on communication

So, I was walking down Daumesnil telling myself this hilarious monologue about trying to speak French, and now of course it is completely gone. I was inspired because a young man approached me speaking very quickly. I shook my head and said "parlez pas" in a quavering little voice (it could also have been "parler pas" or "parlais pas" none of which really make any more sense in this context). Now, I have know for about 20 years how to say I don't speak French in French and I have said it probably hundreds of times, but this one moment exemplifies what I am going through with the language right now.

For example, I know that "je me suis promené à chateau de vincennes" not "je m'ai promené..." (for verbs where there is motion) and "j'ai les clés à tout les appartements" not "...tout l'appartement" (2 things I said to Jean Pierre last night over dinner) but for some reason when I open my mouth, jibberish comes out. I just want to kick myself (I can see now the lovely blue tones my skin would get just thinking about it) or hide in a closet indefinitely (no, I am not in San Francisco anymore). I get so infuriated with myself.

Juliette says that this will continue to happen until I am completely fluent. But isn't it enough that I can never remember the name of anything, and if I can I have no idea if it is masculine or feminine. Then there is the small matter not trying to figure out whether to address people as "tu" or "vous" (no small matter at all, and I offend people so often in my every day existance that I really would like to avoid offending them this way). And finally, when I can remember the word, its gender, and the order they are supposed to be said, I then have to figure out which verb tense to use (keeping in mind the subject, time, whether my sentence is a situation or an event, etc.). Well, you can imagine that by the time I am ready to speak, about 3 weeks have passed. Why is not a problem when I speak English? This reminds me of Elizabeth's famous words, "that's why we are writers and not DJs." Except I am not sure what this makes me in French. un escargot?

Enough! I am actually quite pleased with myself today despite my inability to turn the French equivelent of one year old. I finally did a watercolor. It's true -- I have been lugging not one but 2 drawing pads around with me for 4 months, and finally, today, the muse spoke to me and I did a little picture. (Don't get excited; I don't paint because I am good at it. I paint as a sort of visual mediation; I am not sure why.)