This time it's about ... well, you'll see. .. here it is .... to put it into context .... she's Turkish but is learning Russian ...
.... I did feel that it was wasteful of me to study Russian literature instead of Turkish literature. I had repeatedly been told in linguistics classes that all languages were universally complex, to a biologically determined degree. Didn't that mean that all languages were, objectively speaking, equally interesting ? And I already knew Turkish ; it had happened without any work, like a gift, and here was I tossing it away to break my head on a bunch of declensions that came effortlessly to anyone who happened to grow up in Russia.
[ Me .. she's got a point here hasn't she! What the hell is she doing, struggling for years learning another language so that she can study its literature ... shouldn't that be the job of native speakers who would almost certainly have far more insight into Russian in every possible way!!! Let's she what she goes on to say .... ]
Today, this strikes me as terrible reasoning. I now understand that love is a rare and valuable thing, and you don't get to choose its object, you just go around getting hung up on all the least convenient things - and if the only obstacle in your way is a little extra work, then that's the wonderful gift right there.
OK ... there's a few dodgy bits in her argument there, but it all comes round to saying that for the really important things you won't begrudge making an effort. Whether us people trying to learn Welsh would call our relationship with the language "love" I couldn't say, but it must be something pretty strong and deep. All over the house I have French books, Spanish books, German books etc but 9 times out of 10 it will be the Welsh books I pick up and read.
Maybe that is just a reflection of the extra work and attention that Welsh requires ... but maybe it's something more.
Right .. enough of all this maudlin meandering ... music time is nigh .... we'll have spot of the Yr Eira ... Elin ... ....