Being a happy-one-moment, bored-out-of-my-mind-the-next teenager, hobbies can be such a tremendous lifesaver that I worship all - a.k.a the ones that I indolently bother to check out (drawing hazy pictures of my hair which slightly resembles the alluring colour of a Celine bag is not included) - because entering a day-pass at the Land of Boredom sends me into a conscious slumber where lying on my Betty Boop duvet and scrolling through hastily-taken pictures on my smartphone become my overly dramatic idea of an official nightmare, with a glimpse of ever-blinding sunshine peeking through my window.
Around two-and-a-half years ago, my life - the one where clustered copies of perfume-scented ELLE would neatly adorn my bedside and a full-sized bar of 'luxurious' (au fait, I use this term very lightly) Galaxy was the satiable height of cocoa-fuelled pleasure - added a new hobby and learning tool to its slowly expanding box, making room for a new lesson to be added to my timetable and creating a source of education fun which would plaster a thrilled grin on my clearer complexion: the French language.
Woah, you certainly were not expecting that revelation to be unmasked within a tug of my finger, did you? Even at the time, my seemingly ballet slipper-sized feet were almost knocked off the ground when I made a heat-of-the-moment decision to study the langue d'amour on a humid day in the middle of May, where the sky reminded me of a miserable grey ash cloud. Thinking about it, I probably would not have progressed or leapt over so many obstacles had my dad never mentioned the possibility of my learning Mandarin Chinese, which, at the time, sent more chills up my spine than the thought of a spot being squeezed on my often glossy, plumped-to-perfection lips; what the heck would I have been able to do with spelling out symbols or, even worse, saying the words out loud?
My voice trembling, whilst my hand tightly grasped my unneeded coat, I secretly came to the conclusion that, in order to satisfy my dad's wishes to gain the knowledge of a well-known language (my previous, brief flirtation with a rarer-spoken foreign tongue hardly lasted for any period of time; perhaps my instincts knew better than I did) and increase my chances of pursuing a career in a cut-throat industry in which intelligence, logic and skills are more appreciated than anything else, giving what I first believed was 'the easiest language in the world' a go, if not for a little while. The chances were that my dad would focus his attention on other subjects such as the major lack of skill represented in football - picking up a few phrases in French was unlikely to place such a powerful tie on my Chanel-obsessed self, was it? As with many extraordinary discoveries, nothing could have set me under a more deluded, disbelieving trap than the over-bearing power of a foreign, yet surprisingly similar language - and what a spectacular encounter it was!
Perhaps the ever-warming heat of the upcoming summer was starting to warm my vampire pale-knuckles and gradually put a healthy, satisfied glow on my faintly-coloured cheeks, though now I believe otherwise: placing all of my energies (and quite a lot of those I had ready to burn off thanks to my stash of liquorice allsorts!) into remembering a word or two of vocabulary focused my attention, sharpening it as precisely as a a name-imprinted pencil, and I grew to love the language which has slowly gained the title of my second 'tongue', albeit there are still a couple (and mighty difficult!) bumps along the way which have yet to be challenged.
For some people, absorbing as much knowledge about one language as one's brain is capable of handing may appear a complete waste of time - what kind of use is the verb tomber (to fall; a common mistake I kept making whilst spelling the Tomb Raider gaming series) going to offer to your madly hectic lifestyle when you may only set foot upon French soil - or a country where the language is widely recognized - every five years or so? Believe me, learning a language vastly different to your native one doesn't deserved to be classified as a 'waste of immensely precious time'; take a moment to even immerse yourself into the idea of becoming more knowledgeable and skillful, all courtesy of a language mainly spoken in the nearest country to shore!
Although the beginnings of getting used and eventually co-operating with its inner workings and peculiar ways (have a go with Google Translate for old times sake; it brings all memories of blood-boiling frustration and fist-clenching irritation back to the surface) sometimes pushed me to the doubtful brink, I brought myself back to shore and carried on with my adventure, whilst taking a few breaks to marvel at my increased concentration and motivation to succeed with my chosen subject. Who knows why my taking to the French language seemed so natural and right - needless to say, an amazed, eyebrow-raising expression lit up my features!
Obviously, it would seem awfully stupid - and utterly incomprehensible - if I gave my constantly typing fingertips a five-minute break by skimming through my courageous journey with a few words clustered here and there for the sake of it, so I won't hold back on my few pushbacks and struggles which, at particular times, made me want to scream from the top of my lungs. Why there had to be two separate words for love - in the noun and verb form - in French, an answer will never reach my unlistening ears; from the word 'go', a recipe for trouble was increasing in size whenever an unreachable, near-impossible barrier blocked my path and therefore encouraged not an esteem-boosting portion of inspiration, but a highly sensitive dose of exasperation which bothered me further - until one day when everything started to fall into what was intended to be its soon-to-be-natural habitat.
