"Vsaka od-ločitev je ločitev. Boli." Takole nekako pravi Boris A. Novak. Boli...ali pa tudi ne. Zdaj vem, da sem se prav odločila. To vem, ker me je danes v službi ustavil starejši gospod, Američan, ki je pokončno korakal za našim big bossom in mi navdušeno segel v roko:" Oh, poznam vas! Vi ste tolmačka s konference o Palestini! Res me veseli!" Ja, tolmačka sem.
Pot do učenosti (in popolnosti?) bo še dolga in strma, ampak vem, da sem se prav odločila. Na kratki, srednji in dolgi rok. Dovolj mi je popravljanja pregledovanja besedil (ja, tako se temu reče po novem: "Samo na hitro preglej, če najdeš kako grobo napako..." My ass!), ko nihče tega ne ceni. Dovolj imam utemeljevanja svojih popravkov ("A se res ne more reči: Customers need more stimulation?" Ne, dragi moji, razen če ne govorimo o porno filmih!). Da ne govorimo o vseh drugih jokerskih opravilih.
Tako, tudi obdobja brezplačnih zalog kave bo kmalu konec. Čaka me novo, bolj mirno in sproščeno pa tudi zadoščenj polno obdobje. Dana the interpreter is back.
I've had a terrible cold since last weekend (yes, I've missed the big sailing competition I meant to go to. Gutted!). Last week was also a terribly stressful week, a week when I just could take it anymore.
And then came the weekend. I woke up on the Saturday with a terrible headache, a runny nose and a sore throat (nothing unusual these days), but knowing I had to do my job. Knowing I'd be awesome (thanks J. for teaching us to talk ourselves up before interpreting. It is probably the most useful and efficient piece of advice I have ever been given!).
I started interpreting at 11am and finished at 7pm. I interpreted in front of journalists, MPs, senators (ok, only a few of them). For the first time ever, I felt no fear (if we exclude the fear of a snot dropping on my notepad in the middle of a sentence). Everything was just so...natural. I knew I hadn't prepared enough, and yet I was where I was supposed to be, doing what I wanted to be doing. Using my voice and knowledge for a good cause.
Yes, I made mistakes and yes, I was corrected in public. Yes, I sometimes hesitated and almost broke into tears once (but managed to hold them back eventually. Describing torture techniques is not an easy thing, I'm sure you all agree). Yes, I could have chosen better words and yes, I could have taken fewer notes. But all this doesn't matter, not now at least. What matters now is that after all the doubts I had in the past and after all the times I felt bad at work because I wasn't feeling useful or competent enough for the work I was doing, I finally understood. I now know what I am good at and what I truly enjoy doing.
Now, while sipping the Italian equivalent of Lemsip from my forever faithful thermos flask which got me through so many sleepless nights, I know I still have about 30 pages to translate for tomorrow and another week in the office ahead of me, but all I can think of is yesterday's speaker, an Irish guy who married a Palestinian girl and lives in Palestine. At the end of the conference he hugged me and said: "Thank you, I think we made a good team!"
- because I find it hard to take criticism
- because it is probably true
- because I really value and admire the person who said it to me
- because it means I'll have to give up some of my naughtiness
- because it is such a broad reproach that I can hardly understand what I should do to improve things
- because I thought I was mature enough already
On the other hand, I have friends who, when asked if they think I am childish and foolish, just said: "You are just...yourself...and I know you too well to get annoyed."
I have friends who helped me make a yummy chocolate cake (3 hours of work) without ever getting to taste it. Thank you, M&M.
By the way, isn't that a nice way to test your friends? Wait, this is me being silly again. Let's be serious...
It's autumn. It's raining. And it's cold. I am tired knackered. And grumpy. And on the verge of tears. It's been like that for a while now. You always tell yourself that things will get better with time. And maybe things really aren't as bad as they seem. If you look at things from the outside, all your problems are nothing. Not only if compared to famine in Africa, wars and the like, but also compared to your whole life.
And yet, when you are there and then, things look grim. You are as stresses out as you can be. You don't see a way out.
The question is: how much time do you give yourself until things get better? And you start wondering: is it me or is it the job? Would it be like that if I changed job?
One thing is certain. Two things, actually:
a) I am disorganised and messy
b) I cannot stand people telling what to do if I don't see a good enough reason for them to do so
= problems.
It's either time to react (and by that I don't mean whacking people on their heads) or to move on. I wish I were a computer so that the right answer would come to me automatically.
All of us have (or we think we have) certain limits we think we cannot overcome. Fears and insecurities take over way too often and prevent us from doing what we really want to do, from following that gut feeling which tells us to bloody stop hesitating and go for what we want.
True friends accept us the way we are, while pushing us to fight our fears and silence that annoying wee voice in our head which keeps doubting: "What if it doesn't work out?" "What if I get hurt?" "What if I won't manage?" True friends look at you and tell you it's time to do it. "Don't think about it, just do it!" (Yes, it sounds like that famous commercial).
The truth is that it's sometimes hard to stop analysing and let yourself go... But a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do or it might be too late! Scary thought.
...you don't have to see them to know they are there.
