Note. This blog has been sitting in an open tab for the last week, uneditted and unfinished. It’s time to just hit post, and start a new one. Love. Flynn x
This blog is simply because I feel like writing. I have no idea what it will turn into, but I have the urge to bash on the keyboard. So here we go; a vague, not exactly thought provoking, probably uninspiring, blog post. Enjoy.
What’s going on with me lately? Well, things have been a little hectic. I’ve had an alarming amount of work, and a record low amount of free time. Thankfully the tides of change are upon us and I may actually get to have some free time soon. La liberté. While I only work 5 days a week, evenings and weekends are my own. Lately they haven’t been. I won’t complain too much because I’ve done some amazing things, visited family, friends, new cities, saw my favourite Poet perform. But having work and deadlines looming over you as you try and enjoy yourself somewhat taints the experience jusssst a little. A weekend of lying on the sofa is soon to begin.
These last few weeks have reignited a few things for me.
Firstly, I’m back to loving Spanish, Spain and everything in between. I’ll admit, prior to going back home I was getting a little bit down on my overall progression in Spain. I love my job. I genuinely feel like I’m pretty good at it too. Not amazing, obviously, but definitely good. I love speaking Spanish, but being overly conscious of the errors I was making was really starting to get me down a bit. When I got off the plane on my return to Malaga I realised that in just 31 hours at home my brain had switched back to default English. I felt confused all over again, I felt that Spanish had slipped through my fingers without me noticing. Of course, it hadn’t completely. But that feeling caused me to reassess how I’m learning. It’s not enough to just talk Spanish everyday and accept my mistakes, I need to make an effort. I need to study. So I am. I’m back to loving the atmosphere. Trains are noisy, Cafes are noisy, people are noisy. I noticed that when I’m here and I hear people shouting on a train I don’t react. When I’m home, I react instantly. Here it’s just people talking, laughing and joking. At home, someone’s going to have a fight. Thanks for making that evident, Merseyrail. You were a joy as ever. I’ll never get used to the mayhem of the “queue” – I use that in the loosest possible sense – in the cafeteria. Ever. JUST MAKE AN ORDERLY QUEUE, PLEAAAAAAAASE.
Secondly, my love for Liverpool has never been bigger. Since sum-. Well, my sense of patriotism towards England has never been particularly strong. It’s been dramatically diminishing since summer and it continues to on a daily basis. However, my love for Liverpool is at an all-time high. I know, I’m not from Liverpool. Plastic Scouse. Wool. Yeah yeah yeah. That doesn’t change the fact that Liverpool is my home, even if logistically it isn’t. Being away from it for almost the entire year makes you miss all of the little things that make it special. In my classes I try and give students some kind of a cultural sentiment as well as the obvious linguistic element. Whether that be England’s approach to education, to law, to manners, humour. Anything. This week we were talking about journalism. Tabloids vs Quality Press. So obviously, the S*n came up. It pains me that on the two occasions I delivered this class, The S*n was the first newspaper students named. When I was preparing the class I toyed with the idea of talking about Hillsborough, and the aftermath. I thought about it for a few hours, I decided I couldn’t not. No matter how difficult it would be. I can’t read or watch anything about Hillsborough without the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, I get goosebumps. I feel like this is a natural reaction for anyone from the region. I prepared 1 slide. The only images on screen were the Liverpool badge, the original front page, and the “Don’t buy The S*n” sticker. What was I going to say? I had no idea. It was the last thing I was going to talk about, however much time I had left was as long as I’d talk for. It worked out around 4-5 minutes. Recounting any part of the story without getting emotional is difficult. Trying to tell it from start to finish… Jesus Christ.
I didn’t cry – so that was a bonus. I was very much on the verge of it though… Considering I only had 4 minutes, I feel like I covered most of the bases. Even if I told it with a quivering voice, and noticeably shaking limbs. After the classes finished, I had 4 students on different occasions thank me for telling a story that was clearly so important to me. It felt weird to be thanked, but I really appreciated it. I’m glad they connected to it in someway. Anytime a student tells you they liked your class, or even a part of it, it means something. But hearing it about this specific topic really meant a lot.
Third. I don’t really have a third?
Love.
Flynn! x
Let's go on an adventure. 