OK good, a song I don't care for. For a minute I thought I had unraveled from my own ability to choose preferences. And in a way, this leads to the topic for tonight's presentation.
Sorry! I've been interpreting too much video relay. This is not a presentation. (This is not a pipe).
Sorry again! This is my thought. I am going out to visit my best friend Jaime tomorrow in San Francisco, City of Tofu. (If LA is the City of Angels, what honor was given to the red-headed sister?) I call it the city of remembrance. It is re-gifted.
I am sad for the most ridiculous reason. I do not have a gift for Jaime. There is a reason. What can I bring that cannot be gotten via pixelation? I considered printing some photos, but all my photos are on Facebook or Flickr. I could make a mix CD but it is just as easy to sit and look at each other's iPods. I had purchased coffee from Hawaii but forgot that she herself was going to Hawaii and in fact, bought herself coffee. OK it is true, I could make something. But it's easier to bitch about technology gaining on the good old human interaction.
Which leads me to my point. I wondered, if went to the Away team and didn't return, how long would it be before the Home team noticed? Here are the following people who would notice:
the Away team (San Francisco)
the boyfriend (but it would take him a few days. a long few)
the pay checks (work. but even at that, there's no office to clean out)
Family? Friends? I have a cell phone, I have internet access. How often do we *see* people anymore? It's like within the last 48-months of code red level posting culture we have all turned into those lawn gnomes.
I could be the lawn gnome. I do it already with my feet. Here are my feet in South America. My feet at a backyard BBQ. My friend Nathan has a graphic novel called Power Out about getting unplugged. Wouldn't it be a social heart attack?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
a deaf-blind New Year's
This is an email from my friend Martin, who is deaf and blind (due to a condition called Usher's Syndrome, whereas people lose their vision and hearing, or also common, are born deaf and lose their vision slowly. He is nearly blind and uses tactile sign language since he cannot see sign language anymore.) He is super cool. Martin asked me if I wanted to join him as he wanted to get friends together to go to Times Square for New Years Eve. Not only did I not want to go, I didn't want him to go. I thought it would be dangerous for him. This email reminds me warmly of the power of saying yes instead of saying no to what you want to do in life and taking a chance.... thanks, Martin!
I did not expect to happen in Times Square for NYE as it would be dangerous, cold, crazy and no lavatory...... Never been there for the past 55 years so why not I go there for it once in a lifetime, right!?
Well my good friends Liz, RJ and Sylver joined me to a restaurant called Blue 9 for a great burger and fries on Third Avenue between 12th and 13th Streets in Lower East Side around six pm. Great burgers! We made sure we used lavatory before heading out to Times Square! :-)
We took the subway "L" and "F" for 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue near Bryant Park. We walked to Times Square but so many barricades and gates have been set. Asked cops where we could stand in the disabled section for people with disabilities (nerve-wracking) but cops said that we needed tickets to enter in the area so we would not be able to go there. Really to our disappointment and frustration, we were upset but then they would let us in anyway. We were soooo happy! When we arrived in the disabled area around 7:30 pm, there were few people... It was so C-O-L-D and windy... it was 17 degrees that evening. BRRRRRRR We managed to stay warm but we found a place to keep warm for a while at pizza parlor.. They asked us to leave the parlor cuz we stayed for too long! :-)
We were freeezing outside in the area but we tried to keep each other warm by hugging, dancing and moving.. Wow the lights were sooo beautiful all over the place in Times Square that includes big TV screen, big captions, flash off and on, big time clock and finally we saw beautiful crystal balls up in the air changing colors... Really fascinating!
We found another place at a bakery restaurant to keep warm. Working people there were so nice to let us stay for very long cuz they enjoyed watching us using sign language and making gestures at working guys! LOL
We left for outside feeling so cold! We went back to pizza parlor for a while but they told everyone to leave the parlor at 10:00 PM as they were going to close that time (FROWN)
Really to my surprise, more and more people showed up there after 10:00 PM they were brave for cold weather. Very crowded at 11:00 PM and there after! Some are tame, some are crazy and some rowdy!
When we stayed outside, it was brutually and bitterly COLD and very breezy. Liz asked us if we should go home so we discussed for a while but decided to stay until after midnight trying to be sooooo patient and persistent! We watched lights and balls also we chattted but it was soooo hard to understand each other cuz we used big gloves also I put wool hat over my face off and on!
