Writing

I don't know about you, whoever you are, but I like to write. I guess most people who have blogs do. I like to write down my impressions of life as it goes on, my thoughts... the stuff no one but me really cares about. I think I have like, 6 or 7 various spiral notebooks and the occasional journal that have pieces of me at different points in my life written in them. People have been giving me journals since I could scrawl out the letters of my own name, but for some reason I have always preferred spiral notebooks, random bits of paper and math notebooks- you know, the ones with the little squares printed on the pages. I think it's called graph paper in English (I never did understand that. We HAD to write on paper like that in Castefa, all the time, and graph paper was measured by millimeters and centimeters). And apart from my aversion to conventional journals, I don't write in my notebooks conventionally. The pages jump around. Some of them start at the back and go forward. Some have been rained on, some cried on (they both have similar effects, which I find comforting).
I remember one time on a bus at conference, the speaker for the week saw my writing in my current spiral notebook. He asked me if I were writing a journal, and then proceeded to tell me that his wife had filled dozens of them, saying that she'd go back and read them someday, and enjoy it, and that she never had. I was so saddened by that thought. Half the joy of writing is knowing you're preserving a piece of you that you can come back to later. You can read it, and recognize yourself; the two of you meet like old friends- no fuss, no need to test who you are/were. You know. So now I go back every once in a while, and I read what I wrote. What people wrote to me, in letters, e-mails.
This type of writing has a feel that no other writing does. Do you know what I mean? Most words are crafted together for others' eyes. But the ones that are compounded for your own (or a known friends') eyes only are somehow... friendlier. More comfortable. And the interesting thing is, I find that there are trends. Things that I have been thinking about for years, so much so that puzzling over them has become part of who I am. What's funny about it is, that I'll often start thinking anew about an old theme, and think that it's completely innovative, that I've never explored this idea before. Not quite sure why. It's confusing, to tell the truth.
At any rate, I don't think anyone will ever care to read about my life or my thoughts. They are only the type of things everyone thinks and goes through. Sometimes I wonder if it would be more profitable to write about the things that actually happen to me, rather than what I think about them. Still who knows?
over 'n out.

Gift of Tounges

Lately I've been thinking about languages. How people communicate has always fascinated me. And then I began to think about languages in my life...
1. learning to read/write German before English (my mothertounge)
2. keeping my German, though dormant for 9 years, fairly fluent
3. becoming fluent in Spanish and Catalan between ages 9 and 10
4. despite #1, having very good language skills in English
5. being able to pronounce decently in Chinese- enough to surprise J, the native speaker who was teaching me
6. automatically making Slavic "l" sounds after watching Most, a Polish short film.

Clase de Mates

Estabamos sentados en clase de mates. El profe, un tal Capafons, nos habia sentado por orden de lista, y la lista me habia puesto al lado de un chico. Se llamaba Alex Castro, pero todos le llamaban Castro. Yo casi no lo conocia, por entonces.
Ese dia, estaba de mal humor. El profe nos habia puesto varios problemas algebraicos para resolver, y todos trabajaban (bueno, en teoria) estudiosamente. Con el Capafons no se bromeaba, era de esos profes super estrictos y claro, a nadie le gustaba. Tenia un talento para echar bronca de manera que te dejaba sin palabras. Era el maestro de la ironia y de alguna manera hacia que pareciera que eras tu, el que te habias hecho el tonto.
Bueno, como decia, el Castro estaba de mal humor ese dia en particular. Yo, que por entonces aun estaba en mi fase mas timida, me preocupaba por mi trabajo. Castro, que se habia frustrado con un problema, levanto la mano para que viniera el profe para ayudarle. El profe, que veia que el Castro estaba intentando de buena gana resolver el problema, se lo volvio a explicar, intentando obligarle que pensara y al final lo resolviera el solo. En medio de una explicacion, me pregunto a mi si tenia razon- para llamarme la atencion, mas que nada. Me habria visto mirarlos de reojo, escuchando secretamente lo que estaban hablando. Recuerdo muy claramente que el Castro le interrumpio diciendo enfadado: "Dejala, profe, que esta en su mundo!"
Yo los ignore a los dos. El profe dijo, "No te creas... ella nota mas de lo que tu pienses." o algo por el estilo. Volvieron a hablar de las mates.
Ultimamente me he acordado un par de veces de ese momento. No se exactamente por que. Supongo que sera porque he estado pensando en como conoci a las personas en mi vida que acabaron siendo importantes. En los anyos siguientes, llegue a conocer mejor al Castro. Incluso nos hicimos amigos. Es curioso, no, como son de diferentes la manera en que piensas de una persona cuando aun no la conoces, y la manera en que piensas de el o ella si ya llevas tiempo conociendole? En esta nueva etapa de mi vida, miro a la gente a mi alrededor. Pienso en la manera en que los conozco y me pregunto cuales de ellos seran importantes en mi futuro.
No se si fue muy importante, aquella clase de mates. Pero me alegro de recordarla, aunque sea por el mero hecho de saber que tengo un pasado, una historia.

