The Universal You

That’s when you say “you” in English, with the intention of not just addressing one person, but several. You see in English there is no plural form for you anymore. Evidently, that went the way of the English possession of Southwestern France at the end of the middle ages. Though naturally (and as an aside) there remains a hell of a lot of vestiges of the English presence- from the passion for rugby in the region, to Rue Richard Coeur de Lion in La Reole.

I am somewhat bitter that there is no separate plural you, but it does allow me the opportunity to explain to my classes the intricacies of a mixed group being addressed as “guys”, “dudes”, and “peeps”- at least once we’ve cleared the hurdle of “how is everyone?” (Everyone is fine- at all times and all places, no matter what- except for the occasional brave soul who is just ok).

That, and it just seems really new age too, to refer to it as the Universal You, it just seems like a ploy to make people feel empowered and connected. I think linguists picked up the term from watching infomercials at 3 AM.

Sometimes when I’m thinking about languages, and the fact that no matter how good of a dictionary you have, you can never overcome how no two languages exactly parallel each other. Even English and French, which are quite similar, never really match up too well- especially when you get past the basics. The problem, which is of course the problem with everything- is people. At issue is the fact that language is tied to culture and worldview. One can argue all day, which came first- the language or the way of life- are the French so structured and precise in their social practice because their language requires it, or vice versa?

Either way, it doesn’t matter- the point is, one can speak another language perfectly (not that anyone would accuse me of doing so) without truly grasping the intrinsic or implied meanings which may be obvious for a native. But what do I know. At the end of the day, language is made up of basically arbitrary sounds, which have no actual metaphysical correspondence with that which they describe- other than perhaps for the occasional otomatapiae.

My problem- which I think I share with many people who are learning a second language, is that I am far too “first language centric”. Sometimes I fall into feeling like, for example- a bed is what the thing I sleep on is actually called- while the French just happen to call it a lit. It’s all very Platonic, if Plato’s creator of forms spoke English that is. Upon further reflection, I suppose I need to learn Greek, or else I’ll never get a legitimate night’s sleep again.

The other direction it can go is just existential despair (this is France of course). The sinking realization is that language and words are in fact inherently meaningless- In the most vicious way possible of course. But that’s no fun- besides meaninglessness isn’t all that bad.

I shall now attempt to explain why in lieu of a blog entry, I wrote a sociology paper.

For those of you who know me well, know that when life gets difficult and I don’t feel like dealing with it, I retreat into the safe havens of pseudo intellectual unnecessary-isms. This time is no exception. I’ve had a bit on my mind as it is- what with the impending vacation, and all that that includes. But also I’ve come to realize that that means afterward, I’ve got to start deciding what comes next. And actually deciding and doing something about it to. Voici the rub.

I really didn’t expect time to go by this quickly, so it’s strange to think that my job is actually pretty much half over. Furthermore, I didn’t think Jon would be getting here so fast- its going to be amazing, but I know that he’ll be here and gone in what’ll seem like seconds. But that’s the way it always is- I could have sworn I was better at living in the moment than this.

You see, I really want to do this again next year. And I know that I need to begin that process immediately, but of course I have procrastinated- just like last year, probably because I love parallels. At any rate, I know that I will eventually return to the States at some point. I’m not in any way bothered by that fact, I love it there and my entire life is there. But slumming around Europe is a pretty cool way to make a living as well, and I want to prolong it as long as possible.

But I know it can’t go on forever- not as a language assistant anyway. So that means I’ve got to find something that I can actually do permanently, and I suppose that unnerves me.

So, there’s that.

But the future holds nothing as compared to Monday, when it comes to my being unnerved.

So, as I am waiting Monday afternoon for my train to take me back to La Reole from my most recent weekend in Bordeaux- a group of police officers come up to me and demand to see my passport. This has happened to me before- though only once, and that was actually on the train itself- not just out of nowhere. So, I show him my passport and I expect that to be it. He looks at it, and then flips to the visa page. He arrives there, and points out to me that my visa has expired. Dammit.

(I should point out that this is not unexpected- my visa is only valuable long enough for me to apply for my resident card)

So, he asks to see my carte de sejour- my resident card- which the government still hasn’t gotten for me yet. Lovely. Now, in the mean time- they do give you a receipt for the application- which lasts for a long time. But naturally I don’t have that on my person. So, to my horror- the officer has to take me aside and call the prefecture- the regional government, to make sure whether or not I am legit. All in all, it wasn’t a huge deal, since I do have my papers in order and everything. And it all took only like 5 minutes all told. But it sure seemed longer.

That, and during the ordeal I managed to lose most of my French abilities due to stress- which really made it a lot more fun for all involved I’m sure.

So right, that’s what’s new in my life. Nothing too thrilling I suppose. But it only accelerates from here on out. I wish it would slow down, but it’s picking up steam, much to my chagrin.

It looks like I might have found an apartment in Bordeaux (crosses fingers) which I might be able to move into in January. So, we’ll see how that works out. It would be nice to spend the rest of the school year in my own place on the days I don’t work. Settle into a nice domestic life. Heh.

Finally, Friday morning- Mr. Jon Boyette shows up in Bordeaux, and it is going to kick some serious ass. First Bordeaux, then La Reole, then up to Paris and all of this culminating in a trip to lovely (I’m assuming) Kettering, England for Christmas with an old friend and former French Prof. Matt Kemp. Hell yes.

And then, just when it seemed it couldn’t get better- back to Paris and Bordeaux to spend new years with my family. Rock on.

So, if I’m not around for a while on this medium, rest easy with the knowledge that I’m doing something that is even more fulfilling that writing in my blog.

Peace.