Mother Tongue Tied
I don’t speak Spanish. There, I said it. It’s out there. Done. Sure, I can say my last name with the requisite rolling ‘r’s, but that seems only to confuse the issue. Rolling the shit outta that ‘r’ when I introduce myself by full name causes Latinos and non-Latinos alike to assume I’m a fluent Spanish speaker. I am not. Once my ‘secret’ is out, I experience something akin to the (insert number here) stage of grief: shock, incredulity, disappointment or (my favorite) pity. ¡Pobresita! In recent years, my tolerance for this reaction has lowered. So much so that I’ve taken the affirmative step to do something about it. I am the proud (and slightly apprehensive) owner of Rosetta Stone’s Spanish, Levels 1-5. Woo-hoo (Blur-style)!! Will it work? No, I mean, will it really work? Will I be speaking in rapid-fire (ahem, fuego rapido) fluency by the time I get through Level 5? The commercials I’ve seen for the past ten years tell me so. Now, I’m ready to believe it. We shall see. Cards …