a serious blog of a hundred-year-old person. puddle - `blog

Note due for 12 feb.
However, He has never understood. I’m thinking of my father now. he’s never accepted his two blind daughters. Yes. there are two of such in his family. what a failure. he seems to think of us in this way. Now it’s quite all right in that we got independent of our home. It was quite hard when we were teenagers. it was quite a humiliation for us to hear:
- oh if you were sighted then you’d do all the things in the house. you wouldn’t just sit that relaxed.
or he used to say:
- in a few years’ time you chris and walter you must have both your family, house and a good job.(whatever he ment by “a good job.” well paid most probably)
- you Helen and Martha -he went on - you will have to manage somehow. Hopefully you’ll get some job and that’ll be all right.
especially my sister felt deeply offended by the bleak expectations of his. In the end she’s got a boyfriend and now even they plan to get married soon but that’s one more story. we both always felt that our father wished he had just two boys and that’s all. he now wants a car, wants money, but he acts as if he was glad with his small pension and a very old car. That is, he doesn’t do anything to gain something more.
- oh if someone gave me a ground or two. - he says sometimes. it’s very difficult for me to understand how he can expect even now that he’ll have something handed on a plate. he doesn’t even play those games on tv or radio. They are quite a waste of money in my opinion, but if he played he could at least say he tried to win something. my great mistake, which i dare to commit even now, is to feel and show contempt for him. that’s not right of me, is it. however badly he treats me. Not only am i for him a child, but also a child that should be quiet. that’s why in any discussions our opinions are ignored. and that’s why we are often in odds with each other. Not always however, and this is expressed in my notes and memories.
written on august 3 2007
I’m sure I’ll write not just once about impudence of my father and this will be not without a reason. I will mention not just once that he stupidily expects that someone will give him this or that. I may tell once more that he treats us as if we were stains on his previously unstained honour and that he never believes in us. It may be. however, I musn’t forget about the signs of his kindness.
- how are you there? - asks he now and then in a sharp voice which, however I’m sure expresses his willingness to make me feel comfortable.
or chocolates: whenever he goes to town, He asks which one I like most and buys me one.

the simple note from 2007 was the brighter side of my thoughts about him. in 2009 I can present rather darker one. there was a discussion in which I told him that he should remember that he ‘ll get as much respect from us as he deserves and no more. i implied by this that he doesn’t deserve much of it. In 2010 I feel at last, something different. no any strong, exceptional appreciationfor what he did for us, but also I don’t feel any contempt or resentment. My parents’ must have quarrelled because they don’t speak to each other. I watched my father yesterday and a feeling of pity grew in my heart. I could easily count the words he uttered throughout all day. He actually spoke to me only, asked a question and I answered. I tried to be as friendly as possible then. after all, I can do no more than just treat him honestly and not punish him for anything. It is not my job to pinish, is it. there are so many things that can’t be measured and told for certain. However, I think: what has he done in his life that now he hasn’t any person that would be close to him? I can’t speak for my mother though. I’m sure she would cry hard if he died, but i can’t say i like their relationship. They quarrel quite a lot and then there’s that silence thatmakes atmosphere freeze. another thing is that if one doesn’t have friends, it doesn’t mean evillness of their character. many great people were lonely through their life. many ordinary people with golden characters were lonely throughout their life. so it should be clear that I’m talking about one specific situation. My father certainly had a chance to have a family that would love him. but his egocentricity and laziness won and, in my opinion, destroyed his life.

here’s my growing brother. he is ten, he maybe very young, but in his mind he already has the strong sense of distinction of masculine and feminine behaviour. It’s not for men to cry. when going out, men don’t need much time to get ready. recently we were out in the town. my mother he and me. my mother gave him a bag to keep for some time.
- just for a minute. - she said. and
he took it rather unwillingly.
- put it deeper on your arm. that’ll be more convenient. - she advised him.
- I’m not a girl. - he muttered.