Meanwhile, my collection of French dictionaries was taking up more space in my bedroom, so I had no other choice than to place them in the wooden bookcase near my schoolbooks - and as for my knowledge of French, my brain had expanded almost as widely as several much-coveted Sims collection packs! Whether a piece of paper is lying in front of me or I switch on the French-title function on my oh-so-clever smartphone (the model with an IQ; or maybe Nokia ought to be thanked for their bright, wireless-charging skills), the power of French - which, without the right perspective and mind, cannot be adapted to your native language and make you appreciate the admirable art of speaking and living in a world overwhelmed in various, uncountable foreign tongues - remains with me wherever I choose to go, although I'm counting down the days until I fulfil one of my ambitions to experience an artistic, très jolie existence as a francophone (french-speaking) in the heart of croissant-baking, Amélie-watching France. Well, I actually don't know when I will hop onto a plane - or, even better, the legendary Eurostar - and catch my very first, memorable glimpse of the outstanding Eiffel Tower in its breath-taking beauty; maybe I ought to wait a bit longer until I feel more confident whilst speaking in ma deuxième langue!
Learning a language, I have to say, does not just become an opportunity to burn some free-time on a cloudy-skied Saturday morning in the middle of rain-drenched November; if you push open all barriers and open your heart, nothing ought to stop you from developing a new sense of freedom by gaining the valued knowledge of phrases and words from a language that millions of people across the world speak every day, barely giving a thought about it. Another way of understanding my view is related to your - and my own - native language, which, as this blog is written in English, is probably my mother tongue. How often do you consider how hard it may be for foreign-speaking people to pick up the pronunciation of English and comprehend the words instilled into our minds, creeping into our sentences and conversations on a daily basis? The same, without a doubt, applies to French and countless other languages; we love the feeling of comfort, from taking a warm sip of hot chocolate on a snow day to hanging out with our very closest friends who seemingly know more about us than we do, so venturing out on a new, hair-raising path is enough to create a family of goosebumps on your otherwise baby-smooth skin.
In over two years, not only had my appreciation of foreign languages grown as greatly as a nourished sunflower, but my DVD collection and books are taking up more space than I ever thought they would! French films - both classic and modern - have gained a place in my heart thanks to their romantic, yet realistic storylines and I have an alarming tendency to buy every single one I record on TV; that suggests a lot about big-budgeted Hollywood films, doesn't it?
Without speaking French, I would never have discovered as much as a exciting adventure in the comfort of my pleasantly English home - and as for being a francophone teen, the thought of boredom never being a worrying problem is the best thing of all!
Around two-and-a-half years ago, my life - the one where clustered copies of perfume-scented ELLE would neatly adorn my bedside and a full-sized bar of 'luxurious' (au fait, I use this term very lightly) Galaxy was the satiable height of cocoa-fuelled pleasure - added a new hobby and learning tool to its slowly expanding box, making room for a new lesson to be added to my timetable and creating a source of education fun which would plaster a thrilled grin on my clearer complexion: the French language.
Woah, you certainly were not expecting that revelation to be unmasked within a tug of my finger, did you? Even at the time, my seemingly ballet slipper-sized feet were almost knocked off the ground when I made a heat-of-the-moment decision to study the langue d'amour on a humid day in the middle of May, where the sky reminded me of a miserable grey ash cloud. Thinking about it, I probably would not have progressed or leapt over so many obstacles had my dad never mentioned the possibility of my learning Mandarin Chinese, which, at the time, sent more chills up my spine than the thought of a spot being squeezed on my often glossy, plumped-to-perfection lips; what the heck would I have been able to do with spelling out symbols or, even worse, saying the words out loud?
My voice trembling, whilst my hand tightly grasped my unneeded coat, I secretly came to the conclusion that, in order to satisfy my dad's wishes to gain the knowledge of a well-known language (my previous, brief flirtation with a rarer-spoken foreign tongue hardly lasted for any period of time; perhaps my instincts knew better than I did) and increase my chances of pursuing a career in a cut-throat industry in which intelligence, logic and skills are more appreciated than anything else, giving what I first believed was 'the easiest language in the world' a go, if not for a little while. The chances were that my dad would focus his attention on other subjects such as the major lack of skill represented in football - picking up a few phrases in French was unlikely to place such a powerful tie on my Chanel-obsessed self, was it? As with many extraordinary discoveries, nothing could have set me under a more deluded, disbelieving trap than the over-bearing power of a foreign, yet surprisingly similar language - and what a spectacular encounter it was!
