lisanamazu
Kugui 鵠
Personal blog. Translater JP => Ru. Writer. Gamer. Sometimes I do figure skating. Hate the war.
345 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
alinagentry90
Alina Gentry
spectascopes
papyrus enjoyer
bellemichelle9
Untitled
threeyellowflowers
What Are You Doing Here, Friend
recklessidi0t
RecklessIdi0t
Text
New Yuzuru Hanyu photobook to be released on 12th Dec - "Y"
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
A schedule of skating shows taking place during the 2023-24 season is available on our website. This post will be updated as more information becomes available.
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
this emptiness sucks everything good into itself, leaving the obligation to do something, otherwise it will suck you in. As a result, you are left with a bunch of things that you have to do because otherwise you will not exist, they are your shell, depicting your form.
As a result, subject to this obligation, you feel more and more empty, because the exhaust for you in what you do is less and less.
I looked at my hands and saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman.
This formulation can be understood both in a good light and in a nightmarish one.
I saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman who didn't really do anything. It is not known what she fought for and whether it can even be called a struggle. With every passing day, what I'm still trying to do seems more and more pointless to me.
We talked with my Japanese teacher, who is Japanese. She is over fifty, she is cheerful, lively, energetic and she still has half a life ahead of her.
I'm thirty in a year and a half. On average, by the age of 60 I will be absolutely sick, old, decrepit and infirm. And at 70 I won't be.
She is over 50. She has half her life ahead of her.
And I'm not even thirty and my half is on the threshold.
And there is nothing behind.
And beyond this threshold is emptiness and darkness.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I compare myself to a hollow papier-mâché or a Kinder Surprise without a toy. It seems to keep its shape. But if you grab it a little inaccurately, the shell falls apart. Here I am sculpting this shell for myself, sculpting, sculpting, in the hope that it will become so thick that it will crush the void, or at least this void will sink into the bowels, but if I create or repair one layer, the other one becomes thinner / breaks somewhere, as if I simply did not have enough material even to completely cover the entire form with this shell, it will always be thinner somewhere, or even a hole.
I looked at my hands and saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman.
This formulation can be understood both in a good light and in a nightmarish one.
I saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman who didn't really do anything. It is not known what she fought for and whether it can even be called a struggle. With every passing day, what I'm still trying to do seems more and more pointless to me.
We talked with my Japanese teacher, who is Japanese. She is over fifty, she is cheerful, lively, energetic and she still has half a life ahead of her.
I'm thirty in a year and a half. On average, by the age of 60 I will be absolutely sick, old, decrepit and infirm. And at 70 I won't be.
She is over 50. She has half her life ahead of her.
And I'm not even thirty and my half is on the threshold.
And there is nothing behind.
And beyond this threshold is emptiness and darkness.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I looked at my hands and saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman.
This formulation can be understood both in a good light and in a nightmarish one.
I saw the hands of a thirty-year-old woman who didn't really do anything. It is not known what she fought for and whether it can even be called a struggle. With every passing day, what I'm still trying to do seems more and more pointless to me.
We talked with my Japanese teacher, who is Japanese. She is over fifty, she is cheerful, lively, energetic and she still has half a life ahead of her.
I'm thirty in a year and a half. On average, by the age of 60 I will be absolutely sick, old, decrepit and infirm. And at 70 I won't be.
She is over 50. She has half her life ahead of her.
And I'm not even thirty and my half is on the threshold.
And there is nothing behind.
And beyond this threshold is emptiness and darkness.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Or old age or something.
Or maybe old age And "something".
Today I read a tweet that amuses me in a good way: "Biologically, by 30, people have already given birth to children and died in the teeth of a predator, so after 30, everything in our body starts to fail in unison."
Scientific-unscientific is not the point, it just triggered once again to think about what kind of shit has been happening to my mind in recent years.
