Subjective Reality

Saturday, November 18, 2006

La langue des folles ~ A lingua dos malucos

I find it interesting I have to admit...that depending on my mood, I seek out specific languages. I speak english...but my first language was portuguese, and when I was 8 yrs old, we moved to Quebec and I had to learn french.
My french was never strong. Even at my best, I would be hard pressed to call myself fluent, although others did. I spoke it fairly well...but it was obvious to anyone that I had definate limiations of expression. I never recieved formal instruction in any language other than english...at school in Quebec, I failed that year initially because of the language difficulties I had at the time. They agreed to pass me only because my parents agreed to pull me from the french school and ship me back to Toronto to live with my grandparents in order to go to school here. Hence my attachment to my grandparents. My fluency in french actually came later...but through disuse, I have lost much of it. Actually, lost isn't accurate....it's dormant. I know its all there....and I know that it could be easily recaptured.
My portuguese remains very good.
I am asked by a curious friend of mine questions about my bi(tri)lingualism. Do I think in other languages? Do I dream in other languages? Mostly....I don't think in any language. I just think.

Don't you?

I think almost in color...in texture...in nuance....in mood.....my thoughts are too fast for words typically. However, when I do realize that there are actual words in my head...they tend to be in english. In particular when I'm theorizing or pondering something in my head...if words can be used, they are english. I cannot express any complicated idea in any language other than english. It's impossible.
Having said that....I do find myself periodically dreaming in another language. For some reason I remember dreaming in french typically. Dunno why.
When I am content...and alone...often if I am walking....I am starting to realize that I often catch myself thinking...feeling....in portuguese. Dunno why.
But...when I am sad.....when I am ... in heartache...melancholy....lost.....I find myself in french.

I wonder, of late...whether its because of global feelings associated with the specific times in my life when I was immersed in those particular languages.....or....if there is something particularily inherant in that specific language that lends itself to a mood easier than others. There are phrases or words in the languages that I know that are perfect to capture a meaning of something.....something that requires more than one word to express in another language.....I either know more of these sad words in french...or, french is a sad language lol. Or, I am pathetically insane..never discount that lol.

Musing further....for me...french and portuguese are like good food......the texture of the language, the feel of it in my mouth....the sound of it in my ears...they are decadent; full-bodied; rich; flavorful. English....for me....is just english. A means of communicating. There isn't anything "pretty" about english to my ears....nothing...rich....no words that capture a feeling as perfectly as those few emotion words that I know in the "romance" languages. English is pragmatic.....the others are emotional.

~~~ It is 1:45 am. The house is asleep. I'm listening to Loreena McKennitt (Dante's Prayer). Like nights lit with the brightness of a full moon ..... I ~feel~ connected to the world, and I feel alone. Not lonely...just alone with my thoughts. My memories. I feel haunted. *shaking head*....too much sharing for one night me thinks......G'nite.....

// posted by Anitsirhc @ 1:07 AM