The project.

Can you die from ennui?

I'm not entirely sure I am even in my own league anymore. In the background of my day-to-day workings, I hear the vile clacking of some dread creature's mold-encrusted talons; surely it is the Angel of Academic Failure and Bewilderingly Utter Ineptitude. And by "angel" I, of course, speak euphemistically. Some days I wake up and think: How did I even get this far? It's certainly not my looks or my leadership ability or my sparkling wit; until Saturday I thought it might have been the gray gook lodged in my watermelon-sized noggin. Now, methinks not.

Let me set the scene for you.

My professor/advisor/mentor, Dr. Silay, is conducting phone interviews with non-native Turkish speakers for his work with the State Department; he is employed by them to evaluate Turkish language ability for potential new-hires in that shadowy organization. So he begs of me: can I use you for a subject? Of course, since he is the only Turkish Studies person at IU, and I, the only non-native "speaker" of Turkish, the choice was as obvious for him as it was damning for me. He preps me for a bit and then tells me he will call at the stroke of two Saturday afternoon.

2 PM Saturday. Ring, ring.

We chit-chat for a few moments and then we decide to get down to business. He begins to record and reads a prepared schpiel about the nature of the interview, the project, and how I will be involved. Then, it's down to bid'ness. I'll write this all in English, though of course, none of it was so.

Kemal bey: So, Domonic, tell me a little bit about yourself. What do you do? Where are you from? What do you study?
Dom, Developmentally-Challenged Lame-o: I student. I from Maine. I study Turkish and Turkish language. I go Indiana University. 3 year ago I study in Turkey. I stay Ankara. I like lot.
KB: I see. Tell me, Domonic, what was your average day like in Turkey?
DDCL: I wake up. I go class. I eat. I go Ankara. I sleep.
KB: Uh-huh. (reaches for "Retard Cards") Thank you, that was fascinating.
DDCL: Thank you.
KB: Now, let's do a little role-playing. I work in a restaurant and you want to make a reservation. OK?
DDCL: Sigh. Ok. Hello!
KB: Hello, this is the Ankara Kebap House! How can I help you?
DDCL: I want reservation. Is there one?
KB: There are many.
DDCL: .....
KB: When would you like your reservation for?
DDCL: I want 6 o'clock.
KB: Smoking or non?
DDCL: Non.
KB: Thanks. (Shuffles "Retard Cards").

This goes on for some time. In one role-play, I have to pretend I am a sailor on shore-leave. Oh, come on! How do you say "red-light district" in Turkish? Anyone? Kırmızı ışığı mahallesi?

Anyway, it was awful. When Kemal bey hung up, I thought: bleach! bleach goes down smoothly! There was too much pressure! Too much at stake! I choked!

Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was delightful. I spent a lot of time sleeping, a lot of time snuggling, and, periodically, eating one of Brooke's peanut-butter balls. Can't eat too many: they are not only sacred, but also endangered; them, and condors.

Today, back to the harrowing truth of the semester: wow, I suck it, and suck it hard. With a thought that brought my gorge to the rim of my esophagus, I remembered that, previous to my botched phone interview, Kemal bey had suggested that my Readings in Turkish Literature class (enrollment: two) could be a translation class. His plot: get a hold of a saleable Turkish novel that hasn't been translated into English, and then we'd do it up and publish it as a collaborative effort. Of course, with that call I will no doubt find myself at the receiving end of flashcards: Cat! Bird! Monkey! Truck! Dammit all to hell!

I do know, though, that there is one thing I am getting to know blessedly well: immigration crap. In the next four months I will be training two, potentially three, people for Front Desk work. While I was explaining something to Victim Number One today, I found that I was not only confident but also quasi-knowledgeable! Muahahahahahahaha! Eat that, State Department! I may not be able to effectively convey my desire to have a heated room in a hotel, but I sure as hell can tell you about automatic revalidation for F-1 visa holders for travel to Canada, Mexico and the outlying islands!

[Whimper.]

Tonight: Homework, and lots of it. Hurrah for May! Come to thy lover swifly, comeliest of months! Relieve thy supplicant of his slump! Also, bring pizza! I hunger!

Have a good night, Bloomington.

Dom