oh dear sweet jesus...
i went to the trafford centre today..yes, that's right. i, na of the lowly shire, went to the holy of holies of shoe-worhip and visa offerings and cosmetic atonement..
on a bank holiday weekend
in half-term
literally, it seemed the world and his wife and his neighbour and their screaming two-year-olds were there, and all trying to spend money and fill their bags and pockets with things to make them happy
consumerism rules, sally declared, as we trumphed in finding a parking space after half-an-hour of looking.., and we joined the throng about to begin the five-mile hike from the car-park which as far as we could tell was in chorlton, to the sacred shopping space..
it glows, its glows with sale signs and electronic tags on clothes and phone-tariff offers and all-you-can-eats and fountains befitting most palaces and chip-and-pins and tired, streched arms from the increasing bag-loads....
truth be told, i got what i needed, an outfit from shona's wedding next week, in the first ten minutes...but then, i had the necessary and more more enjoyable hunt for accessories....and sally needed shoes..and a hat...its all wedding-related, its all-important, its all-consumering..
and so we passed several hours, mooching, getting lost, taking wrong turns, hissing at couples who walk at a snail's pace in front of you, their hands in each-others' back pockets, and booed at screaming tearaways and (i, at least) glared at parents who not only have buggies but then one pushes the buggy while one takes the child out and "walks" with them holding their hand on what may only realistically be the second day that child has been walking...why, why?
its not even that you're in a rush, its sunday, what do you care? but, its more that when you can't rush, you want to..and also that - for me anyway - i hate to feel herded. i mean, its not as bad as ikea where your route is actually planned out and arrowed for you, but still, i just felt like such a statistic. like when you read about language degree students who all end up working in public service administration, or read about facebook in the observer and all the statistics on it, of which you are merely one...
i hate that feeling..
i love my outfit so much though!
its complicated, isn't it, trying to live without material hunger but also enjoying the process of piecing combinations of clothes together in a way that makes you look nice and feel good and, i mean, its your cousin's wedding, you can't turn up looking in a mess....
the whole thing blows my head slightly, that i hate to see people so avidly spending money and accumulating stuff, but at the same time, being in on it, and knowing that to whatever extent, you'll always be in on it...
domingo, mayo 27, 2007
miércoles, mayo 02, 2007
martes, mayo 01, 2007
the age of silence
there is a book, much-aforementioned on these pages, called -the history of love- which is about a book, called -the history of love- in the made up book that the book itself is about, there is a passage called the age of silence
you might say that has been the recent age in the life of my blog.
i apologise.
but on the same note, this morning i was listening as usual to radio four's -today- programme, and heard a piece about some scientists who have concluded that some kinds of apes do in fact communicate with a rudimentary sign language, hand gestures that seem to be well-used and universally understood among whatever that species is.
in the book, there is an age, in the history of love, like we would talk about the bronze age or stone age, called the age of silence, in which all communication is executed via hand gestures and body language.
since most of you haven't read the lovely book, i will tell you right now why it is so lovely.
read this:
"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.
During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one's face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one's lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn't go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they'd understood correctly. Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of course I know I've always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me."
ahhhh
read it, breathe it in...lovely, isn't it?!
now, that was complete gratuitously lazy blogging there on my part, not even my own words but just giving your someone else's so i can feel blog-satisfied. again, i apologise
in other news, i have new shoes..a new boss..new things to do at work..the wedding season is upon me, i have been drunk twice in the last week (i like to think those last two are not, as yet, connected!)
i have started reading -cloud atlas- for the imminent reconvening of book club, and i have booked my mini holiday to the swansea seaside for a few weeks' time...
its been all-go, you see....
i spent a delightful day at the skate park on sunday, feeling old and frumpy but in spite of all that i enjoyed it alot. it was slightly reminiscent of being on the stall with russell, peskykids everywhere and no-one knowing what's going on.
i have been being challenged, of late, to write more. and more intentionally, with more than just passing the time (my own or yours..) in mind, but with a mind to actually saying something, in the small vain hope that someone who doesn't already love me might want to read it. might even like it.
also, hands up who remembers the lawyer-debate, of this sort of time last year...?! that was fun, hey, how glad am i that it was just a journey and not a destination! well anyway a new wave of job scoping has swept over me, its a wave made up of dread, fear, and yet more dread, for the vision slash big idea is me running away from the idea of training to be a social worker.
nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i hear you cry
no wait, that was me...
thing is, i've never met a happy social worker....or a healthy one, rarely a nice one..they don't have time to be nice, or energy to be happy, or freedom to fix things or money to sort stuff out..the list goes on...
i really hope its just one of those stepping-stone things, you know..you think about something for a while, you get good and bad ideas about it, you figure out a bit more about what you actually want or are capable of, and a whole load more about what you don't want to do or be or become, and then you move on, better informed and with another thing crossed off the list...
that's what i'm hoping this is all about.
turns out though, the uk social work qualification is more or less -translated- the exact same as the spanish one...
that's the part that scares me, you see, because eventually after nine months of being back after barcelona, when god finally decided to tell me why i was back and what the deal was, part of the deal was that i wouldn't go back to spain until i had qualified in something that was actually needed in spain, unlike more tefl teachers who are now vastly underemployed and becoming beach bums instead...
so you know, i don't know...i don't have The Fear like i did with the lawyer thing, but i think that's mainly because i'm banking on it just being a bit of a lark for a few weeks til god let's me move on...
who's with me...!?!?!
well, its nice to be back...love you x x
you might say that has been the recent age in the life of my blog.
i apologise.
but on the same note, this morning i was listening as usual to radio four's -today- programme, and heard a piece about some scientists who have concluded that some kinds of apes do in fact communicate with a rudimentary sign language, hand gestures that seem to be well-used and universally understood among whatever that species is.
in the book, there is an age, in the history of love, like we would talk about the bronze age or stone age, called the age of silence, in which all communication is executed via hand gestures and body language.
since most of you haven't read the lovely book, i will tell you right now why it is so lovely.
read this:
"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.
During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one's face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one's lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn't go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they'd understood correctly. Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of course I know I've always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me."
ahhhh
read it, breathe it in...lovely, isn't it?!
now, that was complete gratuitously lazy blogging there on my part, not even my own words but just giving your someone else's so i can feel blog-satisfied. again, i apologise
in other news, i have new shoes..a new boss..new things to do at work..the wedding season is upon me, i have been drunk twice in the last week (i like to think those last two are not, as yet, connected!)
i have started reading -cloud atlas- for the imminent reconvening of book club, and i have booked my mini holiday to the swansea seaside for a few weeks' time...
its been all-go, you see....
i spent a delightful day at the skate park on sunday, feeling old and frumpy but in spite of all that i enjoyed it alot. it was slightly reminiscent of being on the stall with russell, peskykids everywhere and no-one knowing what's going on.
i have been being challenged, of late, to write more. and more intentionally, with more than just passing the time (my own or yours..) in mind, but with a mind to actually saying something, in the small vain hope that someone who doesn't already love me might want to read it. might even like it.
also, hands up who remembers the lawyer-debate, of this sort of time last year...?! that was fun, hey, how glad am i that it was just a journey and not a destination! well anyway a new wave of job scoping has swept over me, its a wave made up of dread, fear, and yet more dread, for the vision slash big idea is me running away from the idea of training to be a social worker.
nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i hear you cry
no wait, that was me...
thing is, i've never met a happy social worker....or a healthy one, rarely a nice one..they don't have time to be nice, or energy to be happy, or freedom to fix things or money to sort stuff out..the list goes on...
i really hope its just one of those stepping-stone things, you know..you think about something for a while, you get good and bad ideas about it, you figure out a bit more about what you actually want or are capable of, and a whole load more about what you don't want to do or be or become, and then you move on, better informed and with another thing crossed off the list...
that's what i'm hoping this is all about.
turns out though, the uk social work qualification is more or less -translated- the exact same as the spanish one...
that's the part that scares me, you see, because eventually after nine months of being back after barcelona, when god finally decided to tell me why i was back and what the deal was, part of the deal was that i wouldn't go back to spain until i had qualified in something that was actually needed in spain, unlike more tefl teachers who are now vastly underemployed and becoming beach bums instead...
so you know, i don't know...i don't have The Fear like i did with the lawyer thing, but i think that's mainly because i'm banking on it just being a bit of a lark for a few weeks til god let's me move on...
who's with me...!?!?!
well, its nice to be back...love you x x
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