Losing Phrase
Most foreigners to Japan eventually come to realize they possess something called "face." Not a face, but face. The tricky thing about face is that its sole function seems to be that of becoming lost, and thus your sole objective as a possessor of face is to keep from losing it, whatever it is exactly. And believe me, it's hard to find if ever it gets away.
This "face" isn't completely unique, of course. There's a similar concept in America (and probably every other culture), and we even sometimes call it by the same name, "face" (as in, "You just did that to save face"). But the two don't quite parallel, at least not in degree, and maybe not even in kind. Face is a bit more important here than in America, and it can slip out of your grasp in a number of ways you would never suspect.
But that's all quite well-known.
Here's something that is not as well known (at least to those who have never lived in Japan for an extended period of time). If you take it upon yourself to move to Japan, something you may find slipping away from you as easily as "face" is what I would like to call "phrase." You begin to lose your ability to speak your native tongue. Writing, speaking, even thinking--it all slowly sinks to an unknown a plane, a quagmire, a netherworld of verbal incompetence the existence of which you'd seldomg before had wits enough even to suspect (like, say, on a first date).
A shining example of this occurred last Sunday morning in church. Talking about Moses after his descent from the holy mount, I said, "Can you believe how his face glew?!" Indeed the fellow Americans in my class could not. They laughed their heads off! Obviously, the word I meant to say, and would've said at any point previous to living in Japan, was "glowed." (Unless of course, the "glew" was to apply the horns that Moses on his head--I'm still uncertain on that point.)
This is but a taste of the horror of "losing phrase" that assaults all foreigners living in this country. Moment to moment, day after day, I find myself unable to recall the simplest 3- and 4-syllable words. My typing proficiency is atrocious. Sometimes when I hear a native English speaker utter a particularly complex sentence, I have to stop for a second and work out the syntax in my head. It's all very shocking.
I was forewarned of this danger of "lost phrase" upon arriving in Japan. I immediately began to devise all kinds of strategies to curb the dreaded phenomenon: reading complicated and intellectually challenging books, maintaining this blog, writing poetry occasionally, talking everyday to a native speaker of the mother tongue. All this I have done (with a little bit of grace on the part about maintaining this blog), and yet here I am, everyday my stockhold of "phrase" a little less expansive than it was the day before. Everyday losing ground.
What's to be done? I think I'll just have to go to graduate school. I see no other option. Farewell!
This "face" isn't completely unique, of course. There's a similar concept in America (and probably every other culture), and we even sometimes call it by the same name, "face" (as in, "You just did that to save face"). But the two don't quite parallel, at least not in degree, and maybe not even in kind. Face is a bit more important here than in America, and it can slip out of your grasp in a number of ways you would never suspect.
But that's all quite well-known.
Here's something that is not as well known (at least to those who have never lived in Japan for an extended period of time). If you take it upon yourself to move to Japan, something you may find slipping away from you as easily as "face" is what I would like to call "phrase." You begin to lose your ability to speak your native tongue. Writing, speaking, even thinking--it all slowly sinks to an unknown a plane, a quagmire, a netherworld of verbal incompetence the existence of which you'd seldomg before had wits enough even to suspect (like, say, on a first date).
A shining example of this occurred last Sunday morning in church. Talking about Moses after his descent from the holy mount, I said, "Can you believe how his face glew?!" Indeed the fellow Americans in my class could not. They laughed their heads off! Obviously, the word I meant to say, and would've said at any point previous to living in Japan, was "glowed." (Unless of course, the "glew" was to apply the horns that Moses on his head--I'm still uncertain on that point.)
This is but a taste of the horror of "losing phrase" that assaults all foreigners living in this country. Moment to moment, day after day, I find myself unable to recall the simplest 3- and 4-syllable words. My typing proficiency is atrocious. Sometimes when I hear a native English speaker utter a particularly complex sentence, I have to stop for a second and work out the syntax in my head. It's all very shocking.
I was forewarned of this danger of "lost phrase" upon arriving in Japan. I immediately began to devise all kinds of strategies to curb the dreaded phenomenon: reading complicated and intellectually challenging books, maintaining this blog, writing poetry occasionally, talking everyday to a native speaker of the mother tongue. All this I have done (with a little bit of grace on the part about maintaining this blog), and yet here I am, everyday my stockhold of "phrase" a little less expansive than it was the day before. Everyday losing ground.
What's to be done? I think I'll just have to go to graduate school. I see no other option. Farewell!
posted by Peter Rice at 11:29 PM
3 Comments:
Peter,
From a personal perspective, I think the solution is perfectly obvious, I suggest you 'blog' more often...
jodad
ha, losing phrase indeed! I just read your account of the desk, and losing words you are not.
I'm so glad to hear of your new driver's permit--and actually laughed out loud at the bit about rag racing. awesome.
Take care, and I hope the loss of a desk will be repaid to you in some unexpected (and fun) way.
Peter, it's not just Japanese. German causes one to lose phrase as well--fairly rapidly, as a matter of fact. I theorize that the more complicated the foreign language, the more likely lost one's native phrase will become.
Tonight, I uttered the sentence, "That's the street where Tina wohns."
Not only did I substitute a German verb for an English one without even realizing it, I also conjugated it with an English ending instead of a German one. I'm losing phrase in both languages and gaining something that makes absolutely no sense.
Sorry for the long comment. Language discussions inspire me. ;o)
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