So I’m back to being crazy. The crazy where you’re locked in your own head. Regular crazy like if I think about it long enough I’m going to find a solution. Nah bro nah.

It’s a full house at the moment so there’s not enough time to really sit and write long ass stories about weird cultural rites. I had my 6am black native coffee in the front yard (not in the sun- it’s fine) and a neighbour comes up to our gate and says to me ‘what are you doing there looking all lonely, staring at the sky’. I don’t have an answer. It’s pretty early so I don’t know if he’s drunk or has sunstroke. He definitely does not have front teeth, he waves me off and says, “I’m going to get my medicine, Do you know what that is? Cigarettes.” M8 chuck us a durrie. Seriously, I went cold turkey and this is the only time I’ve wanted a cigarette since I got here. Sign one that I’m starting to lose my shit. I’m also starting to lose my appetite. Unacceptable behaviour in this house. There’s still more birthday cake for breakfast.

I’m watching the magnificent seven with the familia. It’s the first time I’ve watched any TV really. It’s kinda shit trying to watch TV in a language you don’t understand and Asian pop shows are grating, why you guys always singing power ballads? Anyway, it just dawned on me that the only person that I was relating to in English (at my own level, i.e. beyond conversational) was myself. I can be surrounded by Filipino and still write this fluently, it’s hard to write with English in the background. That’s the thought disruptor. Weird yeah? Magnificent seven is a pretty nuanced movie. I don’t know if they really get it beyond the basic story line. Maybe like I don’t get anything here. So Denzel is running his shit at the moment and my grandmother’s prophetic words about how I’m ‘sensitive’ cause I grew up by myself (Single parent. Only child. Should see my therapy bills- could buy yacht.) and I have spent too much time alone figuring out my own problems keep coming to mind. Is she saying I need a therapist too? FML.

My Filipino is limited to a conversational level. When I write in English I think in English and as a bonus I agonise in English because I have the words to do so. Being surrounded only by Filipino my brain switches to thinking in it, it’s easier. I don’t translate in my head. It’s a hard thing to explain to someone who didn’t grow up speaking more than one language. I speak a lot of languages or I’ve learned a lot of languages and I’ve never translated. My brain just pulls the word up seamlessly. Science says it has to do with your brain structures and growing up bilingual sets it up for me for free. Fun fact.

I don’t know if it’s a genetic trait but my uncle also seems to spend a lot of time staring into the sky like it has an answer. We don’t talk much, we sit in our respective languages agonising which led me to my thought experiment. I am going to purposefully lose myself in translation. I’m flicking the switch and going full native. If I can turn off my English brain and limit myself to my conversational Filipino brain then maybe I can catch a break from my thought prison.

XX S