Music Monday: ASL FTW

 Veering off into my past, I give you an ASL version of a song that is speaking to me about some characters that I'm not actively working with right now. Because of course. Enjoy.

Music Monday: SOMETHING DIFFERENT ++, THIS.

Okay, I know. Carrie Underwood is problematic because of choices she or her representation made about performing at the current president's inauguration festivities. However, I maintain I fell in love with this song not for her, but after I saw this translation. I mean, the lyrics speak to me of Gin leaving Taeben, but also of Tairn at the end of Red, dealing with Eh'soi and the labyrinth, don't get me wrong. But Rosa Lee is amazing at what she does and this song is no different. I'm a fan and I hope you will be too, even if you don't sign. Enjoy.

Music Monday: Maps...to the Future

I'm still in recovery mode from ConCarolinas this past weekend. What a great experience! What that means is that my Music Monday post is late...and this song is very appropriate to how I'm feeling after that experience. "This is the way back home..." This weekend was the way back home to who I am when I'm not stressed out, when I'm a writer, when I can chat with someone in my second language...it was good for my soul, and while I had my doubts I really proud of myself for going. 

I was on a panel about the songs we use in our writing, and this one also speaks to me about my Orana Chronicles characters and their journeys...especially one very special Clawsharp. No spoilers, though...at least not yet.

So please enjoy Ireland's Eurovision entry for 2021 (did you really think I'd be over that so soon? Please, ask my roommates from this weekend how many times I mentioned watching the Fire Saga movie or just a rerun of Eurovision!), Maps by Lesley Roy.

Maps

by Lesley Roy

I'm gonna let down all the armor

Let out the power that I've been hiding

Not afraid of the monsters, of the nightmares

That I've been fighting

Easy to run, harder to stay

Finding colours in the grey

Thought I was done, but I got it wrong

I fell twice, I'm twice as strong

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

I had to take all of the long ways

All of the wrong ways

'Cause I couldn't see

All the signs, all the mistakes

Pointing one way to get back to me

Easy to run, harder to stay

Finding colours in the grey

Thought I was done, but I got it wrong

I fell twice, I'm twice as strong

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

My soul is a map, my heart is a compass

I am the road

There's only one way to go

This is the way back home

My soul is a map, my heart is a compass

I am the road

There's only one way to go

This is the way back home

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

I've been searching all the wrong places

I've been trying too many faces (I've been trying)

Only one way to go

This is the way back home

Well...It's been a MINUTE.

Litchfield Beach, SC

I'm doing better with at least thinking about updating this blog, y'all, I swear.

So this past weekend I had a marvelous time hanging with my tribe - the South Carolina Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf crowd. Our annual conference was on Pawley's Island this year and even though I didn't make it to the beach (other than to snap that photo right quick from the boardwalk on Sunday before we drove home), I still came away feeling refreshed, renewed, ready...and REALLY TIRED.

Like down in my bones I cannot keep my eyes open one more second if you ask me to stand up I will crumple kind of tired. I am still that tired today, two days later.

This kind of gathering is good for my soul because I live in a family where no one but me signs. I work in an office where no one but me signs (because our other interpreter here is a contract/part-time type of employee and I never see her outside of the classes we team). I basically live in a world where the majority of people I know and call friends and family-of-choice have only a marginal understanding of my career and if they know any signs, it's basic communication.

Now, this is the point at which I apologize for omitting the disclaimer that I am not a CODA nor any other kind of native user of American Sign Language, but the fact that my first exposure to visual language came around the age of 10-11, I claim it as my second language. I think and dream in ASL more than English, even now. I'm constantly thinking about how something I see on telly or hear on the radio would be interpreted. It is part of me, even if I don't have native fluency.

That is why those people that I was with over the weekend are precious to me. I may know them so well that I call them friends or fam. I may have just met them THIS weekend. It doesn't matter - when you find your tribe and you share this language, this culture - this interpreter brain, whether Deaf or hearing - you're home. My hands and eyes are aching from all the extra work that they were doing over this weekend. But I wouldn't have traded a second of it - well, okay, the weird mushroom stalk I discovered in my pasta at tea on Friday night could go, for sure - for anything.

They get me, y'all, in a way that no one that isn't an interpreter can. I love my husband more than I can express. I love all of my greyhound and wolfhound friends, my Rennie fam, my Glisson fam, My Girls that I see almost every week...but this is different. I've said for years that I want to do some kind of scholarly research into sign language interpreters as a third culture, not just a Venn diagram crossover of the sets called Deaf and hearing.

