Is it possible?

               First I will tell you all, I am a BIG dork. Yes, I'm a goofy, lovable (mostly), weird but normal, dork! You may have already figured that out. You might already know me, in which case, feel free to skip ahead. It is not a cut on myself I feel lucky that dorkiness is a part of who I am.
              Now that that's clear, my question, "Is it possible?", relates to my dorkiness. If I can manage to 'out dork' myself continually throughout my life, is it really possible to be even more dorky in a new language? I know, for me it's not hard to be a dork, for me it's a bit like melting ice cream. You can keep eating it. You can keep licking up the drips. However, you can not stop the ice cream from melting or your hands from getting sticky. It's just nature taking it's course.
             Well, on my way home from yet another interview today, I was thinking in Spanish again. I was trying however to think of things that might work as idioms or quick comebacks, etc.. All of the sudden this came to mind, '¡Habla!, a la mano.' Now, for those of you who don't know Spanish and even those of you who do....I'll translate what I was thinking. 'Talk to the hand!'
             The first problem with this: I have absolutely no idea if this works, not only in Spanish, but culturally. There is a second problem, which might even big a bigger one. If I can't even manage to say it in English with convincing attitude, what in the world makes me think that I could in any way, shape or form pull it off in a language I am JUST beginning to get a grip on? You see the problem right?
              Unfortunately, it is now stuck in my head. It's rattling around there just looking for a chance to leap out of my mouth at the most inopportune moment. I can just feel it. So really that is where the question truly begins. That moment, the one that may or may not happen. If the time comes, and those words fly ridiculously through the air at someone... and I of course start laughing at my own joke (because I AM a dork!).
             Have I then become a bigger dork in my second language?

Food for thought anyway.

kimbersfrog

Thanks for your Support....

                This is probably going to be an anomaly for me. I am going to write a bit about the conversation I just had with my boyfriend. NO, not the details or the mushy bits, I just think the heart of the conversation needs to be observed. 
                Today, other than being a wee bit pessimistic in the morning, I had a pretty good day. Rainy mornings can bring out pessimism in anyone who is going to hang their laundry out to dry. Lucky for me, the day brightened up, my laundry dried, and I got to have Spanish conversations all over the place. That might be a mild exaggeration, but I did converse with more than just my boyfriend's family, which is a good step. I took some video of the kids (nieces and nephews) and went home.
               Once inside, I started to work on some verb conjugations, which oddly is comforting to me. I know, it's weird, but I have learned to just enjoy the calm. This evening the calm, the comfort, they were escaping me. All I could think about was the woman I talked to in the store. She like me was a customer, but unlike other customer run-ins I've had, we actually conversed. Oh, yeah.... and I understood her! What's more, she understood me. Right, I know. You think I'm making it all up. Think it if you want, but at least I will always have that chat.
               I am glad to always be able to have that conversation. Surprisingly it had a delayed side-effect. Who knew? This little chat that had made me so happy in the store, was not just deflating me later, but I was in danger of being drowned by it. I kept thinking, 'She understood me, that was clear.' But the most important part to me, created the question that was haunting me. 'Did she understand what I meant with the right connotation?' And that, my friends, is what started to mess with my mind.
              If I didn't care about nuance, details, or love language then I probably would have absolutely no issue right now. Unfortunately, I find language absolutely fascinating. I happen to think that if you can find the word or combination of words that give your thoughts or description or action the exact meaning, you can create magic. There are so many wonderful words. If you choose one word over another that means virtually the same thing, the word you choose can make or break your description depending on it's connotation. These nuances exist whether we have language or not to express them. And I am admittedly spoiled in having a large vocabulary in my native language with which to express myself. Now I find myself at a loss.
              The most ridiculous part is my Spanish is rapidly improving. This particular conversation, that took me by surprise (never does that bode well for my conversational skills) should have been a mood lifter. Period. All I could think about once I got home was, I don't know all the connotations in Castellano. I need to know them to properly express myself. No one will really know me until I can really truly say what I mean, connotations and all.
             Later when my boyfriend called, I told him about it. I almost didn't because I wanted to make sure he knew, I was not regretting anything. It's just something I know I am going to go through here and there, but I might need some support at times. He is the perfect person to talk to about this. Although he didn't move to a country that didn't speak his native tongue for the same reasons, he still did it. When he first moved from Spain, it was to Britain. He had no English, other than 'Hi' ,'hello', maybe one or two other words. So in short he had nothing to go on. Tonight I needed his support as my boyfriend, but I also needed his support as my friend.
             Do you know what? He came through. He didn't hand me bull and tell me, 'Oh, you will know it by tomorrow.' He did however, kindly point out that I had only been here for two months. And reminded me of some of his trials in communication whilst learning English. He let me talk about it as long as I needed to, and then we went on to other things.

