You know, English is my second language. [Wait a beat] I’m still looking for my first.
My other fallback focuses on exasperation with my inability to master even the simplest piece of music. When queried about whether I play an instrument, I usual brag about how I play a mean belly button [visualize chord forming left hand as right hand picks at lint in torso-centered depression].
Today, my sister-in-law Jan sent me a link to an article about the relationship between language and music as it is processed by the brain: http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/02/how-brains-see-music-as-language/283936/.
What a cruel twist: I don’t know whether I should be saddened to learn the factual basis for my shortcomings—a singular “hole” in my brain—or regale in finally having an excuse for not being able to carry a tune or craft beautiful sentences.
I’ve often been called “weird,” so maybe it’s just a case of syntax versus semantics [the link explains this reference], and my brain—wired as it is to fumble for words like a poorly tuned guitar—has found its own strange process: synmantics anybody?