Thursday, April 19, 2012

Paths (Part 1)

I <3 you
courtesy of thanker212

The language enthralled her; its cadence, the rise and fall of the consonants resonating against the vowels and weaving itself into meaning.  She listened and learned of tenses and persons and conjugations.  Oh, the endless conjugations.  Later she studied and watched her eyes constantly taking in the new movements and meaning, her mind assigning words and rhythms, affect and intonation to the language spoken from the hands. 
The above is just a small excerpt into how I think about languages.  I've always loved writing, language, linguistics and everything involved in them.  In high school I was enamored with Tolkien and tried creating my own Elvish-esque language.  Later, I would take five years of Spanish in a four year time to better understand the intricacies of the language.  When I attended the National Technical Institute for the Deaf (NTID) in 2004, I knew I wanted to be a sign language interpreter.  To be completely honest, I was already working as an interpreter, I just really wanted the degree and the letters after my name.  I harbored high hopes of going on to get my Master's and perhaps a Ph.D. in linguistics.  Words have been a part of my life ever since I can remember and for a fun fact, I didn't speak until I was almost three.  (If you ask anyone who knows me in real life, they'll say I've been making it up ever since.)

After one year, my time at NTID came to a screeching halt.  I was pregnant.  Not the cutesy, "I'm expecting" pregnancy of a happily married woman, but the "Oh crap, I'm pregnant" of an unmarried college student with higher hopes for herself.  To say I was devastated would be an understatement.  I know, I know, if you partake of certain activities, pregnancy can happen.  I probably should not have been surprised, but I was.  I spent the last part of my year at NTID alternating between laying in my bed wishing I would die and leaning over the toilet wishing I would die.  Other than that, I don't remember much.

Fast forward twelve weeks.  I got married.  My veil and dress were vintage-looking.  I wore Reef sandals instead of dress shoes.  My ring cost $98.  I cried for about an hour on the way to my honeymoon.  I don't remember much about that time.  We had a reception for friends and family a few weeks later, but that is a story for another time.

And that's where I'm leaving you...hanging.  Come back soon for installment number 2 :-)


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