Language is certainly a subject that I have a few thoughts about. She mentions that we only speak Mandarin, which is not entirely true. We sometimes throw English phrases around like, “I’m some little hungry” and he is teaching my a little bit of Wenzhou dialect. But she questions, to what degree to we use spoken language, and to what degree do we rely on body language.
I’ll let her address the body language bit, she does a good job.
And so one learns to interpret movements: the cocking of a head, slight movement of the shoulder blades, bent of a finger, raise of an eyebrow, biting of the lips. And relinquish some sort of story telling of excitement, uneasiness, worry, fear, happiness. And these movements string into tangible sentences that you, yourself, learn to respond to using your own cracking of the knuckles, shift of the eyes, firming of the lips.
And maybe those moments of words gone evaporated leaves the points of clarity when you shift weight on your left leg to your right, or your chest concaving its way into a sigh. Those moments when a thousand words fall short of meaning.”
But my question is, how important is language anyway? I do think its rather important, otherwise, what in goodness’ name am I doing with my life right now? But I think I huge part of language is not what you say. So, I’d be lying to say that Zhu and I only speak Mandarin.
Is that so wrong? I don’t think so. Are body languages, expressions, tone of voice lesser forms of communication? I don’t think so. Otherwise, why is it so important that we have important conversations in person? For example, if I break up with you via text, its scornful thing, much worse than breaking up with you in person, probably even if I say the exact same thing.
So I think that almost in spite of the fact that Zhu and I do not have the same mother tongue, we have a perfected form of language. Its true, much of what we communicate happens with looks, shrugs, facial expressions, especially on my part. I understand all of his Chinese, but naturally I don’t speak it at the same level. The funny thing about me understanding him is this: he can repeat word for word something that I don’t understand that someone else said, or read out loud a news article or essay and I will understand. How much am I accustomed to his accent? How much am I simply understanding him? I think it’s both. As a stage actor, he does have an excellent grasp of pacing and rhythm of speech, but even his lazy Beijing dialect I have no difficulties understanding.
He, he understands my sloppy Mandarin and facial expressions. Some skills of mine regarding language aren’t so great. I don’t think I’ve ever been so good at expressing myself completely orally on the spot. I have to let what I want to say simmer a bit. Facial expressions help me out a lot here, and so far in my life I’ve done a pretty good job of finding people who can understand me without language. There is a long-standing joke between my best friend and I about how good we were at communicating without saying anything—Charades champs for life. To this day, we don’t talk a lot, but still manage to be very close.
Perhaps my failures and faults in dealing with the words of birth language is why I like studying foreign languages so much in the first place. Having so many shortcomings with my so-called native tongue, it comforting to busy myself with the rules guaranteed slip-ups of learning another one. Its nice to have the excuse of speaking in a foreign tongue.
I don’t really know where I am going with this, but there are some of my thoughts, I suppose. (You see, pure language failed me again)
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