Wednesday, 30th o March 2005
You know how there are various funny websites making fun of numerous English product translations to Chinese? For example, Coca Cola comes out "happiness in the mouth" as its literal translation. I sometimes think it helps fuel our distrust or timidity over these alien Chinese and their weird language and their body lotion translated as "imposing lavish experience focus and well-being for your dermis." They're weird, otherworldly. Whatever.
I was driving the other day and one of those local radio station vans passed me. You know, the ones with the KROCK 100 "all the hits fit to play" or WLOVE 103 "We put your groove on french toast" or some such nonsense. Well, I saw the following, ONDA 94 "Toca lo que Pega" or literally: WAVE 94 "(It) plays that which sticks". I swear I almost had an accident. Now, comeon, Spanish isn't that different from English, but you'd be amazed how much goes into a translation to make it palatable to its audience. For example, if I was to translate ONDA 94's slogan to English, I'd just say, ONDA 94 "We play the hits", not "The hits are played" or "We only play what sticks" neither of which actually capture the exact phrase in Spanish.
In Spanish, I might come up with the following: ONDA94, "Tocamos los grandes exitos" which means "We play the greatest hits." It's simpler, more literal. But for some reason, "Toca lo que pega" has more immediacy, more puissance. It sounds hipper, more local, less about waiting for something to be a hit and then playing it like a follower. "Toca lo que pega" connotes leadership. It makes me think that they know what holds up, what people like, and they play it because they KNOW.
In Spanish I instantly understand the phrase "Toca lo que pega" but when put to translating it, I have to think about it a bit.
Anyway, back to sticking to my popular tunes of "prevailing essense" or something.
Saturday, 19th o March 2005
Little Mr. Spark of Ignition
Javier Ignacio O'Malley Gorbea was born at 5:22 am on the 19th of March 2005 weighing 7 lbs 14 oz with a length of 21 inches.
From an email I wrote to my brother-in-law in Iraq, Carlos.
The little tike shot out like a rocket, 10, 9, 8 ... 1 Ignition (Ignacio) *hehe*. He cried more vigorously than the other children and when placed on the little delivery table he tried to hide in the corner, pulling the blue paper wrap over his face. I'm thinking he's going to be a snuggler like Olaia. He is already feeding with his mommy and has taken to sucking quite well just minutes after birth. Yes, he's a healthy happy, vigorous little spark.
Laura is doing fine - delivery was quick and without complications, in fact, I was still checking us in at the main desk when they paged me, "Mira, Laura está a punto de..." I ran to the delivery room and there was the little fireball in the hands of the doctor. (I almost missed it). They handed me some sissors and ordered me to cut, "Entre ellos, aquí, rapido." I cut the umbilical cord and looked upon the little explosion of cuteness that was Javier Ignacio. So far as I can tell, he's got a Gorbea butt, Gorbea ears, O'Malley chin, and Gorbea fingers and toes. Their little faces are a little swollen when they come out so it's tough to say who he looks like, but he's bright, luminous, and healthy and a Mr. Chispa o Señorito Chispito. Hey that sounds good, my little chispa, muy vivo y despierto.
Friday, 11th o March 2005
I swear I'm going to write soon. I don't know what happened, but after the holiday season I got buried in work and haven't had the animo to write here. Let this be a reminder to myself that I need to get some of this stuff down or else I'll forget it.
Monday, 13th o December 2004
The Caca Diaries
I've mentioned it before, touched on it but not fully developed the details of my relationship with my son's excrement. Or rather, let me say, I haven't delved into fully illuminating just how much Jaimito's poopies mean to me. Err, can I say that again? That didn't come out right. I've thought about this for a while, not knowing how to approach it, not being able to find the courage. Thanks to her, I think I've found my voice.
My son's love for his daddy and his daddy's love for him as explained through changing poopie diapers.
Hmm, still sounds wrong. It's not so much really the poopie, but rather the poopie as metaphor for being a parent. Wait, don't run off, I didn't mean that either. Geez, you people with no kids are awfully squeamish. Get a back-bone. No, what I am trying to say is, the act of changing a diaper, if appreciated properly (all inhale now – again, kidding), can reveal corn, raisins, spinach... sorry I can't help myself. Really, this is hard. There is a reason that love and caca haven't been paired together in any romantic comedies (well, Ben Stiller aside).
Bah, just breathe in this example:
"Daddy, I bring you da diaper an' da wipes." Jaimito placed a fresh diaper and a container of wet wipes under my nose and announced, "Daddy, I caca!"
I am, for the first time, truly impacted by this announcement - and the odor. After all the diaper changing in his short life, Jaimito has selected me to be the honored bearer of the royal caca, cleaner of his little derriere, preferred ass wiper, trusted cleanser of the cheeks.
Is this how you moms feel all the time? Hey no more kudos for you... you've just been hogging all the fun and pawning it off as "sacrifice." I know the truth now.
My son prefers me to his mother for poopie changing. Mommy asks, "Jaimito, do you want me to change your diaper?"
Jaimito responds, "No! Daddy do it!"
"Okay little boy, I'll do it." I grin, truly warmed and appreciative of his little needs and that I can fulfill them. I'm not kidding. I'm not being sarcastic. It's the greatest feeling in the world.
Fear not the caca, for it will lead you to a profoundity of love the likes of which you have never experienced... just follow the smell, and you shall find it.
Thursday, 2nd o December 2004
I am puzzled. Perhaps you can help me. I've noticed and absolutely stunning increase in my traffic on this site. From looking at the referral URL's, I note that I am the number one hit on Google for a ton of common phrases and quotes. I've been blogging since before there were blogs, but from what I read in others' blogs, I don't see why I get so many hits from Google searches. I use stylesheets here, so my pages are all easily read and indexed. But I write about mundane things, all of which I love considerably, but Google...? What gives people?
The only thing I can think of that is different is perhaps an off beat quirky point of view, or the weird nexus of Puerto Rico, culture, and America, or a lack of expletives. Maybe saying *&*^($# (hey I'm not gonna kill my site now am I?), kills your ranking in Google's engine. Who knows? I can't pretend to know if they have a naughtiness filter or not, but I am baffled by the traffic to my humble little site.