28/12/2024
Life must really be lonely.
By this I mean how I am surprised by our children these days—with their behavior, their lifestyle—their culture.
Now I begin to realize how my mother must have felt being left out in those days. Back then, she would lament how we could even (afford to) listen to Scorpions and Nirvana or Parokya ni Edgar and Rivermaya—music we enjoyed in those days on boombox and the radio. Oh, how she lambasted—among many others—Alamid's “Your Love” playing endlessly on our FM radio, mimicking it to high heavens in sarcasm.
To her our music was rather noise. To her the only music was probably the Trio Los Panchos, Nat King Cole, Jerry Vale, and Pilita Corrales.
But was she only projecting the sentiment of a fading generation? Steeped in the tradition of her pre-war parents, was she only lamenting to us—in utter helplessness—how she couldn't keep pace with the changing times? Couldn't she or wouldn't she?
It is funny how I am now beginning to feel the same way she did. By this I mean the way I feel being left out with the language we have today—why I am continually being put off just by reading “maari”, instead of maaari, or seeing “madami daw” instead of “marami raw”?
Why am I aghast at reading in my studentsʼ papers, “huwag nalang” , instead of “huwag na lang”, or watching Kara David repeatedly say, “kanya lang” when she really means “kaya lang”—on national TV?
Why can't it sit well with me how Iñigo Pascualʼs “Dahil Saʼyo goes, “Buhay ko'y kompleto na/Tuwing nandidito ka/Sa tabi ko, o aking giliw, /Di pa din ako makapaniwala.”
Di pa din ako makapaniwala? Really?
So, can language being tritely labeled dynamic explain this?
Should we just now agree that the social media is the new lexicon? That it's the Merriam-Webster of today's generation? That it's their own grammar and correct usage?
And should we just comply with it—and deem it right? If so, what happens now to the balarila or wastong gamit we were taught in school by our (then Pilipino, not Filipino) teachers?Back then we knew the difference between din and rin, doon and roon, daw and raw. I still remember those. And life was good.
So will I, for one, just ignore the linguistic disciplines instilled by Ginang Delia Villanueva or Ginang Carmen Ilao? Will you, too, just set aside the language and grammar lessons you learned in Diwang Kayumanggi or Sinag?
Now, must life really be lonely only because we are afraid of change? So are we only lonely because we are not wired for change?
Is Charles Darwin finally right—that only the fittest of the species would survive this havoc caused by time?
At least here in the region, why am I seriously put off when I hear, “Yes po” instead of “Iyo po”, or “Kuya” instead of “Manoy”, or “Ate”, instead of Manay.
Or “MommyLa”? Or “DaddyLo”. What's wrong with “Lola”? It sounds sweeter. What happened to “Lolo”? What can be more affectionate?
DaddyLo? Seriously?
Di pa din ako makapaniwala.
