Inner Dialogue

Acocdrnig to an elgnsih unviesitry sutdy the oredr of letetrs in a
wrod dosen't mttaer, the olny thnig thta's iopmrantt is that the frsit and
lsat ltteer of eevry word is in the crcreot ptoision. The rset can be
jmbueld and one is stlil able to raed the txet wiohtut dclftfuiiy.


The reason why you don't have problems comprehending meaning in spite of the misspellings is because according to Daneman & Reingold (1995), pupil-centered eye movements are very rapid, and the reader is not aware that the eyes are attempting to repair errors. This experiment trashed existing believes that phonological codes led to meaning access before orthographic codes were activated in your brain.

Luis Lizardi,
MA Applied Linguistics (TESOL)

Waking up after a "siesta", as I sit on my second floor balcony just watching the empty street of my downtown Hispanic city on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I catch a glimpse of some sort of debris on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. It looks like a tangled mass of cords...a leash all tangled up and left abandoned on that sidewalk. No sooner I make sense of what the debris seems to be, sure enough, a playful strayed puppy appears out of nowhere running towards the abandoned leash. He smells it, and lifts the leash with his teeth to try to put it back again around his neck. After several unsuccessful attempts, he gives up, and runs away.

As I watch this scene, I begin to wonder how the strayed puppy misses his dearly former home and comes back for his leash where the scent of that now lost home still lingers. I bet that those faint molecules in the aroma of the leash that spell "HOME" on his tiny brain close the gap for a few brief moments about his new reality... that of being lost in a strange world. I bet he misses his former masters, the petting, the food, the caring, ...the love! Yet, every now and then, the puppy goes away only to come back to his leash after a few minutes, but every time he comes back to it, those molecules that spell "HOME" become less and less perceptible. Thus, each time around, the playful scene with the link to his dear past is shorter... Until the puppy hardly comes back to play with his leash again...Until "home" becomes a distant unattached "souvenir".

Like the strayed puppy, I too, lost bit by bit the fragrance of my dear home through the years. Those great moments with my brothers, my cousins, and my uncles and aunts (and the rest of our extended family), celebrating holidays and birthdays at my parent's home, are a thing of the past. The caring, the solidarity, the petting, the love, are now all gone. Where is my family now? Where is my home? It was destroyed by new-comers: our "in-laws"! Whereas these "in-laws" came from other "not so loving" families, or whether they envied our tight relationships, and wanted all the love for themselves, I would never find out... but they did destroyed the unity of our family.

So, just as the strayed puppy did, I kept going back to smell the faint scent of an era long gone now, but the molecules were now truly imperceptible. The brief smile on my face whenever I try to remember my long lost home slowly turns into a painful scowl after a few seconds. That is why, I decided to choose my own road to exile and forget about the "HOME" we used to share. Through the years, I have realized that a brother, or a sister doesn't have to be someone who shares your DNA, but just about any human being that acts like one...that accepts you the way you are... that shares the joy of life...that behaves like a human being should. Again, just as the strayed puppy, my leash doesn't elicit any regards from my long lost home. In my wanderings through this world, I'm free from the slavery of my DNA in search for new friends and a new family based on harmony, happiness, and love. The strayed puppy is now also free from his former leash. Our olfactory glands perceive a different perfume...We live together now!

REVELACION

En un árbol, inscrita, como augurio,
hallé grabada la historia de mi vida,
al buscar errante en la espesura
respuestas a las cuitas que eran mias.

Caminaba meditando por un bosque;
por un bosque que en silencio estaba hablando...
Por un bosque que gritaba en simbolismos,
paralelos con mi ser atormentado.

Recuerdo entrar allí desorientado,
anhelando la paz que todos buscan.
Pero cuando estamos sordo-ciegos y castrados
las respuestas mas sensatas se te ocultan.

Camine por entre yerbas y veredas.
Como Francisco, pisaba con cautela.
No queria molestar la paz de la espesura
con mi atormentada carga y mi presencia.

Y lleno de culpas católicas...
Abrumado con injusticias humanas...
Pedí al Paraclito del cielo
respuestas a la ambiguedad cristiana.

Perseguido por "los perros de Abelardo",1
"en la brecha" de de Diego me encontraba.2
Pero en vez de mujír embravecido,
anonadado como espectro caminaba.

Cansado y fatigado y ya sin lágrimas
me apoyé sobre una roca solitaria.
Y al levantar mi vista de la grama,
en un árbol hallé mi historia ya grabada.

Descascarado y abatido por el tiempo.
Viejo, vacío y asediado.
Destruído por el comején que nos consume,
como cuando desapercibidos cobijamos adversarios.

Aquellos ganchos partidos, desfoliados,
semejaban mi postura y mi semblante.
Estaban desprendidos de verdura,
igual que la esperanza de encontrarme.

Y mientras mi mirada más subía hacia la cumbre
de aquél viejo y desleñado maderamen,
mas mi vida sin embagues descorría
aquél biógrafo enigmático al mirarme.

Torturados... Abatidos... Solos... Entristecidos.
Góticos mártires en la catedral de la espesura.
Aquél árbol y yo cohabitabamos mudos
compartiendo comunes desventuras.

