‘Writing an autobiography means guessing or making up everything you’ve forgotten.’

 – Yoko Tawada, Scattered all over the Earth

TO ASK A QUESTION I RAISE MY EYEBROWS

Anticipation is my least favourite emotion.

HELLO IS THE FIRST SIGN EVERYONE LEARNS

Even in the beginning we are trying our best to be understood.

Over time we become more conversational.

So many things have happened since I started writing this that I can’t remember what you already know. Or what I want you to know. The most important thing to know is that I have nearly always wanted to become a sign language interpreter. This longing has been at the periphery             of             everything             I             have             done.
The second most important thing to know is that it is becoming clearer this isn’t going to happen.

CREATING MORE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND ANOTHER SPEAKER INDICATES UNCERTAINTY.

Uncertainty feels comfortable and somewhat expected in games of scrabble or bananagrams. The only word I’ve encountered that begins with a double ‘a’ is aardvark. At the night safari in Singapore, I panicked and therefore I’m unable to confirm whether or not I encountered a real aardvark in person and I’m even unable to confirm whether I expected to or not.

You distance yourself from the truth.

I have panicked many times since then. Most recently, only moments ago when I couldn’t sound the syllables out to sense in my Braille assignment. I accepted the name given to my moments of panic but not until after I volunteered for a Mood Disorders experiment in which an MRI scan revealed my brain to be particularly symmetrical looking. I later found out this was             a             compliment             in             the             radiology             suite.

I welcomed the name of my new therapist until she asked why I wanted to work in a language that none of my friends or family spoke when she already knew that the answer was because none of my friends or family spoke it. She made me admit that anyway and annoyingly I felt better for it.

You distance yourself from the truth.

I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.
I don’t want to lie to you but I don’t want to tell you the truth either.

You distance yourself from the truth.

The truth is that I never expect to fall in love. The truth is that I’ve gotten very used to doing things by myself. The truth is that I’ll never be able to split the cost of a hotel bedroom. The truth is that I’ll always be sat next to strangers on airplanes. The truth is that I kissed somebody for the first time after a showing of Priscilla Queen of the Desert and went back to their flat to play on a VR headset because I’d never tried one before. The truth is that I might have to get a dog one day. The truth is that I’m worried a dog wouldn’t love me either. The truth is that the institution of marriage is discriminatory. The truth is that I wouldn’t feel beautiful in a white dress. The truth is that a wedding would be really expensive anyway. The truth is that I nearly have a housing deposit and mortgage affordability using just my own salary. The truth is that I like sleeping in the middle of the bed. The truth is that I like spending my evenings writing. The truth is that I’ve already been to a power tools class. The truth is that I can only fall asleep listening to Rain on Leaves or to Wind in Pines or to Celestial Sunbeams. The truth is that I’ve always considered adoption. The truth is that all or none of this is true. The truth is that I’m kept awake at night thinking about Ewan McGregor, Nicole Kidman, and the recurring motif of Moulin Rouge where ‘the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return’.

CAN YOU SEE BEHIND IN THE SEA PEOPLE ARE SWIMMING? IN THIS LANGUAGE SEA AND SEE ARE NOT HOMOPHONES.

This was filmed before the resurgence of sea swimming and written before I moved closer to the sea. It was a shock to see people trusting themselves in the water on the early cusp of spring.

On a single-track road that runs too close to rock and water, I meet two cars coming the other way and have to reverse around the corner screaming then back onto the empty concrete block I saw the swimmers edge themselves into the water from.

I leave the car and sit on the ledge, my feet just shy of the lapping water, the rough rock pushing grass and gravel into the back of my thighs. The men swim around the island and at differing speed hold a conversation about the north-west anchorage. I have not been able to swim underwater for years. I do not trust my brain to remember to take a breath and hold it. I try not to watch and instead envy the day-old croissants freshly buttered and set out on the fold up wooden table bleached by the salt water.

THERE IS A SUBTLE BUT SIGNIFICANT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HAPPINESS AND JOY.

The bigger the movement, the more likely I am to express joy.

I often keep my joy contained.

It has been days since I’ve spoken
to anyone else. Luckily, the days are short.

I bundle myself under the winter wool blanket on my bed. I close my eyes.
I listen to the voice notes my friends have left me on speakerphone.
Their voices fill the stillness of the floorboards, the silence of the doorbell.

Sometimes I lose myself in the momentum of my own hands.
Joy turns into applause and I’m speaking another language again.

Image © Risa Ikeda