Adoption Freaky Scale, Ras Ma-kor-kor, and French New Wave

First, The Adoption Freaky Scale. I'm just going to spare those casual readers from the unsavory details about adoption. Those are selfish details and those are details tied directly into the broader scope of global adoption. It ain't easy stuff, folks. That said, imagine that right after that red dot on the very right hand side of The Adoption Freaky Scale the yellow line just continues...it goes on and on and then circles back around again. That's where we are. That's where our hearts are. It's like a gigantic loop-t-loop. Some days it's fine but most days it's not.

Ras Makorkor (spelled phonetically in case you're wondering). Ras means head in Amharic. Makorkor means tickle in Amharic. Tickle head= Ras Makorkor and that's what we're all calling ourselves in our family now- It's our joke that always brings laughs . Dew Drop and I had our first (and hopefully not our last) Amharic lesson last weekend. I asked Dew Drop before we went what her first five words in Amharic to learn were:

-Banana (pronounced in English by Dew Drop as 'bamana'): mooz

-Sky: semay

-Tree: zaf

-Tickle: ma-kor-kor

-Water: ooh-ha

But seriously? My girl needs to know Amharic. At least a little. She's got a family in Ethiopia she needs to be able to talk to. She's recognized all of the time as being Habesha by other people out in public- they want to know if she speaks Amharic or not. I can't stand the thought of her not knowing at least how to be polite. It tears me apart inside. We're going to Ethiopia in 2012, and I'm serious about learning. No pressure on Dew Drop, but I would love to hear her speaking very, very basic Amharic before we go. And I wouldn't mind her being polite either. But polite or not polite, this runs to the very root of being internationally adopted in America. To deprive her of her language, of her basic right to speak, is another loss that she doesn't deserve. She's Ethiopian and I really hope that one day she will claim that identity as part of her own. I am committed to do my part of that work.

Now for French New Wave cinema. Have I mentioned on this blog how much I love it? Watched

" À Bout de Souffle " (that translates as "Breathless" in English) last night via Netflix. If I could pick a time period to live in I think I would choose that- not the real life time period but the life that's portrayed through film. It's early 60's, it's black and white, I love the style, I love the weirdo plots and I love the dialogue. I know that I really love this genre of film because I can't describe my love for it. That's a good indicator. Good grief, how many times can a girl use the word "love" in one paragraph without disgusting herself? That remains to be seen. But it gives me happiness, and it inspires me to take pictures and films. And it makes me love artists and art, and it makes me want to wear dramatic eye makeup and smoke cigarettes that cast a fog all around the room. And it makes me want to be obscure and existential. Not that I needed more encouragement.