Maybe it's time to look for a master's program. Maybe.

But for sure, I need to have more of my tribe in my life, and not just once or twice a year at the conference - so that it won't be quite so many minutes between feeling this heard/seen/understood.

Yes, Virginia Woolf, I am an author...

So, I was working on some prep for an upcoming class I have to interpret and I stumbled upon a passage in an essay that not only struck me but absolutely blindsided me in its perfection and appropriateness. In fact, this is going to be my go to now when people ask me what it means to be an author or, in her lovely parlance, a novelist - which sounds far more like the image I have of myself - sequestered in a lovely, seaside town with a leather chair, a fireplace, and my laptop, writing and writing and writing.

Of course, this image flies in the face of my reality - I'm usually on the sofa, holding off anywhere from one to three dogs who DESPERATELY  NEED MY ATTENTION RIGHT NOW and answering questions from my husband while trying to find the right way to describe a creature that heretofore exists only in my mind. That, of course, is luxury; there are also the harried moments of trying to get a sentence typed while simultaneously trying NOT to slide off the seat in a moving bus, or typing out THE BEST DIALOGUE I HAVE EVER CREATED with one hand at whatever desk I can find at work - as the other hand tries not to drop my lunch onto the keyboard.

Anyway, enjoy this passage from "How One Should Read a Book," by Virginia Woolf. She is, as per usual, spot on. I will have some thoughts to share after you're done.

The thirty-­‐two chapters of a novel—if we consider how to read a novel first—are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building: but words are more impalpable than bricks; reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing. Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words. Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you—how at the corner of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shook; an electric light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in that moment.

-Virginia Woolf, How Should One Read A Book

Right, so anyone that has written anything will tell you that this is one of the more challenging aspects of the craft - take what you have experienced that inspires you and turn it into words, with all their "dangers and difficulties."  While I do agree that it is difficult, it occurs to me that I have an advantage that I hadn't thought about until today - I am fluent in English, but also in American Sign Language (ASL).

I know, it's a stretch, but stay with me.

ASL, like all other signed languages, is a visual and spatial language - English, and other spoken languages, are more linear in their approach to conveying a message. It is part of the language to describe things, to make the building that Woolf mentions in that passage. You can't convey the meaning, TREE without conveying what the tree looks like. It is built into the language!

I haven't gotten to the advantage yet, so if you're still lost, that's okay. Here we go.

In order to express TREE in ASL, I have to visualize the tree. Whereas in English I might say "the old oak tree with the outstretched branches" to describe the tree I'm picturing now, I would use one sign in ASL:

As you can see in this image by The Tree House, my arm would be the trunk and my fingers the leaves, so in a way, I'm expressing everything that took me eight words in English with one sign. But in my mind, I am visualizing the tree and hanging onto that visualization because I need it to correctly represent the tree.

That was the advantage - did you miss it? ASL requires me to hold onto images of things that I have seen and subsequently want to talk about later. That is such a useful skill for a writer, especially one like me born without an eidetic memory. Do I capture and store everything that I see/hear/experience? No, my internal hard drive that is my brain is far too limited for that. But part of what I do as an ASL user is to slow down for a second and consider the visual aspects of something that strikes me - and that helps me later describe it, sometimes first in ASL and then in English.

My life is weird - and wonderful, and I hope that this will make me a better interpreter AND novelist.

In which my inner language geek speaks...

GEEK spelled in British Sign Language.

People ask me all the time why I do what I do - lately, my answer is to carefully shrug my shoulders whilst trying NOT to reinjure my right elbow or smack my right hand against anything - but the answer, if I'm honest, is language, or languages. I did not go into interpreting because I have a need to help people. I did not go into interpreting out of some need for social justice or a desire to work in a disability-related field. I don't see Deaf/HOH people as needing help or as a disability community - I see them as a language minority. I went into my current field because it means I get to work in my second language every day - to the point that I think, dream, and even speak verbally in ASL (take a moment and feel sorry for my husband, won't you?).

Well, today I had a moment when I just got all giddy and, since interpreting tends to be solo work for the most part, I had no one to share it with that would understand it. I was watching some British Sign Language videos on YouTube in the name of professional development and I had just watched a video showing how to sign 'meeting' in BSL - and I got it. I don't mean I could see and understand the sign and then reproduce it. I mean I looked at it and due to my knowledge of ASL, I could understand WHY that was the sign for 'meeting.'

