Neural Pathways

Is there a centered mass of my brain synapses dedicated to my foreign language studies? There is a fierce knot on the left side of my skull which feels like an old friend who grows painfully obnoxious when ignored. The pressure has come and gone over the course of this high velocity shit storm. It will not be ignored this morning. It's radiating pressures are nearly to the bottom of my jaw. Piedad is the loudest puppet in the show. I feel safe using her true name since she lives in another hemisphere and doesnae speak English. She wishes she could speak English, but her foreign language phobia is quite fierce. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of a ruler across the knuckles when I tried to tutor her. When I tried to pull her away from the literary approach to language study, performance anxiety set in. She is my size. In Ecuador, I am a giant. My tourist impressions of towering over most the other heads on the street were vastly different than her memories of getting through High School with her gringo physique. Her gentle tolerance of my own linguistic learning curve was priceless. Piedad was my Alanon Madrina in Ecuador. I miss her terribly.

The fierce pressure of the pain began to ease as I surfed for Spanish language web links to this neighborhood. Dare I believe that I actually *need* to use my Spanish Skills? Alas, the politics attached to use of the Spanish language are fierce this close to The Rio Grande. The precious few people I do feel free to speak with are as conflicted by the politics as I am. We have found one another on the fringes of the cultural divide and? ? ? Put the yaddahs to the blahs and the blahs to the yaddahs. It's the things we do just because we gotta.

The three tabs which are still open from the spanish language surf are for "Epleados domesticos."

Veremos. . .