Interpret this | July 7

Interpret this. [Here’s the deal about having the title of the post be the very first thing you read in every post–it’s a benefit to my mankind being moi. Please let it not drive any of you bonkers. That is all I have to say about that.] Okay. You realize we’re always interpreting, right? You and me. Always. There are times when we’re flying through our interpretations–positively flying–meaning we do very well: we understand the intent, the motivation, and the content correctly. Those. are. glorious. moments. Sometimes we correctly interpret more than we misinterpret and that is fabulous. [I think that’s what happens most of the time.] Of course, there are times when we’re so far off in left field waiting to catch a ball that’s falling in right field that it’s not even funny. It’s just painful. Uggh. [Deep, cleansing breath–inhale–and “shhwwooooooo” exhale.]

Just to be clear, I’m not talking the kind of interpreters that receive actual remuneration [that is such a great word–seriously] in the form of wages, insurance benefits, and seats in front. I’m talking about us–as in anyone who communicates with anyone. For instance: drivers, mothers, fathers, children, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, neighbors, associates, teammates, classes, faculties, friends, waitors/waitresses, employees, employers, directors, cooks, casts, delivery personnel, stewards/stewardesses–and everyone on Facebook, Instagram, and blogging land.

Even if you don’t speak to or talk with anyone–you’re still communicating something that has to be translated.

You know that you’re interpreting at this very exact moment, right?

[May the force be with you.]

Interpret (in-tur-prit) — it’s something we do, so it’s a verb–and in the context of this particular post means to understand, decode, figure out, read into, construe, think through, piece together, unscramble, solve, decrypt.

Sometimes it’s easier than others to do any of that accurately. [For sure for certain.] 

At other times, however, the exact opposite is true and that is where the madness lies.

Interpret this:

You didn’t hear that woman say one single word–but–she’s definitely communicating. Maybe this was supposed to be an engagement photo and he didn’t show up.  Maybe the guy taking the picture is making fun of her curly hair. Maybe her mom just told her she looked beautiful for the very first time. Maybe the guy behind the camera proposed to her and she was so surprised and relieved that she couldn’t stand it. Maybe that’s her happy face. Maybe she couldn’t find the Midol. And maybe, just maybe, she’s disappointed because she forgot her fabulous necklace and the opportunity for taking another picture will not happen until after she’s had the baby and she’s worried she won’t lose the weight. I don’t know, but she’s definitely communicating and we don’t have much information to help us interpret it correctly.

Most of the time things aren’t even set up for a close to accurate interpretation. We’re tired, hungry, late, annoyed, disappointed, frustrated, confused, busy, overwhelmed [or at least whelmed], running kids to practice/rehearsal or trying to get yourself there, planning the family vacation, tired, packing, cleaning, listening, hot [temperature, my friends, temperature], driving, scooting teenagers out the door, dragging laundry baskets to rooms, retreating, studying, tired, washing, cooking, crying, not saying, “NO!” [no] to a single solitary invitation, meeting deadines, juggling your own life, juggling their lives, meeting the demands of work, children, preparing, anticipating, trying, trying, and trying. [And you know that list is miserably shy of being complete.]

You know that book about love languages?

Yuh. That one–and it happens to be my copy–which means I should be able to consider myself multi-lingual on so many levels–but no. Definitely no. Oh no.

Under the best of circumstances–with the best of intentions–I still manage to have unintelligible [as in incomprehensible] conversations with Handsome Dude that are at the ready to be misinterpreted–and they often are.

That same kind of things happens to me outside of my relationship with Handsome Dude–as in with all of the people I’m not married to–a lot. Painfully a lot.

Not that I haven’t read books [because I have], watched Ted Talks [there are some pretty fantastic ones], watched people who seem to interpret effortlessly just to see how it’s done [the watching part isn’t a stalking kind of watching, mind you], practiced, practiced and practiced [daily, folks, daily] and invested years in trying to figure it out [still investing].

~sigh~

The WHY I don’t interpret splendidly isn’t as important [at this moment anyway] as the WHAT I do when I feel like I’m getting it all wrong.

I back off. I back way, way off.

Which is another way of saying that I hide. [Not necessarily under blankets, but you get the idea.]

Which can be interpreted in a variety of equally incorrect ways.

No one else does this, right? Yuh. I don’t believe you. Well–I don’t believe all of you–the two of you reading this. So, I believe one of you.

~grin~

There are times that I am so astonishingly unfamiliar with ‘the language’ that is being spoken that it just about crushes me.

Kuh-ruh-ushes me. [You know you know what I’m talking about.]

Here’s what I’m thinking.

We are brave souls for even trying to communicate at all. We take the chance again and again to be misunderstood as well as to misunderstand. On the flip side of that coin–we also take the chance of being understood OR understanding what someone else is trying to express. Them’s connectin’ moments. [Drawl that right out and simultaneously raise your eyebrows. It works.] 

Now, that “flip side of the coin” stuff might sound a little bit ‘happily ever after’ and mushy–but it’s true.

Feeling like I am understood is a pretty exhilerating thing. It sets my heart on singing mode and stays there for a while. And when I understand what someone else is trying to convey–it feels splendid.

With all of the things that can be misunderstood, misrepresented, misread, misinterpreted, and misarticulated [I couldn’t think of any more] we. are. champions for even trying.

High five to us.

Thumbs up.

Honors and accolades.

Please step up to the podium and accept your medal.

Seriously.

Bravo to the every single one of us who dares to even say a thing. Bravo for listening to people who would sometimes rather be hiding. Bravo for knowing that people are more important than the information they share [unless you are a secret agent dude]–and–bravo for the chances we give ourselves and to others to get things right.

Just bravo to us.

Okay.

Speaking of being brave and courageous, I have finally convinced a dear friend of mine to make her blogging debut. She doesn’t love blogging–frankly, I tell you she doesn’t know what it is–and basically has no interest–BUT–and it’s a big but–she’s going to do it for me. [And a couple of other people who have requested an appearance.] I don’t dare give you a specific date or time because she only visits occasionally and talks into a camera even fewer times than that–as in ‘rarely’.

You will love her or be annoyed by her. Either way, she will be worth meeting. I promise. ~grin~

One more thing.

This makes me giggle. You’ve all heard some form of “It’s Greek to me” which just means you don’t get something–it’s not computing–what you’re hearing doesn’t make a lick of sense–you know that someone is talking to you, or you’re asked to read something and they might as well be speaking ching-chang-sprackin-bler-jowna-unkwahla-click-blah-yah-si-yo-ya-mah-no. [I just made that up. Creativity is such a blessing, huh? It’s called incorporating all languages of the universe for the sake of inclusion. Did anyone actually bother to say it, hm?]

Equivalents of saying, “It’s Greek to me”:

in Urdu: It looks like Persian.
in Hebrew: It’s Chinese to me.
in Cantonese: These are chicken intestines.
in Macedonian: It is for me a Spanish village.
in Turkish: If I could understand, I’d be an Arab.
in Greek: These seem to me gobbledygook.

My favorite? It’s a tie between, “These are chicken intestines,” and “It is for me a Spanish village.”

I hope you have at least one person in your life that you are ever so grateful for because they interpret YOU correctly–without judgement or criticism–because that makes this life so very do-able.  And I hope you are the one somebody is ever so grateful for because YOU interpret them correctly. At least most of the time.

It’s going to be a great week.

***I’ve learned that the young lady in the first photo might be sneezing. Note to self: never allow anyone with access to any kind of camera near you during allergy season.***