Me gusta vivir

I always found it funny as a child whenever someone at the end of a meeting would say something like Some housekeeping: before talking about organization updates. Housekeeping? But we’re not in your house!

After five months of reading and being annoying about The Power Broker, I finally finished it! I’ll write about it next week after going to see its corresponding exhibit at the New York Historical Society this weekend. I’ll try to make it engaging even if you don’t care about the book, but it might grab your attention for reasons that have nothing to do with it.

I’ve been sending this newsletter through a software called Mailchimp (you’ve probably heard of it!). I chose it because I’d never used it before and felt like it was something I needed to understand as a DiGiTaL sTrAtEgIsT. After a year and a half of Gentrifier Olympics on Mailchimp, we’re not just doing housekeeping — we’re moving.

Starting next week, my newsletter will be hosted on a new platform called Beehiiv. You don’t have to do anything; I’m importing everyone over, and you should get next week’s Power Broker entry in your inbox as usual (but let me know if you don’t get it). I’ve been using Beehiiv at work for a few months and like it much better than Mailchimp. It’s still working out the kinks since we’re near the ground floor, but they have a lot of awesome features I’d love to implement in my newsletters (polls, embeds, etc.).

The top reason why I’m switching is a new ability to run ads in the newsletter, something I’m sorry and not sorry about. Here’s why I’m sorry: it’s advertising, and the ad offers I get will probably be weird products you won’t want. Here’s why I’m not sorry: if you click on these ads, I get paid directly per person clicking. I’ve been doing this newsletter for fun and will continue to do so, but if I can eek a few bucks out of this without doing extra work, I’m going to. The ads will probably show up as a sponsorship logo near the top of the entry and a block of text with an image after my narrative. I don’t think it’s super intrusive and could be much worse. By clicking on one, you’re paying me, probably somewhere between a dollar or two per click. You obviously don’t have to do this, but I’m hoping you’ll consider it.

Tl;dr: this newsletter is going to look a bit different soon. Keep me posted over time what you think of the changes and what you’d like to see. Thank you for still subscribing to me and encouraging my public diary hobby!

Would you rather be able to understand and talk to animals or know every human language? My friend Noor posed this question to a group while we marveled at her new cat (his name is Moo — perfect name), and I thought the answer was an extremely obvious know human languages. I think I was the only person to choose that option. Screw your pets, I guess!

Of course I would pick languages: my livelihood relies on knowing English better than most people and the ways we manipulate it to be funny, informative, relevant, and persuasive. But alas, I’m another monolingual loser. I blame my homogenous suburb and the American education system’s inability to teach languages. I excelled in my middle and high school German classes (yes, I voluntarily chose that) and thought I could impress a German date in London after she said she wasn’t great at English. Obviously, she mopped the floor, and I couldn’t get past Wie geht’s?

I’ve always loved learning, or at least learning about, other languages. One of my favorite parts about living in modernity is having access to cultures that are not your own, if not through your friends then through media and food. Once I got past the mandatory assignments part of crushing Hebrew for my Bat Mitzvah, I had a lot of fun enchanting myself with the Hebrew songs that had been hypnotizing me my whole life. After sightseeing and visiting family in Italy a few years ago for two weeks, I could understand (but not respond to) full conversations. Learning German in school (something I chose in spite after fighting with my mom!) opened my mind more to a language I think is beautiful and a people I previously thought of as genocidal maniacs.

I couldn’t rank languages, but Spanish is definitely the one I want to learn the most. I wasn’t always this way. Everyone at my elementary school took Spanish classes, but middle school opened up French and German as other options. I didn’t even consider Spanish and found that most students that stuck with it did so out of convenience, to continue goofing off in class while us overachievers embarked on something new. I only heard Spanish in that dumb, bored (and, in my town’s, white) American student way of someone almost making fun of the language to make their classmates laugh. Because of my peers’ behavior, I looked down learning the language. I got over this by growing up, being a human being, and making friends outside of my white and American bubble.

When I moved to New Hampshire, I was not surprised but still struck by the homogeneity and whiteness of my new digs (and this is someone who had only lived in Boston and suburban Pittsburgh). I wasn’t consciously like Wow, lets diversify my white life here! but I did suddenly feel an urge to listen to more music in Spanish. I was famously depressed, and nothing could fire me up like reggaeton could.

