Gap

I watch P'Amata strut to P'Jar's desk and hautily relate a story about Choc in Thai. That's all I know, that it's about Choc. I heard his name and I can tell when she's speaking about her boyfriend because she throws her head back a little and adopts a sort of cutesy rhythm in her voice. P'Jar, I know, makes a dirty joke because she sniff's a bit and gets that glazed look on her face like she did something bad and then she grins and laughs at herself. P'Neung responds quite loud; his tenor voice rips through the office through chuckles. P'Amata is arguing with him now; arguing through a grin. Her hands aren't on her hips but her chin is up a bit, which is her equivalent. P'Nok Sirin joins the game and shouts from behind her desk, whining and giggling at the same time. Her giggle sounds like my Aunt Donna's--a high trill. Amata defends herself and shoots energy into her fists pointed to the ground. P'Nok gets louder. P'George doesn't seem like he's paying attention. He's glued to his screen with a disatisfied look on his face. Then he softly mutters something poignant and unemotional through an unchanged expression. This comment breaks everyone up with laughter which bounces off the walls. The crowded laughter lasts a good fifteen seconds.

My eyes fill up with tears. I don't expect this reaction but I'm used to it. I breathe deeply until the tears seep back into their ducts. I don't feel sad; I'm not going to bust out crying or anything, but I am isolated by the idea that even if I did understand what they were saying, I wouldn't understand in full because they have decades of context to bolster their language. This is why I don't burden anyone with a translation request. Instead, I just think about the relief of the campfire and jokes crackling up through the burning wood. I think about reciting Sendak books because I can, because I was in a children's musical that used them as the text. I think about Dale's living room and listening to a story about how his friends staged a pretend rapture with clothes on the dining room chairs. I think of Grandma Henry opening her cardinal and the tears that filled Uncle Paul's eyes. I remind myself that we all have our own.

Here's an interesting article I read about the Left Behind series, from the Salon.

Negative Attitudes toward the United States in the Muslim World: Do They Matter?

The man who gave the testimony (to Congress... that is a transcript) came to Bangkok and I met him with my boss. They worked on a survey together about Thai people's opinions of the US.

I was very impressed by the article.

(Sorry if the blog's getting too political. Eh, not that sorry.)