Procrastination reaches terrifying proportions. I might not be able to just post a show schedule or wash the dishes for WEEKS. The tab/dishes will dangle in front of my eyes, I will sigh heavily looking at them, tell myself "must" and … do nothing about it.
Fine motor skills. Or rather, WRITING. Yes, for me, as a writer, this is a terrible scourge: not just typos, I sometimes write WRONG WORDS. I think it would be more correct not to throw it off on motor skills, since I can typo between Q and L, but on the brain in general and its understanding of what it is doing. Seriously, sometimes I just write WRONG WORDS.
Spontaneous stuttering. Everything is fine with my speech, I never had any problems with it: neither dyslexia, nor dysgraphia (to point 2), but here, it happens, I talk, I talk, and suddenly I CANNOT go through some kind of sound. As a rule, not a sonorant consonant, that is, one of those on which stuttering usually occurs. Well, I can't at all. Moreover, in the same word, there may be the same sound before it, and it is pronounced normally. It only helps to urgently choose a synonym. Jumps out like a jack-in-the box absolutely randomly.
Symptoms of ADHD, which I do not have (not diagnosed, not tested, we will assume that it is not). I'm talking about keeping fucking attention. I used to have some difficulties, yes, but I could complete part B or part C or write 5 pages of text before I needed a distraction. Now I'm starting to feel this need much more often. If you think that now I need to be distracted after each exercise, then hell there.
Not even after the written word. I CAN FALL OUT OF THE WORK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIEROGLYPH. LITERALLY.
"reading a scroll but getting a funk hole". I'm having trouble reading. Most notably in Japanese, ゆ and よ, especially after [i] (i.e. ゅ and ょ), don't want to be read correctly. ゆ instead of よ, よ instead of ゆ. や does not join the party, but this couple resists both reading and writing, substituting each other. It also happens with kanji: I see one thing, I read another. And no, this is not about underlearning, this happens precisely with well-known elements of the language (come on, try to give me at least a hint that I just don’t know the や column, take a chance XD). In the native language, it manifests itself less due to the fact that we, as a rule, do not "read" literally, we "shoot" entirely, without reading the characters, that is, it flies directly to the reading / writing mechanism, and not to recognition.
And all this is connected with classes that give me the feeling that I live. I want to do them well.
In addition, the counting in my mind also flies into hell, I used to count relatively quickly, but now … in the middle of counting, the thought just stops. Banal division/multiplication by 10 can stop me, can it be worse?…
And it all seems like such a small thing, but it affects areas of my life that are important to me and … makes me feel like a fucking unfit and helpless.
I seem to be drowning in this, and in the presence of a rotten desire to scoop out, I just go to the bottom.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Just doing the exercises” become not enough for me. I decided to practice translation at the same time: you can understand what to put without knowing the meaning of the sentence, but translation requires it.
0 notes
Text
Favourite time of spring 🌱🌳🌿
Photo on Xiaomi 12 T pro
Edited in Snapseed
Made by Lisa N.
0 notes
Text
Favourite time of spring 🌱🌳🌿
Photo on Xiaomi 12 T pro
Edited in Snapseed
Made by Lisa N.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm like: it would seem logical to write 大風, cheap, angry, memorable and understandable. But instead of 大 there, excuse me, 台, it turns out to be a pedestal by the wind.
And wow. There is a more sophisticated version of the spelling: 颱風。 And you see the same thing as me, right? They just removed the first 風. That is, 颱風 at first depicted, as it were, the wind tearing down "buildings" (pedestals) or lifting them (as if on a "pedestal") and then the Japanese were like: "we got tired of drawing it. Fuck it." And removed the first "wind".
Getting rid of tautology in Japanese)
0 notes
Text
Would you like me to tell you about BPD?
Would you like me to tell you about BPD? This is borderline personality disorder. It borders on a psychiatric clinic. Like you're not normal anymore, but not bad enough yet. In Wikipedia, you can read about the accompanying mood swings, about other symptoms - a lot of things.
