...falling in love with the queen's english.

I can fall in love over and over again...

...not with a guy... not with a girl either... not loving an animal nor an object...

... ... ... but with the english language. Mind you, not just any english language (not manglish, not singlish and not american english). It has to be the queen's english with all its rules, propriety and accent. Some call it the british english, some say it's oxford english, but whatever term it is called, I just love it.

I can't explain why I love it. Just like you can't explain what love is. I just do. I can sit and hear a person talk and talk in that english pronunciation and tone for hours. This recent spate of love affair rejuvenated when I had to talk to 2 English people over the phone for work purpose. One was a girl, and the other a guy. When they spoke, I felt myself going all dreamy eyed. I didn't want the conversation to stop. I didn't want to speak for fear of my voice disenchanting the illusion that I created myself. Sigh... it caused me to reflect on all those BBC shows that I watched. Remember dashing Mr. Darcy? (note to self: I must get hold of that Pride and Prejudice BBC series)

Then last week, I had to horribly bring myself back to the decadent language of pop culture. Yep, the american english. No offence, ok? I couldn't readily accept the fact that there are so many exceptions to the english language. Everything seem to be acceptable now. Double negatives. Redundant words. Short forms. I'm no whiz in the english language but I certainly pride myself in my ability to form good sentences and spell decently.

A few weeks back, my mom asked, "What's the short form for birthday?"
"Huh?", I replied in a confused way.
"I want to send a sms to wish my friend happy birthday."
"Mom, you can spell birthday as it is. Why is there a need to put it in short form?"
"Well, it's what people do nowadays, isn't it?"

I was utterly upset. The bee must have been retrenched in this current state of economy.