The Malleable Nature of Common Words in Foreign Mouths

I have never doubted the direct effects of my twofold-immigrant upbringing on certain stylistic understandings of my knowledge. It wasn't that I necessarily learned wholly different information from others, rather, the knowledge I was absorbing from my parents inevitably had a foreign twist that was, if you ask others, embarrassingly wrong and shameful. I do not agree with this sentiment. One can argue that my learned-wisdoms were perhaps un-American, but it is important to note that a divergent perception of commonly perceived notions is far from embarrassing or shameful. It is good to be globally strange. My net of deception is worldwide. 

My father being from France, and my mother from the Philippines, it was surprising that the misfortunes of my knowledge did not lean toward one direction of cultural deviation over another. Carrots were very healthy for the eyes, as thumbs-ups were considered an insult, as the color red was lucky, as moving out at thirty-five was the norm, etc. Note that my father is an Atheist and my mother Catholic. My familial education was a conglomeration of opposing traditions, superstitions and misinformation. Does that stray or differ from any other culture's composition? The answer is no. But my particular learnings certainly clashed with the governing traditions, superstitions and misinformation on which America thrives. 

This is all to direct you to my line of thought regarding mispronunciation of common words I had learned from my parents for many years before discovering that I am, as others would like to force upon me, a fool. Here and there, I will pronounce a word I've learned incorrectly and spend the following years learning to say it the correct way in my mother tongue of English. A few I've come across recently follow here, paired with my distinct pronunciations:

Phlegm - Prounounced "Flame"
Almond - Prounounced "Al-mund" with a throat-wide-open "A"
Hacienda - Pronounced  "Hashyenda"
Warm - Pronounced "Waahrm," such as "alarm" or "swarm" (now I question, have I also been pronouncing "swarm" incorrectly? Should I have been saying "swore'm" all along?)
Salve - Pronounced "Solve"

I will undoubtedly throughout my life learn of more words I am serially slaughtering as I stumble through the English language I had (crookedly) believed to have mastered. I will be hard to convince that these apparent verbal massacres are wrong or deficient, and am more of the belief that they're somewhat irrelevant, and even spawn from a pleasantly complex upbringing full of mysterious wisdoms. And at the very least, I am lucky to have a slew of thoroughly American peers to supervise my every utterance and discipline the boundaries of my speech. 

My parents, on the other hand, alone in their living room happily guzzling salad while indulging in Korean TV dramas, will without consequence continue to sing the praises of their favorite leafy green, "Kyle." 
 

Chair On The Side

The chair is spotted in sunlight dots and it is orange velour. I found it on the side of the road, and was breath-taken, and it took me ten minutes to fit in my vehicle. There is a small gash on its left side that exposes tufts of filling. It is flawed and charming and worth the detour. When I sit down, we become another thing entirely, together.

Language of Crabs

As a child, my mother would bring me to the Asian supermarket to pick up a few essential items. While she didn’t partake in making any obscure dishes (brain, pig feet, etc.), we visited often to obtain a few crabs from a large vat of water at the back of the giant market. My mother would allow me to stick my seven-year-old arms into the container of crabs trampling one another to get to the open top, and choose the one with the biggest claws. I grabbed them by the torso, as instructed, and threw them one-by-one into our bag, where they would continue climbing the plastic, now with less competition. At home, my mother would boil them alive. This was something I knew needed to be done to enjoy the succulent meat of crab claws. I never thought twice. The air would escape their bodies and out would come a high-pitched whistle, like a ready kettle, long and steady and nearly silent, the crabs emptying side-by-side.

And all that time, I always thought it was the sound of them screaming.

Renovations

I have moved my bed five separate times, three separate positions: against the wall with no window in the corner, just beneath the window in the center, turned sideways against the wall with no window, opposite the wall with no window, turned away from the door to the world—every angle was false. I’ve changed the sheets from white linen to dark blue linen, light blue linen, grey linen, “a pop of color,” my brain repeats catch phrases I’ve read and heard and swallowed, and finally to white linen, with a pop of fur. Now I’m on the fur, writing to no one, against the wall with no window.

Dream in Fuzz

I dreamt that I gazed to myself in the mirror, and what I saw was this: my face was covered in hair—a thin layer, but a hefty peach fuzz on every area except the eyes and lips; I was stunned by the sudden folic apparition. And then, with almost no hesitation, I shrugged and thought, “this is who I am,” and began brushing my teeth.

Consolation At The Dresden

It came out of the blue, he says. He was the happiest he’s ever been, and it had all come tumbling down in one moment. On stage, Marty and Elayne perform a scorching rendition of “Smooth Operator.” Not a note in place. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. I’m going to tell you something, and you can never repeat it. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t know how to say it, so I’m just going to tell you. She got pregnant.

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PORTRAIT: BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

October 2016, I visited Bogotá to meet one of my cousins on my father's side for the first time: Susana Carrié, photographer & designer. We remain in touch. I never doubt we independently reminisce about the unguided promenades through graffitied alleyways.