A First
21-04-26 / April 26th, 2021
Today's Song
Sometimes, I think life is just hard to explain.
Even though there's just so many repetitive and clichéd lessons, stories, warnings, idioms, metaphors, so on and on and on and on... Even if there are many, many people in the world, I sometimes feel as if there's still nothing out there than can explain how I'm supposed to feel.
It's not sometimes, I guess. More like, a lot of the time, these past few months.
Life pulled itself right under my feet, and even then, I'm standing when I'm supposed to be falling. A strange blessing wrapped in a curse, or a curse wrapped inside of a blessing. Why am I still here, and where am I supposed to go in this world where there's no nautical map or anything, where it's not remotely clear where you're supposed to set sail towards?
Aside from the hot topic that's begun this decade, things have completely changed for me. And that's a phrase that's just not good enough. I'm always shy to talk about these sort of things, because hearing others, I can't help but feel like I'm complaining for no reason. And, genuinely, it's probably true. I'm sure people may tell me it's not the case whenever I do want to talk, and that maybe that "there's different sorts of troubles". I do agree, my troubles are certainly the type that I don't think many people out there have to deal with.
And that's the rub. How do I now find clichéd topics about what I'm dealing with? Where are all the lessons about what I'm supposed to do once my age is surpassing me and so is everyone else? How do I catch up? Will I just drown in confusion once more like I always do when I figure out that I just can't find any hints on what's coming next? The questions keep coming on and on, and I'll be stuck flooding my brain with them. And so, as stated, I cower again and let the questions pass me by, because I just don't know.
So, since you're looking at this specific string, lemme ask.
What if you were me?
What if you were someone who was always a sleeper?
Only getting involved in things because they just so happened to be near you, like gravity?
And if you were suddenly dragged along and told that you would basically begin a new life somewhere, still without any of the experience that would get you ready for the "real world"?
My name is Fatih Hammer - at least, my pen name is - and I am in this country, neither stuck nor content. Since the start of this year, I have been staying in Turkey just like two years ago when I thought I would originally make this journal subsection (only to forget about it). And so I finally return to making something for this site, now four whole months into this journey.
Four months.
What have I done in these four months?
Nothing, I think. I haven't finished my Arabic lessons. I haven't completed Gensouden like I insisted I would. I haven't made a name for myself, learned enough Turkish, made an educational breakthrough, met new people, or... really do anything, for that matter.
It's not like I know how to really cook a meal. It's not like I really know how to do anything for this apartment, like pay for stuff. It's not like I know if I can really pursue an education here, ever get internet, make friends, watch the end of the over-hyped pandemic, or, worst of all, ever be productive. Ever since I got here, all I really learned how to do was file for foreigner-related things, get a student's bus pass alone, and operate a bank's ATM and start going every weekday to Turkish classes where the teacher doesn't really know any English (really nice dude though).
And there you have it - I'm only going to stay here much longer. God knows how long. Every time I think about it, I don't know how to feel. People ask, and I sort of brush it off casually, even though I think it's practically certain.
I'm staying here for a long time. This... might be my new home.
It's not like I'm complaining in particular. It's just strange and surreal. Especially when, again, I sort of never sort of wanted this. I don't care too much about myself regarding that, but then I think about all the things I'm leaving behind, like belongings, people, more people, what few friends I had, and, most importantly, the suburbs, for I do not really like the hyper-urbanization Turkey has at all.
And no, it's not like I'm good at keeping contacts. I try, but, it's just not the same as being forced to see people. I can actually hold a conversation that way especially when it's not just people in my age group.
But after I'm done thinking about all that, I still don't feel anything. It's this type of scenario that makes me wonder if something's wrong with me and I was just never checked.
I'm awkward. I'm hard to talk to for the majority. It's not like I'm stone-faced. I can still laugh at stuff. But maybe that's all I can do. I catch myself saying things I regret minutes after the fact, upwards to a decade. I, again, let things pass by, let family fully come first, agree to things I'm indifferent on, stay silent otherwise, and then let things pass by me once more. I don't have motivations, selfish obligations, a reason to really have pride if that last one came out wrong, and when I do have to call home to others, I just listen to their stories. I like listening to them, but things always go awkward if I have to input something to a conversation.
I was always more of a listener than a talker. It goes for everyone. I guess you could say I like doing that even if I have literally nothing to respond with. It doesn't mean I don't care, it just means I have absolutely zero things I can use to relate and extend a conversation. It's pathetic. I can't overly be emotional hearing bad or good things that go on with people - I'm just practically a record keeper at this point.
And so, that reminds me to that day, around four years ago, give or take some months. When my grandmother, peace be upon her, passed on, it was followed by quite a few confrontations with the family over silly, pitiful things.
I felt bad. If there was any reason for her to leave us, it was sadly because of health. But since then, we never found the need to go to Montreal again, despite the rest of our extended family deciding to live there.
It's been years since I've seen anyone there.
But as for my grandmother, peace be upon her, I couldn't cry.
I don't know why, but I just didn't cry even a week after the news.
I tried to take a break from things, but didn't feel entirely different - just very quiet.
Really, the only thing that I really did following that time was create Ai in her memory. It was the least I could do at the time - to turn a dark thing into something that was light and pure. But that's probably being really lofty for someone like me.
But even if that was an outlet, it wasn't like anything I digitally do mirrors how I act as mentioned.
My crude, inability to react heavily to things ever since my adolescence was why I got confronted once, and it caused the belief of "you've never cared".
That one hurt.
Of course I cared.
But even though I can tell so many memories and examples of how much that loving person meant to me, I couldn't show it. All I could continue to do during the month was pray.
I don't clearly remember if I cried. I think I eventually did, thinking about it one night, and it might have made me feel good. But that definitely would have been after a long, long time had passed since then.
I don't know what the point of that tangent was other than to give an example of how crude I might seem. Now that I'm settled in this country and now practically focusing between thinking about education, the language, and my ego, I could tell I've been *especially* uncaring towards others' whereabouts and recent events.
It's not like I like that. But I think I feel a little tired of hearing from others, maybe.
Even though I feel like there's been absolutely no one around these past few weeks. I'm having the onset, empty feeling like when I'm yearning for someone.
Isn't that ironic?
Maybe I'll get over things soon enough and get back to normal. Not like I know what normal is anymore. I've always been the silent polite guy, I think. That hasn't changed yet, I don't think. But I don't know when I'll start mastering the super basic things that adults are just suddenly supposed to know in this society.
Eating.
Taking care of yourself.
Skin care.
Sleep.
Work.
Taxes.
Talking.
Exercising.
Keeping in touch.
Dopamine time.
Creative time.
Cooking.
Reading.
Studying.
Practicing.
Not making people mad for being biased.
Walking.
Picking what you actually wanna do easily.
They don't really teach you a bunch of these things in school.
I'm running out of gas, and I've been typing for an hour, even though there's really nothing that I've said that was useful. It'll probably take me another ten minutes or so to push this out. I don't know if I'll end up writing again, knowing me, though. This could very well be one of those times where I touch my site a bunch and then forget for a year or two. I have a journal I haven't written in since grade school.
I'm just like that.
"Built different", as the kids these days would say.
Genuinely, I really am getting old, like it or not. I don't feel right.
I'll just get it over with. Gorusuruz without the accents.
∎