I am not an automaton at all.
You don't know that you inspire me. You don't know how you do. You don't know I feel i have to live up to you, you don't know that. You don't know how good you are, you don't know how good you are at all. You know how much I wish i had it like you, but you don't know that, do you.
I love language, and I love communication. I love it because it defines us, because it relates so deeply to everyone and is so personal to a life, and I love to use it. It feels good to say for no reason at all. In Spanish, I love the word “langosta” which means lobster, in Italian, “sbagliato” (zbal-YAH-toh) which means mistake. That it is not though, it is perfect. Beginning with a hissing sound at the base and rounding into an “ahhhhh” at the back of the throat where it should almost become a gulp sound at the silent “g” but doesn’t, And just when you think the word has given everything it can give you for one syllable, it quickly counteracts itself and assaults you with a quick and assertive “yah-toh!” warranting a head nod. I love that word because it means how it feels. Like a mistake often is, innocent and unsure at first and then out of nowhere comes back to bite you, leaving you bitter but better.
I think it is beautiful that we are each given the same instrument and out of necessity and tradition we have found infinite ways in which to use it. Some of us click, some purse our lips, or roll the tongue. There are a myriad ways to use what we have to communicate, and they are all intertwined with our social and cultural conditions. It’s as if everyone has been given the same problem to solve, and the manifestations that have risen from it are so vast and personal that it is overwhelming.
Languages and the study of them inspire me. I think they are as structurally sound and efficient as a steel-beamed building, yet as weathered and culturally seasoned as a cottage overgrown with kudzu. As diverse and transformative as a ball of silly putty and yet definitive and characteristic with the ability to communicate nuance in only the way art and touch can rival.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
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