Despite the mounting To-Do lists on my desk here at home, I procrastinate.
Procrastination, thy name is me!
Part of the whole procrastination process was reading "The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Yes, just judging from his name, he's Spanish. I've been trying to avoid Spanish authors since forever for this purpose: Fear. You ask: "Fear of what? Fear FOR what?"
Fear that I might get disappointed.
... of the Spanish culture, the Spanish people, and Spain. I expect a lot from European countries, after all. And if you know my middle name, you'd know that I really AM Spanish... that part (a quarter, actually) of my identity is the lingering European blood.
My maternal grandfather, the wisest person I've ever met/seen/heard about, was actually what we've studied in Philippine history books. He was brought up to society by Americans and he learned a lot of languages thanks to what remained to be the Thomasites. He even had pictures of those Americans with him!
My maternal grandfather's grandfather was once a Gov-General. Yes, yes, that kind.
So now. Back to the present. When I was in elem, in my previous school, I thought my family was the weirdest family in the universe. My mother talked differently. My mother acted differently. And obviously, my mother thought differently. I was a kid then. I guess my resolute thought for this was because my family, unlike my classmates' families, is intelligent. Heck, I was top in my class. I took this for granted. I accepted that we were different. But I didn't want to be different. I wanted to BE smart and at the same time BE normal. (Now, aged 15, I realize that being smart and being normal are two points that'd never be on the same plain.)
When I transferred to CKSC (where I met y'all: Kevs, Daniel, Fleur, etc etc), I got to know a few people. Elaine. Mollie. Cha. And when I say "I got to know", I really mean: I dived into their family lives. When I resurfaced, I realized: Hey, I'm in a new school, I'm surrounded by smart people and yet I am STILL different. What the heck?
I learned that their families never fought and reprimanded kids the way my family did. I learned that they didn't speak certain words. I learned that their parents didn't come from families that were as broken as the families my parents came from.
Come my junior year, still the same thing. As of now, I've had made bonds with Eunice, Paul, Jake, Kenny, Beni, Aldric, Elaine, Mollie, Cha, Fleur, Arianne, Nuevo, Camille, Jasmine, Aibee, Roy, Bea... the list goes on, seriously... and so far, none of their families are as different as mine. It's like my family's the weirdest or something!
Then... I read the book by the Spanish author (btw, it's translated to English by Lucia Graves, daughter of poet Robert Graves). It was set in post-war Barcelona.
(I'm not gonna expound on the plot. In fact, I'm not gonna mention the plot!)
I got hooked.
The details...the wordings...the events...the dialogue... they reflected my family.
It was so different from the American novels I had read before... the American novels whose characters' lives I thought were "normal". Yes, I am in blood, Spanish. No Filipino novel, no American novel could ever reflect that!
I AM SPANISH! It's a part of me I've never come to suffice with my everyday doings! It's a part of me that I've never uncovered.
No wonder I'm so inclined to Spanish songs (see profile).
No wonder I'm so inclined to learning Spanish.
No wonder I speak the word "tonta" while the rest of the world would say "tanga!"
No wonder I'd hear my mother talk FRANKLY about things.
I guess, if you really know me and my family troubles which I've mentioned in previous posts, you'd realize that my dysfunctional-family-conflict lies in a cultural barrier. My father is Chinese-Filipino. My mother is Spanish-Filipino. Chinese peeps are conservative. Spanish peeps are more liberal. Chinese peeps are discreet. Spanish peeps are open. Chinese peeps censore a few things. Spanish peeps lay them out in the wild.
And so the inner conflicts of Catherine Tan will forever rage...
It's a bittersweet thing.
I'm not proud to be a Filipino. I'm not proud to be a Chinese. I'm not proud of being Spanish. I'm proud of being all three, all at the same time.
"The Shadow of the Wind" didn't disappoint. It did the opposite. It opened my eyes.
Procrastination, thy name is me!
Part of the whole procrastination process was reading "The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Yes, just judging from his name, he's Spanish. I've been trying to avoid Spanish authors since forever for this purpose: Fear. You ask: "Fear of what? Fear FOR what?"
Fear that I might get disappointed.
... of the Spanish culture, the Spanish people, and Spain. I expect a lot from European countries, after all. And if you know my middle name, you'd know that I really AM Spanish... that part (a quarter, actually) of my identity is the lingering European blood.
My maternal grandfather, the wisest person I've ever met/seen/heard about, was actually what we've studied in Philippine history books. He was brought up to society by Americans and he learned a lot of languages thanks to what remained to be the Thomasites. He even had pictures of those Americans with him!
My maternal grandfather's grandfather was once a Gov-General. Yes, yes, that kind.
So now. Back to the present. When I was in elem, in my previous school, I thought my family was the weirdest family in the universe. My mother talked differently. My mother acted differently. And obviously, my mother thought differently. I was a kid then. I guess my resolute thought for this was because my family, unlike my classmates' families, is intelligent. Heck, I was top in my class. I took this for granted. I accepted that we were different. But I didn't want to be different. I wanted to BE smart and at the same time BE normal. (Now, aged 15, I realize that being smart and being normal are two points that'd never be on the same plain.)
When I transferred to CKSC (where I met y'all: Kevs, Daniel, Fleur, etc etc), I got to know a few people. Elaine. Mollie. Cha. And when I say "I got to know", I really mean: I dived into their family lives. When I resurfaced, I realized: Hey, I'm in a new school, I'm surrounded by smart people and yet I am STILL different. What the heck?
I learned that their families never fought and reprimanded kids the way my family did. I learned that they didn't speak certain words. I learned that their parents didn't come from families that were as broken as the families my parents came from.
Come my junior year, still the same thing. As of now, I've had made bonds with Eunice, Paul, Jake, Kenny, Beni, Aldric, Elaine, Mollie, Cha, Fleur, Arianne, Nuevo, Camille, Jasmine, Aibee, Roy, Bea... the list goes on, seriously... and so far, none of their families are as different as mine. It's like my family's the weirdest or something!
Then... I read the book by the Spanish author (btw, it's translated to English by Lucia Graves, daughter of poet Robert Graves). It was set in post-war Barcelona.
(I'm not gonna expound on the plot. In fact, I'm not gonna mention the plot!)
I got hooked.
The details...the wordings...the events...the dialogue... they reflected my family.
It was so different from the American novels I had read before... the American novels whose characters' lives I thought were "normal". Yes, I am in blood, Spanish. No Filipino novel, no American novel could ever reflect that!
I AM SPANISH! It's a part of me I've never come to suffice with my everyday doings! It's a part of me that I've never uncovered.
No wonder I'm so inclined to Spanish songs (see profile).
No wonder I'm so inclined to learning Spanish.
No wonder I speak the word "tonta" while the rest of the world would say "tanga!"
No wonder I'd hear my mother talk FRANKLY about things.
I guess, if you really know me and my family troubles which I've mentioned in previous posts, you'd realize that my dysfunctional-family-conflict lies in a cultural barrier. My father is Chinese-Filipino. My mother is Spanish-Filipino. Chinese peeps are conservative. Spanish peeps are more liberal. Chinese peeps are discreet. Spanish peeps are open. Chinese peeps censore a few things. Spanish peeps lay them out in the wild.
And so the inner conflicts of Catherine Tan will forever rage...
It's a bittersweet thing.
I'm not proud to be a Filipino. I'm not proud to be a Chinese. I'm not proud of being Spanish. I'm proud of being all three, all at the same time.
"The Shadow of the Wind" didn't disappoint. It did the opposite. It opened my eyes.
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