I love words and language. I love their flow and magic. I find other languages tantalizing, and I have on numerous occasions attempted to learn another language. In high-school, it was Spanish. In college, it was Italian, and currently it’s French. I haven’t been particularly successful at any of them, but I’ve probably stuck with French the longest. This is probably due to the fact that I don’t have a grade riding on it. I chose to try and pick it up, so I’m less hard on myself and get less frustrated.
When I was younger, I thought all the other languages were stupid-difficult and why couldn’t they be nice and easy…like English? To be clear when I say “easy,” I’m referring to verbal communication. While I’ve always loved to read and write, I’ve struggled with spelling and grammar since…forever. But I’ve never had trouble speaking, ask my Dad. Apparently, once when I was about two, and I was chattering away he looked at my mother and said, “We couldn’t wait for her to talk…”
Anyway, as I got older, I learned that English is one of the most difficult languages to learn (both verbal and written) because it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Sounds love to morph in weird ways, and we have nine-hundred words that all mean the same damn thing.
We even have “rules” that have more exceptions than followers, I once saw a statistic that said only 44 words follow the “i” before “e” rule while 900-plus words break it. It will never be obvious that the plural of moose is not meese, or that the plural of goose is not gooses.
However, the difficulty of English didn’t really sink in until I saw a sign that read, “Through, though, cough, and rough. None of these rhyme, but for some God forsaken reason pony and baloney do!” After I dried my tears from laughing, I decided that I didn’t have a reason to complain about the French and their obsession with silent letters after all.