           My point being, sometimes when someone has really done well by you. It needs to be pointed out. Thanks babe.
kimbersfrog

Boys wil be boys....heeheehee

              I know this may not be an entry of a disturbing incident, deep emotion, or even anything shocking. I absolutely have to tell it though. It's quick and silly, but anyone who remembers their youth at all or anyone who has a child will be able to chuckle at this.
              After getting my groceries and desperately needed toilet paper, I started on my short walk home. It must have rained quickly whilst I was in the store, because the streets were wet but not soaked. Of course, I slipped right as I passed a few people... which made me laugh out loud, and made them look at me like I was crazy- go figure. (although that's not the funny part, it was amusing)
             Now, as I'm crossing the street, I'm wondering why me laughing at myself was crazy. So I began trying to form a question-answer conversation about it in Spanish. I only got part way through the first question when something grabbed my attention. I was crossing the street, but I noticed there was a car who had stopped in the middle of the street. He was looking at something over to the side, with a big grin and shaking his head in amusement.
           Then I heard it. A woman, she was saying something in Spanish that I couldn't quite get. Her voice was loud but she wasn't yelling. Her tone was like a recipe. If you take a bit of exasperation, a tiny bit of weariness, a healthy dose of amusement that is trying desperately to be hidden, a dash of parental control (which she couldn't truly put her heart into because I think she was a too amused and quite tired), and finally a spoonful of, 'i just lost the battle', that was the voice I heard. So, I knew there had to be a child around somewhere.
          As I got a little closer, I first noticed on the opposite side of the street several passers-by were politely trying to hide their amusement. Now, I can see tiny little legs a few feet from adult legs in a dress, behind a truck... this must be them. But wait, it's not just that. Those tiny little legs were accompanied by a stream of liquid going straight into a drain in the driveway. And this was not just your regular, 'I have to go and can't wait....' He was having fun!
          I could see circles, squares, and I believe he might have started aiming for certain spots on the drain. I had now come to the edge of the truck though, so I didn't want to stare.
          I could not for the life of me, get the silly grin off my face. I was giggling away. I couldn't help myself. If only, as adults, we could all find something as goofy to do (maybe not peeing in the streets), but fun and silly. We might be a lot less stressed out. Just sayin'.

I had to write about this. It couldn't go without telling, even if I didn't do it justice. I walked back hoping to see someone I knew to tell it to. I realized I could tell the whole story except for the word "pee". No matter how I came at the sentence I couldn't explain it well. The best way to explain it would have been action. Unfortunately that same action can be taken in a very different way. So I decided to button my lip and wait for an English moment, then learn the word for pee in Spanish.

Hope you giggled just a little
kimbersfrog

Epileptic vs. Persons with Epilepsy

          A few months back, I was made aware that ALL epileptics are offended by the term epileptic and could I please refrain from using it, but instead refer to 'them' as persons with epilepsy. Okay. First, in all fairness I did not know this, so I am actually glad to have been made aware of it. I am happy to call someone a person with epilepsy if that is what they prefer. However, this was the head of an epilepsy organization I wrote to (I will not name them because I do think her heart was in the right place). In my letter to her I was asking about volunteering in Europe and Britain, and subsequently told her about my epilepsy. I believe the most offensive part to me was that she wrote everything to me in a very polite but personal tone until, she decided to tell me what not to do. That group of people she was referring to included me, yet she decided to use the third person. I felt it to be unnecessarily rude. I also think that no one should tell me what to call myself. Nor should anyone who would like to be called a person with epilepsy. Whatever you feel fits and is comfortable, should be what you go with. People should respect that, if they don't...tell them to go pound salt. (NOT that I have an opinion)

    My reasons for preferring epileptic? Epilepsy has brought many things to my life, good and bad. Let's see, to start... we've got; pain (physical and emotional), anger, fear, worry, anxiety, confusion, memory loss, medications, bills and more bills. I have also been privy to a prejudice I had only hated from afar before. And I have been shown injustices from the inside, injustices that I had heated debates about but still was on the outside... now I am seeing it from the inside. I am one of those people I was self-righteously defending, in my idealistic youth. However as much as I hate to admit it, in certain specific instances... I can see the other side has a point as well, I don't like it, but it is true. Epilepsy has also brought discomfort into social situations, although I must admit, on this one, probably more for the  others around me than myself. 

