(no subject)

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

This skin feels wrong, this body awkward.
The arms too long, the feet too far away.
I tower over the world, my form clumsy and hard to control, barely avoiding disaster at every step, every gesture.
This seems wrong, alien, unfamiliar to me. But if this is not mine, not normal, not right, then who am I? Where is my form, and why does english feel like it is used from necessity?
I don't remember anything else, but this doesn't feel right.
Who am I? I don't know...I feel so lost, so disjointed...Where did I come from, if not from here?

I don't even know my own name....

Comments

[ques-nova.livejournal.com]

I feel like that alot. Not the not knowing where I came from and my name and all but the feeling that this body is too big for me.

~Paige

[taka-kitsune.livejournal.com]

I am often hindered by this body's smallness and weakness. The size I cannot change, but to build strength and stamina... This I am working on.

-Taka

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

*sympathetic nod* I hear you. My corporeal form is often uncomfortable to me too, and the language is not the right one. I make do with this body, this language, this society in which I will never truly fit, because it's all I have to work with, but... it's not "home"; never has been.

If it's any consolation, you're not alone. There are a LOT of us exiles around... making do, passing for human as best we can, trying to figure out how to live true to ourselves without getting burned at the stake... being homesick for places we've never seen in the flesh, places that may or may not exist at all... attempting to comfort and support one another in this alien land.

Maybe we're here for a reason... maybe we even chose this, for a very good reason, which we may not remember now, but might some time remember. There's no way to be sure, but at least we can choose to live as if there's a reason - or make our own reason - and thus do some worthwhile things in our time here, rather than spending all our days in grief and longing for what was, or may have been.

Maybe this is our freedom, that we fought long and hard to win... strange as it seems, sometimes I think it might be so.

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

I just can't remember anything...there's just a sense of the loss of it. This skin, this tongue this world seems borrowed, but I don't even remember the other...not even my name..somehow the loss of that seems the worst...without it, there's nothing to hold on to.

Your words are a comfort, which is what I sought. I had nothing to draw from this system's memory to liken my 'awakening' to. This system has no knowledge of any Otherkin within it. I am the first to come to a sense of self, if there are others.

Until today, I was either elsewhere, or just unaware of my 'self', not conscious of my being different from the main consciousness in the system, like a young baby thinks itself is a part of the mother until a certain age.

This system has visited your site. I'd love to learn the elvish tongue. The melodious rhythms of it make something not-quite-a-memory chime in my soul. Scots, Irish or Welsh Gaelic also draw me, and Qilora's dialect has a haunting quality that I find beautiful, like music.

Perhaps in exploring things I am drawn to I will find my past, or create a new future for my self. At the moment I feel rather like a suddenly empty vessel. It is not overly distressing or traumatic, but simply disconcerting.

[sethrenn.livejournal.com]

Well, if it helps at all... English just isn't right for me either. I'm fluent in several languages where I come from, but English is the only one our brain knows fluently, so all the words I feel I should have in my mind get filtered out when I come up front... The "English translator" usually works pretty well for me, but not perfectly. (There are so many things in English that make no sense that it just starts confusing me to no end when I start wondering about -why- they're that way. So I try not to, but sometimes it just happens.)

I did not know either when I first came here where I was from, what my past was-- only the English name I had been given by other system members. I had been called into this system because someone was needed to stand for another, because I had qualities that were needed by other system members (or perhaps called back in? I have very clear memories of a brief period in our life over ten years ago, which I cannot explain save by saying I must have been here somehow, if only for a short time). I only happened to find out where I came from when I read something that called familiarity to mind. So, too, were other people in our system brought to this world by stories, things that were reminiscient of their lives.

Being stranded out front and not quite knowing yourself can be difficult, I don't deny. If you find something which comforts you, hold on to it-- it may be a clue to where you are from, or it may just happen to be a comforting thing for you, which is good in any case, whether language or music or book or anything else.

I believe that all which is important will eventually come to us, one way or another. Good luck...


Anthea

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

*hugs* I am glad to provide what comfort there may be - little enough, I'm afraid, but even a little is more than none.

Nobody of my 'House' is human, so learning the ways of this place has been hard. of the three of me most present, I-who-write have remembered another place since childhood, but it is hard to tell how much of the memory is really memory, and how much is story, dream, or fantasy. I remember songs in a language I don't understand - as far as I can tell, the language isn't much like Tolkien's Elvish structurally, but it has a similar sort of 'flow'.