So FINALLY it was midnight we saw crystal balls dropping by and we all clapped, screamed and hugged with some strangers and friends... Oh my goodness my feet and toes were frozen like a frost-bite!
We hurriedly left the area around 12:15 AM for the subway station with happy feelings. We walked so carefully cuz there were sooo many people drinking and sooooo many cars all over the place. We finally got the subway stop at 42nd St and Fifth Avenue... We were so happy we got inside subway station feeling warm! We took "F" for downtown but Liz/RJ stayed that train all the way home. Sylver and I took "L" for First Ave and walked fast to my building! Arrived home around 1:30 AM but then Sylver went home to the Bronx!
I don't think I will ever go back there again for the next 45 years LOL
Have a GREAT NEW YEAR!
I did not expect to happen in Times Square for NYE as it would be dangerous, cold, crazy and no lavatory...... Never been there for the past 55 years so why not I go there for it once in a lifetime, right!?
Well my good friends Liz, RJ and Sylver joined me to a restaurant called Blue 9 for a great burger and fries on Third Avenue between 12th and 13th Streets in Lower East Side around six pm. Great burgers! We made sure we used lavatory before heading out to Times Square! :-)
We took the subway "L" and "F" for 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue near Bryant Park. We walked to Times Square but so many barricades and gates have been set. Asked cops where we could stand in the disabled section for people with disabilities (nerve-wracking) but cops said that we needed tickets to enter in the area so we would not be able to go there. Really to our disappointment and frustration, we were upset but then they would let us in anyway. We were soooo happy! When we arrived in the disabled area around 7:30 pm, there were few people... It was so C-O-L-D and windy... it was 17 degrees that evening. BRRRRRRR We managed to stay warm but we found a place to keep warm for a while at pizza parlor.. They asked us to leave the parlor cuz we stayed for too long! :-)
We were freeezing outside in the area but we tried to keep each other warm by hugging, dancing and moving.. Wow the lights were sooo beautiful all over the place in Times Square that includes big TV screen, big captions, flash off and on, big time clock and finally we saw beautiful crystal balls up in the air changing colors... Really fascinating!
We found another place at a bakery restaurant to keep warm. Working people there were so nice to let us stay for very long cuz they enjoyed watching us using sign language and making gestures at working guys! LOL
We left for outside feeling so cold! We went back to pizza parlor for a while but they told everyone to leave the parlor at 10:00 PM as they were going to close that time (FROWN)
Really to my surprise, more and more people showed up there after 10:00 PM they were brave for cold weather. Very crowded at 11:00 PM and there after! Some are tame, some are crazy and some rowdy!
When we stayed outside, it was brutually and bitterly COLD and very breezy. Liz asked us if we should go home so we discussed for a while but decided to stay until after midnight trying to be sooooo patient and persistent! We watched lights and balls also we chattted but it was soooo hard to understand each other cuz we used big gloves also I put wool hat over my face off and on!
So FINALLY it was midnight we saw crystal balls dropping by and we all clapped, screamed and hugged with some strangers and friends... Oh my goodness my feet and toes were frozen like a frost-bite!
We hurriedly left the area around 12:15 AM for the subway station with happy feelings. We walked so carefully cuz there were sooo many people drinking and sooooo many cars all over the place. We finally got the subway stop at 42nd St and Fifth Avenue... We were so happy we got inside subway station feeling warm! We took "F" for downtown but Liz/RJ stayed that train all the way home. Sylver and I took "L" for First Ave and walked fast to my building! Arrived home around 1:30 AM but then Sylver went home to the Bronx!
I don't think I will ever go back there again for the next 45 years LOL
Have a GREAT NEW YEAR!
Thursday, January 08, 2009
A-l-e-f as in Friday
I made up my name, by the way. It's a fake last name.
I heard alefhi, alefhi in some Arabic song in like 1995 and it stuck in my head.
My friend Megan had changed her name, just like she'd gotten a nose ring, and I copied her on that too, so I thought, what the hell.
I started using it when I left for Ireland and got real used to it during the 6-month trip. Started using it with friends who would never need to see proof of it when I returned, and then officially changed it when I'd gotten divorced in 1999. My justification was that I had never changed my name to my husband's when I got married, so it was delightfully ironic to change it to reflect a change in myself with a name I simply chose.