Y en el tope de aquél roble centenario
encontré respuesta a mi locura.
Al final, en lo alto se encontraba
la respuesta ansiada y mi cordura.

Hojas verdes, grandes, saludables,
ganchos nuevos, fuertes, desafiantes,
coronando el viejo andamiaje inherte,
anunciando la vida, tras la muerte.

Hojas verdes...¡Grandes! Ganchos nuevos...¡Fuertes!
que de cara al sol y al viento
y en medio de espinos y de enredos
se asomaban desafiantes y sin miedo.

"Contra todo lo injusto y lo inhumano."3
¡Como Julia, marchando con su tea!4
Aquél Nostradamus ciclópeo
predecía mis futuras odiseas.

Era el Paráclito del cielo
que a través del oráculo gigante
al verme apoyado en "La Roca"5
ufano me habló sin hablarme.

Y escuché en aquel silencio
decir con claro talante:
"¡LEVANTATE!"... "¡REVERDECE!"
"¡MARCHA CON JULIA!"... "¡PA'LANTE!"

1 referencia al cuento "Los Perros" de Abelardo Diaz Alfaro
2 referencia al poema "En la brecha" de José de Diego
3 cita del poema "A Julia de Burgos" de Julia de Burgos
4 referencia al poema "A Julia de Burgos"
5 Cristo es "La Roca"

Luis Lizardi
febrero del 1999



ELEGIA A LOS LIBROS

Que tristes son los libros...
los libros olvidados...
Como los muertos olvidados en los nichos;
En los nichos olvidados del recuerdo.

Mudos. Estóicos. Rígidos.
Esperando la resurreción
en una furtiva mirada
con paciente sumisión.

Tristes, porque guardan con resignación
la sabia y la razón, el fuego y la pasión
de aquél que gustó regalar una oración
de su espíritu creador.

Ánimas en pena...
asomadas en el estante...
Escaparate de muertos
que son vida y son arte.

Que tristes son los libros...
los libros olvidados.
Mas es extraña ironía
que los libros recordados
son alegría y tormento.


Luis Lizardi
marzo del 1997



MUERO

Lentamente, despacio, sin prisa...
vivo los ultimos momentos de mi vida.
Despacio, lentamente, sin prisa...
me consumen las heridas que son síquicas.

Observo, mudo y sin ansias
como la vida pasa y me deja,
como los otros viven, y se alejan
los motivos y las ansias de quimeras.

Desterrado, voy hacia mi entierro.
Anonadado, voy al camposanto.
Ostraizado, ando devagando.
Vagabundo, ando yo sin rumbo.

No lloro, pues no tengo ya una lágrima.
He consumido todos mis anhelos
y he palpitado todos mis sueños
y ya no albergo mas mi ánima.

Nada me alienta. Nada me sonrie.
Vivo muerto en vida, una vida, que no es vida.
El pecho duele. Moro inmóvil. Vivo inherte.
El mundo vive al este y yo caduco en el oeste.

Cae la noche. Cierro los ojos. Llega mi invierno
(No puedo soportar mas este infierno.).
Llega mi hora. Ya no se llora. No habrá recuento.
Todo se acaba. Nada se alaba... ¡Ya yo estoy muerto!


Luis Lizardi-Solá
14 de Noviembre del 2004

ERIC Resume for ED439434

Title: A Connectionist Approach to Language Acquisition.
Personal Author: "/Webstore/CommonSearchResults.asp?txtDocType=ED&txtElectronically=0&vNameID=22539701&SearchForm=P_ExpandedSearch&Text1=Lizardi Luis O.&Field1=@meta_Authors&Boolean1=%20AND%20&Text2=&Field2=&txtPubType=&txtSort=Meta_DocID[D]&txtMaxDisplayed=10&q1=@meta_Authors Lizardi Luis O.";

Abstract: This paper attempts to synthesize how biological-nativist theories emerged as a response to logical and empirical flaws in behaviorist learning theories, and how in turn, recent research findings in Developmental Cognitive Neuroscience and Connectionist models of language acquisition are questioning the present innatist framework. As a result of this questioning, a reconceptualization of the term innateness have been proposed by a group of scientists on the grounds that the issue of `the grammar gene` has kept investigators looking on the wrong places for answers to language acquisition. On the other hand, looking at language acquisition issues from a Developmental Cognitive Neuroscience perspective supported by Connectionist data have provided researchers with a fresh outlook. It is now theorized that: (1) language acquisition is a product of the biologically endowed architectural structures of neural networks that are able to store environmental input; (2) linguistic input is stored in long term memory depending on statistical frequencies; and (3) language production is the result, not of genes, but of the problem of transferring multidimensional representations of thought into a linear (monodimensional) string of words. (Contains 12 references.) (Author/RS)

Publication Date: 2000-00-00
Descriptors: Behaviorism; Cognitive Psychology; Language Acquisition;
Elementary Secondary Education; Linguistic Input; Models;
Identifiers: Connectionism; Publication Type: General Information Analyses;
Languages: English;