I and Jake were out yesterday. when we walked around the think that surprised me was that he didn’t hold my hand as it’s usual, but he gently touched my jacket just to prevent me from bumping into anything and so that he wouldn’t have to be that close to me. I quickly realised what was going on. I knew my question and his answer.
- what’s wrong?
- NNnothing it’s just…
- Are you ashamed of me? why?
- My friend’s just passed by.
- O darling you can’t… - I broke off. No point in discussing it now. -I thought.
- but please, don’t tell mum about that. - said he shyly.
- course not. - I assured him.
Now, yes. he was ashamed of me. I don’t know if his friends knew he has a blind sister and so I didn’t know what he thought they thought while seeing us then. Of course i would never just go and complain to my mother about him. I suppose my mother would make him guilty and that would be the end of the discussion. She would say something like.
- How could you! go and take off the jacket. Now remember, she’ll never do anything for you.
that wouldn’t be right. we’re never wise just several years after we’re born. we have to climb throughout all our lives. getting more and more mature is like this going upstairs. there are many steps and we have the right, it’s actually necessary for us to get onto each one. And each of them is as important as the first and the last one for they give us experience, don’t they. some day he’ll understand. I’m thinking. Now he wouldn’t even understand any of my explanations. He must feel that it’s not right to be ashamed of one’s sister in this situation. He must feel that, otherwise I don’t know what I could tell him. that’s why I broke off. He starts to be at the age when his schoolmates count most and that’s how it should be. I can do or say this or that, but I should do it gently only and so not force him into anything. Some day he’ll understand.

i think I was nine or so when one day my teacher gave us a homework to conduct an interview with an adult person about his or her job.. i lived in boarding school at that time and my mother would come to visit me sometimes for a few hours. as it happened, she was there at the weekend I had to do the homework. i took it as a very serious matter and kept closely to the teacher’s instructions while interviewing. In my notebook I had a set of questions to ask. the whole conversation sounded quite funny as my mother didn’t actually have any job. well, i should say she had and it was a very serious one.:
- what’s your job?
I’m a housewife.
- what time do you begin your work?
- well, it depends. i get up at seven, something like that.
- Do you commute to your work?
- No. I work at home.
- what exactly does your job involve?
- I make breakwasts, wash dishes, make dinners, do washing-up, clean the house…
- Do you have any kind of lunchbreak during your work? and what time if there’s one?
- well, I can make a break whenever I’m hungry. It’s not all that fixed darling.
- what time do you finish your work?
- about ten. then i go to sleep.
- So how many hours during the day do you work?
That’s the question.

so here she is. always athome, patiently doing dinners, breakwasts, cleaning and feeding our grandma. My grandma is very old: She lies in a clean bed, motionless and speechless with a rather frightening aura of a serious illness surrounding her. I always try to try to overcome my fears, so that i could develop my personality withou obstacles. Sometimes the attempts of overcoming are successful, which is not exactly the case this time. I have the impression that my grandma doesn’t need anyone. I’m sorry however, that most of us don’t pay any attention to her. I’m somehow shamefully not brave enough yet to come directly to her and just talk. Don’t know what to say, I know she wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t understand even probably what I’d say to her, we don’t know it though. My grandma is very old and lies in a clean bed all day and only God knows how much of this world she can make out. My mother is convinced she can hear all and understand what she speaks to grandma.. I don’t know but I believe she can feel that my mother really cares for her. Anyway, whenever I walk in there I talk to my mother while she’s feeding granny. I remember I came there for the first time. I sat opposite them on a huge comfortable bed and started to think. My granny is very old and, knowing her, I can say she longs to die. Her husband died eighteen years ago. My grandma was always a shy and silent person. She always liked quiet places and sometimes seemed to not need anyone. after her husband’s death she made herself more and more isolated from us. It was very clear she neglected herself and gave up. when we would come from school we used to say:
- How are you? - we would ask
- Quite all right. I’m waiting for death to come. -she’d always response in that way and we’d always reacted with the same words.
- Oh you’re kidding really it’s good to live. - that was our empty answer full of ignorance for her true feelings. For some it is good and beautiful to live and for some, well, at least difficult and it’s better to respect that. My grandma had three children and, for all I know and can see, she didn’t develop any deep relationship with either of them. I don’t know about her relationship with our grandpa, but she must have felt lonely after his death. So i wanted to face with her indefinite pain now. As well as i’m sure she feels my mother sincere care, I can imagine she feels also a kind of grief. That deep inside she’s unhappy although barely consciouss. I listened to my mother’s words:
-one more bite please.Yousee It’s good. you’ll feel better. Now, maybe a drop of tea? now the pill. I know you don’t like it, I know it’s bitter but it’s so small.
a kind of grief. I dont’ think she likes such encouragements to live. I mean, my grandma never really loved life. I knew alll for her was rather a task to do and not a nice adventure to enjoy. so in fact it was not surprising for us to hear about her waiting to die. It was so easy to imagine, so easy that I couldn’t help to imagine her calm voice saying.
- Leave me Celine. don’t bother feeding me. I’m really waiting to die. and i thought all the things my mother said are disturbing for her, that she prefers her silence and yet doesn’t want to be left alone. well, that’s why she’s always wanted to die. to go to the man she was with for so long, to not be alone. I know these are simple doubts. many people are saying the same words. should those people live? should we keep alive those souls trapped in the body? there is no answer. we don’t know how much they suffer. so, I’M thinking. if my little brother suffered, would I take the life away from him? of course not. I’d try to help. so the next thought. but how can you help the old people who cannot speak or move? Yes, but those who speak and move young and older often suffer and noone can help- is my next thought. . despite that I’d feel very sorry any time I’d come up to my granny to feed her. well, life’s in front of me. I don’t now if in twenty years’ time I’d feed my parents in the way my mother does now.
and I’m convinced now I’ll try to prolong their life as long as it’ll be possible. . so, what’s the point of this discussion? I don’t know, but I’m sure there is some or other.