    Along with all these bad things epilepsy has managed to bring with it some pretty wonderful things too! And for that, I am eternally grateful. I was lucky enough to get a chance to rebuild a relationship with my parents, that I mightn't have gotten otherwise. Out of instinct, or need for survival, call it what you like, I learned how to ease the tension from my body, and calm myself down. This lessened my stress levels which lessened the chances of more seizure activity. Those coping skills however, have served me well, in many other aspects of life. It has also made me realize how quickly our lives can change dramatically. In one second we can be gone from this earth, or 100 times worse off than we are now (and that goes for everyone). This is why as much as I can I live for the day.

However no man is an island, and this is real life. I do the best I can. But the absolute, most amazing thing epilepsy has helped me with is my resolve and strength (if that's not to redundant for you). If life throws something at me... I know I'll get through it. And apparently life loves to throw crap... who knew, worse yet I'm the freakin' outhouse! (I have a feeling a ginormous amount of people... yes ginormous...probably feel like the outhouse... we can all feel each others pain) Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying things are easy and bad stuff just bounces right off... I just am strong enough to deal with it. Some things might take a day, a week, a year. As long as I remember what I've been through already, that I know I can, that I am willing to work through it, and that I don't want to feel bad.

     It is not that epilepsy alone did any of this to me or for me. As far as the strength goes.. it helped me find it within myself. It could have taken a much longer time to find it otherwise. In that case I might not have done so many of the things I've done, for lack of courage alone. 

     So, looking beyond the fact that linguistically 'epileptic' is exactly the correct word for someone who has epilepsy, I am also happy to associate myself with it. Epilepsy is a large part of who I am. Just as being a woman and a dork are large parts of who I am. I have many facets to myself that I find to be large parts of my very being. Are any one thing of those who I am? No. I am all of those things.

    I guess that is where the problem lies. A lot of epileptics don't want people to look at them and be thinking, "the epileptic girl." Well, I understand that. I wouldn't want someone just picking one aspect of my personality and deciding for me that it was all I am. However, I don't believe that most (I'm sure there are a few... but aren't there always exceptions to the rule) people once they find out don't really care all that much beyond morbid curiosity. In fact sometimes they ask a couple of questions then they really seem annoyed with themselves for getting into the conversation, because they don't really care enough about it to learn about it. That was point one. Point two, a lot of people will forget, because you are not that important to them. Now points one and two are sad... but it's reality, it is a pretty cold world out there. Point three, this is tougher, because alot of times this happens to people you know better or are around alot. One of these people just finds out you are an epileptic. They say something to the effect of, "ohhh, I didn't know you were an epileptic." I know people that get upset with this. I don't. Yes there are some people who will now have your face next to the word epileptic in their head, always... not many. I think most people, don't realize they are saying something that could be taken offensively. In fact I think they are trying to do the opposite in an awkward way. People never know what to say, they don't know how you feel about it. I can't imagine that anyone who is reading this epileptic or not, has never said anything that might be offensive to someone or some group. You probably didn't even mean it, but somebody could have taken it in a bad way. 

     So for me, I feel the only way to give the word power in a negative way is to let it hurt you, one. The other is to let it have power over you.  I use the word in a positive light and I think anyone who has a problem with that can take a hike. If you are offended by it and are an epileptic, then don't use it by all means... but to be fair, don't condemn others for wanting to.

