我常常想著，不同語言是如何像萬花筒的各個色鏡一般，以說聽讀寫的各種形式鑲嵌在我的日常生活裡。早晨我用羅馬尼亞文和室友問安（她以中文相對回應，這是我們互相學習的方式），在地鐵上總是充斥著各種聽得懂或聽不懂的語言，到了學校則自動轉換為全英文，即便只是自言自語。做論文研究不時得摻雜我癟腳卻實用的德文，回到家看「外語電影」（一直不了解為何這自成一類）、讀著中文小說、翻閱日本漫畫…不同的語言從外在看起來似乎只是不同的表達形式，或是多種文化滲入生活的表徵。那麼向內探索呢？萬花筒的綺麗是否也反映著內在思考、感受的多樣性，或者只是將自我切割與片段化？

I often wonder how different languages assemble as mirrors in the kaleidoscope of my life, in the forms of speaking, listening, reading and writing. Every morning I greet my roommate in Romanian, and she greets back in Chinese. (That’s how we learn each other’s language.) In the subway, my ears are always filled with various languages, some I understand and some I don’t. Upon arriving at school, I automatically switch to English-only mode, even when I’m just murmuring to myself. When I was doing my dissertation research, sometimes I had to use some German—very limited yet necessary in many cases. At home I watch “foreign language” movies (I never understand why it’s a genre), read Chinese novels, skim through Japanese Manga…. Looking from outside, different languages seem to be merely different forms of expression, or at most a symbol of how various cultures are intruding into my life. But how about exploring from inside: Are the many faces of the kaleidoscope reflected in my diversified thoughts and feelings—or are they just fragmented?

這種切割感將我長久以來莫名的錯覺顯影：彷彿講英文的我和講中文的我，其實是兩個不同的自己。就像輕輕將萬花筒轉一個角度，同樣的色片便展現出不同的風景。這種差異性一方面是在語言本身—英文畢竟非我母語，所知字彙有限，少掉了許多成語典故、迂迴隱喻，讓情緒及意見的表達相對地赤裸直接。另一方面則是自我生命經驗和英文能力的同時性：離鄉所帶來的性情變化與開始大量使用英文的時間疊合，「說英文的自己」或許其實只是反射著「搬到紐約後的自己」，獨自在異鄉生存讓我學會必須勇於表達自己、爭取所欲，並且快速有效率地達成目標。

The sense of fragmentation seems to make a long-time delusion more realistic: Sometimes I feel that my English-speaking self is different from my Chinese-speaking self. It’s like when a kaleidoscope is turned a bit, the same colored beads then display a different pattern. On the one hand, the difference lies in the language itself. I have a much smaller vocabulary in English than in Chinese. When speaking and writing in English, I’m less sensitive to using metaphors and less capable of using allusions and idioms. As a result, the way I express my emotions and opinions seems balder and more straightforward. Chinese, compared to English, allows more indirectness and ambiguity. On the other hand, the simultaneousness of my life experience and the growth of my English ability seem to create different selves. I only started speaking English in daily life after leaving my home country. Perhaps my “English-speaking self” is merely a reflection of my “moving-to-New-York” self. Living in a foreign country alone helped me learn how to express myself bravely, to fight for what I want, and strive to accomplish things more efficiently.

讓我思索的不只是疑似分裂人格的現象，更是這兩個自我互相干擾、辯論、爭權的過程。我注意到自己在思考時的語言跳躍性，在自我思辯的過程中，有時候兩個我站在不同的立場，一句中文一句英文地對話著（這若拍成紀錄片應該很有趣）。剛到紐約的那幾年努力想讓英文變好，甚至和某些台灣朋友講話時也用英文，還以英文寫日記。近幾年則是發現中文能力退化得令人害怕，開始在生活中多開闢一些中文的領土，包括開始以中文寫部落格，練習在講中文時不夾雜英文字（這是個比想像中要困難一些的挑戰）。這樣的轉變，並不只是擔心落入留學生口中「英文沒學好，中文卻變差」的陷阱，應該還因應著更深沈的擔憂：新的自我認同尚未鞏固，便和過往熟悉的自己漸行漸遠。

These reflections make me think that this experience is not a seemingly Schizophrenic phenomenon, but the history of my two (or more) selves fighting, debating, and taking each other’s power. As I think, sometimes my English-speaking self and my Chinese-speaking self are standing on different sides of the brain, having dialectic conversations (which can be really funny if it’s made into a documentary). When I first moved to New York, I wanted to improve my English so much that I talked to some Taiwanese friends only in English. I also kept my journal in English. In recent years, however, I found my Chinese speaking and writing ability is spookily declining. I decided to let my Chinese-speaking self occupy more space, so I started to blog in Chinese. I try to avoid English words when speaking Chinese (more difficult than it seems). I made these changes not only because of my fear of losing my Chinese fluency, but in response to a deeper anxiety: I don’t want to alienate my old, familiar self before establishing an integrated, new identity.

然而萬花筒再如何千變萬化，裡面包含的畢竟還是同樣的面鏡和色片。用不同語言來表達，其實都是了解自己的不同途徑。目前的掙扎或許只是尚未掌控好旋轉萬花筒的頻率與角度，待技巧嫻熟之後，但願我能夠在使用不同語言的自我之中轉換自如，甚至樂在其中。

No matter how many patterns a kaleidoscope can make, it’s composed of the same mini-mirrors and colored beads. Using different languages to express myself can be seen as different approaches to understanding different parts of me. Maybe I just haven’t mastered playing with the kaleidoscope of my life yet. Hopefully, one day, I will be able to switch between my different selves more comfortably, and enjoy the various patterns I create.