A few years back, I decided it was time to finally finish college and get a degree. Over about, oh, a decade and a half or so, I had multiple starts and stops towards that goal. Each fresh attempt was well-intentioned, usually backed by a strong desire to get out of whatever pointless job I was hopelessly spinning my wheels in. Eventually, the carrot got shiny enough for me to dig in my heels and seriously try to get it done.
I re-enrolled and worked hard to complete that last year of classes. Although, to be honest, I spent the most effort before I even signed up. Ahead of the learnin', I sat down with the list of classes, the schedule, and focused as hard as I ever had on one specific desire; How to fulfill graduation requirements without taking even one superfluous class. I wanted to finish with the EXACT number of necessary credits, and not one more. I didn't intend to waste even half a moment in a room absorbing something that wouldn't count towards the endgame.
Ha ha, it's fun to learn, kids!
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| Jeez, thanks for the bat-peer pressure dude. |
After considering all the complicated computations, the concept seemed plausible. However, the full plan hinged greatly on one last item. I would need to certify the mandatory language aspect by taking and passing an intermediate-level Spanish test. By doing this, I'd hit my mark and be done in the fastest possible amount of time. If I failed the quiz, I'd have to go to college for one additional term, and complete my foreign-language requirement in an actual classroom setting.
The good news, I had taken three years of Spanish in high school.
The bad news, high school was approximately eight-hundred and forty-seven gajillion years ago.
So, yeah.
One more term.
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| Sigh |
Not only did this test-debacle ruin my hopes of being done when I hoped, but it forced on me something even more awful. That was, sitting for a quarter in a class I had absolutely no business being in.
Intermediate means the teacher only speaks the language she's teaching. That's it. And that language is not the one your friendly-neighborhood blogger understands. I sat there the first day, sweating profusely, trying desperately to interpret every fourth word/coolly asking the bored millennial behind me "say, uh, fellow student, what page did she say? I mean, I know of course, but, uh, I just wasn't really listening cause it's so easy and....oh, we're supposed to be speaking only Spanish too? Ah, yes, great, I speak loads of Spanish. No problem. Sorry, no problemo. There, see? Spanish."
Things weren't looking rosy. That is, until I discovered Google translate.
Sweet, sweet Google translate.
Every single paragraph and short essay I had to put together for that course meant some serious alone-time with the translation machine. There's no doubt at all, AT ALL, that I would have failed the class had I not had that tech at the ready. I'd probably still be degree-less too. Think how bad this blog's grammar would be then? Huh?!? Scary.
Yes, Google was a savior. That said, and despite my effusive praise above, it did (and still does) have some issues. I soon discovered that the googs didn't translate things exactly as I intended. I'd write something in English, flip it to Spanish, and then push it back to English to discover a resulted communication that sat at an education level of the nearest toddler and/or president. Tenses and verbs were mangled. I had to take what little Spanish know-how I actually did posses and massage phrases until they seemed to actually read at the level of someone who possibly knew what he's doing (which I, of course didn't). It's a tricky device.
And also kind of fun.
Which brings us, finally, at the very bottom of this gigantic sack of words, to this week's number one tune.
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| The loca goes in here! |
Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" is an energetic dance hit sung in two languages. But, are two languages really enough? According to Wikipedia, this song hit number one in ten countries! I feel that, to truly rate this song fairly, we're going to have see the lyrics fed through the international word slaughterhouse that is Google translate.
The list of lands where he topped the charts is as follows (alphabetically);
Canada-Finland-Greece-Hungary-Ireland-New Zealand-Romania-Spain-UK-USA
Thus, I have pasted the song's entirety into the Google mechanism. I will then translate the song to the first country on this list. Following that, I will take the result and immediately swap it with the second. And so on, and so on, until we reach the good ol' USA.
Granted, some of these flip-flops won't alter the song much. I presume the Canadian version will be about the same, just maybe with an occasional "Eh" or "Timbit" thrown in somewhere. But, in the end, we'll have a song that really reflects its status as an international hit. This is for you Ricky!!!
Livin' La Vida Loca (World Version)
This is the barn
Black cats and voodoo dolls
I know the prophecy
This girl is coming
This is a new feeling
New candles in candles
New addiction
Every day and night
That gives you that
Take and dance in the rain
He is crazy
But your pain
Like the ball of your head
That's just the first verse. Wow. Clearly, we're onto some sort of underlying secret here. I'm a little afraid of doing more of this, to be honest. I feel like the conspiracy police are going to come find me if I decipher the rest of this message. Perhaps just the chorus?
Walk into
She lives in the village
Press and drag
We will see the story
Your lips are red red
And the color of the skin is the carpet
Who will be responsible?
We will see the story
He lives
Not terribly catchy. Still, I think we need to move on here. I've seen that Julia Roberts movie Conspiracy Theory, so I know what's possible. Ok, I've never seen that flick. Or is that just what I want you to believe? Press and drag, people. Press and drag!!!!!
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| Julia Roberts->Brad Pitt->Raptors. Wake up, it's right in front of us! |
FINAL THOUGHTS
Uh, let's see. What was I talking about? School? Clandestine societies? Skin the color of carpet? Hmm. Can't remember the point of this blog entry anymore. Let's just say three stars. That sounds about right, for whatever. Man, this blog stuff is crazy-making. I'd even say it's a little loca! If I spoke Spanish. Which I do.
Loca.
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