I thought I wanted to be a nomad to fit all my possessions in a backpack a traveler a poem writer speaker of seven languages an existentialist patriotic a wanderer adaptive courageous instead I am a burrower a lover of quiet evenings bonded to my home rooted a wife a daughter an immigrant solid dependable unmusical yet completely in tune
Photo: www.mfischerviolins.com
My brain refers to me in the second person an ever present stream of rebukes like a high strung overachieving hyper conscience you need to be better do more read more try harder despite the fact she never gives it a rest I like the insides of my mind just the way they are persistent noisy and architectural
Photo: http://web.mit.edu/museum/collections/architecture.html
When Luca and I first met and taught each other our respective language, we delighted in words the other used. Italian and Spanish are both beautiful, and have many similarities, despite of which they are a lot more different than people assume.
Our favorite anecdotes are around “false pairs”, where the same word, spelled the same, means very different things in each language. (Try putting a word you know and use into a sentence where it means the opposite and examine your immediate reaction to it. If I told you “get in the car” actually meant “get out of the car” and let a day go by and yelled “get in the car!” what do you think you’d do?)
Learning each other’s language, and the fun inherent to it, continue to entertain us.
We have now been living in the United States for ten years, where we speak English in the office all day. Having three languages in common, we have adopted words from each one and peppered our sentences with a mix that we realize has become incomprehensible to anyone else (and often to each other.)
Most recently, we’ve discovered we are incapable of getting through a whole thought without some kind of abuse to all language. In place of the original creative flourish we displayed, we have reduced ourselves to sounding something like this: “Ah, we need to go to the watchamacalit to get the thingamajig” or “hon, did you, ummm, you know, whatever?”
The most alarming aspect is that about 90% of the time, even when the sentence is devoid of nouns (and sometimes verbs) we know what the other is talking about. The other 10% of the time, one of us stares while the other sits there locked in an internal struggle for recall. Or, we begin to holler, “Come on! Say it! Say it in ANY language!”
I fear we’ll soon be reduced to incoherent blabber.
We’ve hence resolved to lay down the law: a sentence begun in a language must be finished coherently in that language. No inserting words that don’t belong. No making up words (my favorite.) No long pauses where one secretly hopes the other will finish the sentence.
This is going to be…yeah. Phew. You know.
My friends Jill, Adriana, Nicole and Miguel requested that I share 25 random things about me.
I know I was supposed to post this text in the notes section of my facebook page and in turn pick 25 other people, but in an attempt to curb the madness, I am writing them here instead:
1. I love to read.
2. I love to write.
3. I love words. Finding the right one is like touching the sky.
4. I love food. To prepare it, to eat it, to talk about it. I will always want to know what you had for dinner.
5. I prefer lemony or spicy over sweet. Green papaya salad over chocolate mousse.
6. I tell the truth as often and as clearly as possible.
7. There are people who had an impact on me who I no longer see. In most cases, I think that’s a shame.
8. I am a lot less extroverted, aggressive, competitive and difficult than people initially assume. Don’t tell.
9. I don't know if there is a God.
10. I believe there is an indestructible kernel of divinity inside each of us.
11. Whenever I had something good going and somehow sabotaged it, I concluded I had a self-destructive streak. I now realize my subconscious knows before I do when I am wrong to assume I have something good going. I have a self-preserving streak, and I trust it.
12. "Reliable" is one of my favorite compliments. (Failing that, I’ll take “smoking hot”.)
13. I will always look over my niece.
14. I learned to swim before I learned to walk. Being under water fills me with a primal happiness.
15. I need space. If I can't get it, I become first distant, then insufferable. I wish I didn’t.
16. I don't like parties. I go through great lengths to avoid them.
17. I feel lucky every day.
18. I feel grateful every day.
19. 87% of the time, I look forward to going to work.
20. 85% of the time, I like what I see in the mirror. The other 15% I think I’m ugly but find solace in the fact that I have uncommonly pretty feet.
21. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.