And I'll tell you what it is.
Everything you feel is not real (but it's not certain)
That was your average day. You did business here, you did business there, you messed around, you had fun, you walked the dogs… you got a little tired and came home. He went in, patted the dog behind the ear, put the keys under the mirror and …
Everything is terrible. Disgustingly bleak and hopeless. You are squeezed dry, you would hate every breath you take if there was strength for hatred. You slumped down to the floor and closed your eyes. Let it all end now. That's it, simple. Are you tired. Just tired.
You have sawdust from the cat's tray again under your feet - the dogs have taken it away. A stink wafts from the garbage bag waiting in line to be taken out. You just want silence - and one of the dogs jumps on you while another slobbering muzzle pokes your hand. Bitch! Fucked up! Get off me! Notification? Fuck you, notification and burn in hell whoever called it! I'll smash my phone against the wall! Again, you have a dick in your room, understand what ?! Which of you, big-nosed scum, spilled a bucket of water?! Bitchcats dropped a vase with carefully dried flowers, sprinkled again. It's annoying, it's annoying, it's annoying!
You are happy with your dogs. And also a cat sitting and blinking its eyes at the mirror. They greet you so joyfully - and everything else becomes unimportant. What soft fur they have, how good and wonderful they are, God, how good it is to finally be at home!
Nothing. You're just a little tired and sleepy. He stroked the dogs, poked the cats in the mustachioed noses, fed everyone and sat for a while in the kitchen playing a game or a simple serial for an hour - you can sleep. Sweet dreams)
You want to have time to do a couple more things, and the fatigue in the body is pleasant and warming - a couple of very small things: to vacuum the corridor or wash some of the dishes. then - to the bathroom, write some post or monitor the feed. You will watch the series until midnight again and fall asleep, immersed in the plot of your novel, which is just in the process.
Which of these states will be real? Will any of them be real? You sit exhausted at the door - you don’t even have the strength to take off your shoes. Is it time to change something in your life or “sleep and it will pass”? Is it really hard and bad for you and you can't cope or is BPD fucking? How to understand where the truth is - everything feels the same real, real, real and truthful. And if so … then which of the feelings you experience are yours? How do you really react to the world? For events? For the situation?
What are you? Who are you?
Is this "you" still around?
What do you like? What are you striving for? Will you be just as excited about this idea a second later? What do you want to do?
Where do you want to go?
Do you want … But do you need to? Is there any reason? What you do is the result of a habit. You seem to have loved Japanese and Japan all your life, so you keep doing it. You seem to have been fond of this sport and these athletes for seven years now. So we continue purely out of habit.
Is your life really in need of change, or are you just feeling bad about BPD and these conditions don't matter? There is nothing you can vouch for that you want it, dream about it and love it.
You are empty. No. You have nothing to say about yourself.
You. Don't. Feel. Yourself. For you, you are not.
Joy is fleeting and leaves no memories. Grief is destructive and has no significance, weight and meaning (it will pass when you sleep or eat).
Empty.
空っぽ。
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to tell you about my way of keeping kanji in my head. And test yourself for them.
As an adherent of the idea "if you don't use it, you won't learn it", I come up with a phrase for each group of six kanji that uses all of them. It does not have to be original-logical, if only it remains in memory in the form of a situation.
It is fashionable to visualize it and arrange the kanji in this visualization (like the halls of the mind) or memorize it itself.
A nice bonus if you use a tricky grammatical form in a phrase that you want to remember 😉
I have a page at hand on which phrases, including all the kanji learned in a particular sector, are written only using hiragana. My task is to rewrite them, but using kanji.
And if some of them escaped my head, write them out separately, drive them into the dictionary and rewrite the words using this kanji into the notebook - as long as it takes for the hand to start writing it on its own.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Jason pushing Yuzu back on the ice so he can enjoy the ovation he deserves 💜
263 notes
·
View notes