Mother Tongue

Last night before going to bed I was asked about Tagalog noun- adjective order. I'd say it depends. I didn't study Tagalog formally, but I know what sounds right to me. For example: 

Babae = woman ; Maganda = beautiful

Beautiful woman = maganda ng babae OR babaeng maganda 
(they both have the same meaning but the usage depends on the context)

After answering that question and using that example, I couldn't sleep. I laid in bed, eyes closed trying to speak Tagalog to myself in my head. It went something like this:

Hindi ako nagsasalita ng Tagalog ngayon kasi walang sinoman sa buhay ko na marunong mag Tagalog-- ingles o kaunting espanyol lang. Ang aking mga magulang, lola, at mga pelikula nagturo sa akin upang magsalita Tagalog. Hindi ako marunong magbasa o magsulat. Hindi ko alam ng anumang mga bastos na mga salita. Ito ay mahirap na isulat.

I need practice. It actually made my head hurt. Each sentence took for-e-ver to write-- having to sound it out first each time. It made my hurt last night too. I had to force my brain to stop trying so hard. 

My pronunciation is good, and in conversation, I can do well. Luckily Filipinos learn a lot of English, so Tagalog sounds more like Tagalog w/ English words popping up pretty often. Funny thing: I remember trying to practice Tagalog with my parents, but they'd answer me in English. HAH. Of course they'd do that. Like I said in that painfully executed paragraph above, I learned the language from my parents, grandmothers, and Filipino movies. The movies I watched were mostly romantic comedies that I'd borrow from my uncle's Asian foods and supplies market. The plots were always the same: boy meets girl in some unusual circumstance, they are either stuck together or keep running into each other, she resists as he persists, then she sees him without her and falls for him, told with a lot of slapping and yelling. One in particular was called _Maging Sino Ka Man_ (no matter who you are), starring Sharon Cuneta (Filipina megastar). It was kind of Bodyguardesque because I think she played a megastar and had to hide with this rough and tuble dude, played by Robin Padilla. Looking at the movie poster it may have been more of a drama... But don't let the gun fool you, Filipinos love their guns.

Out of all 18 cousins, I was the second to be born in the US. There are 5 that were born Americans after me. I'm sure that they can understand at least some Tagalog, but I never hear them speak it. My sister, who is one of the 5 barely understands it. The older ones don't speak it either, but I'm sure they can and at the very least can easily understand. There's a story about one of the older ones who refused to speak English once he got to America because he was embarrassed of what Tagalog sounds like. He was probably around 10 at the time he immigrated.  

I like to think that I have the best Tagalog skills overall among all my cousins. I really wanted to learn the language when I was younger, probably because of all the time I spent with my maternal grandmother who was MY grandmother and I didn't have to share her with any of my paternal cousins. She lived with us when I was young enough to pick up language really quickly. My other grandmother would take naps and put Tagalog movies on for me (like _Maging Sino Ka Man_). 

Our parents will still speak Tagalog to each other and just as I think I have the best Tagalog, I think my dad speaks the best English. He's a retired sheriff's deputy and started his career with the LAPD. I'm pretty sure that once picks up language pretty quickly when you work with a bunch of LAPD cops. 

So all this was brought on by me thinking about how long its been since I've had anyone to speak Tagalog to. It might be time to find some Tagalog workbooks to keep it alive.. better than trying to actually meet people, eh? LOL....

Just cos I'm here doesn't mean I like it.

Not gonna lie: I'm super tired of experiencing plain old bad taste. I don't know if the people I'm around are too drunk to notice, or if their desire to be drunk/ cool/ seen/ (all of the above) supersedes a desire to be in a pleasant environment. Maybe it also has to do with Santa Barbara being a small town with businesses that close soon after they open. Maybe this is why they close. Maybe not though, cos this is Santa Barbara, and I am one of the few people I know who seem bothered. Keep reading.

