An Actually to Give in a Language
Actually (because the problem is real), the word ‘Actually’ has started haunting me. I use it so much that it has ceased to take a linguistic effect. It has joined my pit of word-nothingness; a place where my words go to get pulverized. It is like that time when ‘literally’ was the bane of my verbal existence then it was replaced with ‘like’ then ‘like-like’, then ‘indubitably’, then ‘incorrigible’, then ‘substantia gelatinosa’.
Actually, I fixate on things. It can be words, routes, places, foods, music…the list is infinite. When the fixation is words, I say them until I am repulsed then never use them again-ish. Sometimes I fixate on sentences for instance (she uses this as she fights her best not to say like); whenever I get a new pen the first sentence I write is:
They were the only people.
This sentence is my curse. The first time I wrote it must have been on the first day I started using a ballpen over 30 years ago. And since then, I have failed miserably to shake it off. I will blame it on the English lessons. We were required to write compositions flooded with idioms. The higher the idiom count, the higher the mark. Of course, they had to be applied correctly. These lessons were the reason I started writing. They became a place for me to pour my forever-scattered thoughts.
Today, we are not here to tumble down school memory lanes. We are here because I cannot shake off using the word ‘Actually.’ It does not suit my verbal aesthetic, so here I am using it as much as possible until it evaporates from my mind. This is my version of AA: ACTUALLY ANNOYMOUS!
An Actually to Give at a Train Station
Actually (because this is a fact), the Newcastle train station has hidden…no difficult-to-find male toilets. Whenever I visit, I spend some time directing men to their toilets. I am tempted to hire myself as their toilet-pointer mascot. I wonder what the populace does when I am not there to play toilet chauffeur. Oh, all those poor lost bladder-bursting men’s souls. Had this been in the 1800s, the magnitude of chaos that would erupt when a random man accidentally finds himself in the female toilets would have been astronomical. The dishonour he would bring to his cow. The dishonour he would bring to his whole family. The dishonour, people! It is my duty as a good resident to be the Newcastle train station Google toilet pin. Terms and conditions apply because I visit this station once every two months. Keep those bladder muscles clenched until I visit!
Actually (because why not), at the London Euston train station, I always take a photo of the human trees. I take the stairs to get an aerial view of the station. They look so comical attentively watching the arrivals and departures screens. They look like hungry hawks watching…waiting for their platform numbers so that they attack the train in a foot-stomping, body-smashing, almost squabbling, panting, rabid-like, wild manner. My turn arrives to be possessed like them as the clock counts down to my departure time. I am planted under the widescreen with my short back close to 75 degrees arched for better viewing. By the time I make it to my seat on the train, I need a breather. I need my humanity back. I commiserate with my fellow passengers.
Actually (because meh), at the Carlisle train station, I always take a photo of my coffee even on days when I do not feel like coffee-ing. This station has a photogenic mini-island…I mean a large towering concrete bar. It is Instagram-worthy. I know, you will call out my bias because this is where I live but I love this stand-island-bar-tower thingy because its location is just right with the sun’s direction. It gives a golden bar.
An Actually to Give in a City
Actually (because this is a personal fact), I tend to follow the same route whenever I visit big cities not because I am a bad tourist but because…well, let me call it brain mechanics. My neuro-wires once they attach themselves to a route will never let go. I am fixated on certain routes. In Lisbon when I leave the airport, I get the metro to Lisboa Oriente station, then get the red line metro to Saldanha. I always stay at the hotels in this area. I cannot change this so do not try to make me. I am part of the Saldanha furniture. Besides, it is a good line that red metro close to many tourist traps. Just the way I like my travels. No fear of getting lost in a foreign country. Or is it because I have this thing for red? I am drawn to red like a moth to the light. It has no cure.
Actually (because just), in Barcelona, I get off at the Nord bus station and then haunt my usual spots, loitering everywhere on foot but never turning towards the La Sagrada Familia. I am ashamed to confess that I have been to Barcelona three times but never visited this magnificent church. I do not know why yet I call myself Cathedral-girl on Tuesdays and Thursdays and obsessed with Cathedralgram. Also, do not ask me why all my travels to Barcelona were by bus. Fine! I never knew about train travel in Spain until my very last day. Even then, I used a bus to Lisbon from Madrid; six hours’ worth of bum-numbing sitting. I stayed in Spain for a year, but trains remained a myth. I did not even see one. There are loads of trains in Spain. Oh lord, the buses blindfolded me. As a train fanatic, I did not visit a single train station there. A very disappointing member of the train club. The real question: How did I live a whole year without seeing a single train? I fixate on stuff but the way Spanish trains deluded me, I will never find that answer. It is witchcraft! Anyways, ALSA buses were and will always be my hit. I love them.
An Actually to Give Today
Actually (because it is here to stay), M always asks me why I use the word ‘actually’ too much. The answer is that I am a part-time pessimist and full-time fixater. I never expected life; things here and there, this and that to turn out in the positive way they do or the way they did. I need to be positive like my blood group. Life is surprisingly beautiful…actually.
Till next time,
~Evelyn Nec
RANDOM THOUGHTS 