"Words, words, words"

Every time I come to write something for my blog, I seem to get a severe case of writer's block. I have so many ideas and thoughts that float through my conscious mind but whenever I sit down and actually try to write them out, the words always appear to die before they reach through my fingers to the computer keys. I'm not sure if this is a very good habit to form, and so I am endeavoring to break it by simply writing and attempting to express my reflections in intelligent conversations with others. Often times I struggle to compose my thoughts without first expressing them through spoken language. By talking out loud, I am forced to understand the concepts first, form a viewpoint and flush out any fallacious ideas before I begin the actual writing process. And although I am not always afforded this luxury, I am extremely grateful for any opportunity when I can employ this method. I began to think about all of this during the course of yesterday evening. How amazing is our Creator, that He has endowed in us an ability to not only reason and emote, but to then be able to communicate those thoughts and feelings to other immortal souls through language? I just finished reading Frankenstein , and I was struck by one curious topic that arose. In all of the campy, melodramatic, and often faulty renditions of Frankenstein produced throughout the years, the monster always seems to communicate through a series of groans or moans before he rushes fulfill his "animal" desires by murdering another innocent human being. However, in the novel, through months and even years of painstaking effort, the monster learns the language of men and becomes so eloquent that he is able to persuade Victor Frankenstein that a female companion must be made to afford him any happiness in a world that otherwise abhors his presence. Why did so many adaptations neglect to give him the power of speech? I mean, isn't that exactly what it is? Power? The monsters in all of the bad Saturday matinee movies are rarely given this faculty, alienating them from anything that even appears remotely human in an attempt to make them more frightening and remove us from sentiments of pity or compassion. However, when Frankenstein's monster speaks in a tongue recognizable to human ears, doesn't that make the situation somewhat more frightening? But then why is this more frightening? Perhaps it's because we recognize that a man has unlocked the key to existence and given life to a being, defying all of the natural and moral laws, and yet that being is able to experience and communicate feelings and ideas that are characteristic of mankind and even appears to possess a soul. As I read Frankenstein, I felt compelled to pity the monster as he related his tragic tale and his simple desire for companionship and love. But each time Frankenstein himself would provide prospective by relating the horrifying details of another of the monster's blood-thirsty and vengeful crimes. Isn't it simply amazing how our attitudes can shift with such celerity? One minute we watch Boris Karloff moan as he tosses a young girl into a lake, and we simply shutter at the grotesque spectacle, but the next, with the simple addition of spoken language, we pity and are almost inveigled by the monster's eloquent speeches. Should we feel pity for Frankenstein's monster? a living being created through man's skill yet in possession of what appears to be a soul? In the end, the monster doesn't seem to think so. But I'm still not sure. Perhaps I still need to think about it and discuss it some more....