I always had a few Spanish songs in rotation, but my playlists soon became more bilingual than I was. Reggaeton would hype me up on the way to work and help let out my anger on the way home. It was essential in learning how to work out at a gym. Whenever I’d find myself in a bar or restaurant that played Spanish music, I found myself knowing most of the songs, which felt incredible.

This whole time, I haven’t really known Spanish at all. I just like how it makes me feel. It’s such a gorgeous language, and I feel lucky every time I hear it. I started watching some Spanish Netflix shows and did Spanish Duolingo for almost a year. A lot of reggaeton songs use a lot of the same words (if I’m not being told to mírame a los ojos, what am I even listening to?) just like most mainstream American pop music. I’m a base-level Spanish consumer, so I’ll enjoy more base-level stuff than I would in English.  

Now I live next to a road where cars blast merengue as they go by, and I can’t imagine finding it annoying (unless I’m asleep). Part of my inspiration for starting Gentrifier Olympics was the starkly different lives existing together in Bushwick between often white transplants and people from all sorts of Latin American countries. I hear Spanish every time I leave the house. I just passed year four of my Spotify Wrapped looking more like someone’s from Ponce than Pittsburgh, but I still barely speak Spanish.

The most progress I made was in New Hampshire, doing Duolingo whenever I was bored (a lot) and using it in what I thought was a successful and meaningful way while traveling through Puerto Rico with Meera for a few days. It was scary and embarrassing, but I made a lot of progress and had fun. Since then, I’ve stalled and haven’t given myself the same opportunities to practice my Spanish.

These woes I express continually frustrate Gabby, one of my best friends since high school, who happens to be Spanish and constantly reminds me that I can always practice with her. Gabriela has borne witness to 10 years of my innermost thoughts, most embarrassing moments, and deepest fears. I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t be comfortable telling her, but once that thing is in Spanish, it’s a hard no. I’m a novice, insecure even speaking alone in my apartment…to desecrate my best friend’s first language in front of her is something I still haven’t gotten past. It’s a vulnerability I can barely face on my own!

I’ve probably mentioned in every issue that I’m going to Spain for the first time at the end of March. I’m using it as motivation to get through winter, go to the gym, and create healthy routines so I can fully relax once I go. I’m going with Gabby and getting to see Madrid (where she’s from), unlocking a new depth to our friendship to see a place that’s so meaningful to her — and do it through her eyes!

I want to be the boldest version of myself when I’m there. I love traveling but get really nervous every time I go somewhere that doesn’t default in English because I hate more than anything to be a burden and have people accommodate me. I don’t even like telling an American server something is wrong with my order — the shame I feel to walk in somewhere foreign and be an American idiot gets in the way of me having an almost normal interaction.

Thursday this week will be my seventh and last Spanish class as part of a bundle I signed up for at the start of this year. I thought that taking a class would force me to take learning more seriously or at least be more conscious of what I can do. I really wanted to be in an environment where I can practice speaking in a realer way than one-off reading Duolingo sentences even though I could probably do it with a whole bunch of my friends for free. They don’t deserve to deal with my fear, but a teacher trained to do so and a bunch of similarly confused students certainly do.

I spent more money than I probably should have on classes from Idlewild Books, who have two locations in the city that offer multiple levels of multiple languages. I chose the most beginner Spanish class at their Cobble Hill location. I started going in January and created a whole cafe co-working routine before class to give myself more time to revel in the idyllic neighborhood. I was nervous for my first class and walked up to Idlewild, which is really just two warmly lit fishbowl classrooms a step from the sidewalk. My fishbowl has around 12 people who make almost every class and our charismatic teacher Lalo (which I learned is a nickname for Eduardo) basically doing a stand-up routine every class to teach us. It’s a gorgeous scene on a snowy night.

Lalo speaks mostly in Spanish to our singular, long table and loudly attempts to coax us from our insecure prisons so we roll our Rs and accent our Ás better than our Dónde está la biblioteca counterparts. These are all people who aren’t forced to take Spanish in school (but some of them used to be) but are paying their real, human money to learn. Everyone lives in Brooklyn, are mostly in their mid 20s and early 30s (plus a Debbie Downer in her 50s), mostly girls, and are 50/50 between social justice jobs and fake tech jobs like me. Some people are learning to be better at their jobs, but almost all of us are learning because we are guilty gentrifiers finding our lack of knowledge inexcusable.