    I think I have given far more reasons and opinions than I intended. But my reasoning was simple. When I do write stories about epilepsy, they will generally be in first person. Therefore, I will probably be using the term epileptic. I am NOT doing this to offend. Now however, you know my reasons.

thank you... and good fortune

kimbersfrog

It's amazing what a bad interview can do FOR you

     It's amazing what a bad interview can do for you. Yes you heard me right... FOR you. I've been in Spain for a couple of months now, and there are countless things I like about it. I even adore my boyfriend's family- weird right?! And the thing I love most here is my boyfriend. (All right, all right....settle down, it may be cheesy but it's true.) So, keep reading... or don't (I know there are some disturbing yet inexplicably entertaining blogs about bellybutton fluff... but I digress...)

    Communication. There are a surprising number of ways communication (or lack there of) can get in your way. Coming to Spain without much Spanish (I'm being kind to myself here), did not help either. I can see you smirking and shaking your heads in dismay... well, I can't blame you. The unexpected part, was how much I managed to get in my own way.

     We searched and searched, squandering away our time. I was getting increasingly stressed out. Through my head like a ferris wheel on speed my thoughts spun, 'will we have enough money? will we be able to work in the same place? will skype ever work? will the new meds for my epilepsy work?' All these and more. Really though, my biggest problem was not being able to communicate. My Spanish was improving... but at a snails pace.

     The reality of the situation was (and still is) the economy is absolutely horrendous. I didn't take breaks from searching to do anything fun, free but fun. Now my boyfriend is up north working for two months and I'm still searching. Real life. It is what it is.

      There is something I hadn't noticed yet. Whilst my inner strength remained in tact... my presence was slowly fading. The confidence people usually see in me was waning. Much worse, was my natural goofy, playful, and engaging side was also fading day by day. Generally I am the epitome of expression... not only my face but my whole body expresses whatever it is I'm talking about or thinking about. I am just an extremely animated person... who lacks control of the animation at times...heh. So I should have noticed that that expressive side of me was not rushing to my aide when I couldn't express my self in Spanish. 

      Just before my boyfriend left, he wanted to make sure I would take time for myself. Make sure I was happy, not too stressed out. I agreed with him, we had both wasted too much time already. I talked to my dad a couple days later and he said I should take time for myself. He said he knew from experience that the stress could eat you alive if you didn't give yourself some time (now I have a whole new view of The Blob).  I agreed, with dad. Wholeheartedly. I still worried. I still looked at the computer too much. And I definitely wasn't taking enough time for myself. Still fading.

    The interview came. I completely bombed it. I misunderstood what they were looking for. I presented myself professionally and calmly (and unfortunately a bit stiffly as well). At the very end of the interview, in just one question- I realized.... how very wrong I had been. I had presented myself in almost the opposite way to the person they were looking for.

    Needless to say, I was a bit bummed on the way home. As I got off the train however, I walked right smack into the middle of the first night celebration of The Festival Of The Pirates! I just enjoyed the rest of the night, watching, laughing, and listening to music.

    The next day is when it truly hit. If I had been myself. Completely myself. They would probably hired me right away. I was who they were looking for, not the faded scared, worried me.

    And wouldn't you know it...later that day I ran into my boyfriend's mother, sister, and aunt. This time I talked to them..... I not only surprised them and myself with my Spanish, but I was more animated than I have been in a while. That might have been the first time they have ever seen me that lively.

    So again, I say.... it's amazing what a bad interview can do FOR you!!!!!

kimbersfrog

Gravity- a warning sign that I couldn't read....

GRAVITY...... (This might be the last epilepsy post for a little while.... )

   

         I was in my senior year of high school. Like most kids that age I was stubborn, opinionated, and all but sprinting to get out of the town I grew up in to experience somewhere, anywhere new. However, I was not like everyone else. I am not referring

to my innate ability to alienate myself from anything resembling a clique- I was good at being myself whatever the consequences, it's a wonder anyone stuck by me at

all. What no one knew however, was I was beginning to have these "things" happen to

me. Now at the time, I had never had a grand mal, I knew absolutely nothing about epilepsy, and I sure as heck didn't know I would soon be diagnosed with it. What I knew, was my uncle was a schizophrenic. Schizophrenia could be genetic, and although 17 would

be early onset of the disease there was nothing saying that I couldn't be going crazy at 17. So when I started having these "things" I started quietly thinking I might, just might, be going insane. Every so often I would blurt out some sort of loud noise- which I had absolutely no control over but was fully aware of. Then there were the times I actually jerked a limb uncontrollably. Imagine that, you can see it, feel it, but you can't stop it. You can't even recreate it, not really. Then came the first full petite mal... however, I had no idea

