Truth Be Told, I Can Barely Read

While I was off seizing the day, Osler was making a foray on my impeccable character, wildly accusing me of being an “English major.” For fear my comment will go unnoticed underneath his countless other posts, I place it here for all to see.

I’m far from an “English major.” In fact, my first language was one seemingly understood only by myself. I’d always tell the funniest jokes and nobody would laugh, so at the age of about one or two I took it upon myself to conform to the world around me.

The product of Hispanic help and countless hours of Telemundo, my parents found my speech unintelligible till about the age of 6. As far as they’re concerned, my first word was, “GOALLLLLLLLLL” accompanied by a celebratory hat dance. My father eventually tired of being called Papi and referred me to hooked-on-phonics.

Minus the occasional detour into Ebonics, I’ve been loyal user of English for many years now. Being a user of English however doesn’t necessarily make me an “English major.”

I hate English classes. In third grade I got in trouble for writing a poem similar to my award winning piece on teen angst. Apparently, some people didn’t think I was funny so they arrested my mother. I’ve avoided English classes ever since.

In short, although me may not not write pretty on occasion, I’m certainly no “English major.”

P.S.

Vote C4CS07 and yea . . . he pee’d on her.