date of the note february 3
My universitytown and my hometown are like entirely differend worlds. I’m going home soon and so I’m thinking of my family. As usual first thought is my little brother. He is ten and he knows he will always be a little charming child for me. Oh how badly I need him all the, all the time I’m here! Oh how I wish he could live here with me. I’d be his mother, teacher, sister and friend. While Jake is taught to kind of “not feel” not cry and not behave like a child, I encourage him to give me a hug, think of playing rather than of school all the time and freely express his various doubts about various things. While he is sometimes left alone, I let him ask all kinds of questions and try to show him that he’s very important to me. Sometimes I think noone understands him deeper than I do, but Jake doesn’t care that much about it. I tried once to talk him into going on holiday with me for a few days, at first he was excited, then a little bit insecure, then I could sense his concerns and at last he told me he’d better stay home. He doesn’t trust me, that’s clear. Yes. It’s me who needs him that much. He needs me, well, moderately maybe could be a good word. Our mother is in my view a little bit impatient. Too harsh to him. Our father puts himself at the first place in our family and so Jake is ok there as long as he doesn’t disturb our father. all those complaints, criticism of him, our parents expect my brother to know that he should do this or that. If he doesn’t study they leave him as if he was an adult, who knows the phenomenon of a bitter pill’s benefits. He doesn’t have a good memory for the classes. He must repeats things a hundred times before he learns them by heart so, when he sees that yesterday he learnt something and doesn’t remember it today, his natural reaction is to feel discouraged to study. I think they don’t pay as much attention to his classes as they should or to him in general.After all however, it’s not that bad I must admit. Our mother can be not patient enough with him, may scold him or treat unjustly sometimes, but in the end Jake knows she loves him. It maybe a cracked love, but it is enough for him to trust her most of all people and love her without reservations. Well, I must accept that a sister will always be only a sister and the mother will be nothing less than the great, the only mother. she’s with him everyday while I’m so far away. She gives him food, cares for him, talks to him, kisses him, is often good and nice to him, so he may feel quite happy there. It’s just me. I see the little conflicts and try to imagine a perfect land for my brother. It seems I can’t develop deep relationship with my little darling. Phonecalls are not enough for the child to know his sister loves him with the deepest possible love. It however, doesn’t stop me from wondering whether there is maybe something I could do to make him trust me and need more than he does now. I think and I will think about that.
So if he could live with me I’d move from the students’ home and find a flat for us. I’d help him with alll his homeworks and would be always with him. I’d be as sensitive to his needs as any truly loving person can be. I wouldn’t sleep at night if he couldn’t. I’d listen to his every word and try to teach him patience towards himself in the face of any failure. I’d understand his every sigh and hidden tear. I’d tell him some fairytales and gently encourage to read books. I’d teach him how to be a generous, honest as well as an assertive person. My dear darling is quite shy. they often complain he doesn’t want to go out to play with others. I’d made him believe in himself and I thing it would help him to be more extrovert. I wasn’t always that loving and caring person. Some five years ago I was even cruel to Jake. I did love him, but in a very immature way. I did miss him a lot when I was at school, and that’s why I developed a dreadful proceder of stealing different toys that, as I knew, he liked a lot. For me it meant a part of him being with me and for him, if he saw me taking a little car or a plastic animal, it meant a river of grief. I hope once I learnt how great a tragedy it was to him, I decided to leave the thing, but I can’t be sure of my thoughtfullness at that time. Now, trying to make up for the time I’m at the university, I take him to the town and buy sweets when I’m at home. I feel anxious when he refuses to take something for him
- you buy what you need. I don’t want anything. -says he and this makes me quite worried.
My response is to take some things that I know he likes and give them to him whether he wants them or not. I want him to be a child. I’d like him to want this or that without a reason. He however, tries to live up to my parents’ expectations about him. A serious, good, wise child. Even the fact, that he’s quite tall at his age, It makes him seem something like an adult. Moreover He is surrounded by adults. He’s twelve years younger than me, but there’s noone between us. I mean, there are five of us and I am fourth and he’s fifth in our family. Fortunately, he does allow himself to play, fight with my brother and in fact he is quite a happy child.

