I was hanging out with Julia and Simon the other night and I realized something. I started thinking about common languages.
My most cohesive language community was in college. The best way I can describe it is an episode of ST:TNG, Darmok. This alien race spoke a metaphoric language. If you didn’t understand the proper nouns, the circumstance they were describing and the emotion it evoked then it didn’t matter if you understood the words. Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra.
Ours was a language not really of metaphor, but so dependent on obscure pop culture references it might as well have been. To this day if you put Kiefer and I in a room together I think eventually something would be too little too late. Brooke knows his name isn’t Warren. And Gavin, well Gavin was always trying to save us from ourselves.
It was so pervasive that even now, when I watch tv and movies adding bits and pieces to my lexicon is an almost unconscious habit. I think a lot of people have a common language of this sort. There’s a reason we call it pop culture. Sometimes it’s the obvious Jordan Catalano and Jake Ryans of life. Sometimes it’s the smaller daft hippie moments. Except I might as well be saying oh fooey I burned the darn muffins because no one else is listening.
To be fair, if I told Julia I shot him in the leg, she’d probably giggle. But she wouldn’t know why Sheppard gets to be Mr. Fantastic and I can’t really blame her because Torri Higginson wasn’t my favorite Dr. Weir either. She would understand how much fun a sarcophagus could be.
Cat would be five by five with the whole monkey pants debate, or any pants for that matter. And she’s known a Logan or two.
Bev knows I lost my shoe. Jeff even knows that one because he lost his shoe once.
They’re colorful splashes of friendships peppered with a common and esoteric language. It’s fun to be a part of them and it’s fun to be understood.
And I write all this today because I’ve come to accept there are languages I speak and I don’t know anyone that understands them. sine qua non.