This is what it said on a wooden star I got as a present from R. today. A sentence I've heard many times before but it's interesting how things acquire a much deeper meaning if said/done by someone you really care about. Nice thought, although I am not entirely sure it holds true. Yes, you don't need to see someone all the time to consider them friends. Thank goodness, because otherwise I really couldn't say I've got that many friends :)
Today is an interesting day:
- it's the first day of autumn (at least if the weather is anything to go buy! Gah!)
- the day when a new wee creature was born :)
- the last day of little S. being 8 (can you believe she's turning 9 already?)
- my first day with a smartphone. There's nothing very special about this, if you ask me, but...get ready to be flooded with pictures of:
- food
- me cooking/baking
- me being silly
- me partying
- me going to amazing places
- me kissing guys (while taking pictures)
- me annoying my dog
- me going to concerts
- me buying new clothes (I really need some proper winter clothes, by the way)
Really? Nah! Not my thing at all! I really hate being in the centre of attention and hate it when people know about everything I do. The occasional picture is nice, though and it might make this blog more pleasant for you to read :) By the way, have you noticed that I've put food as the first item on the list anyway? There's no "me" without food, is there?
So there you go, my wee stars. You might not always see me/hear from me (please give me some time to get used to touch screen texting!), but I'm always here!
My neighbour & colleague said to me on Monday, as we were driving to work. It was my first day of work after a two-and-a-half-week long holiday.
"No, not at all." I answered back. Partly because I wasn't going to tell her that every time I thought of work I got the chills and partly because I really was feeling relaxed.
Edinburgh always has an amazing effect on me. I have now decided that Scotland is a state of mind and I will do my best not to let it fade away. These past two days I have been much calmer at work (to the point that my colleagues started discussing about Edinburgh and its wonders). A colleague of mine even noticed that my shoulders were not as tense as before the holidays :) I don't know for how long this is going to last, but I somehow think that if I can recall the peace of mind that reigned over me while I was up north, nothing can go wrong.
Those of you who put up with me last year during my master's know that I can freak out really badly. But this time I won't let it happen. I have taken T's advice seriously and I now leave work-related issues at work ("Hun, we're not paid to take them home!"). I also make sure I go rolling every day and read at least 20 pages from a nice book. I am currently reading 44 Scotland Street, which is set in Edinburgh (and it helps me preserve my state of mind). This book is to be followed by other books from the same series and A fine balance - thanks to M. for that. I also became a big fun of Bill Bryson (thanks M. and J.). I find him extremely funny! So there you go, this is my recipe for a more relaxed life. The only problem is the only way for me to relax is to go to Scotland, I might go bankrupt pretty soon! :) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part 2: O Petrih in Pitrih (a Slovene intermezzo)
O tem sem že dolgo nameravala pisati, a sem vedno odlašala...dokler ni bila mera polna (to se je zgodilo danes)! Tema je tako žalostno-zanimiva, da bi si zaslužila veliko daljšo objavo, ker pa sem si zaobljubila, da se ne bom obremenjevala z negativnimi čustvi, bom vsemu skupaj namenila le nekaj vrstic. Le toliko kolikor je dovolj, da povem, kako zajeban je včasih Trst.
Zakaj mora v Trstu
Peter Štrukelj postati Piter Strucheli
Klavdija Cah Claudia Ca (beri po italijansko)
Jan Vodopivec Gian Vodopivec (" ---")
Helena Švagelj Elena Svagheli
Marija Krapež Maria Crapesi???
Še dolgo bi lahko naštevala. Takih primerov je v službi neskončno. In ja, vsakič, ko slišim kako tako popačenko me zmrazi. Najprej iz ideoloških razlogov in nato tudi zato, ker me pretvarjanje iz "Cah" v "Ca" (beri: Ka) stane preveč mentalnega napora
Mama pravi, da so to dvoživke, jaz zdaj že mislim, da so to kreteni. Pa ne da se mi vse skupaj zdi čudno. Če teh ljudi starši niso naučili svojega materinega jezika in če so se oni sami sramovali lastnega porekla, potem res ni čudno, da so Petri postali Pitri. Kaj pa vem, mogoče bi bilo tudi mene sram. Ampak ne zato, ker bi moj priimek zvenel "čudno", pač pa zato, ker ne bi poznala jezika in kulture svojih staršev.
Mojega nonota so med fašizmom iz Miroslava Č. preimenovali v Emilia C. in nato še v Federica (vedno s C-jem brez strešice). Moj oče se je moral za našo strešico prebiti skozi dolga leta čakanja in cele kupe papirja.
Zato sem jaz Dana Č. Za prijatelje, znance in tudi za kolege. In to z velikim Č-jem. Res sem morala najprej vsem na dolgo in široko razlagati, zakaj je tako, ampak na koncu so le razumeli. Zanimivo je, da se je kolegica in prijateljica, ki je na pol Angležinja na pol Sicilijanka, naučila pravilno izgovorjati moj priimek veliko preden bi se tega naučili zarukani Tržačani.
He: "Have you noticed that people nowadays take pictures of everything?! You need to take pictures - and publish them on Facebook - to show people that you exist. No pictures - no life."
She: "Hmmm...does that mean that you and I don't exist?"
His smile needed no explanation. Neither did mine.
