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Typically most online courses/textbooks will teach you the dictionary form of verbs first, but at my university we learn ます or the ‘polite form’ first.

#japanese #dictionary form #plain form #my notes #learning japanese #studyblr #langblr #japanese langblr #japanese studyblr #university student #goodnotes #goodnotes 4 #university #japanese study

Loss (n.) 18.09.19 a) is the ever-present sense of blank whiteness where there was joy. It is soft background-static accompanying me throughout my day. It is a sense of malaise waiting to strike when there is a lull. b) is seeing your image superimposed onto the most innocuous of objects in my life. A ghost haunts and dogs me. I see your shadow at every turn. c) is banishing you from my mind, from my life, to move on, and yet I am gutted by the smallest things: I am scrolling through my keyboard and I see the red siren icon and I remember the excited and mischievous glint in your eyes as you imitate the sound of the siren and I remember grinning and thinking you were so cute and I am flooded with griefgriefgriefanger -- and relief! Anger is tolerable -- and I push your image away and turn my mind into snow and white noise. d) is missing you so much that I hate you. A whole part of my world is dead, empty and silent. e) is moments of pure grief. When the iron-jawed hard carapace that protects me reluctantly opens, I touch my grieving heart. I am soft, exposed, heartbroken. I am fully myself. I reach out to you with love; and when dawn comes, the steel trap springs shut; I am lost from myself and I hate and hate and curse you and myself for softening. I will see your wisps and where I once felt joy-love, I will feel only fury-hate.

#my poetry #loss #dictionary form

歌う　- to sing

言うと - to say

買う - to buy

待つ - to wait

有る - to exist

売る - to sell

取る - to take/grab

寝る - to sleep (lying down)

教える - to teach

撮る - to take a photo

踊る - to dance

起きる - to wake up

飲む - to drink

読む - to read

話す - to talk/speak

聞く - to listen

帰る - to return/ to go back

食べる - to eat

見る - to see/watch/look

* I didn’t include hiragana in front for reading so I can get used to the kanji also by this way you can search for the word and learn about the meaning of the kanji I see this to be more helpful.

*Please correct me if I’m wrong

#japaneseblr #japanese #verbs #dictionary form #plain form #studyblr #Langblr #Languageblr #languages #polyglot

3.6.19

Father. (fä′thər) [n] father, daddy, dad, 爸爸, 父亲, scum, piece of shit, asshole, fucker.

i. The man whose image I am made in. With every threat, curse, shout, glare and raised fist, I am molded to please you. You taught me:

a. Powerlessness. You pass me a seed of powerlessness that you received somewhere along your own travels. It takes root in my stomach and spreads through my lungs and heart. I see my own visceral powerlessness in every raised voice, every angry curse, every hateful glare. When you raise a fist, my mind is white-noise blank and my body is empty-calm. When a stranger raises his voice, my blood turns to ice and my stomach churns to the beat of terror. I am prey. It is funny that I should feel less terror around you than a stranger, as if I see you within every new person I meet, as if I am reacting ten years late to your shadow, as if I am frozen like a bug in amber in that first moment and reenacting that instance of utter powerlessness in perpetuity.

ii. The man who taught me to fear. I am your a doll. I have a perfect blank mask for a face. I write on it whatever I want to believe of myself. If I repeat this enough, I will believe it: I am not scared of you. I do not fear you. You are pathetic. I have repeated this my whole life, and I believe it. My sister, she fears you and avoids you like you are a predator that can harm her. She skirts around you and jumps when you are behind her. I see her eyes dart to the corners to keep you in her line of vision. As though I am repeating my own bedtime story, I sneer to her, I know him. He is pathetic. He cannot touch us. He is lower than scum. It is not enough that I should believe it. My sister must believe it. Everyone must believe it. Otherwise, it will not be true.

iii. The man who cared for me. My earliest memories of you were of love and safety. I climbed your broad back like a little monkey. The morning that you came back, I hid and willed myself invisible when you banged on the door wanting to come in. I hate you. I do not want to help you. You left in disgust after a while. Two months later, I bang on the door wanting to come in. You looked startled. We made fleeting, uncomfortable eye contact, like strangers. You came and opened the door and turned back, all without looking at me. I thought, if you were me, you would have let me suffer; you would have let me stand at the door and turn away in disgust. How did father and daughter turn out so wrong?

a. The man whom... I hate you, I fear you, I pity you, I am disgusted by you, I want to punish you, I want to hurt you, I feel sorry for you. Once upon a time, in a dream too nebulous to be real, in a time too far away to be true, I once loved you. If I squint, close my eyes, erase the past, cover my ears, forget myself, I see the barest distorted wisps of love in your actions, even now.

b. ...I mourn. Father, you will never understand me and I will never understand you. I do not like to look at you. The few times I do, I am surprised at how old and frail and human you look. Father, do you look at me and wonder at the impossible gulf between us? I look at your graying hair, haggard face, thick eyebrows, tan skin that looks so much like my sister's, and your eyes that always glared at me, and powerful heartbreak rises from my heart and seizes my chest like a vice and clogs my throat for all that lies broken between us. Father, I mourn for the safety you gave me before I learnt what terror was.