Last week, hubs and I had a discussion about why it is harder for some people to learn a second (and third and so on) language than it is for others. I likened it to the reason why it is hard, at times, for Deaf/HOH kids in school to learn English without a firm foundation in ASL first. If I had not had such a good education in not only vernacular spoken (American) English, I would not have been able to understand ASL to the point that I could then extrapolate that onto BSL and that video. You cannot learn a second language if your first language isn't strong enough to form comparisons and, to use my favorite metaphor, hooks. You can't learn ASL without a strong foundation in English, for example, to hook that new set of grammar rules and vocabulary to what you already know.

For people who say that isn't true, and that as long as you have a rudimentary understanding of your native or first language you can always learn a second language through study and repetition, sure, you can I suppose. But think of it this way: I never had a good grasp of mathematics. Never. I mean I can't even do the four basic functions without having to get a calculator to check my answers. I have no confidence in my own ability in that subject. I have no solid foundation in maths, so when I went to hook my new level of maths (Algebra and the like) into what I already knew, the hook fell. The foundation wasn't solid enough to hold it.

But my borderline obsessive love for learning languages has come from the fact that growing up I not only knew that you say 'I was going to the store' but also that it is not acceptable to say 'I were going to the store' and why. Miss Pritchett and Madam Gring-Whitley would be proud to know that they were right - I hated those verb conjugation sheets, but they helped me understand why you must change the form of the verb in order for the time component of your message to make sense. It helps me now when I remember to add the sign that indicates when the verb is happening, has happened, or will happen - so that I am clearly understood.

So back to the BSL video - it was because I know the ASL signs/classifiers for a person, the concept of 'meet' and 'meeting' and because I know what the word meeting can mean in English, that this sign made perfect sense to me:


That is building on your foundation. That is what made my inner language geek so very happy. I love it when I come across things like that and often don't make that connection until afterward but man. That is why I do what I do. THAT RIGHT THERE.

Pre Nano Freak Out

So there are always loads of voices in my head, pulling me in different directions and begging me to tell their stories. Seriously. Being a writer should carry a DSM diagnosis some days because I'm honestly not always sure that all these voices are coming from me. Gin would say that she is the loudest, with Sath a close second - but then there are the Proud Racers and the Clobberpaws and the Baskervilles and, and, and... It gets a little out of control in there.

Autumn is here and finally the weather is cooperating - I have worn a scarf to work all three days so far this week! With fall comes another opportunity for sleep deprivation and fast food/coffee binging: NaNoWriMo. Long-time Lettuce Readers know that I have been a nano fanatic since my first foray into 50K in 30 days way back in 2010. Don't tell Gin, but it probably does mean that her voice is the loudest - she was there in 2010 and has been for all my nano "wins" in the eight years since.

This time I had planned to focus my nano-ing on the second in my Clobberpaws series - now that we have both Willow and another Irish Wolfhound, Ciaragh, it just seems right - but that story is moving more in spurts than the slow, steady chaos that marks my other projects. I had just about decided to return to Orana next month, focusing on a backstory novella for a character - Tairn is jumping up and down and waving her hands madly, as are Elys and Hack - when an idea popped into my head during a class I was interpreting yesterday. Without disclosing too much, this project is my exploration of meta - a play being performed that mirrors a real live event happening to the players - and because it is me you KNOW there will be supernatural something or another involved.

By the end of my lunch hour (aka sanctioned noveling time at the workplace), I had a plot outline, a cast of 11 characters, and an older piece of work that I could insert as a prelude or prologue for this... this... whateveritis. There are actors and Deaf characters and interpreters. So, away we go with the normal "Pre Nano Freak Out" which seems to be morphing into a "Pre Nano Planning Session."

Y'all - there are bulleted lists and reference materials, and this is not about Orana or elves or anything like that. Who am I?

(Shut it, Gin.)

The Silent Child and The Shape of Water, or Why I Stayed Up Too Late Last Night

Those that know me know that I live a lot of my life straddling two very different cultures, languages, and groups of people: The hearing world and the Deaf Community. I was born into the hearing world - I have no Deaf parents, siblings, or indeed any family that are Deaf. I am a NERDA: Not Even Related to a Deaf Adult (as opposed to a CODA - Child of a Deaf Adult - or SODA - Sibling of...you get the idea).

