A new year demands a new blog, I think. Or, on the other hand, perhaps yet another blog slouches towards Bethlehem. I suppose this is entirely dependent on how you view the brave, not-really-at-all new world of blogging. It is no longer 1998. That was the Wild West of the internet, free range, lacking only cyber-buffalo. Today is different. You can’t click twice without coming across someones fenced-off acre of bandwidth full of self-styled Deep Thoughts, or, more often, Loud Political Ranting Masquerading As Deep Thoughts. So, here I am, late for the party again. But I did bring a nice bottle of wine.
I suppose for the sake of propriety, a short bit of background is in order: I’m an off-again, on-again graduate student living in the Pacific Northwest, having relocated here from my home in the Missouri Ozarks four or so years ago; I am still in the process of adjusting. But I suppose that we’re all still in the process of adjusting to whatever turbulence and change unbalances our existences. So this, too, is not that big of a deal.
I am a veteran of the Livejournal wars (for over a decade), but as I am not either a Russian, nor to I write horrible slash fiction — or excellent slash fiction, if we want to be honest about it — that venue has rapidly lost its appeal. My writing there dropped away and became rather sparse. Which is all good, as there are only 12 non-Russian speakers left there anyway, out of which perhaps only 4 are adults. I needed a new venue for my output, and as tumblr seems to be the province of fandoms and those who communicate only via images — a picture my be a thousand words, but there’s a reason a thousand pictures at once is referred to as a “dump” — here I am.
While this space may touch upon personal issues some time, I don’t intend for it to be the repository of my daily activities, which while would be in keeping with the more self-involved aspects of our age, would also bore any reader to tears. I know. I’m there every day. I am approaching this as a place for me to muck about with ideas. That’s the hope, anyway. We will see how that goes.
If it crashes and burns, at least there will be a record of the glorious flameout. And perhaps a witness or two.
A word about the title: it comes from George Orwell, in his Homage to Catalonia. I’ve always been a great admirer of Orwell, and I’ve always found his searing Homage to be one of my favorite works. (Orwell and the Spanish Civil War will be the subject of a future post, I am sure.) The title itself comes from his time on the front lines in Aragon, facing the Nationalist-held city of Huesca. The Republican commanders had launched the campaign by inspiring their troops with the promise “we’ll have coffee tomorrow in Huesca”, which grew to be the somewhat of a common joke to the men along the line as the front stagnated into trench warfare. It amused him enough that he mentioned that one day if he ever returned to Spain, he would travel to Huesca to claim his cup.
Huesca never did fall to the Republicans; Orwell never was to return to Spain.
For me, Huesca represents all those lofty goals unachieved; all those places never visited; all those promises unkept. It is a name I associate with striving and failing, that place whose lights you can see blinking in the twilight but you just can’t quite get to, always tantalizing, always just out of your grasp.
Huesca is about being human. All of us carry our Huescas.