Of my 'brothers' in the House, one remembers what may be the same place or may not, but all his memories are of war and hardship. And one apparently remembers nothing, though it is hard to tell with him because he doesn't talk much. He didn't talk at all until I started learning Tolkien's Elvish, then learned it faster than me, and from there went on to pick up some English. I have a lot of questions about exactly how this worked and what it means, but I don't think I'm going to be getting any answers.

Oddly enough, he is the one most attached to this place, and to corporeality. It's not the right body for him - he should be eight inches taller, male, black-haired, and way stronger and faster - but somehow he manages to overlook that in his joy at being physical at all. He loves the Earth, and as far as can be determined, doesn't care if he has a name. *grins* As the joke goes, "just don't call him Late For Dinner."

His 'twin', on the other hand, finds it so annoying and distressing to be physical in a female body that he will very rarely do so, and he does miss his own body. Names are a touchy subject for him, one he doesn't want to discuss, and all the nicknames he's ever allowed have been some variant of "ghost" or "shadow". He's still pretty much convinced that he's actually dead, though we've been arguing that point for over 30 years - my feeling is that this whole "I am dead" thing is an avoidance-mechanism. I could be wrong, though.

I-who-write am female, and though this body doesn't exactly "fit" either, I have grown accustomed to it. *shrugs* Bodies change in any case; THIS body is quite a bit different now than it was 30 years ago. At least the height is approximately right; I think that makes a lot of difference.

Others who show up temporarily, visitors or guests of the House, don't get to assume corporeality as a rule, because that caused a lot of problems in my youth. Some I like may sometimes get to ride in the "passenger seat", as it were, but they don't get to drive the vehicle.

um hi... I'm not part of this community so don't know if I have a right to post

[sexylittleone.livejournal.com]

but um... saw all this & thought "wth? why not.."

just really wanted to say um i can relate...to the language thing...sigh.

i didn't learn to talk till i was 10 or so...shrugs. and then was in french. English I learned later... um and well if you read the journal We have you'll see I um don't speak english well. shrugs

if i were to speak as i think you'd swear i'm either insane, stupid, retarded or soemthing. heh. anyway... um... fwiw, you're not alone.

El

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

Well, if it helps at all... English just isn't right for me either. I'm fluent in several languages where I come from, but English is the only one our brain knows fluently, so all the words I feel I should have in my mind get filtered out when I come up front...

Perhaps this is what is taking place with the language I can sensebutnotsee in my mind then. I go to grasp the words and they elude me. I know the feeling but not the sounds. It doesn't help that I can't even write it out - the symbols or 'alphabet' too are barred from me.

The "English translator" usually works pretty well for me, but not perfectly. (There are so many things in English that make no sense that it just starts confusing me to no end when I start wondering about -why- they're that way. So I try not to, but sometimes it just happens.)

Fortunately this system has an excellent vocabulary and grasp of grammar, and thirst for words and literature dating back until a very young age, and I receive this knowledge intact, else I would have no words with which to communicate my current plight. Something within my self just yearns for the poetic syllables which are notenglish that are just beyond reach.

I did not know either when I first came here where I was from, what my past was-- only the English name I had been given by other system members

This system has been debating a name for me since my appearance, something along the lines of the voyager, the exile, the alien, but none of these have any appeal to my self. For now, I believe I will use the name Anachronis, because truly at this point I feel out of place with what surrounds me. In time, perhaps I will find another, or my former name will be returned to me.

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

I remember songs in a language I don't understand - as far as I can tell, the language isn't much like Tolkien's Elvish structurally, but it has a similar sort of 'flow'.

I feel this too. What I can hear of my tongue rises and falls like poetry, songwithoutsinging. The words themselves evade my reach, but the rhythm and intonation echo in my mind continually. Perhaps our peoples are sisterkin, or speak a similar dialect. We have taken a similar voyage, it seems.

He didn't talk at all until I started learning Tolkien's Elvish, then learned it faster than me, and from there went on to pick up some English.

English is one of the most difficult Earth languages to learn. Perhaps the Elvish formed a bridge between what he had known and English.

I have a lot of questions about exactly how this worked and what it means, but I don't think I'm going to be getting any answers.

Perhaps he doesn't know himself. Sometimes things call to one's soul, and maybe that is what the Elvish language did. In it, perhaps he recognised something that he felt he could express his feelings and thoughts in, until he had resigned himself to the necessity of English.

Names are a touchy subject for him, one he doesn't want to discuss, and all the nicknames he's ever allowed have been some variant of "ghost" or "shadow".

To give one your name, you give them power over you. In many earth cultures people have more than one name, one being only for sacred or private use, sometimes chosen by and only known to the bearer.