The entire process from conception to the trip to Portland City Hall to changing my Social Security card went off without any doubt or second guessing on my part. But I have to laugh when I look back and realize how every engine of my life is a consistent and systematic lunge with %100 inspiration and %0 research.
The name. So I heard the word in a song. I didn't know how to spell it and therefore couldn't divine its meaning. I picked it because it actually sounded more Arabic than my true Arabic last name (which sounded Italian because of Welcome to Ellis Island). I found myself unprepared for questions about where the name came from when challenged. Mostly I would say 'it's Syrian (read: I'm Syrian and you probably don't know any Arabs so fuck off) and that would suffice, I would get the usual rye smile that exoticism brings to the American and conversation would continue. But occasionally people would ask me what it means. "I have no idea", I could answer honestly.
I have now come to learn that actually, my name is pretty damn close to the Hebrew letter aleph. And there it is.
Here's something I never bargained for back in 1999 when the legal change seemed like an awesome idea: SPELLING. Well I guess when you make up a name based on nothing it is not going to follow the rules of spelling. I spell my name into a phone several times a week. With email and the internet I do it now much less, but I am scarred for life. Hurry up and marry me Jon so I can have the name of a white person that I will never have to spell again.
"Alefhi".
"What?"
"It's a wierd name. A-l-e-f-h-i."
"L-a-e -"
"A-L-E-F as in Friday H-I"
"(attempted respelling"
"(third attempt)"
This is no exaggeration. I now understand I will spell it an average of 3 times and that I should go very, very slowly. But what I will not do is use 'F as in Frank'. If I wanted a boring fucking Frank I never would have changed my fucking name! You people are lucky I don't say 'F as in flashdance' or 'F as in francois'. I tried a few different F words and settled on Friday and so far, so good. Fabulous.
I also once sold a car and accepted a personal check that bounced me into a negative balance because I couldn't be bothered to get a cashier's check instead. Or a name, address, phone number perhaps because 'it'll be OK, man' (read: the Simpsons were on TV and the guy had already been here too long).
And to think that for one semester in junior high, I was in Honor's classes.
I heard alefhi, alefhi in some Arabic song in like 1995 and it stuck in my head.
My friend Megan had changed her name, just like she'd gotten a nose ring, and I copied her on that too, so I thought, what the hell.
I started using it when I left for Ireland and got real used to it during the 6-month trip. Started using it with friends who would never need to see proof of it when I returned, and then officially changed it when I'd gotten divorced in 1999. My justification was that I had never changed my name to my husband's when I got married, so it was delightfully ironic to change it to reflect a change in myself with a name I simply chose.
The entire process from conception to the trip to Portland City Hall to changing my Social Security card went off without any doubt or second guessing on my part. But I have to laugh when I look back and realize how every engine of my life is a consistent and systematic lunge with %100 inspiration and %0 research.
The name. So I heard the word in a song. I didn't know how to spell it and therefore couldn't divine its meaning. I picked it because it actually sounded more Arabic than my true Arabic last name (which sounded Italian because of Welcome to Ellis Island). I found myself unprepared for questions about where the name came from when challenged. Mostly I would say 'it's Syrian (read: I'm Syrian and you probably don't know any Arabs so fuck off) and that would suffice, I would get the usual rye smile that exoticism brings to the American and conversation would continue. But occasionally people would ask me what it means. "I have no idea", I could answer honestly.
I have now come to learn that actually, my name is pretty damn close to the Hebrew letter aleph. And there it is.
Here's something I never bargained for back in 1999 when the legal change seemed like an awesome idea: SPELLING. Well I guess when you make up a name based on nothing it is not going to follow the rules of spelling. I spell my name into a phone several times a week. With email and the internet I do it now much less, but I am scarred for life. Hurry up and marry me Jon so I can have the name of a white person that I will never have to spell again.
"Alefhi".
"What?"
"It's a wierd name. A-l-e-f-h-i."
"L-a-e -"
"A-L-E-F as in Friday H-I"
"(attempted respelling"
"(third attempt)"
This is no exaggeration. I now understand I will spell it an average of 3 times and that I should go very, very slowly. But what I will not do is use 'F as in Frank'. If I wanted a boring fucking Frank I never would have changed my fucking name! You people are lucky I don't say 'F as in flashdance' or 'F as in francois'. I tried a few different F words and settled on Friday and so far, so good. Fabulous.
