| Writer's Block: Voulez-vous parler ... |
[Dec. 13th, 2009|12:19 pm] |
I speak Spanish and American Sign Language with moderate proficiency - my Spanish is getting rusty this year; last summer I was able to keep up with it since I was working with children for whom it was their first language, but I was only able to half-translate the song that Luke sang as a solo for him the other night. ASL I'm still pretty fluent in - I can transliterate songs on the radio from English to ASL, anyway.
I know a few phrases and a couple of songs in French - I can speak and read them but not write. I can generally understand the gist of short written French or Italian, though obviously not the linguistic nuances I so love when I learn of them (I didn't realize this ability applied to Italian until the last couple months, courtesy of the occasional Italian text message from my lovergentleman), and I know enough Latin through its influence on English to be able to determine the meaning and root words of a complex Latin-based English word or technical term, although I couldn't begin to speak Latin.
The one language I am still desperate to learn is Hebrew. Modern, not ancient; I have little interest in translations, but one of my aspirations is to write Hebrew poetry. I think it's a beautiful language. It and Irish Gaelic are up there on my list.
I feel a little guilty for wanting to learn Hebrew more than the language of my origin, especially because there's a resurgence in Irish Gaelic; there's a movement to keep it alive, and it was really interesting to see so much bilingual in Ireland, particularly Dublin and its suburbs. Particularly if I ever live out my dream of living with Izzy (or whoever my firstborn ends up being, or multiple children, or whatev) in Dalkey for a summer or a year or something, it would be great to know both the languages.
Oh man I want to go back to Ireland...I miss it so much. Eh, it looks like my spring break is going to be in Boston. And probably not Portland (ME) as was my intent; I don't want to spend the whole time in Boston, so I'll have to find somewhere else to visit for a day or two that's within reasonable distance by train. It's a shame: Portland was only $48 RT by train; I doubt I'll find any other deal that sweet. But Maine is kind of a weird dream. I have no reason for actually wanting to go there, I just do. And have all my life.
I just flipped to another window, came back and looked at those last four words - "have all my life" - and at first misunderstood the context and thought I was saying "I have all my life [to do these things]", which is true. Nice slip, brain - I've got the time to visit Maine and Ireland with and/or without my far-in-the-future children, and to learn all the languages I can, and to do the things I feel guilty about not being able to do this week because I'm too busy. Whew. |
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| the children in my life give me hope. (x-posted to Facebook) |
[Dec. 12th, 2009|11:34 am] |
Julie:
Last year, when she was in first grade, Julie talked about John McCain nonstop, wrinkling her nose anytime someone so much as mentioned Obama's name. I usually refrain from talking with the youngest kids at work about politics because - let's face it - they're parroting their parents' opinions, so I'm not going to change their minds and if I did, I'd probably get fired for corrupting the youth. (Or be given the modern equivalent of hemlock?)
But yesterday Julie and I got onto the topic of politics, and one of the topics nearest and dearest to my heart came up - same-sex marriage. I decided to brave onwards, since I'm not blind to a teachable moment when it appears so voluntarily and I'm a little bit bolder than I was a year ago. We're discussing same-sex marriage as it relates to my disagreement with *my* parents, and previously she'd been talking about how she and her mom agreed about things. As I'm talking to her about this, she's wrinkling her nose and giving me funny looks. Finally, she says loudly, "I just don't understand why people think it's okay for straight people to get married but not for gay people."
In that moment, I had such hope for the future that I actually started crying.
(She went to get me a tissue.)
Savannah:
When we used to play Sorry, I'd stack the deck so that she would win. After a while, I realized that she was telling me it was my turn when it wasn't so that I'd win. |
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