Perhaps the ever-warming heat of the upcoming summer was starting to warm my vampire pale-knuckles and gradually put a healthy, satisfied glow on my faintly-coloured cheeks, though now I believe otherwise: placing all of my energies (and quite a lot of those I had ready to burn off thanks to my stash of liquorice allsorts!) into remembering a word or two of vocabulary focused my attention, sharpening it as precisely as a a name-imprinted pencil, and I grew to love the language which has slowly gained the title of my second 'tongue', albeit there are still a couple (and mighty difficult!) bumps along the way which have yet to be challenged.
For some people, absorbing as much knowledge about one language as one's brain is capable of handing may appear a complete waste of time - what kind of use is the verb tomber (to fall; a common mistake I kept making whilst spelling the Tomb Raider gaming series) going to offer to your madly hectic lifestyle when you may only set foot upon French soil - or a country where the language is widely recognized - every five years or so? Believe me, learning a language vastly different to your native one doesn't deserved to be classified as a 'waste of immensely precious time'; take a moment to even immerse yourself into the idea of becoming more knowledgeable and skillful, all courtesy of a language mainly spoken in the nearest country to shore!
Although the beginnings of getting used and eventually co-operating with its inner workings and peculiar ways (have a go with Google Translate for old times sake; it brings all memories of blood-boiling frustration and fist-clenching irritation back to the surface) sometimes pushed me to the doubtful brink, I brought myself back to shore and carried on with my adventure, whilst taking a few breaks to marvel at my increased concentration and motivation to succeed with my chosen subject. Who knows why my taking to the French language seemed so natural and right - needless to say, an amazed, eyebrow-raising expression lit up my features!
Obviously, it would seem awfully stupid - and utterly incomprehensible - if I gave my constantly typing fingertips a five-minute break by skimming through my courageous journey with a few words clustered here and there for the sake of it, so I won't hold back on my few pushbacks and struggles which, at particular times, made me want to scream from the top of my lungs. Why there had to be two separate words for love - in the noun and verb form - in French, an answer will never reach my unlistening ears; from the word 'go', a recipe for trouble was increasing in size whenever an unreachable, near-impossible barrier blocked my path and therefore encouraged not an esteem-boosting portion of inspiration, but a highly sensitive dose of exasperation which bothered me further - until one day when everything started to fall into what was intended to be its soon-to-be-natural habitat.
Meanwhile, my collection of French dictionaries was taking up more space in my bedroom, so I had no other choice than to place them in the wooden bookcase near my schoolbooks - and as for my knowledge of French, my brain had expanded almost as widely as several much-coveted Sims collection packs! Whether a piece of paper is lying in front of me or I switch on the French-title function on my oh-so-clever smartphone (the model with an IQ; or maybe Nokia ought to be thanked for their bright, wireless-charging skills), the power of French - which, without the right perspective and mind, cannot be adapted to your native language and make you appreciate the admirable art of speaking and living in a world overwhelmed in various, uncountable foreign tongues - remains with me wherever I choose to go, although I'm counting down the days until I fulfil one of my ambitions to experience an artistic, très jolie existence as a francophone (french-speaking) in the heart of croissant-baking, Amélie-watching France. Well, I actually don't know when I will hop onto a plane - or, even better, the legendary Eurostar - and catch my very first, memorable glimpse of the outstanding Eiffel Tower in its breath-taking beauty; maybe I ought to wait a bit longer until I feel more confident whilst speaking in ma deuxième langue!
Learning a language, I have to say, does not just become an opportunity to burn some free-time on a cloudy-skied Saturday morning in the middle of rain-drenched November; if you push open all barriers and open your heart, nothing ought to stop you from developing a new sense of freedom by gaining the valued knowledge of phrases and words from a language that millions of people across the world speak every day, barely giving a thought about it. Another way of understanding my view is related to your - and my own - native language, which, as this blog is written in English, is probably my mother tongue. How often do you consider how hard it may be for foreign-speaking people to pick up the pronunciation of English and comprehend the words instilled into our minds, creeping into our sentences and conversations on a daily basis? The same, without a doubt, applies to French and countless other languages; we love the feeling of comfort, from taking a warm sip of hot chocolate on a snow day to hanging out with our very closest friends who seemingly know more about us than we do, so venturing out on a new, hair-raising path is enough to create a family of goosebumps on your otherwise baby-smooth skin.
In over two years, not only had my appreciation of foreign languages grown as greatly as a nourished sunflower, but my DVD collection and books are taking up more space than I ever thought they would! French films - both classic and modern - have gained a place in my heart thanks to their romantic, yet realistic storylines and I have an alarming tendency to buy every single one I record on TV; that suggests a lot about big-budgeted Hollywood films, doesn't it?
Without speaking French, I would never have discovered as much as a exciting adventure in the comfort of my pleasantly English home - and as for being a francophone teen, the thought of boredom never being a worrying problem is the best thing of all!
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