Nothing Makes Sense to me Any More

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Nothing Makes Sense to me Any More

I, Georgia, who was born George, am doubtless like all others of my age. I have no problems with anachronisms and old word forms and grammar, but I find difficulty understanding modern speech forms, which I can’t help but regard as illiteracy. I accept that language changes with time, but I don’t like it, and I think poorly of those who use what I can not help but regard as stupidity. So, I’m no different from what older persons have ever been.

I, Georgia, who was born George, am doubtless like all others of my age. I have no problems with anachronisms and old word forms and grammar, but I find difficulty understanding modern speech forms, which I can’t help but regard as illiteracy. I accept that language changes with time, but I don’t like it, and I think poorly of those who use what I can not help but regard as stupidity. So, I’m no different from what older persons have ever been.

I hate the use of already instead of now, I could care less, rather than I couldn’t care less, shocking instead of surprising, quite rather than exceptionally and my understanding of momentarily has always been for a moment not in a moment, ie briefly rather than soon. I am not at all anti-American, but it all reminds me of my difficulties when I moved from the Highlands to Glasgow where ‘How’ meant ‘Why’. Language is more important to all of us than we realise, and I am an ancient Gallic speaker who learnt English, English English of the time that is, in my middle teens. All else I can’t help be but corruption to my ears. I accept that I have an archaic viewpoint, but that is my reality, and how else can I be expected to understand matters? For like all of us I am a child of my time, or at least I was once..

The young can have no reasonable expectation other than to expect the old to be anything other than old, and should have no surprise when we leave our wealth to those who are most like ourselves. I am worth billions and have left nothing to my children or fifteen of my sixteen grandchildren. Why? Because I didn’t like what they have done to my culture, and I have no regrets about my actions since. They have no right to expect my wealth if they don’t deserve it, and I am the only one who has a right to determine who deserves it or not. I told them often enough from their birth what I expected. They had the chance to inherit a share of my wealth, but they didn’t listen to me. They certainly didn’t respect me enough to believe that what I had told them was how I thought. Their belief that they were entitled, and I use the word in the proper sense, not the modern usage, to inherit my wealth was entirely false, so fifteen of them will have to work for the rest of their lives, which I regard as entirely fair, for they have no connection with how I acquired my wealth.

Shallanah, my sixteenth grandchild, whom the others had reviled since she’d reached the age of three, I have decided shall inherit all. She has loved me since her birth and accepted me for the person that I am. Had she not I’d have left all to a global charity. I have no knowing if she understands how much her beliefs have meant to me, but given her mind set I believe she does. Moreover, I believe she has understood my problems with language changes. She does use modern forms, but tries to echew them when speaking to me. Much more importantly she has always loved me, which my other grandchildren clearly have never done. As a result, I am more than reconciled to leave all to Shallanah.

It logically made no difference to me that Shallanah, who has been a wonderful girl all her life, was born Sean, but like does tend to like, for as I said, I was born George, and I hope like me she finds a man who will love her as she is, as did Steven love me. His death after fifteen years of love is something I still find difficult to live with. I do most sincerely hope that she enjoys decades more love than I managed, for love is the ultimate human experience. Nothing else matters.

I am told that I have less than a month left, but it matters not, for I have left all as it should be left. I am lucky, for not many have the advance notice of the peace on their death that I shall experience. Goodbye and good luck, Shallanah, my heiress.

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A very different story

Angharad's picture

which almost reads like a blog. I could certainly identify with some of the transpond corruptions of British English, and the could care less, drives me up the wall. Then and than are another, but hey-ho, we are assured that language evolves so perhaps one day we'll be in the minority. Sadly I don't have billions to leave to anyone, so I'll just say thank you, Eolwaen for a story which made me think for a moment.

Angharad