Warning: The Majority of this is Personal Reflection and Opinion

Based on yesterday's discussion, I'm going to make the focus of this post the quote from the movie Waking Life. I copied the quote in it's entirety at the bottom of the post. Basically, it seems to me that the woman quoted could easily have just graduated from our class (or, as is more likely, a linguistics major). She gives an interesting theory on the development of language, saying that our communication basically started off as a survivalist feature. So we would express those things directly related to our physical needs. As it developed, however, we became capable of expressing more complex and abstract thoughts. Since we've been talking about this in class for months now, I'm not going to elaborate on my or anyone else's theory of how language came about. (Since Lera quite pointedly noted that those theories, while interesting and fun, are just stories, each equally plausible).
Instead, I'm going to concentrate on the problem of whether communication is realistically possible. We perceive language to be a functional form of communication: with our coded system of expression, we can communicate our ideas to each other. Obviously, I don't think anyone views language as a 'perfect' form of communication: there are obviously feelings, ideas, and intangible notions we can never truly express. But language has a method of grouping thoughts and feelings into general categories which allow us to achieve a generalized form of expression. For instance, if I feel a mixture of anger, annoyance, irritation, and impatience, but I can't label that mixture, language directs me to the word 'frustration' (the quote asks what the meaning of this word really is). But does that always mean that language directs us to the most adequate definition possible for our feelings? The idea that language can express our emotions seems to restrict our emotional spectrum to neatly compartmentalized categories, each more-or-less independent. However, I feel personally that this is not really how feelings work. I can feel a mixture of frustration and anguish, or simultaneous despair and joy, and language will never really give me a sufficient symbol to express such feelings. Is this due to a lack of vocabulary on my part or a lack in language to fully encompass my emotional scope? My hypothesis (though it's impossible to prove) is the latter.
Categorization is an inherent linguistic feature that creates a disconnect between how the world is and how we express its existence. In language, we as people need definition in order to differentiate anything. I can define myself through repeated categorization in order to differentiate myself from anyone else; this pyramid structure would look something like this: human -> male -> white -> brown hair -> blue eyes -> American ... (and on and on). This linguistic process is applied in order to differentiate everything: we have base definitions (like 'table') in dictionaries, and then we draw upon specific features in order to define and categories more specific objects.
Two problems arise from this: firstly, without a hugely specific definition, we never fully communicate what we have in our minds. Secondly, this divisive 'us and them,' 'this and that' construct presents a false conception of reality. Let me explain the first problem: if I have a picture in my mind (let's say a specific house or a specific table), and I attempt to describe this picture to someone drawing it, will they ever be able to draw the picture exactly as it is in my mind? If they don't, it's possible to default to the explanation that they have imperfect artistic skills. So what if I went to Da Vinci and asked him to draw what was in my mind? My personal theory is that, even if I were to describe a picture in my mind to someone with perfect artistic ability, they would still fail to recreate the picture in my mind exactly. This points to the idea that language can never fully communicate exactly what we're thinking of. When I say 'house,' the person I say it to gets a completely different idea in his mind of a house than I get in my mind, based on personal experience. This disconnect is amplified in the case of more intangible ideas, such as 'love'. Also, the person will never be able to approach painting the picture in my mind unless I define, redefine, and redefine specifically how the picture looks. Thus, language inherently enforces upon us a system of continuous redefinition in order to draw distinctions.
Now onto the second problem: does this construct give us a false conception of reality? My opinion is that it does. As I have noted, it seems impossible for language to fully encompass the ideas we are trying to express. However, another aspect of language's necessity of differentiation is that it may end up dividing things that are essentially interconnected, overlapping, or even the same. This takes me back to the initial example of emotion: we can never truly know how to express our feelings in an absolutist way that fully represents our specific feeling. We can't even be sure that other people feel emotions the same way (or to the same degree) as us. Thus, it's difficult to conclude that language's differentiation of emotions into categories is ever accurate. Is there really a difference between being 'angry' and 'mad,' between 'frustration' and 'irritation'? I think that, by dividing such feelings into categories, language enforces upon us a false construct of reality.
That's my rant/schpiel for today.

whole script: http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/w/waking-life-script-transcript-linklater.html

Creation seems to come out of imperfection.
It seems to come out of a striving and a frustration.
And this is where I think language came from.
I mean, it came from our desire to transcend our isolation...
and have some sort of connection with one another.
And it had to be easy when it was just simple survival.
Like, you know, "water." We came up with a sound for that.
Or, "Saber-toothed tiger right behind you." We came up with a sound for that.
But when it gets really interesting, I think,
is when we use that same system of symbols to communicate...
all the abstract and intangible things that we're experiencing.
What is, like, frustration? Or what is anger or love?
When I say "love,"
the sound comes out of my mouth...
and it hits the other person's ear,
travels through this Byzantine conduit in their brain,
you know, through their memories of love or lack of love,
and they register what I'm saying and say yes, they understand.
But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert.
They're just symbols. They're dead, you know?
And so much of our experience is intangible.
So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It's unspeakable.
And yet, you know, when we communicate with one another,
and we--
we feel that we have connected,
and we think that we're understood,
I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion.
And that feeling might be transient, but I think it's what we live for.