He's still pretty much convinced that he's actually dead, though we've been arguing that point for over 30 years - my feeling is that this whole "I am dead" thing is an avoidance-mechanism. I could be wrong, though.

*shrug* What is life? Since many argue life after death, then for many, life does not equal conciousness or self. Therefore, these things would not die with death. Perhaps this is his afterlife.

But also, have you considered the cultural significance of the term 'death'? Perhaps he uses it to refer to a kind of social death, such as being exiled, outcast, or seperated from his culture.

Re: um hi... I'm not part of this community so don't know if I have a right to post

[asrai-d.livejournal.com]

as long as it's not ... wait i said i would censor anyway.

except stupid people. the spammy types :)

[asrai-d.livejournal.com]

my wings are frustrating. especially since i cannot find the one who they belong to.

mel

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps our peoples are sisterkin, or speak a similar dialect. We have taken a similar voyage, it seems."

*smiles* It does seem so. Nice to be not alone here - there really ARE a lot of us, more than one might think, but it seems most of us start out believing ourselves to be "the only one", and are greatly reassured to find it's not so.

"English is one of the most difficult Earth languages to learn. Perhaps the Elvish formed a bridge between what he had known and English."

It's hard to say. For years and years he never spoke at all - it seemed as if he didn't grasp the basic concept that sounds could be symbols for things - and he still doesn't understand how written symbols can stand for sounds. In the past couple of years his brother has had several frustrating bouts of trying to teach him to read - he stares at the page and insists that he doesn't hear anything.

"Perhaps he doesn't know himself. Sometimes things call to one's soul, and maybe that is what the Elvish language did. In it, perhaps he recognised something that he felt he could express his feelings and thoughts in, until he had resigned himself to the necessity of English."

It could be so. The thing that really puzzles me about it is - if he can't read or write, how the heck did he learn a language that I was learning entirely from text? It raises a WHOLE bunch of questions about identity and co-consciousness. and those are the ones to which no answers seem to be forthcoming.

"To give one your name, you give them power over you. In many earth cultures people have more than one name, one being only for sacred or private use, sometimes chosen by and only known to the bearer."

I actually do know the name he considers to have been "formerly his", though it, too, is a nickname, not a truename. He won't answer to it, though, and objects to having it mentioned at all.

"But also, have you considered the cultural significance of the term 'death'? Perhaps he uses it to refer to a kind of social death, such as being exiled, outcast, or separated from his culture."

Well, I just typed a whole paragraph here, to which he took exception, so I deleted it. Anyway, no, he means "really dead", i.e. slain, not just exiled. Usually he pays no attention to my writing, but this topic is hitting too close to home for him, so I will leave off about it as he insists requests.

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

Five has wings, at least, she does sometimes. I don't know why though, since i think she's human...*shrug*

[iamshadow.livejournal.com]

The thing that really puzzles me about it is - if he can't read or write, how the heck did he learn a language that I was learning entirely from text? It raises a WHOLE bunch of questions about identity and co-consciousness. and those are the ones to which no answers seem to be forthcoming.

Well, i don't know about anyone else, but when I read, I 'hear' it in my mind, either as words or as what i can only describe as thoughttones, thoughtshapes or scenes. Perhaps he latched onto the 'thoughttones' side of things, some sub-concious thought process that you were using as part of your learning, and he was quicker at getting it from that point to the next, being the point of realisation, or absorbtion of knowledge.

I don't know if I'm making any sense or not.
*arg*
words have such frustrating limitations at times, in any language.

ruth

Usually he pays no attention to my writing, but this topic is hitting too close to home for him, so I will leave off about it as he insists requests.

My humble apologies if we have upset him with our probings into what is obviously for him a sensitive matter. Such offence and intrusion was not intended. *bows with respect*

Anachronis

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps he latched onto the 'thoughttones' side of things, some sub-conscious thought process that you were using as part of your learning, and he was quicker at getting it from that point to the next, being the point of realisation, or absorbtion of knowledge."

It's quite possible... that brings up the question of why he doesn't learn to read the same way, either from me or from his brother, to whom he is a lot closer, and who has deliberately tried to teach him. It's hard to ask him anything complicated; he still doesn't talk that much.

You ARE making sense, no worries... I just don't have any way to test the hypothesis. It's kind of moot anyway; however he managed it, he DID learn, and that's good enough.

"My humble apologies if we have upset him with our probings into what is obviously for him a sensitive matter. Such offence and intrusion was not intended. *bows with respect*"

He says thank you, and that he is not upset, and to send you a respectful bow in return. *smiles* He got corporeal enough for a few moments to try writing something himself, which he almost never does, but then changed his mind - he doesn't much care for the computer.