I wish to be a duck

I had this thought on the way to work today and I tried to reason it out. I could not, were I a water fowl, live in safety. There are humans who bring their guns to kill me, there are animals who bring their teeth and claws for the sole purpose to eat me or my children, there are humans who fill my home with waste and sewage, making it impossible for me to live a healthy life.

But.

There is a layer of fat, which causes me to be warm. There are always other birds with which to herald out the news. There are feathers, which would, at a moment’s notice, carry me off to anywhere I please, without so much as a thought about money, security or planning. There is no lack of colors with which I am covered, some changing hue in the irridescence of the sun. There are ponds, like the one at which I currently perch, that I may bathe freely. There are trees to shelter me, to feed me. 

I could be free.

  
But then my thoughts return to the present, and I am caught with two legs and a heart filled with hope. I would give it all up, everything I hold dear, to free my heart, to free myself from these constraints of gravity. I would soar above the clouds and straight into bliss, for that is where I truly belong, not stuck here with my shoes in the earth, smelling the decay of the leaves and whispering to the squirrels that come to me for sustinance. But here I am, smiling as they sing the song of my people, trumpeting like downy angels. One day, my fellow travelers, I shall join you in the sky. But until then, perhaps I will find contentment in just breathing the same air.

I’m not suffering from delusions, but as Alice herself once said, “I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Truly though, would it not be fantastic to be a thing with cares so few and the power of wings?

In other news, I would also like to be a mermaid, but I seem to lack fins and that rant is for another day to come.

De los dos…

Today is a special day: a DOUBLE BLOG DAY!

Anyway, this morning I wrote about literacy and that has stuck with me the entire day. Then, as I was listening to a playlist I have, I realized most of my songs were in Spanish. It’s a great honor that I can be part of this musical culture, but I want to talk about it a little more than that.

I am American, as is rather obvious from the lack of “u” in words like “favor” and the way I spell “yogurt” and “theater”. But I am also Russian and Irish and English because of my heritage. I do, however, have one tiny portion of my family from Panama. 

I took 4 years of Spanish in high school, with a woman whom I can only describe as Spanish, made of American parts. She loved teaching and speaking the language and wanted to retire to Spain. It was her passion that really drew me into the language. In college I took a couple more classes and my playlists got longer.

I haven’t gotten to practice it in a while, mostly I brush up by going to Walmart and listening to whatever conversations there are (but don’t tell anyone!). But I think there’s something exceptionally emotional about the words of Spanish music. For blogging purposes, I’m only going to use two songs, but trust me when I say that I have PLENTY more examples. Also, in the interest of fairness, I’m going to try to use songs from the same time period (hopefully year), so that there isn’t a weird pop culture difference (other than language). I know this will be biased regardless, but here goes.

Song: Sexy and I Know It, LMFAO

“When I walk on by, girls be looking like damn he fly

I pimp to the beat,

Walking on the street with in my new lafreak, yeah

This is how I roll, animal print, pants out control,

This is red foo with the big afro

It’s like Bruce Lee rock at the club.”
Song: Llovera, Mia Maestro

“Llovera, gotas mínimas (It will rain, tiny drops)

Lloverá, de mi boca, (It will rain from my mouth)

Saldrá el mar (The sea will pour out.)

No, no, Romeo, no,
No, no, me dejes (ver)  (No, no, don’t let me see)

Tu vida fue gestada ya… (Your life has already been gestated (lived))

Lloverá, caudales de agua, (It will rain, flows of water)

Agua lisa, (Smooth water)

Lloverá, desde mis ojos.” (It will rain, from my eyes.)
These are both from 2011, the year I graduated from high school. Of course, I picked two extremes, and I have loads of songs from that year that I hold dear (in English). But I do think that just the way life themes are expressed (like love and death and life) are put more emotionally and eloquently in Spanish.

With that being said, Dimelo by Enrique Iglesias and Nina Bonita by Chino y Nacho are probably my favorite songs, but we’ll hold that for another day. The whole point was: I REALLY enjoy being able to look into another culture and enjoy it fully, without reservation because I can understand the language. Language is the key.

Things, Excitement!

A little while ago I wrote about how my computer crashed and sent all my things-including the story I had been working on for over a year-to the abyss. I wrote about how I had an early edition on paper and that from the ashes I would rebuild. I’ve found that my scenario is the best thing that could ever happen to my creative license. 

As I look over the words that I wrote before, I can see what the editors and publishers saw. I can laugh about the mistakes I made in an eager attempt to get it done, the amateur manner in which my characters behaved. That was not the story I should have written. It was a mess.

So today, instead of fervishly trying to copy down the words that I had written to produce a terrible tragedy of a book, I scrapped the project for real. Not just starting over, but an entirely new story. Sure, the key points are still the same, and my ideas are really similar-but the presentation is completely different. I have new desires and so do my characters.

It will be darker, more believeable, more like the story I wanted to write but failed to before. What’s more, I will be able to say that I’m writing an entirely new story for this NaNoWriMo, because I will be. This time around, I won’t be hanging on to over-used lines and stereotypes but jumping into unknown territory with characters that feel as real to me as people I went to high school with. 

I think this is a great metaphor for my own life. I have a predetermined plan in my head, where I follow a plan that I made ages ago, saying the words that I have heard over and over before. I know that there are options out there, and that I have complete freedom to reach out and take hold of the new and the bold, but I’m so attached to the story I’ve already made. Believe me, I cried so hard when my manuscript disappeared. And I think that’s an entirely acceptable metaphor for life. I fight so hard to keep the outdated parts of me, just for the sake of saying “But see? I did this!” when what I really need to say is “But see? I’m making new paths!” I never like the change that is imposed upon me: graduating, moving, starting new jobs, making new friends, but in the end those changes are the exact reason I want to keep revising my chapters, my life.

So goodbye first draft, it’s been really nice getting to know you, but it’s time for a serious revision.

Hello new draft, I can’t wait to dig in and see where this story leads.