Remember when I said I wasn't missing home? Well scrap that. And about that sore throat I referenced in my last post, well, it turns out that it's most probably tonsillitis. What wonderful news to hear three days before lectures start, right? So now I'm just one week into living in the big bad world of independence, and am faced with sorting out doctor's appointments and medication, frantically, on the last day before the weekend, in order to try to survive next week's lectures, which I've been looking forward to for months. Right now, I want to run home to mummy, let her work it all out, and mammy me by bringing me soup, and tea, and stroking my probably feverish head (what college student actually has a thermometer?).
But alas I sit in my empty apartment with no salt, no honey and no cuddles. My housemates are all either gone home for the weekend or out partying arís (mar is ghnáth), which means I'm admittedly a little on the lonely side (bad health does that to you), but at least I'm enjoying the most peace and quiet I've had in over a week. Main concern though: I really didn't buy enough ice-pops to quell my darn tonsils' tantrum.
In less self-pity wallowing news, I've now attended both of my course meetings, and I'm more than psyched to get down to it. The lecturers have explained explicitly that while yes, us art students may have a ridiculously low amount of lectures per week (nine, not even kidding), we are expected to put in a 40 hour week, what with reading, studying, writing etc. I've already gone on the search of English books - and I care not if you think it's a waste of money, the library only has a limited amount of copies, and do not want to feel under pressure to hand them back in, nor do I want to settle for retaining less information just to save a few bucks by getting a digital copy. Third year students are a fantastic resource, with many unwanted second-hand textbooks that they are willing to part with for a very reasonable price, but some books you just have to go all out and spend that large wad of money to attain them, sadly.
Agus mo chúrsa Ghaeilge? Buel, bhí an course meeting ar fad as Ghaeilge (just as I feared), ach thuig mé gach rud a dhúirt an léachtóir (pleasant surprise). But yes, tá sé fíor - tá gach duine (almost) atá ag déanamh an cúrsa sin after coming out of an Irish secondary school, has many Gaeltacht experiences under their belt, or at the very least has gone to a Gaelscoil primary school. But I could keep up thankfully, bhíomar ag caint as Ghaeilge ar feadh cúpla nóiméad tar éis the course meeting, and it was such a refreshing, but strange experience, to have that opportunity, and to feel safe enough to break in and out of Irish as I please gan bhreithiúnas (without judgement), with people who crave that opportunity too. I've been very concerned that I'd be completely out of my league, or that it would be just like the Irish oral practice we did in school, but now I've realised that mo chuid Ghaeilge isn't too rusty after all, and that the Irish Leaving Cert oral preparation was so restrictive and confined, not to mention leadránach and intimidating.
Until next time (probably not too far away if I keep this frequency up), I wish you (and me) dea-sláinte.
Welcome to the wonderfully wonderful world of me - an introverted bookworm with far too many opinions.
Showing posts with label gaeilge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gaeilge. Show all posts
Thursday, 24 September 2015
Sláinte, Sickness and Student Affairs
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Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Schlemiels and Schlimazels
A schlemiel spills soup on a schlimazel.
What a fantastic sentence! A schlemiel is a Yiddish word meaning a clumsy or awkward person, who is prone to spilling soup. A schlimazel is also a Yiddish word derived from the German word 'slim' meaning crooked, and the Hebrew word 'mazzal' meaning luck, and translates to an unlucky, accident-prone person who is prone to getting soup spilled on him. Hence the sentence 'a schlemiel spills soup on a schlimazel.'
Interesting eh? Yiddish is quite an entertaining language, it has some brilliant words, that sound exactly like what they mean. The onomatopoeia is amazing. To me, some of the words completely sum up what they stand for. Now, I don't speak Yiddish, nor do I know anyone who does, but I would love to learn it one day. I'm a bit of a language nerd. I'm studying French and Irish in school, but the Irish education system still hasn't figured out how to teach languages yet, sadly.
I'm very fond of the Irish language, although not many people can say that. In my estimation about 80% of people learning Irish in school hate it, and nobody can speak it properly these days, apart from the very few Gaelgoirí left in the country. It saddens me really. As an Irish lassie, I'm quite patriotic and proud of my little island, and whatever we have left of our culture, since being invaded by Britain all those years ago, is diminishing to the point where I have to wonder, will there be any left? I believe the Irish language to be very poetic and beautiful, and while most see it as an unnecessary chore to learn it in school, I love it, and hope to learn it fully in college, and to become fluent one day. It's a tricky little language, because it's difficult to put into practice due to the lack of fluent speakers, but I think it's worth it. As the Irish saying goes "tír gan teanga, tír gan anam", meaning a country without a language is a country without a soul.
I'm also learning Japanese at present, on my own, (it's not like I have the option of lessons where I live anyway) and I would love to study that in college too. Finding a career out of language is tricky business though, but I'm sure I'll get by.
I'll be a polyglot yet!
What a fantastic sentence! A schlemiel is a Yiddish word meaning a clumsy or awkward person, who is prone to spilling soup. A schlimazel is also a Yiddish word derived from the German word 'slim' meaning crooked, and the Hebrew word 'mazzal' meaning luck, and translates to an unlucky, accident-prone person who is prone to getting soup spilled on him. Hence the sentence 'a schlemiel spills soup on a schlimazel.'
Interesting eh? Yiddish is quite an entertaining language, it has some brilliant words, that sound exactly like what they mean. The onomatopoeia is amazing. To me, some of the words completely sum up what they stand for. Now, I don't speak Yiddish, nor do I know anyone who does, but I would love to learn it one day. I'm a bit of a language nerd. I'm studying French and Irish in school, but the Irish education system still hasn't figured out how to teach languages yet, sadly.
I'm very fond of the Irish language, although not many people can say that. In my estimation about 80% of people learning Irish in school hate it, and nobody can speak it properly these days, apart from the very few Gaelgoirí left in the country. It saddens me really. As an Irish lassie, I'm quite patriotic and proud of my little island, and whatever we have left of our culture, since being invaded by Britain all those years ago, is diminishing to the point where I have to wonder, will there be any left? I believe the Irish language to be very poetic and beautiful, and while most see it as an unnecessary chore to learn it in school, I love it, and hope to learn it fully in college, and to become fluent one day. It's a tricky little language, because it's difficult to put into practice due to the lack of fluent speakers, but I think it's worth it. As the Irish saying goes "tír gan teanga, tír gan anam", meaning a country without a language is a country without a soul.
I'm also learning Japanese at present, on my own, (it's not like I have the option of lessons where I live anyway) and I would love to study that in college too. Finding a career out of language is tricky business though, but I'm sure I'll get by.
I'll be a polyglot yet!
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