There's a new place in the Funk Zone of Santa Barbara that is trying to offer something new, hip, artsy, and just overall funky. My most recent interaction with this place involved their single occupancy bathroom which contains a toilet, a urinal, a sink, and a piano. The bathroom is large enough to put at least two stalls in, but instead, this establishment opted for the piano. There are so many things wrong with putting a piano in a bathroom-- sanitation alone should have been a thought. But what do you get when you put a drunk ass and a piano together? Now, imagine that happening in a bathroom. A bathroom that locks from the inside, which you are waiting to use. A bathroom you are waiting to use, but can't use because someone is "playing" (with) the piano. And what about when one of the two women that was using the bathroom opens the door, but the other woman won't stop playing the piano with drunk concentration? So much drunk concentration in fact that she doesn't see you've walked into the bathroom, and have asked her to please stop playing with the piano so you can piss (yea, that thing you're supposed to do in a bathroom besides playing a piano). Bathroom piano? I vote nay, it's not a good idea. How about try to be cool in another way? Well, they do.

The first time I went there, it was the soft opening (though I didn't really hear of them having a Grand Opening, so IDK what happened with that). The people who attended were a mix of scenesters and Santa Barbarans in their later twenties and on. I've been looking for a cool bar in Santa Barbara where I could feel comfortable, and hoped that this would be the spot, but quickly saw that it was not. In keeping with the exposed brick, concrete floored, industrial look of the bar, were large, acrylic pops of color over screen prints of nameless Native American faces. Canvas after canvas lined the brick walls completing the look of.... real America? Hardcore America? American grit? More like American habit of cultural appropriation. 

It's my instinct to be automatically suspicious of anything Native, ethnic, cultural, etc when it's in a setting of pure decoration. It's hard to explain: it's more of a feeling. In this case, I'm basically at a pricey hipster bar, and this is the shit on the walls. Nothing that explains the faces in the pieces. At the time, the piano in the bathroom didn't even stick out as something "different" because the wall decor was so distracting. Native faces modge podged onto a canvas with magazine prints, stencils, under acrylic paints, like comic book Warhol. Dang.

A few weeks later, I returned to the bar for a birthday celebration, and the artist was in the house. I approached him and amicably started a conversation in hopes of feeling comforted by the creator himself. NGL, I didn't have high hopes. The artist was an older, white man dressed in a bright green, sleeveless pullover cardigan with a screen printed native man wearing a feather headdress on the side. He completed his look with a light colored fedora, maybe it was straw, matching the color of the print on his sweater. He appreciated being identified as the artist behind the canvases, and when I said I wanted to ask him about his "inspiration" for his subject matter, he smiled and was ready to enlighten me. I told him that his choice of using Natives in pop art was "bold" and before I could actually ask a question, he proudly said that he's heard that before. "Why did you do that?" I asked. I couldn't hear much of what he said over the noisiness of the crowd, but I definitely heard him say that he's part Native American and that it all started with his screen printing work in fashion. He had been screen printing Natives on t-shirts for quite some time apparently. Fashion, the trillion dollar industry that has a bad habit of calling patterns "Aztec" and "Navajo", selling tribal jewelry, socks, and underwear at Urban Outfitters.

I reiterated how his subject matter, or at least who he puts on his canvases is quite shocking, and he answered with another nod and smile saying "Yea, I know, I know" like he's some sort of pioneer doing something amazing for humanity. The conversation was going nowhere and seemed to be giving him encouragement, so I politely excused myself. Before I could go, he pointed at two sheets of white paper taped to the wall next to the exit. It was his "About Me" and price list. He's slangin' his art for up to $8,500.00 under titles like "Vivre 805" (pictured above), "144 Cowboys and Abandoned America", and "Chief Wallace" (yes, he native'd himself, and was promoted to chief). 

The image above is his logo... like drippy Wonder Bread. Wonder Bread was white bread, 
right? When I looked at his site, I scrolled through his pieces for sale, and it kinda goes something like: native, native, native, Michael Jackson, native, native, Kobe Bryant, native.... Oh, and then there's the one where he makes himself Chief Wallace. What bothers me the most is how he can stick a Native face on a piece, like it's just a thing.... No names. We know Michael, Kobe, and we know what a Native person looks like so why even acknowledge who they are-- they can be whoever we want them to be. Like magic. They're just there. For decoration.To be superimposed over Louis Vuitton print, cos that's profound. Fortune behind the unfortunate? Not too different from Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens rocking bindis at Coachella and the MTV awards cos it's sexxxy. Forget any cultural or religious "symbology"-- rock it out in the name of art, fashion, and self expression. That's hawt.