#my poetry #dictionary form #father

Oikawa Tooru [及川徹]

n. Person. Setter. Student. Third year. Captain. Senior. Grand King. Trashykawa. Uncle. Brother. Teammate.

1. A disgusting personality, Iwaizumi mutters, irate as a glare, watching Oikawa flirt outrageously, leaving a ripple of giggles and whispers and blushes in his wake. Boys and girls alike are treated extravagantly to his twinkling eyes, his casual peace signs, and his flippant tone. To Iwaizumi: condescending ‘Iwa-chan~’s, blithe and patronizing ‘are you my mom?’s, and endless needling and mocking and teasing.

2. A reckless overworker, obsessive and fixated. The sole player who wears a supporter for his poor, abused, often-strained knee, the sole player who stays late late late, practicing to exhaustion and rewatching plays till sleeplessness. Perhaps pushing his body to its extremes will finally prove something: that he will bloom, that he will build a bridge across the chasm between ‘skilled’ and ‘genius’, that he will grasp and touch the ever-turned back of Ushijima Wakatoshi, that he will at last be enough.

3. A heart that is missing and a mouth that lies, glib and silvertongued and adept at deceiving everyone and himself. He is always restless, wandering, and ambitious. His clever and agile mind works and works and works without rest, body and mind aspiring and conspiring to grab and hold and keep all that his pride desires. But where is Oikawa Tooru’s heart?

3.1 Found near Iwaizumi. Perhaps for Oikawa the wanderer and sailor, Iwaizumi is his unshakeable lighthouse, his immovable Polaris, and his deep and immeasurable roots. Perhaps for Oikawa the confident and untouchable, his heart appears in the startled and vulnerable moments when Iwaizumi is cursing, damn it, Oikawa! Don’t say he is better than you! because Oikawa should never be doubting and defeated. Perhaps for Oikawa the narrator who spins falsehood upon falsehood, his heart lies in the years-old storied history of Oikawa-and-Iwaizumi.

3.2 One half of a pair. Perhaps Oikawa Tooru’s heart is the heart that Iwaizumi carries within his own. Perhaps his heart is the heart that finds a home in the gruff ‘don’t stay up too late’ and the exasperated ‘your personality is really the worst’. Perhaps his heart is the heart that delights in Iwaizumi’s care-taking of him. Perhaps his heart is the heart that knows Iwaizumi is home and spur and rest and ache and shield all at once. Perhaps his heart is found not quite within, but without. For Oikawa, chronically dissatisfied, flippant, vulnerable, and obsessive, Iwaizumi is the one with whom he is forever dauntless and indomitable, restful and known, and, at last, enough.

#iwaoi fic #haikyuu fic #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #oikawa tooru #oikawa #my poetry #haikyuu thoughts #iwaizumi #iwaoi #haikyuu poem #i just wanted to write my love for him #i love him/this but i am also embarrassed by this heLP #dictionary form

perfectionism n. 1. blindness. it starts out innocuous. you have been gifted a new sword, and you are beyond enamored with it, and you hold it out at an arm's length, and you marvel at its sharpness, and the gleaming sear of light off the blade that could cut air dazzles your eyes, and you do not see that the casual nicks it has already left on your hands and fingers, because, oh, how safe this sword makes you feel -- how it sings to you of Control and Safety and Mastery. 2. till exhaustion. you test it out -- the imaginary enemies fall like wheat before a scythe. you slash and laugh and how you do not notice the ghosts that begin to solidify faster than the sword sings, how an entire war's worth of soldiers have filled the space around you, how the goal post moves further and further and further, how there is no end in sight, and how there is a strange quiet voice warbling of the lost center. 3. while trying to fight off self-abuse. why did you make this mistake again, why do you choose to suffer, why -- do not listen, dear one. 4. and you look back to shore and realize how you unmoored you have become. you have travelled far from your roots, young soldier -- the shape of "enough" and "success" have become amorphous as fog, you will travel voraciously and never be sated if you keep rowing and slashing -- remember. 5. and you remember. sheathe the sword. you are not ready for it yet. take hold of your scythe-light again, remember your doves and your roots. press these words onto your heart -- may i have peace -- and tuck yourself into bed and begin the new-old-true tale: there once was a child who was making the best decisions she could, and she was only human, and she was only striving. and most importantly whisper to yourself the promise: i will not abandon you.

