Personal Blogs

44 is one of my favourite numbers.  4 is my root favourite number. 16, 64, 256, 1024... all equally liked in second most favourite types, followed by 44, 444, 4444, 44444.... as third.  I also have to accept 31, and the years '96 and '99, in order to be comfortable with my 'being', but I don't think I need go into the reasons for that.  The reasons for the others are all quite clear. 

Anyway, this is why it stuck out like a sore thumb when I saw that I have 43 posts on here.  Numbers either side of favoured numbers are spiky and uncomfortable to my brain.

The number thing started on a very small level when I was very young.  I heard adults talking about their favourite numbers, or favourite colours, and thought 'shit!  I'd better get myself some of them!'.  I chose the number 4 because it was the only number that had the correct number of letters.  Four letters for the number 4.  My favourite colour is blue.  I don't know if that's really true, but at the time it was the only colour of the rainbow with four letters.  I'm actually fairly indifferent to colours, they're all good in different ways. 

Unfortunately, this quickly led into something of an obsession.  If you draw a 10 x 10 grid, I very much like the layout of the 4 times table.  More so than any other.  Though I have to ignore the number 2, as it is in a 4 times table column, and is the only prime number to interfere in this way.  It also led to an unreasonable dislike of certain words, which I have now pretty much overcome, such as forward, fortune,... you get the point.

Anyway, I quickly run the risk of going into too much depth here (which can get fruit-loopily out of control!), so I will move onto French.  What an unfortunate thing.  I started learning French when I was about 5 I think.  I was taught at home at that point and I had a French tutor who popped in from time to time.  She was very cool, but French was not.  As soon as I found out the French for number four.  Quatre.  NOOO!  Six letters.  The ridge that this created between me and the language was unbelievable.  I went to school at various intervals, and maintained an active dislike of languages, which gradually also spread back to English and how illogical it all seemed.  But I had no choice.  I begged to give up French consistently.  At parents evenings they'd try to find ways to encourage me - my teachers were always saying 'but she's very good at French - there's no reason for her to give it up'.  It continued all the way until my second year of GCSEs, when I eventually had a complete meltdown and refused under any circumstances to take the exam.  Everyone was pissed off (though I would feel guilty not to mention that my mum did ultimately support me in the decision, despite not fully understanding), especially my teachers, who unfortunately I gather such things reflect badly upon.  The trouble was, I had suddenly realised, that if I took the exam, it would be on my education record, and this all consuming fear took over me - that I could be forced to speak French as an adult if I had a qualification.  I am incapable of sitting an exam and intentionally failing, so that wasn't an option.  I believed (and still secretly do actually) that if there is evidence to suggest you know something of use, then it can be forced out of you if the need arises.  And I knew I didn't want to.

So there it is, since winning that battle, I have no ability to speak any other language.  I have several friends who live abroad, and most of my friends are naturally very good at learning languages, and some are are fluent in two or more.  I would like to learn in a way, as I feel a sense of embarassment at having no abilities in this area whatsoever, but even writing the sentence makes me uncomfortable.

There's another one of those weird questions that comes out of this - what would have happened if I had shared my feelings about the number four?  Could they have taught me French if they had never written '4' in letter form?  The reason I didn't share my thoughts, was because I didn't think that people did.  I thought everyone had this in-depth analysis of their favourite things, but whenever I would ask someone 'why?' - they would always say 'I just do', or 'I don't know', or 'because it's lucky' - as I saw it, very secretive responses.  I haven't actually broached the subject with anyone I know.  In fact, I think perhaps if my mum found out there may have been a way of getting me to like French she'd have a meltdown herself!

Anyway, blog number 44