25 July 2011
oh. les fleurs.
On the contrary, I feel equally as disappointed in myself when I don't recognize it. So I think it kind of evens out...
In my head I'd really like to take some French classes or Rosetta Stone it, because it sounds very lovely to be able to speak it again. But then I remember that I'm insanely bad at languages and have no desire to actually do it again. And then I go back to just being proud of myself for being able to say: Oh la la j'ai un rendez-vous.
I kind of like being able to say I took French, mainly because everyone else takes Spanish these days (and maybe also ten percent because it makes me feel exotic. Like Brazilian. Or French? I guess). But it gets tricky when I tell someone who speaks French that I took it, because then they say something all advanced and I smile and say oui. Fingers crossed there...
It's kind of like the way I used to feel when I told people I did yoga, before I actually did yoga regularly. Sometimes, it just feels nice to believe something about yourself. And sometimes, maybe, if you believe it enough, you'll make it happen.
Lately, though, I'm more on board with just owning what I really own. I.E. I took French, but don't speak it well. And I make good chicken but otherwise don't really know how to make any other meat.
I think that's the nice thing about living on your own in a new city. Things start to fall away and you realize what you really want, and how you really feel. You surround yourself with the things and people that help you grow, and pursue what matters. And before you know it, you're doing exactly what you want to be doing, and don't even have to pretend that you're bilingual.
And that's just beautiful. In fact, it's belle.
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