I started learning American Sign Language when I was about 10-11 years old, from a Deaf friend of mine and fellow clergy kid. We saw each other at United Methodist events for clergy and summer camp, and she taught me to communicate with her - which, I learned when I was much older - was her idiosyncratic "dialect," if you will, of ASL. But proper ASL or not, she taught me to think in three dimensions, to see everything as a picture rather than a string of words, haphazardly strung together and exhaled in an attempt to communicate. Whereas English is clunky and burdened with rules and auditory cues for intonation and emotion, ASL is streamlined. There is grammar, of course - it is a proper language after all - but learning it felt less like the verb sheets in high school Spanish and more like being let in on a magical secret. I can communicate with someone in another car with the windows rolled up. I can tell you that I am paying attention AND that I understand what you're saying all with a twitch of my nose. Truth be told, I fell in love HARD with ASL (and all signed languages, really), and I haven't bothered to get back up and brush myself off. Not to be maudlin, but while English is my first language and therefore (most of the time) the language of my mind, ASL is the language of my heart. I can say things in ASL that I physically, mentally, and emotionally CANNOT in English.

So, when I learned about the crowd-funded short film called The Silent Child, you know I had to learn more. I only wish I had known about it sooner! I fell in love with Maisie Sly, the actress that plays the lead role. To have that much ability and emotion at the age of six is extraordinary. If you can get a copy of it (currently on Google and YouTube here in the US, not sure about other parts of the world yet), DO IT. I was explaining to a co-worker this morning that Maisie's character Libby is just like so many Deaf children here in the US and around the world who suffer lasting effects from language deprivation just because they are not allowed to sign when they are young. And before you come out from behind your sofa and shout at me that they need to learn the spoken language of their country of origin, there is no reason why the signed language of that country can't be used in that respect.

I sat down to watch the Oscars not expecting The Silent Child to be another Children of a Lesser God, but had fingers crossed just the same. The nominees for that category were AMAZING, all in their own right - but when they announced the winner, it was like a victory for ASL. The writer and starring actress, Rachel Shenton, is a qualified BSL interpreter as well as an actress, and it was her passion for making sure Deaf children have the same access to APPROPRIATE language as their hearing peers that made this film possible. I bought it from Google Movies this morning and have watched it twice today..and to say it hits me in the feels is an understatement.


I can't say as much about the Oscar-winning picture, The Shape of Water, because I haven't seen it yet. When it first came out, the trailer was plastered ALL OVER MY FACEBOOK WALL because it has signing in it. "Is this a Deaf actress, Nancy?" "What do you think about this?" "Are you going to see it?"

At first, the answer to that was no. The movement now to fill Deaf roles with Deaf actors is very important to me for many reasons, not the least of which being it is a point where my two dearest loves (ASL and Theatre) intersect and overlap. So on first blush I was afraid this was yet another one of THOSE films and I pretended that it didn't exist. That's about as much as I do these days as far as protesting something goes. It was a monster movie, too, and those aren't my usual genre of choice, so it was a win-win for me.

Until it wasn't. The role was filled by a hearing actor because the character is mute, not Deaf. She signs to communicate expressively but hears to communicate receptively, and therefore a Deaf actress would have not been the right choice for the role.

I have other rants already prepared about only casting Deaf actors in roles written as Deaf rather than as a viable choice for any role in the name of diversity, but I will put that back in my pocket for now.

If I can get myself to sit through a monster movie, I will watch The Shape of Water now, not only because it won Best Picture or it has ASL in it, but also because it looks to be a visually stunning film - and that is part and parcel of the Deaf experience, isn't it? Conveying emotion and story by showing rather than telling? On my list of to-do after watching this film is to stop feeling the need to correct everyone that is WRONG ON THE INTERNET about how Rachel Shenton could barely sign the acceptance speech at the Oscars last night or how the parents were vilified for making the choice to force the child to learn speech rather than ASL...but, for now, I'm going to take a nap. If you have the means, though, see both of these movies.  Hollywood is making small steps to bring more diverse stories to the big screen (Coco, Black Panther, etc) so I can't wait to see what is coming soon!

In which the language nerd...and proud American...in me rejoices

This was the clear winner, in my mind, for best Superbowl commercial this year.  I'm distressed, but not surprised, at the vitriolic backlash that it has received on social media and in the press.  Let me tell you why I loved it...and the one fault I found in it...

