Hale Kilinahe: The Journal

DECEMBER 8, 1997 My husband is practicing his class presentation for tomorrow. It's a Jack in the Box ad, but in Hawaiian. It's surreal. If you've never heard or seen Hawaiian language, there are only thirteen letters in the alphabet, five of which are the English vowels, so all the words flow together so beautifully; like a spoken song. Lots of K's, lots of A's. So Ryan is rehearsing, and it's all beautiful Hawaiian words, punctuated now and then by outbursts of "Jumbo Jack." He's so talented in language. I took a year of Hawaiian and I struggled so hard; I fought tooth and nail every day just to learn the spellings of all the vocabulary words, never truly understanding what I was memorizing. Ryan can sit in the car, listening to Hawaiian music, and burst into spontaneous translation. I can just gaze wonderingly at him. I suppose he picked it up so well because he's lived here all his life and has been exposed to snippets of the language whether he was listening or not. He wants to teach the child Hawaiian language, which is fine by me. I want this child to be gifted in all things. I look so forward to reading and singing to this child; filling it with what I know and maybe learning from it-he-she too. Mainly, I just want to cuddle and love it-he-she. The Doors box set is out. Yet another thing to spend money on. I used to have this weird Jim Morrison fixation. I used to think I was him in a past life. I read "No One Here Gets Out Alive" when I was fourteen and it gave me this weird deja-vu feeling all over. I'm a big believer in past lives, but a psychic told me that I was a prostitute in London in my last life. Not that I fully believe that, either. It looks like I'll finally get that raise next week. I am busting my ass so hard; and Mega (my boss) knows it too. We're in a big office reorganization project now. I guess I can't quit after the baby because I'll never, ever finish. She practically begged me to come back part-time after the baby comes. < BACK | TOP | NEXT >