As I was walking to the train station from Uni tonight, freezing my ass and various other parts of my body off, I kept thinking "I can't wait to come home, I need to blog!" See, I felt this need to write, to just let the words out, to create sentences. I didn't necessarily had a theme in mind and God knows nothing particularly interesting happened. I just wanted to make the words flow.
And then I came home and... nothing. I'm making myself type this even though the need is long gone. It's not that I couldn't come up with something to write about. It's just that I don't think I have the energy needed for shaping the thoughts into an entertaining form. So would it be okay to just ramble incoherently?
I spent most of my class fantasising about giving a blow job to that guy. TMI? Okay, yes, maybe, but that's actually not my point. (Yes, I actually have a point this time.) See that first sentence there? The thing is, I could never ever write it in Croatian. It would sound too crude, too dirty, too vulgar. It's liberating, writing in English. I love it so much, but I am detached from it nonetheless. Words I say in English are just that, words. They're not... How do I explain it? It's not that they're not my thoughts, because clearly, they are, but they're not inherently a part of me. Am I making any sense? I believe I could describe having sex in minute detail as long as I'm doing it in English. (Doing it as in writing about it, not doing it as in, you know,
doing it.) Another reason for this is probably all the slash I've been reading. I've become desensitised when it comes to body parts and sex acts in writing. They're just words. They don't mean anything. In English. In Croatian, even thinking about writing the words down squicks me.
Recently I read
The Time Traveler's Wife. The main characters have a lot of sex. And it bothered me! Just because I read it in Croatian. The author writes about sex without hesitation - not clinical descriptions, but no prettifying it either. She calls things with their names instead of using metaphors Harlequin way. And if it was in English, I'd be totally fine with it. This way, I felt uncomfortable. I have no problem with reading lines like these:
He tongues Jared fiercely for endless minutes, stabbing in deep, using spit and Jared's own precome to get him good and wet inside. It's a tight fit, when he slides a finger in to test; Jared clenches hard around him, groaning down low in his chest, every vein and muscle standing out in sharp relief on his arms as he grips the altar. Jensen works in a second finger, sliding his tongue in between, and smiles when Jared jerks at the first touch to his prostate.
But when I just think about translating it
, I turn into a blushing fourteen year old
. So stupid, isn't it?