In spite of what is apparently popular opinion, the United States of America does not have an official language.  I will give you a moment for that to sink in.  English, therefore, is NOT the official language of the United States of America.  In fact, recent statistics show that English is spoken by 80% of the population, not 95% as in the United Kingdom where they DO recognize English as the de facto official language (and make you pass an English Language test to live there).

What makes me so proud of my country is the ability for people to come here from other countries and love this nation as their own while still being able to keep their language and culture of origin fairly intact.  While I know that those outside of the USA may look at that statement and scoff, it is true in some parts of the USA.

There are voices, at times LOUD voices, that disagree and would like for the USA to be a bit more homogeneous...more English speaking...dare I say more white?  But I would like to say to anyone thinking of visiting or relocating to my country that those opinions are not shared by all of us.

The places shown in the commercial last night were clearly chosen due to the fact that in those areas, there are higher concentrations of immigrant populations who speak Spanish, Hindi, Tagalog, and even native languages that were here before the English speaking explorers arrived.  Why shouldn't they be able to express their love for their country in the language of their birth and heritage?  Seriously?  Am I the only one that got the point, that this commercial represents what America is at its very heart?

Be sure to click on the link above to watch the commercial and then watch the interviews with each of the language representatives heard in the commercial.  This speaks to the language nerd in me as well as the interpreter...the meaning is the point, not the language or culture.

The fault I found?  No ASL.  American Sign Language is the fifth most used non-English language in the United States.  And yet, it is left off, again.  My second language and, by association, my adopted culture is often left out...did anyone that was only watching the Superbowl on television see the ASL translation of the national anthem? Three or four signs maybe.  But I'm growing accustomed to that being the norm.  Doesn't mean I think it is right and I hope that it will change.

If you're one of the ones "disgusted" or "outraged" by the Coca-Cola commercial (literally, people are saying those specific words and worse...have a look at Coke's Facebook page and Twitter feed) or you are thinking of boycotting the product, take a moment and look at your own family tree.  I bet you'll find branches that came to this country, eager to live in and experience and love "America the Beautiful" even though they may have had to express that sentiment in a different way.  Was their love for this country any less because they spoke a different language?  No.  Absolutely not.

Flashback post #4: February 2010

Hello from Daisy

(hopefully I'll be saying hello again soon!)

Recognize that young lady there?

Miss Deaf America at the Super Bowl, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

No? I didn't think you would. She's Rachel Mazique, and she is the currently reigning Miss Deaf America. She was invited to perform "America the Beautiful" and "The Star Spangled Banner" in ASL at Super Bowl XVII this past weekend in Indianapolis.

Are you scratching your head now, as I was, wondering how you missed that? Well, let me tell you why. You missed it because NBC chose to film (in close up) Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, and Kelly Clarkson instead as they simultaneously performed the songs in English.

Oh, no wait, they did manage to film the choir of children that were singing with Ms. Clarkson.

What does that say to the Deaf community that tuned in to watch because they had heard she would be performing? It certainly explains the lack of sign language interpreter during those two parts of the pre-game festivities...I guess they thought they had that little bit of THE LAW covered when they asked Ms. Mazique to perform.

I'll tell you what it says. Your language is an afterthought. Your language interferes with the general public being able to gaze longingly at pretty celebrities whilst they sing. Your community is not legitimate in our eyes, so we invited her as a token gesture which has NO actual meaning.

Think this is wrong? Yeah, me too. If you click on the link here you can sign a petition demanding that the NFL and NBC offer an apology to Ms. Mazique and the Deaf/HOH community for this blatant snub.

Marlee Matlin tweeted about the ability of the camera people to capture M.I.A.'s rude gesture but not Ms. Mazique's performance.

When we expected some beautiful sign language during the #SuperBowl National Anthem, we got instead a "sign" during M.I.A.'s rap. Ahem.

Well said.

As seen on NERDA's world...My Deaf Family

Check it out, y'all. This is a fantastic idea for a reality show, and it's very well made to boot. Double props to Google for the automatic captioning!!

WE CAN, Y-E-S.

Count me in among the throngs of Americans that watched/listened to our 44th President being sworn in this morning. I was driving to an interpreting gig at 11:40am and listening to NPR's coverage on the car radio...and I didn't get past the opening remarks by Sen. Dianne Feinstein without having tears streaming down my face.

Why? Well, for one thing, I'm a Democrat. I have been a Democrat since I was old enough to know there were two main political parties in the United States. My parents are Democrats, though far more moderate/almost conservative than I in their political and social views. My sister and her husband are Democrats. I work in a social service field, often with the very people that make up the Grass Roots. The election of a Democratic president in concert with a Democratic congress to me signals a new era for my country and it makes me hopeful...something I haven't been very often over the last eight years.

