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bending_sickleNot just opening doors; also closing them behind you, never to return. But the place you have left forever is always there for you to see whenever you shut your eyes.*
Slowly but surely I'm emptying out my apartment, transplacing everything to my uncle's place. The problem, of course, is that I really have no where to put all that stuff, and I can't just lug it all into boxes because there's still Ye Moving Process to do. Ye Moving Process involves heartbreaking decisions which would not be easy even if I had the art of clairvoyance. It involves looking at things and asking myself if they'll be necessary in my next step of existence. Will I need it? Use it? Miss it?
My brother's wandering around in Colorado of all places, apparently enjoying himself doing mountain climbing. I say "apparently" because of course, as Sister, I only get the barest glimmer of information from my brother. I honestly don't know my brother, not in the ways that count. (Don't say I know his personality, because I only get the Big Brother facet of who he is, which is radically different from who he is with most everyone else.) I don't know if my brother's realized that I don't know him, or that he doesn't know me. I've mentioned as much to him at times, but I just... I don't think he cares all that much anyway. And I think that's the hardest bit to accept. We're siblings, for crying out loud. Not that that in itself is much cause for celebration, or any particularly strong bond by itself. Being pretty much the only constant company we've had throughout each other's lives doesn't amount to all that much when we never kept that close company anyway. And I shudder to think of all those thousands of siblings who don't talk to each other, or keep in touch overmuch, or have any particularly strong relationship. Because it should be more, mean something, but...
I am obviously not overly coherent on this subject, and right now I don't care.
I showed my translated Undertow (Resaca, which is synonimous with "hangover") to Javier, the elder of my coworkers. (The one with diabetes, two heart surgeries, double by-pass and a shit-load of other things, who is an absolutely wonderful person. The one with whom I have the sort of relationship I should have with my dad, or a grandfather.) He liked it, so I've promised to translate All Things Copper (all 8 pages of it).
I watched Full Monty yesterday, and it was good. (My favorite bit has and always will be the way Gaz (i.e. RCarlyle) says, "bastard(s)".)
The weekend was spent full of people. Some were people I was going to describe as a "kissing cousin", but since it means, apparently, "A distant relative known well enough to be kissed when greeted.", that doesn't work. (In Spain, you kiss everyone, relative or not, when greeting.) What I mean is cousin, but only through marriage.
The people were:
My mom -> younger brother Cesar -> wife Ana -> sister A -> son David, daughter whatshername, and her boyfriend.
... Ana -> brother, his wife, their son
Yar?
(I would say a word on Cousin David, but there's the whole "oficially a cousin" thing in the way. Broadly speaking, though, he's due to start university soon, has a very easy laugh, is a very nice guy and a right catch for the appropriate lass. My other through-marriage cousins, who live in Cubelles, have a very sisterly-relation with him, and I was more than a tad envious. By which I mean, there was Little Childhood Me standing open-mouthed inside my head, jump-rope hanging limp in one hand, chin trembling because, damn it, it had never had relationships like that.)
It was Justi's (see below) birthday, so we all went to his parent's house and celebrated. Other people were there whom I'd met before, but I spent my time watching and listening.
... Ana -> sister B -> husband
Ah, fuck it. I was going to write stuff, but between a) not having anything to say, really, and b) not being able to be all that linear and coherent, much less interesting, I says nay.
Except that I'm a bit freaked out over Ze Unterlands vich arr Flat and all that entails.
Write to me, people. Show some signs of life, no matter how feeble.
* Jan Myrdal
Slowly but surely I'm emptying out my apartment, transplacing everything to my uncle's place. The problem, of course, is that I really have no where to put all that stuff, and I can't just lug it all into boxes because there's still Ye Moving Process to do. Ye Moving Process involves heartbreaking decisions which would not be easy even if I had the art of clairvoyance. It involves looking at things and asking myself if they'll be necessary in my next step of existence. Will I need it? Use it? Miss it?
My brother's wandering around in Colorado of all places, apparently enjoying himself doing mountain climbing. I say "apparently" because of course, as Sister, I only get the barest glimmer of information from my brother. I honestly don't know my brother, not in the ways that count. (Don't say I know his personality, because I only get the Big Brother facet of who he is, which is radically different from who he is with most everyone else.) I don't know if my brother's realized that I don't know him, or that he doesn't know me. I've mentioned as much to him at times, but I just... I don't think he cares all that much anyway. And I think that's the hardest bit to accept. We're siblings, for crying out loud. Not that that in itself is much cause for celebration, or any particularly strong bond by itself. Being pretty much the only constant company we've had throughout each other's lives doesn't amount to all that much when we never kept that close company anyway. And I shudder to think of all those thousands of siblings who don't talk to each other, or keep in touch overmuch, or have any particularly strong relationship. Because it should be more, mean something, but...
I am obviously not overly coherent on this subject, and right now I don't care.
I showed my translated Undertow (Resaca, which is synonimous with "hangover") to Javier, the elder of my coworkers. (The one with diabetes, two heart surgeries, double by-pass and a shit-load of other things, who is an absolutely wonderful person. The one with whom I have the sort of relationship I should have with my dad, or a grandfather.) He liked it, so I've promised to translate All Things Copper (all 8 pages of it).
I watched Full Monty yesterday, and it was good. (My favorite bit has and always will be the way Gaz (i.e. RCarlyle) says, "bastard(s)".)
The weekend was spent full of people. Some were people I was going to describe as a "kissing cousin", but since it means, apparently, "A distant relative known well enough to be kissed when greeted.", that doesn't work. (In Spain, you kiss everyone, relative or not, when greeting.) What I mean is cousin, but only through marriage.
The people were:
My mom -> younger brother Cesar -> wife Ana -> sister A -> son David, daughter whatshername, and her boyfriend.
... Ana -> brother, his wife, their son
Yar?
(I would say a word on Cousin David, but there's the whole "oficially a cousin" thing in the way. Broadly speaking, though, he's due to start university soon, has a very easy laugh, is a very nice guy and a right catch for the appropriate lass. My other through-marriage cousins, who live in Cubelles, have a very sisterly-relation with him, and I was more than a tad envious. By which I mean, there was Little Childhood Me standing open-mouthed inside my head, jump-rope hanging limp in one hand, chin trembling because, damn it, it had never had relationships like that.)
It was Justi's (see below) birthday, so we all went to his parent's house and celebrated. Other people were there whom I'd met before, but I spent my time watching and listening.
... Ana -> sister B -> husband
Ah, fuck it. I was going to write stuff, but between a) not having anything to say, really, and b) not being able to be all that linear and coherent, much less interesting, I says nay.
Except that I'm a bit freaked out over Ze Unterlands vich arr Flat and all that entails.
Write to me, people. Show some signs of life, no matter how feeble.
* Jan Myrdal
