to 2015, about 2014


[Is it awkward that blogging feels awkward because I very seldom do it? Why do I even have blogs? Seriously, like.]

So yep, I don't blog a lot, but this year has been intense, and I kind of want to wrap it up a bit. Not with a party, no. More like, with a bit of thinking.
Here's a tip, now: the best way to organize your ideas is to verbalize them having in mind as heterogeneous a public as you cat get. Yeah, I mean "the Internet".

Let's go back to the intenseness of this year, so. Umh.

2014 didn't start well for me, my family, or the people I was close to at the time.
And then, it didn't get better.

Generally speaking, I spent the first few months wishing that at the New Years' Eve celebration, somehow, I had been tranported to some shitty parallel reality, from which I'd eventually come back. So maybe I'm still trapped here...
But to be honest, right now I believe that would have been too good. "Good" didn't belong to my 2014.

Because of this, I think that I'm going to make a list and I also think that it will be no easy task. But nice things are there even if we fail to notice them (that wasn't me, it was a mantra thingy. I'm miserable and bitter. Optimism is for tossers. And so on), so I'm going to write down the things that happened during 2014 and which make me feel good.

- Hyuna. All about her.
- Going back to work with kids. They're honest little people.
- Fiding out friends. As in, realising for the first time that a certain individual is a true friend who values me and worries about my wellbeing, and whom I value and about whose wellbeing I worry.
- My Degree End Research Project. Lexical borrowing processes from Old English to the Renaissance, if ay of you want to throw some ideas.
- Seeing again people I'd missed.
- Having money. This is one if the things that has changed most since last Christmas. And it may sound as crappy as you like, but feeling ok about my economic status rather that it keeping me from sleeping- a blessing. And being able to buy things, both for me and for other people, and from other people, nice.
- I've read a lot this year. Highlight: I've discovered Terry Pratchet. Oh, is he good.

That's it.

Now, to this coming year, I'd like to ask one single thing: let us all find out that the decisions we made in 2014 were the right ones.
I've got no resolutions and no promises to make in return for that favour, so the only thing I can offer is the knowledge that, upon taking those decisions, I did the best I could. I hope that's enough and if it's not, then there's nothing I can change anyway.


I'll just write here a bit

... because I like blogging.

I do, really.

My constancy sucks, but so does everything else :)

Now, to the matter.

I've probably told here before of my job in summer camps.
So well, I came back from Ireland earlier this year, generally speaking, because everything sucks, and it's summer now. That means summer job. That means summer camp.

That means children.
Oh, yes, those.

I don't think I can hate them any more than I already do.

I mean, they've got this way of asking things and you don't realise and suddenly you are not taking advantage of your free afternoons to study for your September exams anymore, because instead you are writing a play and making the costumes and stage decorations for that play and you are also planning a camping trip with them and you are also thinking of effective ways of teaching them how to draw elvish warriors riding dragons, when you can't even draw that yourself and they get frustrated in step one- draw an oval.

["Why do you always get your ovals right?"
"My oval looks like a potato, I'm gonna start over." *takes a new piece of paper*
"But how do you draw an oval?"
"Don't say you just learnt, someone must have taught you to properly draw ovals"
"This is impossible- can't we draw a face without an oval?"]

I don't think every person dealing with children ends up like this... there must be some secret word or something, to stop them from having ideas...



Memories (and you may all go and decide I'm a nerd now- I'm still a proud one.)

In these past days, two unrelated yet very related memories came back to me.

First one I remembered the other day (I actually think it was yesterday, but my perception of time is so very messed up lately, I can never know). I was FB texting the Firetruck (that annoying being- I can only picture his stupid perpetual smile, but everytime I talk to him he is crossed, or sarcastic, or sad, or an emo, or not happy in any other way. And he is too amazing for that shit)and at one point he said the following:
"[P]oor you, spending your time in an studyship you chose in order to find a job you love."

And it reminded me. it remimded me of my 20 year old "self" (who was barely a self at all), that miserable thing, being put to study English without even being asked about it. Of course I didn't say a thing, because, well, I do love what I am doing, but I remembered, I felt. I felt the urge to escape that life people were shaping for me without my consent, I remembered hating it and everybody so much.

That's my first memory.

My second memory arised after the community reunion this morning, or maybe two weeks ago. There exists this omnipresent talkative neighbour (she tends to be there when my mother's reserve is saving me some embarrasment, and likes to compensate), and my birthday is about to come, so of course she started relating her -very reshaped- memories of my childhood. And it brought my own back.
She was narrating how much I loved being cared for by her daughter and how happy I was at those times, and it made me picture myself being happy while I did that that made me happy.
I... developed writing systems, inventing their symbold, deciding what sounds were and were not represented (for they were writing systems for imagined languagues), and which ones were to be written in dygraphs.
I also read enciclopaedia entries and investigated the evolution of letters and their different shapes in the écritures of old times. I looked at them and enjoyed the fascination they made me feel.
I asked my mom to write things for me using greek letters so that I could decipher it.
I read Asterix comics in French to try and grasp some of the meaning.
I searched the internet for a glossary of Old Irish words (who wan't modenr languages when there is obsolete ones abound?) and memorised them.
I read an old Latin diccionary and copied down words that I found interesting.

I lived for them, for all the words in all the languages, for all the ways in which both changed, chifted, evolved, all this time.

I quote Christabel LaMotte now.
"Words have been all my life, all my life."



(wow, I wasn't aware I hadn't written here for such a long time)

Actually, I had been thiking of posting some ideas here for the last few days but I had eventually decided not to because there is nothing to gain from "ohmygodmylifesuckssobadI'msomiserable" posts.

But then today life sucked worse that usually, and I still wanted to be a good girl, but my friends wouldn't help me, and suddenly I found myself changin my fb profile picture for one in which I was 14 and suicidal, and then writing a post/joke about my fb page being suicidal itself (in which, for the record, I encouraged it to be strong and not kill itself).

And friends, a friend, one very dear friend who has been really helpful and good to me before, well, him, couldn't think of anything else to do but scol me for laughing at suicide when I'm only just trying hard to ridiculize the idea of my own suicide, because, as it happens, I do wish I wasn't alive. And it's just that it made me feel so bad, because he, well, maybe it was just me being paranoid, but my sensation has been that he wasn't being any great lately, and God, it would help if he were.

So whatever.
Suicide humour sucks, yeah, exactly as much as being me does, and I'm fucking free to laugh at it if I want to, the last thing I need is people making me feel worse.