Judge for yourself: You can check out all this stuff online at walliceisart[dot]com -- I'm obvi not gonna link you, but that's where all of it is at. .

So I'm sure I'll be at that bar again because that's where my friends are, and they're there because one of them in particular really wants people to be there (cos he works there). I don't like being there, and I am not impressed by their service, food, drinks, or atmosphere. I try to have a good time, and don't like having conversations about the place at the place. That's just awkward. Their Yelp score has thatm at 4.5/5, with 6 reviews. I am not one of the reviewers (yet). I'm disappointed that we go there, and pay. Considering the experiences I've had there, I always walk in feeling uncomfortable and ready for something to offend me. The only comfort I do feel is my discomfort, if that makes sense. And when things to do awry, I'm right there to say "yup, I told you so". So far though, those moments have only happened to me, and like I said earlier, no one else really seems to care. I've been accused of "feeling too much" and "not letting things go". Maybe that's true, but that's why I have this blog. :)

To Put (or Not to) Put a Ring on It

I'm well into the age when there are milestone "seasons". Right now we're in engagement and baby season. At my age, if you know someone (who knows someone via Facebook) who just got engaged, or pregnant, or given birth, or had a wedding, then it's that "season". A friend of mine has just gotten engaged, and my BFF just had her first baby. So when's it gonna be my turn?? I shrug. 

I'm way passed the "I'm too cool" for marriage and babies thing, but am way into the "life is hard" thing. Adding a wedding or a whole 'nother being into the budget would break the bank. Putting all realities aside, I think it's always tough when a lady gets asked the "when's your turn" question. What you say automatically puts you in one of two boxes-- you're either the needy traditionalist or the liar. LOL.. amirite?

This past weekend, I was at a hangover brunch with my significant other and two other couple-friends. One couple has been married for 25 years now, while the other has been dating for at least 3 years. Basically the subject of our friends' engagement came up and the pressure was "on" my boyfriend and the other non-married dude to propose. The married couple looked at me and said, "ok, so you're next?"--"No", I replied, "we're not getting married". That was pretty a definitive answer. But I quickly followed it up with, "but I don't hold it against other people who want to!"

In my experience, at least when I'm with his friends, it's the girlfriends who want to get married that get the crazy look. When his friends hear my answer, they probably think, "her boyfriend's lucky". Women who want to be married aren't crazy. I think it's actually kind of normal and it's not women's fault. We're flower girls when we're kids, dresses are a big deal, and you just think that it's what you do when you're in love. Real love.

For a long time (like years) I didn't say one way or another that I wanted it. I just figured it would happen to me. I have a huge family and all the girls who are older than me are married with kids. The older I get, the less likely I see it happening and it's not just because of who I'm with. It's just not in the realm of my reality. Por ejemplo: I thought I was going to be a lawyer. Six years after I graduate with my BA, I'm not a lawyer. It just didn't happen. And I'm fine with that. Have you seen the jobs numbers for attorneys?! The only time it stings is when someone asks me about it. There's definitely that moment where I feel like I fucked up, but then I remember that I'm not doing so badly. I still have a job and goals and opportunities.... And I kind of see marriage the same way: I'm still in a loving, long-term relationship-- I just don't have any paperwork or hardware.

I'm not married  (not necessarily by choice because I've never been proposed to), butI don't plan to be married to the extent that I know I don't NEED it. I don't think I'll ever need it actually. I chose for myself that I'd rather be happy and in love with someone, without the anxiety or fear that I'll never be married to him. There are some couples who just know from the start that they want marriage. And hey, lucky them. But when in the situation of being with someone who doesn't value it, you just have to choose: marriage or just.... not. 

If he was to propose to be, I'd say yes. Maybe. What's a surety? I really want to eat some french fries right now. I'll go with what's sure.