date of the note february 2
“last two months made me aware of…” I wrote yesterday. last six weeks exactly.A painful time it was, but it taught me that only by writing things out I can survive. the time showed me the blessed gate for me to get over the silent grief and overwhelming pain. I’m very grateful for the tranquilizer that also makes me feel more self-confident. C.S. staples in one of bbc’s “saturday play” programmes with anger asks the qestion: “why God allows us to develop by painful situations rather than by happiness?” he rebels against this and walks away somewhere. I’m much calmer than he is. I’m trying, again, to answer this question. First thing, Sometimes I think God is as helpless victim of devil as we are that is, we all suffer. Maybe if we are happy we stop with what we have for this very reason that we are happy with what we have. If something makes us suffer, we move. We Go somewhere else for this very reason that we want to be happy and that’s how we develop. I’d be stupid however, in thinking that by being happy people have no chance to go forward. So here we are: I and my friend talking in her flat with a bottle of wine in front of us. It’s time for Our attitudes to our lives to mix. Of course we are not sitting in her flat. Of course there’s not a single drop of wine here and my friend is also absent. In fact, I’m at the university because only here I’ve got access to the internet. It’s just that I’m thinking of the time I visited Anja. I’m trying to give her some of my hope for the good future. I want to teach her how to accept the presence meekly and, with patience,figure out what can be changed for better. I want her to be calm but she turns to frustration
- I’m fed up with this dullness of my life! -She’s not screaming but you could easily sense the emotions in her voice. Anja lives in a flat she rented in our grey town. She’s bornblind and studies pedagogy She spends quite a lot of time at the university “with an awful lot of girls” as she often says. Then she comes back and is so tired that she goes straight to bed. The girl wants changes in her life. She doesn’t want to be that lonely and even now she doesn’t know what she could do to change her life. I don’t know what to say. Sometimes I feel I wouldn’t know what to do If I were in her shoes. Anyway, in some respects my shoes are similar to hers. That is, I am a student as well. I also spend quite a lot of time with the books and notes. Like anja, I am twenty-two and a bornblind girl as well. I however, can see sense and future in my tiring time now. This I want to teach her and in a way she understands me. It is very difficult just go out. Isn’t it? Of course it isn’t. Most people I talk to about that issue, respond in that way. The difference in our shoes is that I study english filology. That was my dream when I was in my secondary school. I was a bit lucky when the university accepted me, but I know even if I didn’t manage to get on the english board I would brush up the language and wait patiently for them to accept me. My unclear vision of future was that by the english I would meet many people, create some things, cooperate with them and just talk to them. listen and discuss as well as teach and learn. And now I am making progress. And so I want to help my friend to find something that she could use as a link to others. I suggest even that I could teach her some english and with surprise I cannot find any excitement on her side. I must try to understand, so I peep into my empathy store. Maybe she doesn’t like learning languages, that reason doesn’t make me satisfied. Maybe she thinks rather about meeting people here, somewhere in pubs. Yes. and this is so difficult We keep saying . Not always I will appear in a position of a teacher. The honesty and nature requires to show myself from all sides. Why not? Of course. I’ll write about my weak sides as well.
I eat humblepie now and then and this, in turn, teaches me a lot.

date of the note february 1Why not to start just now? Why shouldn’t I start this string of notes the day i thought I could write one? So i now start them: many words with all kinds of mistakes: syntactic, grammatical, stylistic, maybe some missing letters. You can already recognise english is not my first language. Actually it doesn’t matter. Not for me. Much as I don’t want to sound stilted and unnatural, I will insist on writing all this. The past two months made me aware of my thoughts. After all I’ve got something to say as well whether anyone will read it or not. So why I’ve decided to write the notes here, blog I mean and not just out of the internet? because it will kind of force me to write in english. That’s very important to me. And the last for today: why shouldn’t I start the blog today? because I should study some ethics notes for the exam. The next question I should answer is that of the cause of my writing the blog. It will be revealed slowly. Maybe unnoticeably almost, maybe I’ll write a sentence that would explain that all. Maybe there’s no just one clear cause. Maybe however, there is one or two very definite. the time and my thoughts will show that.