Georgian folk music in the background, I’ve let some fresh air in the apartment, so it started to become a little chilly and also I’ve enrolled in two full-time and three part-time jobs again. Today I had a very lighthearted job-interview at a local store of a worldwide known furniture-designer and distributor company.
Now I have to dig into the learning. English, Serbian, Armenian, Maths, and Informatics. And I have a clue that I’ll use – learning from the Georgian example – the Armenian lettering flashcards too, as once I learned to read and write in Armenian without help, but now my memories are fading and then a well-organized cramming program won't do any harm.
’With your back to the wall’ – the sense behind the saying: I don’t like when someone’s lurking behind my back as I write or doing something on the computer. Even if there’s no secret stuff on the sheet or the screen, I despise that feeling – and it has a very simple story to trace:
- our family has a long-term friend. He is used to be Mom’s colleague, then friend, for a short time they also dated, a hen came my dad, but this guy remained with us. He is a good guy, but full of complexes, rage, and he has depression, so sometimes he overcame his bad feelings by making fun of me as a kid. I had diaries – for this very day I keep tracking my life in handwritten diaries, and that dates back to my adolescence. I told him repeatedly not to read it, because there can be sensitive stuff, which I might not want to tell him, or anyone else. Of course, one of his ill-willed fun-making activities was to read and carry these notes around. Note to self: that’s not funny. Even in the case of a grown-up person, but towards a kid or a teen that’s very rude. Ha-ha, not funny, find a better therapist, Alex.
- Mom demonstratively read nothing I wrote, because ’that’s the kid’s stuff’. In these sentences, I never had a name. I hated being called ’the kid’, or ’the child’ might be the more accurate, even though mirror-ish translation for that she said to describe, whose stuff was that she never reads in, because despite the goodwill of this sentence, that carried something belittling. But when she wanted to keep me in the bay, she grew radars otherwise: she examined small signs of secrets that I did not want to tell her. As we lived together in a room, sometimes it was a little too much of parental care, and too little of everyday human respect - even though I love Mom and respect her for a lot of things.
- my back never was towards the wall. My desk was turned to a wall or the window every time. That did not make me a better or more disciplined student, only taught me to look like someone, who is learning as a fool. Or hides stuff all the time. ’I hate, when you are writing stuff and hide it’ – Mom said, and with time it became more and more the reality.
In the end, even I didn’t know, what do I have and what do only think I have, what is my decision, and when I become a misled child, regardless of my age. Misled, as found 'stupid' hyperfixations - all my special interests ended up on this junkyard labeled stupid, as I refused to work with them as a duty, but continued to be interested in them. o everything became stupid, superficial gushing and that kind of hyperfixation, that never becomes an asset or a knack. Or as found bad companions – manipulative (as a teen) or not really ill-willed, but mentally draining (as a tween) partners.
As I see it: now, as I cannot go back to fix it, today I have to use the knowledge of my priorities, ways to achieve my goals and the tools in my hand. No one asks ’did you practiceee? Did you learn? Don’t play, don’t work, just leeaarn at your desk, because tomorrow is exam” – no one will ask that.