Another reason is that this is the last time I will watch an inauguration of an American president while living in America for the time being. I will still remain American after I move to the UK with my husband, but there is something electric in the air here today. To be an American in America on a day when someone who wasn't even considered a human being when he was born just because of the color of his skin rise to become president of our country is overwhelming and amazing and I'm filled with pride in my country...something else I haven't felt in recent years.

I got to the job site early and sat in the parking lot, still listening to the proceedings on NPR. I got to hear VP Biden take his oath, then got out of the car to see my deaf client waiting on me. I explained that I was sorry to be late for the appointment, but that I wanted to hear the swearing in at least before we went inside. The deaf client agreed with me and asked me to interpret what was going on via the radio. The feeling was that we weren't going to go in until "OBAMA PRESIDENT, FINISH! WE CAN, Y-E-S!" (translated to spoken English: we weren't going in until Obama is president, YES WE CAN!) I interpreted the oath as I heard it via NPR and my client and I high-fived...and I cried a little again.

Yes we did...and now, yes we can. YES WE CAN.

Agree-Me. ASL Me Kiss Fist.

(The title means "I agree. I love love love ASL.")

And because I'm video happy tonight...

...and this is on TV right now...lovingly dedicated to my first cabinmate at Camp Glisson in the summer of 1989...

For Susan, So She Knows I Have a Backbone...

Irritating Self Important Co-Worker starts talking to one of my deaf co-workers without waiting for me to be turned around to interpret. The following sassy ensued...

Me: I'm sorry, I missed that.
Irritating Self Important Co-Worker: I was talking to HER.
Me: I know that, and I can't interpret what you said to her if I didn't HEAR it. What did you say?
Irritating Self Important Co-Worker: (rolls eyes) Right.

She then repeated herself. GAH! Y'all, it's not a complicated thing. Person A is deaf, Person B is not. Does Person B REALLY think that Person A is just going to magically be able to HEAR because Person B has something to say?

OY.

Tick tock, tick tock, y'all. 2 hours more and my vicarious trauma ends...at least here in Alabama, right? I'm still an interpreter after all...

Reflections on a Month

For the past four weeks, I have been the only interpreter at the hospital. (Now to be fair, I was gone for five working days in the middle, so technically it's only been three weeks.) Today, in honor of surviving that month without a single fatality or screamingly huge contract interpreter bill (well, other than the week I was gone but I digress), I wore a striped shirt and tennis shoes along with my jeans for Casual Friday.

For those scratching heads at the moment, interpreters tend to NOT wear stripes or plaid or anything other than solid, non-distracting, colors that contrast with one's skin tone.

There were days that I didn't sit down but once or twice all day. There were days that I was literally ready to fall asleep while actively interpreting just because I was so tired. Some days I could spell trazadone but couldn't spell my name. But it's over and Brian will be back on Monday.

I've learned that I know myself pretty well when it comes to my job. My flat out refusal to interpret anything longer than 45 minutes without a team interpreter does not come from laziness, as I'd feared, but rather from the fact that the message DOES indeed suffer when my brain and hands start to tire.

I've learned that I'm not as afraid of my job as I thought recently. It's hard to be worried that you're going to get socked in the teeth when you're running 90 to nothing all day long. Just doesn't occur to you.

I've learned that I really love interpreting and really don't want to do anything else. Ever. I don't want to be a teacher or a psychologist or a social worker or a secretary or anything...I like what I do, I know how to do what I do, and I feel that I do it pretty darn well.

I think I've earned a sick day next week...

Steam

I am a professional.

I am fluent in both languages. I'm not sure that you're even fluent in English.

I don't need to be told how to do my job. I had to have been pretty clear about what I was doing for my college to grant me a bachelor's degree and my professional organization to grant me national certification.

I'm fairly familiar with mental illness and working in this setting. The past 9 years of working in this setting have seen to that.

I know what I was hired to do, and I know what you were hired to do. Let's not confuse the two, shall we?

Until you know what it is like to be a necessary evil...until you know what it is like to be a walking after-thought...until you have been spoken about in front of your face as though you are an appliance or a chair in the room...

(Here's where my more sensitive readers might want to scroll down, by the way.)

Until you can understand sign and English and work between the two, get the hell out of my face, my business, and my way and let me do my job.

Whew.