No word for it

I used to think English is pretty deprived as a language, because it only has one word for Love. The words to say "I love you, my sister" and "I love you, my spouse" should be different. Never mind though, at least we got one.

Because, today, I heard that the Quiche Mayan people don't have the word for Love. Listen for yourself (February 17th mp3 - Listen to the first 12 minutes).

Some languages/cultures have more words to describe something because they have more of that thing. For example, it's well-known that the Inuits have so many more words for "snow" - because they have so much snow, all the time. As a bi-lingual person, I know words in one language that I cannot properly translate into the other because, well, that culture just doesn't have that feeling, concept, or behavior.

So hearing about the Quiche Mayan language makes me kinda sad. I hope it doesn't mean that they don't know or recognize love.

I've been watching

quite a few things that are worthwhile... and some not so much.

Juno - excellent. Witty, heart-warming, hilarious! while not compromising the heavier issues at hand with teenage pregnancy. Unorthodox, surely, and the way the plot unfolds may seem far-fetched to some, but the spirit and tone of the film is right on. Yes, the situation is bizarre and difficult, but lovely things can come out of it. So, maybe it's not too far-fetched anyway.

No Country for Old Men - I don't know how I feel about this film. I'm not sure I enjoyed it thoroughly; but I can't say I didn't. Ack. It's definitely riveting. Violent. The filmmakers know how to sustain your interest. It showcases a great piece of acting by all the actors. Javier Bardem's character may just be the scariest villain in recent cinema.

Once - It tells an unbelievably simple story, but the superb telling elevates it to a wonderful ride. I love the subtle, realistic manner in which it depicts two people falling in love. Set in contemporary Ireland, the male is a talented but struggling busker and the female a musically talented emigre from the Czech Republic. It's been dubbed "a modern day musical" because 50% of the film is the one or two characters playing music. But don't think The Sound of Music or Fiddler on the Roof. The songs are organically embedded in the story. It feels natural because it is about two musicians after all. Glen Hansard (the main character in the movie) wrote and performed all his own bits. He is the lead singer of the Frames, so if that appeals to you: watch it please. Then get the soundtrack.

Firefly/Serenity. This saga was first brought to my attention a while back by Jeffrey Overstreet who sang its praises. The premise intrigued me. A motley crew of people in a spaceship running legal and illegal shipments across the universe. A western in space? Yes! The show had a short life on the air but fans' prompted writer/producer to create a film (Serenity) so that the story can have a more satisfying conclusion. It has witty dialogue, smart and subversive story lines, recognizable and likable characters. It is so much fun. Fantasies (sci-fi or not) like this one offer an alternative look at the world.

Moment of Truth. I came across this show when I was staying with friends who were intrigued by it.

The set is similar to those used on “The Weakest Link” and “Deal or No Deal,” but the object of this game is to prod seemingly nice people to admit bad behavior. As family members and friends look on, the contestant is asked a series of embarrassing personal questions by the host. Truthful answers, as determined by a polygraph, are rewarded by cash, from $10,000 for the first, relatively banal queries to $500,000 for the marriage-busting kind.
(NYTimes.com story)

I found it so brutally wrong and offensive. It's just a TV show? It is. I still could not stomach it. It fascinates me in that "What does this say about our society" kind of way; but I'm not watching it or recommending it.

Not late after all...

So my previous post was about a late new year's resolution... if you go by the Gregorian calendar!!
Otherwise, it's VERY timely.

Happy Chinese new year, everyone!

In addition to singing more, I've also resolved to tell more stories more liberally. This means more blogging, more journaling, more e-mailing, more talking, more picture taking. You're gonna get sick of it! But I'm resolved! Yeah!

Other resolutions:

• Join the gym. Serious. Once the semester starts.
  
• Seek, believe, and tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Lord.
• Complete my sentences.
  
• Get a tattoo or sky dive - or both. Or something else that's cool and drastic. I'm not getting younger, now, am I?
  
• Use Bullet Points less frequently in my blog postings.
• Eat less meat.
  
• Persevere.
  

A late new year's resolution

I want to sing more.

I used to sing quite a lot as a kid. I sang everywhere I went: I didn't restrict myself to the shower. My mom claimed I could sing before I could utter full sentences (thanks, Sound of Music). Around kindergarten Mom enrolled me in a vocal school built by a renowned opera singer in Indonesia. I was too young to remember what I learned - other than scales - ah yes, them - to warm up your voice. La la la la la la la. Li li li li li li li. Mo mo mo mo mo mo mo. You get the picture. My friends and I sang through elementary and junior high in choir competitions, vocal groups, at church. Music weaved in and out in the midst of even the most mundane activity. Waiting around for the car or for basketball practice to commence. A song would pop in someone's head then out his or her vocal chordst; other voices would join in effortlessly, likely in harmony. Music surrounded my childhood. Songs were at school, at home, at play practice, at church, at recess, at the terrace of friend's house, at night, in the morning, in the car. Songs were in my head. I didn't care if there was an audience or not. I definitely wished life was a musical.

Then I grew up.

As a grown-up I've learned social etiquette. Like, don't sing while shopping at the grocery store, or waiting for a friend at a cafe. It's weird. Then I find myself not singing while in the shower or washing the dishes. Pretty soon the songs don't make their way out. Not even when no one is watching.

But a little girl singing while standing in line for the cashier wouldn't be weird. A little girl singing while in the tram wouldn't be weird either. It would be cute.

So I know this much: The little girl in me still enjoys humming a little ditty, sometimes just a phrase or two. The grown-up me more often than not would rather concentrate on this task or that, dwell over mistakes, think about my retirement home, etc. But this year I'm going to indulge her with more music. More this year than last. 'Cos after all, she knows how to keep it in tune. The task can wait. I want to, and indeed, need to, channel and embrace the little girl me more because she is not embarrassing or childish. She's real and fun. Whimsical. Less inhibited. I just forget her sometimes.

Let's get this straight though. I'm not entering American Idol - ever. Ever. Don't worry! And I won't be weird! At least I'll try not to be.

So next time you happen to hear me sing, feel free to join in. Or hum something of your own, and I'll join you. Wouldn't that be fun?