Do you ever wonder, when it's cold and you're standing or walking outside, if people can see your farts? Yes, that's the kind of thing I think while waiting for the bus. Does it make a difference if it's a silent-but-deadly? If you really let one rip, does it shoot out your ass? Of course you can't look, because if it is visible, that would just draw attention to it. And I feel conspicuous enough as it is. Even bundled up against the cold, even when my ethnicity is not so obvious, I also feel like my lack of Polish is neon-bright. I stand at the stop away from the sign/timetable so that no one will come check their bus and then ask me a question about it. Which I may know the answer to, but not understand the question. Why this frightens me I can't say. Why my, totally understandable, ignorance of Polish is embarrassing, I don't know. No one has ever made fun of me in any way for not understanding, certainly nothing like the supermarket clerk in Sevilla who shouted "No habla Espanol? NO HABLA ESPANOL?!" at me once. Pehaps it is only that I have always tried to be inconspicuous, anonymous, and it is so much more difficult here, so I try to achieve it as much as possible. But then, people are always asking me questions in Polish anyway. I may look different, but no one assumes I don't know Polish, though there's no surprise either when they learn the truth. It's all on me, I know. So I stand away from the timetable at the busstop and think about my farts.
Not that it's been cold, by Polish standards. A couple of snow flurries that went away, shit, almost spring-like weather recently. I'm grateful, and can't help the solipsistic feeling that the universe is making up for my arrival last January, when it was 30 below (that's Celsius, not Fahrenheit, you do the math because I suck at it). It's actually a really terrible winter for Poland, there are so many ski resorts in the mountains with attendant businesses that are suffering because of the weather, and this isn't a country that can wait out a bad season, so I do have sympathy for them. But for myself? Every day without snow or debilitating cold is a blessing and I'm grateful for it.
So, you may ask, what is this blog all about? And those of you who know me personally may be asking, does Matt know what a blog is? I do have these random Luddite tendencies, and I'm never the first one to catch onto new technology. I read a stat maybe two years ago that a new blog is created once every second, and that's probably increased since then. Basically, it seems like a good idea. There's maybe some of that romanticism that I imagine pirate radio stations have, of broadcasting into an unknown audience. It's also, as the promo for blogspot says, a way to focus your thoughts. It's always different to write when you know someone might read it. And it's also for my mother, who asked me to write something for her for Christmas, and I drew a blank except for this, which I'd been thinking about since Kristen mentioned it before I left the US over a year ago, but never got around to doing until my mother asked for something. So this blog is for my mom, for me, for Kristen, and to let loose all the little things that fill my head. Oh yeah, and I also really want someone in this whole new Internet thing to spell correctly and use punctuation. For crying out loud, the English language, which I love dearly, is sinking ever faster into a quagmire of ignorance and convenience through this new medium. It pains me to think that the new generation will believe that "your" is really spelled "ur", when previous generations never figured out the difference between "your" and "you're" to begin with. Yes, I use it too in online chat and messengers. But I see the comments and posts on other sites, and I don't believe they know what they're doing. Having made this complaint, I know I've invited, and so welcome, anyone who reads this to correct my own spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Please. If nothing else, it ensures you'll read closely. Czescz.