what it was, all I knew was I blurted out something unintelligible, then fell and raised as if it were on purpose- all in front of the bathroom mirror (talk about a double whammy) and had no way to stop it. It only takes a second or two for everything to happen but the

fear remains. I sat there afterwards, purposely, reactively cursing a few times (I was 17)... thinking, 'this is it... I'm going crazy. How long do I have before I loose the real world completely.'  I should mention, that for about a year I had been having what I called 'gravity' fairly regularly. I would say to my mom, "I can't go to school I have gravity." Her response was, "I can't tell the school you can't go to school because you feel gravity." Pretty much there was this unspoken, 'What the heck is she talking about....', but to put it mildly I was a difficult teen. So I think it was passed off as me trying to get out of going to school. In a way I was. I loved school and being with my friends, but I was really freaked out by the fact that it felt as if there was an extra gravitational pull on my body to the ground... just I felt... well gravity. Like unseen tethers were uniformly pulling every molecule of my body at the same time with the same force towards the earth with stronger force than usual. If you don't know what's going on- it sounds not only ridiculous but a bit nuts... so I stopped

talking about gravity and didn't tell anyone about the other "things" that were happening. Until February. I had my first seizure. That was the beginning of everything starting to make sense. At least for a time I thought - I know what the problem is, I'll take my meds and I'll not have another seizure again- just like the doctors said. At least I wasn't going to loose the real world to a world that was only in my head.

kimbersfrog

The Festival of the Pirates!!!!!!

     

So here I am in Spain. I moved here to be with the love of my life.... yeah, if you knew the whole story, you would either say,  'awwwwwwwwwww, that is the most romantic thing I've ever heard.'   OR,  'you're bleepin' crazy.' We're in love so we're doing this thing, but THAT is not what this story is about.... maybe some other time. 

Now, unfortunately given the horrible economic times my boyfriend had to keep his job up north for the summer. The ONLY good part of that is I might just learn Spanish faster. Again, I've gone off topic....I apologize.

The town I live in is just north of Barcelona, it's called Premiá de Mar. It's a sweet town, quiet and we have a small apartment that we can call home. I had been told that there was a festival about pirates in July. Okay, cool, can't wait. It sounded neat, people dressing up, live music on the beach, some fireworks.... nice. Last night, I heard them sound checking on the stage that must have gone up in a nano-second.... because it definitely was NOT there in the morning.

Well, today... I kind of forgot really, I was nervous about stuff I had to do, just in my own head really. Trying to think in Spanish...quite impressively (heh, well not really but I keep trying to convince myself that I was thinking in perfect Castillan). Finally, I was almost out the door, on my way to an appointment, when I here my boyfriend's nieces at the door asking if they could have some water. We did some awkward communicating and joking... that's a bonus... joking didn't happen in the beginning because of my nervousness with the language barrier. And then it hit me... all the people outside... the pirates!!!! 

In Premiá, in July every year there is a celebration. It roughly translates to The festival of the Pirates. Some people dress as pirates some don't. (that part I was told about) So again I thought, cool, on my way back the first night (for it's about a week or so long) of the festival I'll try to find the family and enjoy some of this festival.......well
There was something they neglected to mention. No, there was something EVERYONE I talked to forgot to mention. Apparently, about 50% of the people adults teens and children, have GIANT water guns... and because there are working water fountains every block or so... those guns are constantly full!!!!!
Don't mistake me.... this is something I am all for.... but there I am coming off the train completely unaware... and BAMMMMMMM!!!!!!! completely soaked.....I must say... it was... well... BLEEPPIN' funny!
I wish however I had been warned, I would've gone and gotten a water gun myself... and maybe brought a change of clothes and a better bag.
I wish celebrations were like this all the time... people happy, calm, and goofy.
I am not trying to take away from the actual meaning behind the celebration, mind you. I am a foreigner, so obviously the first thing I take in is what I see and feel, which is the joy, warmth, community, solidarity, and just people enjoying having fun!

That is it for tonight....
Kimbersfrog
If you want to find out more about the history of the festival: www.premiapirata.org or www.lencert.es.