A, y perdona por la falta de acentos- este punyetero teclado ingles me raya mas de lo que puedo expresar. T.T

Several

I have thought of several things, lately, that I could write about on here. Deep, useful, insightful things. Curious things. Things that would probably interest only me. Funny things.
But at this moment, in this instant of the rushing, sliding, slithering thing that is time, I feel the need to communicate one thought to the void:

I cannot (coherently) write (papers) after 11:30 PM.
Not if I want to get readable, non-stupid results.

With that, I bid the void good night.

(Do voids notice night? Would they care if they did? Why should they? What would a map of the internet look like?)

The Most Beautiful Christmas Carol

Oh Holy Night

Oh holy night,
the stars are brightly shining
it is the night
of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world
in sin and error pining
'til he appeared,
and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope,
the weary world rejoices;
for yonder breaks
a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees
oh hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine!
oh night, when Christ was born.
Oh night divine
oh night, oh night divine.

I like this hymn, mostly I think because of the second and third verses. Kind of reminds me of Anne oGG- a thrill of hope. Such wonderful words. A thrill of hope. Can you imagine?

don't let me rest

It has now been 12 weeks- 3 months since college started. Since August 23rd, I have not spent even 24 hours away from this campus. I have gotten some strange looks and many questions about this decision. Let me try to explain the reasons behind and the effects of this decision.
I have a history of moving. My parents and I counted it up one time, I think we've had just over 20 residences since they've had me- including changing countries various times. The upshot of this history is, I know how to move. I know what it feels like. So when I moved to college, I decided that I would treat it like moving anywhere else: I would dive in. Completely. Once here, there was no going back to the things I knew or the things I was accustomed to. That's one reason that I did not leave.
Of course, like all moves, it has been exhausting at times. There have been weeks where I just had no energy, no... desire left in me to try to engage this new world. But with the help of friends both old and new, I managed to move through, and persevere.
Now, as it turns out, though I have made much progress, I am exhausted. Burnt out is too strong a word, but it's close. If I let myself rest though...
Who knows what will happen when I have to come back? That, friends, is my dilemma. As Thanksgiving and Christmas approach I have to wonder if it will be better for me to go back to places and people I am comfortable with, though parting will be sorrowful.
I don't know...
I just want to make it.
Is this what grown-up life is always like?

So today in class we were talking about sustainability and such. I found myself being angry, and not wanting to participate, and I'm not entirely sure why. The thing about it is, I didn't feel like I had anything to say, really. I mean, sure I've been told my whole life that it's important to turn the light off when you leave a room, not leave the water running while you brush your teeth, etc, but when you get really deep into thinking about it, and how one could make sustainability work... it just ends up making my head hurt. How can one possibly get so many people motivated? How can you get the rich people to give up their riches? There just isn't any viable way that I can see. I'm all for saving paper and recycling, and being sparing and such, but... I don't know, I just think that it will be very difficult to make the change in modern society that seems to be required.

The fact of the matter is that it's all about leading people. SOMEone has to have good leadership skills and be able to move things along- and when I say leadership skills, I don't just mean convincing people that there are things that need to be done. I mean basic motivation. It goes back to the basic motivation for doing things. Here I am, using this writing tool that "punishes" me if I don't continue to write. Why is that? Because I can't motivate myself to write on my own. It's the same with people on a larger scale. Unless there are consequences- visible consequences, that is, because there are always consequences- for the things we do, the products we waste and make, there is no way people are going to want to change. Another problem is that the problem is SO widespread. The people who do the consuming are so far from the people doing the producing. And they have no immediate power to change what is being done. The only thing we are consistently told will help is doing things like turning lights off, using as little water as possible, unplugging appliances- a.k.a., doing our best not to use the resources that are already being exploited. The problem with that is, there's no way it will ever change the system. There is no way that simply using less will
ever stop the system because, no matter how little we are actually using, there will always be enough people using the system to keep it in profits. No matter how small those profits may be, they are more than the system would get by trying to re-write itself. The only way the system will be re-written is if a) the vast majority of people decide to change it or b) it becomes so unprofitable that the only way the people running it can keep their way of life is if they pitch in with changing the system. I don't see how that can happen.