#my poetry #perfectionism #dictionary form

(9/10)

Anger. n. 1) Outletless because where does the screaming hurling abuse go, where do I throw every small object within my grasp to like a raging wife in a serial drama, who am I supposed to anger towards? If I split myself into two to indulge in a screeching tantrum-fest, perhaps this ennui-heavy anger will finally leave me. She is dripping with anger and she wants to accuse, "You ruin everything!”

2) Impatience. A switch has been flipped and instead of the dial pointing at "kindness", it now points at "impatience" because when are you going to get your act together, when are you going to be less sensitive, when are you going to become normal? 3) Apathy because a) I am sick and tired of you the way an exhausted mother has had enough of her baby's ever constant tearing wails and howls and demands for more when all she wishes for is a little magic sliver of peace, b) what does it even matter if I am angry at you, what is even the point anymore, why should I care when all I want is for you to – 4) Suffer and I want to kick you when you are down and I do not think you deserve any help because someone who cannot help themselves deserves only to suffer, and vindictive, vicious pleasure satiates me like blood filling a wound with every suffering I inflict on you. I just want to see how long you will wallow and suffer like a pig in mud. 5) Blame. Do you know how it feels to have a judge, jury and executioner scrutinize and measure and pore over your every action, word and feeling, eager to pounce upon the tiniest of cracks, condemnation and finality ringing, resounding as a bell, to declare that you are: not enough. You have been judged and found wanting but why must you be perfect when you are fearfully and wonderfully made? But why must you blame me when it – 6) Hurts so much because I am never enough, nothing I do ever fills the gaping chasm between me and every other person, and every day, the abyss of not-enough widens, and every day, I think, I cannot do it. Why do you blame and blame and blame me and place condemnation like a crown of thorns on my head. I am trying! I am doing my best, why is that not enough, when will that be enough? Is it not heartbreaking enough that I cannot even see every hill that I conquered because you only push me further and force me to more? 7) Grief. Perhaps this grief is noise-to-your-ears and not tears-in-your-throat. I am trying to listen to you even as you only lash me with a whip. I am trying to understand you even as you bend me further and further out of shape until my internal organs are compressed into nothing. I carve space from my own heart to build you an audience chamber because I do not want to miss a word that you are saying -- help me, what are the words swallowed by the sound of the fire? 7.1) Self-protection. Perhaps they are: a) I am angry at you because I am tired of the cold chill of powerlessness and anger is warming. b) I am angry at you because I am sick of the ten-tonne chain-weights of misery tied to each ankle, leaving me gasping desperately for breath. c) I am angry at you because I do not trust you anymore. You are a ship with a faulty rudder and a wavering compass. You are a failing North Star. Months were spent clinging to breath and life in the storm-ridden sea and your promise-certainty echoes emptily -- there is nary a glimpse of land. You are a stumbling captain who has led me into the sea of failure again and again and I do not trust you anymore.

d) I am angry at you because I am standing in a fog, confused and lost and I am so unmoored I stand and stare at nothing for a long, long, long time trying to regain my bearings and dredge up another eking of grit to try and try again and this hazy helplessness frightens me and this soul-deep exhaustion numbs me. I stand in a fog-shrouded land and every thought is a buried landmine underneath my feet waiting to happen into explosion. I stand in a fog-shrouded land and there is no end in sight and I walk and walk and walk to see the same featureless haze and I live in this fog and pain and fear for so long that I pray it has not seeped into me and stained my insides indelibly. I stand in a fog-shrouded land and I lend all my concentration to listening to you and I hear your frantic voice correcting and measuring and evaluating me and I understand – 8) Compassion.

a) You are an impulse to heaven and you are forcing twisted shape after shape after shape upon me because you – I – we – are scared and you will not go into the stormy night resigned. You – I – we – fear every apocalyptic glance and world-ending word and death-bringing tone and you believe that this fear can be outrun if we only twist ourselves enough. You – I – we – fear every soul-grinding terror and soul-reducing humiliation and you believe we will never feel like that again if only I am more. So, then, – b) Rest, dear one. I will walk now with my heart exposed, bravely, nakedly, and let every event write and tattoo and scar itself onto my beating and raw heart. You need not curve ribcage-talons around it anymore. I will now feed my body and mind and soul with breath and I will be a being of air and diffuse every wound and you do not need to frantic over it anymore. I will now enfold myself and you with acceptance and I say now, it is okay, maybe I will always be like this and maybe it will have to be okay. Rest assuredly and calmly because you have toiled above and beyond and I am on a Pilgrim's journey – I make slow and winding and invisible progress, but I have walked far and left behind my home and this counts for something, surely. Because the most important thing – the sounds lost in the fire – the words I have been searching and searching to say to you are – c) Trust me. And I will trust you.

#my poetry #personal #healing #anger #dictionary form