Much to my secret shame, I’m a fan of Jersey Shore – sort of. See, the issue I have is that I can’t stand the show, the cast, the grainy film effects, the dopey arguments, the slang, or pretty much any aspect of the show. But what I am absolutely, completely, head-over-heels, invite-bowling-with-my-high-school-friends, utterly in like with are the summaries of the show on sites like the Onion’s A.V. Club and Gawker. And on both sites, they made mention of the fact that any statement gains validity and truthfulness (and truthiness too, I suppose) when written down.
Everything that we say unrecorded lasts only in the moment it comes out into the world, and only lasts for as long as people think about it. Our thoughts can race by in fractions of a second. It’s all temporary, and despite their having existed and really happened, saying or thinking something doesn’t make it eternal or even a part of the world. But when you write it or record it, that’s something else.
When you have something in your hands, something on a screen, some thing that is tangible and physical and real enough to read or watch or listen to over and over and over, that’s when it becomes an actual thing. The Declaration of Independence wasn’t more than a discussion piece until it was written, and the Founding Fathers didn’t earn that title and become real revolutionaries until they signed it. Martin Luther King, Jr had a dream, but it wasn’t until it was broadcast to the four corners of the globe that other people understood that it could be a reality. When you can go back over something, analyze it, set it down and pick it up, when you can have it, that’s when it becomes existent and truthful.
Of course, it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. It might be a journal entry, a blog post, something spoken into a memo recorder app on your phone. Something small to stretch out a quick and fleeting piece of life into an almost-immortal message. With the tap of a few keys, the stroke of a pen or the push of a button, it’s done. And that makes all the difference.
Maybe there’s something you know is true and don’t want to admit. There could be an idea or thought bouncing around your head off and on for weeks. You might be stuck with the words that you want to shout from the rooftops filling a lump in your throat so big that you can’t even say it at a whisper. Commit it to record, and it will set you free. It all becomes something real, something true.
You can always look over what you can hold in your hand and say, “These are the things I was scared of, but now that they’re before me, it’s not so bad.” This is your voice outside of your body, moving from the confines of your psyche out into the world. You can tuck it away in your pocket, play it on your computer, or get rid of it; regardless of what happens to the object itself, you’ve gained physical control over it. And that can make all the difference.
Take out a small piece of paper and a pen and write something down that you’ve wanted to say. Fire up your webcam and record yourself singing a song, even if you’ve never sung aloud to any sort of audience. Get things out of the realm of thoughts and possibilities and into the realm of reality and doing. Push the seeds of potential through the topsoil and out into the air. Let the hidden and the unspoken reveal themselves, even if it’s only to you.
Things are much easier to understand when they have a component that we can understand, mold, and play with. It’s why we have words, symbols, art and stories. So why not create your own? It’s already there, waiting for you to take the next step.
The fear is that when the fiction becomes real, it’s committed forever. Once it’s on paper, it’s happened, and it’s law. But remember: there are erasers, shredders, delete buttons and even small, controlled fires. You can destroy just as easily as you create, and you can start over. But first you need to create.
So record your voice for the ages, and move your dreams out of the hidden corners of imagination. Admit to the things you’d thought you would keep away forever. Even if there will never be an audience, make it real. Otherwise, you’ll never understand what it really means to you. It could last for all time, or vanish in an instant.
