Break the barrier

So guys, here's the plaintext.

It's not me. It's my awkward way with words, the way I handle the spoken language, that sets me apart from these people.

I just arrived from my job, and today's bunch was extremely different. What was a group of people in their mid-20s to 30s on the weekends I worked was replaced by a group of guys (and girls) in the 10th or 11th grade. I was like, "WHOAH, BUDDY!"

So, there I was, sitting next to these high schoolers who were 3, maybe 5 months more tenured than me. There were 7 people from somewhere in the Middle East I guess and brothers from I have no idea where (surname's Nguyen, and their names are Western, so I'm not that sure), who I reckon grew up here, the way they spoke English without inflections or accents. Maybe my inference that they grew up here could be extended to the prediction that they were actually born here, given their Western first names.

It struck me hard. I'm surrounded by people who speak English naturally, and yet it's not their lingua franca. I tried speaking to them but most of the time I end up repeating myself, which I hate. So I'll try to act like the college guy who speaks on occasion.

But no. That's not me. I've got a lot of stories to tell and hell would I tell them if I could. Right now I'm just disappointed that unlike how I shine in English class a while ago (I was the constant arm-raiser, but maybe it's just my classmates are still too shy), I suck at speaking the language. So bad. Makes me wonder though how my British friend manages to understand every word I'm saying. Maybe it's a perception thing. Maybe my speech patterns lean more towards the British accent (Funny story: On the voice chat feature of an online game, I was actually asked if I was a "12-year-old Australian kid or something" when they heard me speak. I don't know if I should be flattered or annoyed by that.)? I don't know.

I decide I need more practice. I could not just get perfect spoken English overnight; I need to suffer a few days (years?) of being misunderstood. Just like in DDR where I had to suck before I could rock.

I sip my apple cider one last time and go to sleep.

Pizza slices and Coke slushies

So guys, here's the plaintext.

I hate Mondays. And Wednesdays, to that matter. It's because I only have one class, and it's from 12:30 to 1:50. How refreshing. Add to the fact that I take a 30-minute bus ride just to get to school, and it would justify every urge I have to just stay at home. But no. I'll go to school. For academic integrity! For the progress of the human race!

I sat through a gruelling hour-and-a-half's worth of Archaeology lecture (which was entirely in the book save for some specialized notes on archaeological developments in North America and some random historical figures here and there) and I was not participative. Maybe because it's the true first week of classes, but mostly because I'm too shy to express my thoughts in a classroom full of people who regard me as the tourist.

1:50 came and bundled with the joy of finally seeing the lecture come to an end is the disappointment of not meeting a classmate. I suck at introductions. I fear that I may not be understood. Not that I don't want to speak, I just hate it when people ask me to repeat myself. Makes me think that I'm so stupid to not actually make myself clear (I'm a grammar Nazi myself, so I despise linguistic failure of all forms).

So there. I was on the bus stop when I saw a person who happened to be in my class a while ago. I imagined a conversation striking up between us, which is the thing I always end up doing, rehearsing a conversation before I actually make it happen.

"Hey, aren't you my classmate in ARCH112?"
"Oh yea."
"I'm Leonard."
"Hi! Nice to meet you."

But problem is, I suck. I just ended up sitting on the other side of the bus row, looking at this classmate of mine, watching where she would get off.

Apparently we both get off at the same stop. If I get to know this bitch, that would be 45 minutes' worth of conversation. So here I was on the main university campus (the building where I take my classes is far away from here) and resisting the temptation to spend money. I don't have a decent job yet (my job as a waiter pays less than my first job at a coffee shop), and I fear that I may not have enough to buy what I want for my upcoming birthday (A Nikon D3000 DSLR, and hopefully, plane tickets back to the Philippines). I ended up taking "lunch" at 3:00 with two slices of pizza and a large Coke slushie. Enraged at the gluttony and impulsiveness I just did, I went home.

My face when I saw the pizza slices.

The bus was jam-packed with university students. I had the luxury of sitting in one of the... well, seats, and as I watched the standing passengers respond simultaneously to each turn of the bus, I sipped my slushie in reverence.

More than 8,000 students at the College of Arts and Science alone (compared to UPM-CAS's 1,700). 8,000 stories to listen to. And all I need is a simple handshake and the words, "Hi, I'm Leonard."

I eventually end up hating myself. Hate myself for having impeccable written English skills but fail to mingle with an English-speaking folk. Hate myself for doing a direct translation from Filipino of what I want to speak. I want to speak in English not as a translation but as a direct outlet of what I think, the kind of speaking I do in Filipino.

I hate myself for not daring to fail, of being afraid to be criticized for what I do, or am about to do. Hate myself for being a perfectionist, clamming up because I want every word I say to be clearly understood. I end up being a real tourist in this giant subzero freezer they call North America. When language is a barrier, it's hard to blend in, most especially to stand out.

Do not try to blend in. Try to stand out.

That's Jeric's message to me (a college friend) before I left the Philippines for Canada. And I find it difficult to even do any of the two when I don't speak well. This is about the time when I hope the Holy Spirit will manifest as a tongue of fire and, besides potentially burning my scalp, give me the ability to speak their language. This is about the time when I hope every person I meet has Douglas Adam's Babel fish in their ears so I can be understood perfectly.

But on the other hand, I still think, that it's just me.