What I don’t understand is how shy everyone is. I know that I just spent the past few paragraphs talking about how scary it is to try speaking a language you don’t know, but it’s so much easier with a group of fellow idiots that you don’t know otherwise. This is also my first time in a conventional class since college (I’m not counting improv as conventional), and I forgot how much of a teacher’s pet I am. I am winning a gold medal in active listening, laughing at the right jokes and answering all of the questions as soon as they’re asked instead of waiting a beat like my classmates do. We are paying money for this class! Flail constantly even when it’s wrong.

I am competitive in this class and judge people when they mess what I perceive as easy things up (how are you unable to pronounce calle?) even though I shouldn’t. This is a beginner class but does not feel like it starts at square one, which works great for me and the majority of my classmates. I feel like we’re all at similar skill levels, but no one is as willing to put themselves out there as I am. Even amongst fellow dummies, I can’t help but think I’m superior and put other people down when I’m also insecure. I might be delusional, but I also think I have the best accent.

Here’s a question I’ve been mulling over the past few weeks and still don’t have an answer to: should you try to pronounce words correctly even in languages you don’t speak? My only definitive answer is that you should try to be as accurate as possible if you’re in the country or in a group that primarily speaks the language you’re attempting to not butcher. You are a guest in this group or land and should be gracious to your hosts.

However, I’m not as sure when speaking a different language in an environment where that language is foreign. I sometimes cringe when people order a burrrrrito, but I also find myself being that person if I feel the vibe calls for it. I’d be more likely to do it in a Mexican restaurant run by Mexican people than, I dunno, a Taco Bell. I’ve asked my bilingual and trilingual friends what they think and get a range of answers. Trying too hard can be respectful but sometimes can just seem pompous. Context matters.

I think we can all agree, though, that paying money for a Spanish class is a great time to try as hard as possible on your accent, the only time I’d try to be accurate around fellow non-fluent speakers. I cannot understand why there are a small handful of my classmates who don’t attempt an accent at all. Everyone seems nice and relatively normal, and a lot of people are in this class due to their own shame. I get secondhand embarrassment from their butchered attempts at this gorgeous language.

One boy falling into this category did have a fantastic answer when we had to go around and finish a sentence starting with Me gusta (I like) with whatever we want. Our off-the-dome answers were pretty chill — Me gusta correr (I like to run); Me gusta leer libros (I like to read books), even Me gusta vivir en Nueva York (I like living in New York). This guy’s answer was Me gusta vivir, said in the least convincing accent and stumping our teacher. You like to…live? Well, yeah. We all giggled, but he’s totally right.

I’ve learned from this class but probably could have gotten more out of it. It’s an hour-and-a-half once a week for seven weeks (but the last class is a fiesta, and I hate to pay for a party) with small homework assignments. I only missed one class due to acquiring my open wound from the ingrown hair incision earlier that day (update: the wound has finally closed, if you even care). I finally learned past tense with regular verbs and a whole bunch of words I have messily scribbled in my notebook. We get a big grammar packet with a corresponding tiny — and actually cute — textbook that we only scratched the surface of.

I know I would enjoy taking another class with them, but I don’t feel ready enough for the next level. I feel like there would be a big jump between them. I’d want to feel much more comfortable with these basics, and maybe I will someday. I really want to make sure I’m getting my money’s worth — $345 total, so about $50 each class including class 7’s fiesta — which I’d feel confident in if I committed harder outside of class.

My friend Matias is one of the only Americans I’m super close to that is fluent in a language he isn’t culturally connected to; he learned Korean after watching enough K-Dramas and immersing himself. He lived there for a few months last year and had a full life that you can only get by fully knowing a language. I feel like it would be remiss of me to not additionally mention that he is a mostly normal person and certainly doesn’t act like an embarrassing weeb freak.

He decries the way we are taught to learn languages and believes in simulating being a baby and absorbing language the way we did growing up, taking in sans-subtitle media and learning through frequent exposure. Grammar and rules were not his path to fluency, and I knew his response to me taking Spanish classes before I even told him. Unfortunately for me, I’m shackled to our way of learning because I revel in being a student. I love sitting in a class, engaging with a teacher, and — most of all — thinking I’m better than everyone else. Maybe for the next few months I should just take stuff in Matias-style; less Me gusta leer, more Me gusta vivir.