When I woke up, the first of January (I mean yesterday), everything looked like any other day. But it wasn't. For a strange reason, I couldn't speak spanish. I tried it again and again, and pressing woke up Bea, because I needed help. But it didn't work. Well, weaking up Bea did work, of course, but she couldn´t help me, because she didn't speak spanish either.
I know that this sounds like the beginning of the story of Gregor Samsa in the Metamorphosis short romance. I don´t mind. I am not Kafka, and I don’t want to be him. He was a very unhappy human being, and I am looking for exactly the opposite of that. That means cheerfulness, if you still don’t realize what I am talking about.
But (you always can find a “but” in all the happy or sad stories) some of you can suspect that all this fuss is just a trick of the New Year's Resolutions for improving my English skills. It could be. Why not? Everybody every time has the right of making his owns decisions. So, what?
As I only can speak and write and read in English, I have made the decision of not to worry about it, and follow with my life as if nothing ever had happened. I have changed all the language options from Spanish into English with the remote control in the TDT TV, have started reading “The mirror crack’d from side to side” from Agatha Christie (It doesn´t sound like a metaphor of what was happening to me?), and still posting in my blog, as I have done the last three years. But now in English, as you can see (or read). It’s hopeless, what else can I do?
“When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything”, said singing Julie Christie in the film The sound of music. And as I know how to hand it over from music into creative writing, I am not going to be quiet anymore.
BTW, I wish all of you a new year jam-packed of stories, friends, kisses, sweet dreams, hopes, meetings and good food (and suncream and big hats, as always says Mary Garrett, a pal storyteller from Missouri).