Thursday, April 21, 2016

Holy wow has it been a while :)

This little blog used to be a flurry of activity.  Ever since Facebook and the birth of Mead Sandidan, though, it's slightly fallen to the wayside.  I think my last post here was in 2014, can you believe it?

Rest assured, though, Sandic's been active- it never fully leaves.  It's got a couple more books in it now, and is somehow (mind-blowingly) going to be part of a conlang documentary, among other things.

The problem with Mead Sandidan is that it doesn't efficiently hold *all kinds* of texts.  Some of the more rambly kind of... you might say "blog"-style entries... ;)  don't fit very well over there.  And for that reason I've decided it's prudent to reboot old Wytn-Awake.

How and if anything'll come of this little jolt of life for our old friend the blog, we'll just have to see in time.  Otawwsa wii awwtesa ia :)

Blogda ushaesi, pal feesbuk uspuutuui a meer ba 19i kiimi 2016
"Ian kolee meer jeeb ba mon yahl kasiadi aan otamahhl.

"Wwiab opeegre," ba hhleetka kamei atian kasmii, wii nera kasjirr. Jila kasahl ia... Wwian kambaabin fuun ta man ae, ta masan ae, kasmii, semab kahami. Wii iab ba heelokeem gaston oskaja iat wii iat. Jilain osahl ta kee, a ba mab osfeer. Wwian osmii aan meer lee nosr ivi meer ba nee ba nau ba jatse asjirr wii ajirr, wii aan skra jeed- skra ba lev faee ae, wii ba pur atian, ossa aan nau baahl ba oka gaiai, aan iadab otahhleet, aan hhivageemab ae otamia.

Ba heelokeem gaston atiab keg kastam, wii ba heelodab tuali pa hafabin ae yes kasjjelu. Gre arted basahl nu tree asmahhl aee, a yes asmahhl. Atiab uahh astseb, wii ba skee ae ba semi yesi basahl, keiai. Wii ba gaston kasmii, "Inee ivi." Wii inee ivi.

Wii ba hhleetka ae ba kamei kasmii, "pee ba usei me."

Wii meer aa jeeguu ia fov ba jam osahl kafeedin, ia ba gaston osmi lee ivi- "kajab hhian, kajab hhian.

Iadka mahhl esahl mer jeeb ba mon.

Gre jeeb ba ivi, ba dean, kunkania santaa me, ba jebeeb mahhli ae pa twwinab kaspuutuu, a natul wii paela biab kasma jeedso aan skee dee me basfeed skra mantemaa, skra neomas. hhee ba!

jaleni baahl ba oka faee ta siadin- aan ba jebee mahhli dakabnia baneot tjere, a faee deevan wii ohiin op „unsure“-Emoticon

Keejab ian ba jatse ba wenai, skra aan usei aahl, wii skra aan jeed ba neotahhfab asfeer. yes ian hhivageem ae!"

(VILANI) Blogda ushaesi, pal feesbuuk uspuutuui, a meer ba 7i kiimi 2016
--------------------"I used to think that this language would be something I'd grow out of- like a snake shedding its skin because it's grown out of it. Not in a callous way at all, cast aside like something unwanted or irrelevant, of course- but my imagining was that it'd be preserved lovingly, looked back on with some perplexedness once the years had gone by- "To think, you know, that I ever used to wear that! How different the times were!"

I imagined that I'd somehow wake up one day and be like other people: able to engage easily with my fellow human beings, having cast aside bitterness and fear. And there have been times that it's waned and gone to sleep, and I think to myself, "Now it begins."

But now, as I get a bit older, and as I go into new places and new experiences again and again, touching catalyst of growth after catalyst of growth, I always come to these places where English is not allowed- where my brain cannot let it go- and so, like a kite that's been flung so far aloft during my times of incubation, I draw the language painstakingly back down to me, stumbling at first, but desperately, sometimes panicked. Is this how a rabbit feels when it's pulled from its warren?

And every single time I left it go far away and then claw blindly to bring it back, there is the amal jeeb ba jae, forgiving, holding out the chance to regain fluency, to put back on the camouflage- filling holes in the smoothness of my outer shell- gently, but needed- like a prosthetic for the limbless: worn, maintained, sometimes detested...

Beautifully, scarredly symptomatic. My love.

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