| Saturday |
| constipation |
I didn't realise how bad i am at speaking mandarin until last night when i was hired as a physio interpretor for a patient for a whole 15mins. I had to translate questions to and fro the physio and chinese patient regarding hydrotherapy. I'll give you an example: ask her whether she has any digestive tract problems, previous injury, and tell her that she will enter the water via stairs instead of a hoist and the water is chest height and there is a rail for support. *sighs* I struggled, not only because of the difficult translations, but also to breathe under the garlic smell of her breath *urgh*. I think i was speaking cantomandarin if there's such language. Felt like an absolute dickhead.
After studying chinese for a total of 14 years, i would've thought i could speak fluently. That wasn't the case. I could listen and comprehend everything they say, but just can speak it. Verbal constipation they call it. |
posted by sciurine @ 11:03 AM   |
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Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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