Erklärungsnot

On a typical day, at least a hundred thoughts run through the head of a writer. Out of these, possibly a dozen have the potential to turn into a masterpiece. The reason all of this doesn’t end up on paper? I’ve got one word––Word.

Finding the right word to describe the plethora of thoughts and the subtle emotions associated with them is arguably the hardest part about being a writer.

How do you describe a 300-foot rocket crafted with utmost precision and not make it seem like a paper rocket that can hardly take off? The answer to this is the same as the answer to – whom would you turn to for the sexiest car you can own?
Germans.

The sheer number of words the German language has that describe the most inexplicable of feelings leaves me in erklärungsnot.
Erklärungsnot. The agony of not having an explanation.

Too often in life, we reach a crossroad and can’t quite tell which road got us there or why we chose that particular route.
Why do we do the things we do?
Why is up called up, and not down?
Why is the color blue not yellow?
Why do dogs bark and humans talk?
Why does the sun shine and the moon reflect?
Why does a minute feel like an hour at certain times, and like a second at others?
Why do each of us find peace in such varied quests?
Why are we all not attracted to the same things?
Why are we so alike, yet so different?
Why do you have an inner voice that is reading this?
Why are you alive in this moment?

I may not have an explanation to all or any of these questions, but I take comfort in the fact that I can explain the lack of an explanation. Erklärungsnot.