Joining others in this Sunday Selection mix of photo-dumps.
From The HighriseAnd maybe more.
Grandmother Moon staring in at me through the mist the other night.
A fishing community, Twillingate a few weeks ago.
One of those views from the side of the road, Gambo, Newfoundland.
I take far too many photos of the beautiful city I live in, St John's Newfoundland.
Dear Diary:
I am wondering at myself for the past few months there. Wondering why I was not picking up the phone when a friend rang or responding when they texted requesting a lunch date, sometimes white-lying a text back saying I was "too busy," sometimes white-lying further and inventing something.
Lying down for a nap today the phone rings from a friend who's supposed to be on a 3 month cruise, I don't pick up and I lay there and thought, what the hell is going on with my non-answering such calls.
And then the bells went off and I realized that 99% of all recent friend contact made to me out here on The Rock is someone requesting something. With the exception of family and friends from the good old days.
I wasn't mistaken today. Cruise friend had left a message saying she was leaving on October 1st and there was a new urgency in her life regarding the book I had been helping her with (a memoir) . Apparently she had shared the contents with a friend and the friend had gone ahead and written her own memoir on the same theme and now maybe I could edit the remaining chapters while she was gone and then fire it off to a publisher forthwith as there was a rush now.
Note there is no offer of payment even though a 3 month cruise must cost a fortune.
I should add she's not alone in these types of requests. I get request for all kinds of free help, writing, editing, accounting, financial and taxation advice. Usually prefaced with "You're so good at this and it will only take you a few minutes." Note upon requesting the free work they also devalue it.
I took a long hard look at myself after playing this message and thought why am I attracting these kinds of people into my life?
Obviously I'm a people pleaser. But when most of my relationships are transactional in some hidden way it makes me stop and reevaluate all of them. A lunch is cheap when you're looking for hundreds of dollars worth of free work.
My energy is compromised as I have ongoing health issues but I note I am rarely if ever asked how my health is. Most commonly I am told "you don't look sick" or " you look full of beans to me." Why thank you, when did you get your doctorate?" I think.
This morning there was an email from someone who wanted a "bit of training" as she was now a treasurer of a group and had no experience with spreadsheets. I responded, of course before the bells went off in the afternoon.
I feel remarkably stupid for not seeing all this before.
I am currently doing paid work for a writer who respects me and pays me well. So there's the upside.
I need to spend more time with friends who want nothing from me, though they are often distant from me geographically.
And any free labour from here on in is verboten.
Watch this space.
The Irish language stalks me at times. More so perhaps now that I'm older. Even in disuse. as it has to be out here on The Edge, I sometimes grasp for the English. When I sympathize with someone, when I'm searching for the words to express my sorrow, I will throw up "Ta bronach orm" which expresses my feelings far more deeply than the English does. Translated - that's "the sorrow is on me." Similarly when I am happy "Ta athas orm" - the happiness is on me. Recognizing in a deep way that these feelings are temporary, on loan as you will.
A fair part of my education in Ireland was bilingual but in teenage years became quinquelingual - well not fluently but passably. Irish, English, Latin, French and Italian. Even in English classics teaching, Irish was thrown at us now and again to express frustration "is amadan tu!" which translated is "You're an idiot!" Latin has always served me well being the foundation of so many English words. The Irish language has been passed down here in many words which often delight me when emerging from Newfoundlanders. "I have no meas in that". Being one. Meas is the Irish for value. "What a slebheen!" Sleveen - to pronounce it - means a no good, a layabout.
"Uisce" means water in Irish. Pronounced "ishka." The word whiskey is derived from Uisce Beatha (ishka baha) literally the water of life. Take that as you will.
Some of the old songs I can sing to myself are in Irish, some wonderful poetry too which also does not translate well as it captures the sounds of the sea and the winds and the emotions.
"I heard the banshees* last night," my Granny would say in passing as she made breakfast. And sure enough, down the road would come a neighbour bearing news of a death in the village.
Sure I've heard the banshee myself. When Granny died. And I was far, far away.
*banshee, (“woman of the fairies”) supernatural being in Irish and other Celtic folklore whose mournful “keening,” or wailing screaming or lamentation, at night was believed to foretell the death of a member of the family of the person who heard the spirit.
Joining others in this Sunday Selection mix of photo-dumps.
From The HighriseAnd maybe more!
