Language Development

Perhaps I feel better since the contractor responded to a text message I sent yesterday afternoon with a promise to begin work on Saturday. Tomorrow. Perhaps I feel better, but the two weeks of silent waiting havenae inspired the greatest of confidence in the man's word. Prayers in progress.

The multi-lingual head chatter is obtrusive again this morning. This round seems to be in every language I have ever studied, including my first language. Perhaps even a language or two I have heard but never studied. Sometimes the inside of my head is reminiscant of a walk through an international airport. I believe my memory often records conversations I didnae understand. My memories of the delayed language development which held me mostly mute until near adolescance live in that nebulous etherworld of my most damaged memory functions. The trauma induced amnesia which hid my childhood memories from me for at least 20 years turned the repressed memories into a putrid brew of reality, nightmare and delusion where a pleasant memory feels as terrifyingly hideous as a traumatic memory. It ALL leads to trauma, doesn't it? Sorting through that mire is made all the more difficult by difficulty of confirming or denying most of the memories. 11 siblings being dragged coast to coast of North America in a travelling sex show makes for a seriously convoluted timeline for all. My parents and siblings remember hearing issues and nothing more. I remember not listening because nobody was saying anything worth hearing. I remember wandering away from the chaotic chatter at every available opportunity. Silence makes for a more efficient get-away. I donae believe my absence was often noticed, but I can only believe. Proof unavailable. I remember thinking all human sounds were ugly and prefering the animal languages over any human speech. I loved reading and writing, though. Once written, the words don't change. Meanings can be evaluated down to the final nuance with zero rush, pressure or slurred sound. Even the individual letters can be turned into works of art.

I still haven't finished today's Spanish review. Hoping this ramble will calm the head chatter enough for focus. Just hoping. . . Been hoping the contractor would show up, too. . . There's what I want and then there's what I get.