people tell a person that it is incomplete and lackluster when they are left curious, when they are driven to know more, when they are interpreting something more than once.

I do not like correctness for what it did to people's psyche. People would rather pretend they know than ask.

People act high and mighty for knowing better, forcing it on someone for "their own good." People fear mistakes like it creates situations that can no longer be solved. PROBLEMS are PROBLEMS because they have SOLUTIONS.

I do not like correctness for what it makes me feel. I feel restricted and forced into a standard that people call perfection. A standard so universally accepted that people recognize it as perfection and yet when they themselves attain it, they feel invisible.

For big words, I really think it is not exclusivity or insulting someone else for using the word that captures nuance. If they feel insulted when you use a big word, it is not your fault. It is theirs; they only feel insulted because they should have known. They would be curious if they had no idea.

I think using jargon and big words help capture nuance, keep people asking, and serve as an invitation for people to not take the obvious so seriously. Curiosity does not kill the cat. It tells you how it died then it will leave you asking who did it. Writing should be like that. It actually makes it more inclusive.

[dont-doubt-dopple]

Corrupted

A/N: Anyone ask for this? No? Ok, then I’m going to write this anyway. Partly inspired by some quotes by @incorrect-get a-bbs-quotes . Hope I wrote this ok.

~•~

The day he decided to tell Craig was probably the most nerve racking day of Tyler’s life. Craig was shocked, which was to be expected, but was unnaturally supportive of the whole “I’m an important part of one of the most deadly gangs in this city” thing. Most past lovers weren’t, and he’s got quite a few bodies in the back to show for it. Craig was right there, as supportive as someone could be when their boyfriend is an illegal criminal. Conversations about the whole thing often went something like this:

*Tyler walks in, covered in blood.*

Craig: Your blood or his?

Tyler: His.

Craig: Good. Need a towel?

Tyler: Please.

That was it. Craig never pushed on matters or asked what happened when Tyler came in with holes in his shirt and stitches in his arms. He never took up an argument when he had to leave in the middle of the night for business. He was there, either waiting so that he home safe or passed out in a particular revealing position.

But in all honesty, telling Craig his secret saved his life. Literally.

It was a standard, routine weapons deal. Tyler, or Wildcat in this situation, stood behind Vanoss. He stood talking to Ohmwrecker, leader of another a gang in the city that they were on very good terms with: The Streamers. One of Ohm’s men, Sattelizer, stood behind him. Give the guns, take the money, leave as quickly as possible. The guns were barely on the table before Vanoss silenced all four men with a single finger. He held that kind of authority.

“Listen.” He said, and that’s when Wildcat began to hear sirens fill the the air. He muttered some curses under his breath.

“We’ll deal with payment another day.” Ohm settled, and Vanoss nodded before heading towards the two motorcycles they brought. Vanoss and Ohm driving, while Wildcat and Satt manned the gunner position in the back. They were off just as they saw the first cop cars rear into view. Not exactly the best time for his phone to ring.

“Who the fuck?” He answered angrily via the Bluetooth device in his ear, slinging his M16 over his shoulder facing it toward the cops.

“Just shut up and listen to me.”

“Craig?! What did I tell you about calling me at work?” He opened fire, only taking a few short bursts at at time. He had to be careful with the serpentine pattern Vanoss and Ohm were doing to avoid being hit themselves.

“I have my reasons. Just let me explain. Know how I’ve never told you what my job is?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Boogie running parallel.” Ohm called out. About a block over, another cop car kept at their pace.

“I may be one of the cops chasing you.” Craig admitted. Wildcat just sat on the motorbike stunned, occasionally taking his anger out in showers of bullets. “Scream at me all you want. My partner isn’t here. Mike got caught up in another thing.”

“Headshot.” Wildcat heard Satt say on the pass. He watched as one of the cop cars swerved into the brick wall next to him. Probably due to the driver having a bullet right between his eyes.

“RIP him.”

“Tyler! Listen, I don’t have much time.” Craig said. “I’m speeding up now and going to try to cross in front of you guys. Stick to the right and you’ll be fine. Probably buy you some time.” Wildcat didn’t have time to respond, as the phone was hung up abruptly.

“Who was that?” Vanoss asked, as he heard another shot go off from Satt’s sniper. It was a body shot this time from the scream of pain behind him.

“Not now. Just stick to the right.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me.” Vanoss sighed, before motioning to Ohm with his head. The other caught it after a tap on the shoulder from Satt, who nodded and cut in front of Vanoss. As they passed through the next intersection, a cop car began to cut across. They had plenty of time to pass though.

It was this point that Wildcat felt like he was going in slow motion. As he and Vanoss passed the police vehicle at high speeds, he took a glance at who was in the drivers seat. There was Craig, a cocky grin and a wink on his face, practically saluting him as he drove past.

“Thank god for that idiot.” He heard one of the other guys mutter as Craig’s car began to block all the others and allowing them to speed away.

“Yeah. Thank god.” Tyler whispered in response.

~•~

The reason he knew that Craig had entered the safe house was because the only other person there: Terroriser.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH- WHO CALLED THE POLICE? WILDCAT? WAS IT YOU THIS TIME?” He heard his boyfriend sigh, as he made his way toward him. Craig made eye contact with Tyler and walked forward until they were both up in each other faces.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tyler demanded, no more words needed to be spoken.

“You trusted me. You would’ve thrown that all away the second you found out. Plus I didn’t want to die and you are the intimidating one in this relationship.”

“I hate you.”

“You owe me.” Tyler didn’t say anything more, just quietly leaned in and shared a kiss on the lips from Craig. It was short, passionate and had about every emotion Tyler was feeling about that Craig wrapped up in a few precious seconds. Breaking away, the peace that lingers after every kiss was only there for a second.

“Nogla is going to flip his shit when he sees this.” Terroriser commented, looking down at his phone which probably had a picture of the two of them kissing. He speaks again when he gets hit in the head with a water bottle from Tyler. “The fuck?”

“You send that to that Irish Prick and you’re dead. Don’t need him intervening more in my love life.”

“I thought I was the Irish Prick.”

“No, he’s the Irish Prick. You’re the Irish Cunt.”

“That explains a lot actually.”