I also once sold a car and accepted a personal check that bounced me into a negative balance because I couldn't be bothered to get a cashier's check instead. Or a name, address, phone number perhaps because 'it'll be OK, man' (read: the Simpsons were on TV and the guy had already been here too long).
And to think that for one semester in junior high, I was in Honor's classes.
Monday, January 05, 2009
film-like coating
Someone made reference today to a film-like coating and it brought me around to a 1970 chromacolor kind of elementary science lab musical cartoon. It made me think of dissection and microscopes and glass slides and being once removed. I visualized opaque tracing paper, not the completely see-through kind but the frosted window kind, only a thin layer but still obscuring, blocking, preventing.
This is what it is like to listen to talking and just wait for it to be over. To be a participant only in the clinical sense of performing a duty, a surrogate bodily function. To carry the message over the border. The telephone game, cans and strings. This is to be an interpreter.
Really, the number one effect my profession has had on me is educational impotence. I can't get my mojo on for workshops, classes, lectures anymore. My instinct when I hear talking is to turn the channel to tune it out. I can't sit through anything oral anymore. I have no desire to take classes. I'm surrounded by free opportunities to learn and yet it feels like a huge chore. I realize it takes all of my endurance to learn anymore even when I want to.
As an interpreter you listen just close enough to repeat but not to understand. You could care but you don't, you shouldn't, you don't have time. You've heard it all before and God people don't know how they go on and on - if there was only an oral word count like on MS Office! But then once in a rare while it's the opposite and someone says something pure and newborn and real. You cringe in the face of your pawed over repetition. Then the frosted tracing paper comes in front of it.
You have no idea how long a string of words can be until you have to account for everyone of them. How about an 8-hour training? You can listen and doodle on your paper, tune out, think about something else, come back, make a phone call, leave the room - and I'm still right here, relaying the message nonstop, until the eye contact breaks. It's my job. Often it's so painfully boring I have to pinch myself to stay focused.
Attempted suicide, I've interpreted those conversations. For a middle aged unemployed man desired, in a deeply depressed and hopeless whisper, and the opposite - a teenager not realizing the power of her words, just the mention of it in school lands her in the psych ward for a mandatory 48-hours.
It is also really awesome work. Despite what I've said, I love my job. But it's true what I said about the drawback being one being only a shadow. You don't have a name or an opinion or backgrounds or closure. It really has ruined my own zest for continuing education because talking just all sounds like blah blah blah now.
I gotta go to bed now. Sorry this isn't the best piece of writing ever.
This is what it is like to listen to talking and just wait for it to be over. To be a participant only in the clinical sense of performing a duty, a surrogate bodily function. To carry the message over the border. The telephone game, cans and strings. This is to be an interpreter.
Really, the number one effect my profession has had on me is educational impotence. I can't get my mojo on for workshops, classes, lectures anymore. My instinct when I hear talking is to turn the channel to tune it out. I can't sit through anything oral anymore. I have no desire to take classes. I'm surrounded by free opportunities to learn and yet it feels like a huge chore. I realize it takes all of my endurance to learn anymore even when I want to.
As an interpreter you listen just close enough to repeat but not to understand. You could care but you don't, you shouldn't, you don't have time. You've heard it all before and God people don't know how they go on and on - if there was only an oral word count like on MS Office! But then once in a rare while it's the opposite and someone says something pure and newborn and real. You cringe in the face of your pawed over repetition. Then the frosted tracing paper comes in front of it.
You have no idea how long a string of words can be until you have to account for everyone of them. How about an 8-hour training? You can listen and doodle on your paper, tune out, think about something else, come back, make a phone call, leave the room - and I'm still right here, relaying the message nonstop, until the eye contact breaks. It's my job. Often it's so painfully boring I have to pinch myself to stay focused.
Attempted suicide, I've interpreted those conversations. For a middle aged unemployed man desired, in a deeply depressed and hopeless whisper, and the opposite - a teenager not realizing the power of her words, just the mention of it in school lands her in the psych ward for a mandatory 48-hours.
It is also really awesome work. Despite what I've said, I love my job. But it's true what I said about the drawback being one being only a shadow. You don't have a name or an opinion or backgrounds or closure. It really has ruined my own zest for continuing education because talking just all sounds like blah blah blah now.
I gotta go to bed now. Sorry this isn't the best piece of writing ever.
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