"I find a great deal of charm in the word “ambiguity,” primarily in semantics, which I hold in higher regard than pronunciation, though I won’t say why. There’s something endearing in revealing so little as to keep others in a constant state of guessing. It allows for endless possibilities, endless assumptions conjured in the imaginations of the vexed. The boundary between angel and demon becomes blurred with a carefully placed “perhaps” or a momentary silence that hits that precise psychological pressure point in your listener. From that seed of uncertainty, planted skillfully in the mind of another, grows an image of secret romances, nighttime excursions to empty parking lots, a life apart from the one you’re living: a dark side. I love it. Nothing can make one so captivating as a hint of sin, be it fictitious or not. Our literature espouses this notion: Heathcliff, Gatsby, Edward Cullen, (forgive me for pairing him with the former two) a dark side allows our minds to escape the monotony of “being good.” Sin aside, we are fascinated with the abstract; our standard for deep is that we can’t understand it, an idea Camus put so beautifully: "That must be wonderful; I have no idea of what it means." Ambiguity is an empty space to be filled by something epic. In fact I’ve probably been too specific about why “ambiguity” is my favorite word as to lose any of the charm I wrote of, and my hopes rest in the fact that this essay doesn’t call for many personal details. I can be anything you imagine. Be creative."
- L.C.
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