If you know me, and you should by now, if you've been reading the nearly 700 blog spots that are on this blog, you would know that I am a writer. I am an English major, I hold a Masters in English, but also another Masters track in Writing. When you write you find yourself using several different punctuation marks to help your readers better understand your message; we all know this. One of the most misunderstood, misused, and misplaced punctuation marks is (the) Semicolon. I really shouldn't even have capitalized it just now, but because it is going to be referred to as a proper noun I will do so.
Semicolon can be a little tricky bastard at times. Webster’s Dictionary says (and I quote) “a punctuation mark; used chiefly in a coordinating function between major sentence elements (such as independent clauses of a compound sentence)” When I teach my English students, I tell them that Semicolon (not capitalized) is not two words but one. They argue, I prove, we move forward. I also teach them that Semicolon was not introduced into civil language until the mid-1500s in the Italian language, but because it is the very same symbol that the Greeks used for their question mark, it is considerably older, and it enjoys a dual responsibility. Semicolons separate clauses rather than introducing them. Semicolons are meant to be yield signs, if you will. I tell them they can use it to replace a comma, they can use it to separate independent clauses, and they can use it to separate dependent clauses from independent clauses. It’s usually about that time I tend to lose a few kids; only the strong minded will survive.
Today, Semicolon (remember, it’s a name now, not a mark) is being utilized once again as a means of recognition or awareness for various mental issues, depression, or even suicide awareness. It’s for this cause I’ve decided to add Semicolon to my wrist as a way to show the world that I too am standing with them in their struggles; I want to yield to their needs. If I can be a better servant to someone I want to be, and if they can glance over and see that I have Semicolon prominently placed on my left wrist they may be brave enough to reach out and speak to me about whatever it is that haunting them. Maybe I can answer a question for them. Maybe I can give them a light to take down their path. It’s worth a little ink and pain to be able to help a would-be victim of mental anguish.
There was a time I would say that I don’t get depressed; I get angry instead. For the most part this statement is true. I just simply never have had the time to be depressed and I was one of those jerks who would say “Get over it”, “push through it”, “stop whining” and so forth. I was always quite capable of pulling myself out of a funk by either working out, writing, going horseback riding, or just being bull-headed enough to force myself to stop feeling sorry for myself. I had things to do, I didn’t have time to sit around moping! That was me. Jerk.
As an adult I have worked with the mentally ill at the state level through an agency job that led me to a new level of understanding. I know there are still those who just don’t want to recover and prefer to stay under the pressure; the pressure is familiar to them, and whether or not it is a good thing it is a familiar thing; therefore, they accept their fate with it. I want to be able to change that for even one person who chooses to believe in themselves or will choose to allow Jesus the opportunity to change their fate for them.
So, there it is. Maybe 2020 sucked for the most part for most of the people I know, but it’s made me more aware of the need to be ready and willing to reach out to try and help. Next week I’ll try to find a tattoo artist who can dot me up and give me the all too powerful Semicolon (again, no capitalizing. I don’t want one of my students saying it’s OK because I did it!) Let’s do this.
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