Ahhhh, language.You know the strange thing about the funny way we humans communicate is? That there’s more than one way to do it. So the other week, we had a class of Americans, Romanians, and French soldiers. The Romanians were pretty quiet the whole time and the Americans … psssah, I already speak that ridiculous hodgepodge they refer to as a language. But the French … well now, that’s a fantastically arousing vocal method if I do say so myself. The careful mix of harsh “r”s and gentle “u”s moves something deep within me every time i set ear upon this beautiful song. Something deep within my pants is moved as well. I don’t know exactly what it is but I can be content for a week just hearing it. This class also interested one of our HUMIT collectors (sort of like international super spies … without the super. And only international because it’s Afghanistan) because she is fluent in French and hadn’t been able to speak it in some time. Something about no one speaking it in Afghanistan or some silly excuse. At any rate, on the final day she accompanied us to the class to “talk French” with the Frenchies. (heehee, that’s what i call my new French friends. They’re so cute! haha!) And for twenty glorious minutes, i was in pure communicative ecstasy. I understood very little but the essence of the conversation couldn’t help but be conveyed and by the end of it i felt as if i knew what they were saying (…. though I did not. Let’s not be silly!). One day, I’ll move to France (heheh. “ever been to France?”) and learn that language. I know if I go there, I will learn it because I love french bread and I will at least have to learn how to say “where be the French bread, my Frenchie?”

Now on to why I have titled this entry “YpYp”. I have no idea what that means. But the thought occurred to me that i do have a strange fascination with language. I like to hear the way other people speak. The way that some methods sing and others yell and some are so entirely unique that one could be only mesmerized by the sounds one thought impossible to be emanated from a human orifice. The myriad speaking methods I hear when I leave the relative safety of the American dialect lets me soar into another plane of vocal consciousness  (let me interject that the US is in no way a land of single language, however. Quite contrary, some sort of English, Spanish, Puerto Rican, Creole, French, and all the variances of each are all interesting but, sadly, never required and therefore the need to learn them all, fades). For instance, my Frenchies taught me to say many things (like rendezvous) and I even learned some words in a language i never knew anything about before: Macedonian. Kur. I learned that word. Never mind how and I shall not translate for you dear readers; I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Anyway, enough rambling for one evening. Go and learn a new language, my friends! The best way to do it is to be forced to, unfortunately. So! Move to Thailand, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Ireland, even New Zealand! Sure! learn a new way to speak your old language. As my Macedonian friend, Arsen, and I like to put it: “We’re bringing world peace and unity here.” … and then he taught me to say “kur”. heehee