22. I have an aversion to clutter.
23. I have no patience. I wish I did.
24. I used to believe that worrying somehow protected the people that I love. I now think worrying is a colossal waste of energy.
25. The life I have today exceeds all my expectations.
Photo: http://www.swimgoods.net
I’ve noticed over the years that I tend to remember what happens on vacations, but that much of my (precious) life between one and another is, alas, a blur.
I am a devoted fan of routine, but it does tend to cause one day to run into the next. There are so many valuable moments that I’m unable to recall in this get up exercise jump in shower jump in car get to office work work work drive back home have dinner watch TV and read a bit before going to bed smudge.
Hence my single New Year’s resolution: to pursue memorable experiences. They can be vaguely romantic (weekend away), athletic (kayaking or rock climbing), or extremely simple, such as making an effort to have friends over for dinner instead of stretching out on the sofa to watch a movie. Don’t get me wrong. Movie watching (and on-sofa stretching) are fabulous ways to end the week - but I can’t even remember what I’ve already seen.
My quest for experiences doesn’t have to be elaborate, doesn’t have to be expensive and must give me joy.
In other words, life needs to be celebrated.
I’m happy to report that so far I turned 40 in Yellowstone National Park, went to LA for the day just to hold my absolutely adorable baby niece, hiked to the top of Montara Mountain, bought tickets to see a play, set aside time to catch up with friends and scheduled a trip to spend time with my family (which is a lot of things, but unmemorable isn’t one of them.)
My hope is this will be a resolution I won’t have a great deal of trouble keeping and that might even stick around long after 2009 becomes just another year.
Photo: www.realsimple.com
I got a Kindle for my 40th birthday. Her name is Sophia.
I admit I was skeptical at first. Reluctant. Shy. (OK – I looked at Luca and wailed “Why? Why? Why did you buy me this? How could you do this to me?”)
Since that brief, myopic moment, I’ve discovered Kindle is not a gadget for gadget lovers – it’s a gadget for book lovers. It’s sleek and light, yet sweetly unassuming. The screen is sharp, high-resolution electronic paper (so, technically, not a screen but a surface.)
It’s very easy to use. You don’t need cables or a computer. There is no need to do any synching.
If you’re reading a book and come across a word you don’t know the meaning of, you can look it up. This has prompted me to look up words even when I do know what they mean, because it’s so quick and easy I can satisfy my curiosity about, say, their etymology.
My favorite part: If I’m holding Sophia and you recommend a good book, I can find it, download it and start reading it in less than a minute. Although it claims to use cell phone technology I think it’s a combination of pixie dust and telepathy. It’s not that I don’t understand how it works. It’s that it feels like nothing less than magic to see the book you want in your possession in less time than it would take you to find your car keys.
I can receive the New York Times (or any mayor international newspaper, magazine or blog) every morning before it even is available in print.
Kindle saves paper (there is nothing to print), and if yours breaks and you send it back to them they recycle it. It isn’t cheap, but hard cover books cost around $25, and the same book in the kindle version is $9.99. Books that aren’t the latest bestsellers can be yours (in under a minute) for less than that. For example, after running into a great quote (“it's a poor sort of memory that only works backward”), I decided I needed to re-read Alice in Wonderland and paid $2 for it. President Obama’s inaugural address is mine to read whenever I want, I don’t have to carry the newspaper clipping with me, and it was less than half a dollar.
On Kindle, you can not only read, download free samples (roughly the first chapter) of almost every book you’d like to check out, acquire books at the speed of light and carry 200 books in a device that’s less than half the size of a small laptop, you can also take notes, “clip” pages and archive them (in order), and listen to music. You can also use the “search” feature to find anything online. (What are the Seven Wonders of the Modern World? Give me a minute!)
To all you naysayers who insist you must hold a book, turn its smooth pages and smell that clean, new paper smell, I say to you: I understand. Why would such a convenient device and a book be mutually exclusive? Use Kindle for travel, and read books at home.
Photo: http://aaroncrocco.wordpress.com
