FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW.November 30, 2009
November 25, 2009
Para Tu Amor
Fun fact: I am trilingual. I grew up speaking Chinese, then had to transition to reading and writing in English, and then finally discovered in high school I had a natural knack for Spanish. And while my English is undoubtedly the best of the three, I have to confess that my real passion and clandestine love ultimately lie with the Spanish language.
It's hard for me to explain what Spanish means to me. I could go on and on and talk about how useful a language it is to know, how I have become fast friends with the Spanish-speaking maintenance staff in my building, how I can easily give directions to City Hall to tourists from Buenos Aires. But for me, it's so much more than these things. Hearing people speak Spanish the way it is supposed to be spoken, with that perfect rising and falling of sounds crafting together words and sentences and ideas, that slight but so natural emphasis on the "yo"...it makes my heart beat fast, race. Reading books upon books about the Latin American identity, as authors poignantly search for new ways to portray a disjointed, marginalized and still deeply misunderstood historical existence. It is an existence that I, on some level even I don't quite understand, also identify with.
I remember the very moment in my life when I became aware of it, this love affair I now freely admit to having. It was years ago, and I was listening to a Juanes song, "Para Tu Amor." It wasn't as though I suddenly (en espanol: "de repente," a term that has always evoked images of sinning) knew all the words to the song in some brilliant flash of an epiphany. Rather, I simply understood everything. I understood the song in its entirety, its meanings -- all the pain and desire and desperation and acceptance of perfections and imperfections -- suddenly just became so impeccably and undeniably clear. Everything was simple, illuminated. I just understood. Something in that song and ultimately in that foreign tongue had translated itself into a language I could finally understand; something that had been so foreign at first felt like a thing that had been a part of me all of my life. If that makes any sense. And being cognizant of this understanding was so inexplicably beautiful. It was, all told, a real metacognitive, metaphysical, meta-everything kind of moment.
From then on, I became absolutely ravenous. I wanted to consume everything, know everything, be everything. And needless to say, I'm still just as ravenous now as I was back then when everything clicked and I just knew. Now if only this sort of clarity and ease would somehow come out of my relationship with that most dreaded of disciplines, Math...I could probably conquer the world.
It's hard for me to explain what Spanish means to me. I could go on and on and talk about how useful a language it is to know, how I have become fast friends with the Spanish-speaking maintenance staff in my building, how I can easily give directions to City Hall to tourists from Buenos Aires. But for me, it's so much more than these things. Hearing people speak Spanish the way it is supposed to be spoken, with that perfect rising and falling of sounds crafting together words and sentences and ideas, that slight but so natural emphasis on the "yo"...it makes my heart beat fast, race. Reading books upon books about the Latin American identity, as authors poignantly search for new ways to portray a disjointed, marginalized and still deeply misunderstood historical existence. It is an existence that I, on some level even I don't quite understand, also identify with.
I remember the very moment in my life when I became aware of it, this love affair I now freely admit to having. It was years ago, and I was listening to a Juanes song, "Para Tu Amor." It wasn't as though I suddenly (en espanol: "de repente," a term that has always evoked images of sinning) knew all the words to the song in some brilliant flash of an epiphany. Rather, I simply understood everything. I understood the song in its entirety, its meanings -- all the pain and desire and desperation and acceptance of perfections and imperfections -- suddenly just became so impeccably and undeniably clear. Everything was simple, illuminated. I just understood. Something in that song and ultimately in that foreign tongue had translated itself into a language I could finally understand; something that had been so foreign at first felt like a thing that had been a part of me all of my life. If that makes any sense. And being cognizant of this understanding was so inexplicably beautiful. It was, all told, a real metacognitive, metaphysical, meta-everything kind of moment.
From then on, I became absolutely ravenous. I wanted to consume everything, know everything, be everything. And needless to say, I'm still just as ravenous now as I was back then when everything clicked and I just knew. Now if only this sort of clarity and ease would somehow come out of my relationship with that most dreaded of disciplines, Math...I could probably conquer the world.
November 23, 2009
Exhilaration
5 miles today! Okay, okay, with a short break in between. But still! I'm slowly becoming more and more addicted to running. There's something so indescribably personal and intimate about it. Only you can control the pace at which you go, the distance you choose to run. It's so difficult, and yet simultaneously so easy, yielding. And I like that. After a certain point, you find your rhythm and the physical pain and mental torment just...melt away. All you need to do is run; nothing else matters at that unique moment in time. I find that I fall into this zone where I don't really see anyone or anything around me. There is just this lull, this quiet noise that surrounds. It's almost as if everything has fallen into place, and there's no need to think about anything anymore. It's just me. I become so profoundly aware of everything and nothing.