Friday, April 16, 2010

Salad Brain

Oh geez. My brain feels like salad today --- maybe that’s what extreme house cleaning does to you. I realized I have absolutely nothing to talk about except swifters and wonder brooms. And believe me, I’d rather do hara kiri than bore you with that. I haven’t had time to play Plants vs. Zombies, haven’t decently finished anyone book for a week. All I had time for were select articles from back issues of People Magazine where I drool all over Chace Crawford and Johnny Depp. Aside form that, I was also forced to sit through hours and hours of telenovela since that’s all my balikbayan aunt and uncle want to watch. (Sometimes, I catch myself speaking like Agua perhaps because that show has rendered me brain dead).

No, it wasn’t a week for the cerebral, believe me you.

Have to do some mental calisthenics this weekend. I’ll somehow find a way to squeeze that in during this weekend’s paralegal training. I mean, if that doesn’t add some brain activity to my cerebellum, I don’t know what will.

Soundtrack of my 2010

Book in Hand: Graceling by Kristine Cashore
Song in Mind: I Belong To You by Muse


1. Halo - Beyonce
2. Therapy - Indira Arie
3. Supermassive Blackhole - Muse
4. Why Don't You and I - Chade Kroeger w/ Santana
5. Hush Hush - Pussycat Dolls
6. Too Lost in You - Sugababes
7. This is How You Remind Me - Nickelback
8. Mad World - Adam Lambert
9. All Star - Smashmouth
10. I Run To You - Lady Antebellum

Sunday, April 04, 2010

Learning Languages

While I was scrubbing my floor to death and dusting my books til the printed letters took cover, I kept my head busy by listening to an audio Spanish lesson (downloaded for me by kini). :D

?Que ora es?
?Que necessita usted?
Quiero unas baterias!
Necessito informacion, por favor!!
Ayudame!

I don't know what it is about Spanish that I like so much. Maybe it's the roll of the Rs or the lisping of the Cs and THs which fascinates me so. Maybe it's because I imagine that one day I will travel to Spain and trace my roots in Madrid. There's even a province called Burgos in Spain and I imagine myself strolling down green lanes and fantstic gardens pretending it's all mine.

Back in college, French and Japanese language courses were all the rage. Frankly, I don't get it. One makes you sound as if you're choking on snails and the other makes you sound high and extremely angry. But before you attack me with forks and knives, I reiterate that love of a language is highly personal.

I love speaking Filipino --- it has delicate nuances and, more or less, straightforward pronunciation. I would die to learn any one Pinoy dialect; my Dad spoke 5, just for kicks, and I appreciated it too late. But if I were to choose a foreign language, Spanish is it. It has romance, a little bit haughtiness, maddening pronunciation (but not as worse as French), and a lot of rolling letters. It evokes scenes of mariachis and banderitas, and long, layered skirts and flowery fans. It reminds me of Desperado which made quite an impression on me at age 11. I think, it's the passion in the language which satisfies me the most.

I wouldn't mind being a polyglot, though I'll still stay clear of French and Japanese. Instead, I'll study the dying languages. Let's see:

Gaelic - Anamchara (soulmate), Graim thu (I love you)! (it sounds less cheesy, dun't it?No?) Well, yes, it does sound complicated, but doesn't it sound like winds rushing through crags and valleys? I love it.

or

Latin - just so I can quit saying Carpe Diem and say something new.

or

Aramaic - I mean, c'mon, wouldn't it be cool to greet Jesus using his native tongue when you finally bump unto him in heaven (supposing you make it to heaven)? "Bro... Shlomo Elaykoun!"(Peace be with you)

Sheesh. Teka, nag-short circuit na ata utak ko. Maybe I should just sleep this off. You can only exhaust one's limb and Broca's area in one day. If you know where I could learn these languages though, give me a point in the right direction. :D

Magandang umaga!

Friday, April 02, 2010

On Incompatibility

You make me want to be normal.

Except that I will never be. I have lived my life taking pleasure and pride in being adamantly "AB". I have taken circuituous roads and unknown short cuts just for the pure heck of not walking the road oft taken. I lived a life of irony and oxymorons --- and I take great comfort from it. And now, I am trying to fit myself into a mold which is obviously too incompatible with my girth or depth, in so many more ways than one.

I'm allergic to boxes. Or to be more specific, being inside a box. I have spent too much energy bursting out of them for me to suddenly want to crouch inside and pull down the flaps until all light is shut out. But if you are inside, logic fails, and I find myself enduring the cramp and the inky endless night just to be shut in with you. Inside the box, I cannot breathe, but then you smile and I ask myself, who needs air?

I wish I could bring you out of the box with me. I try sometimes, but the language is different and uninteresting for you. I've tried showing you the swirly clouds just before a storm, and the delicate inner workings of a flower, and I tried to explain sunlight, or the color of babies' laughter and you just look at me as if I am insane. Which of course I am. Would it be so wrong if you went insane too, just a little bit, just enough to see the second shadow beyond the surface of your glistening world?

There is a universe inside us. By closing my eyes and delving inside, I see moonlight and sunbursts, burning comets and the occasional blackhole. How can you put that inside a box? How can I ever be someone who lives inside a compartment in somebody's head?

I will never fit the mold you seek, that's clear. And you will never abandon your confinement, that too is certain. We're two very different creatures, air and earth, and although able to co-exist side by side, we can never really be the same element. In a moment of unhinged reasoning, I thought air and earth can mix to create beautiful glass sculptures of wind and sand. But for that to happen, we need fire, and something's telling me that's not something you'll do.

Not for me.

And here we must leave it be.