My drug of choice

So pretty. So solid. So….dreamy.





The elegance of the sucrose molecule.

Mmmm sweet Mother Sugar.

Here in the holiday season, her deliciousness is impacting my life in glorious ways.

Cookies, cakes, fudge, peppermint bark, egg nog, See’s candy, candy canes. All of it. WANT!

The trouble with my little predilection for sugar, however, is the more I eat it, the more I want it.

And then I become something much like a frenzying wildebeest.

So not cute.

I foresee a painful but necessary detox in the month of January.

But for now? Oooohm nom nom nom nom nom!!
.
.
.

And I’ll pretend I didn’t read this article.


This little foray into my favorite addiction is brought you by Theme Thursday and this week’s theme: Sweet

Article link from a December 8th post by NewMexiKen

Image from Wikipedia and used under the terms of a Creative Commons license.


Hablo en Google

As a native child of New Mexico, I am neither unfamiliar nor uncomfortable with the Spanish language.

That said, the Spanish I speak is a informal blend often referred to as “Spanglish”.

Un poquito English. A tiny bit Espanol.

This is both a help and a hindrance in my daily work.

I’ve had a chance to chronicle my extensive work learning the ways and means of my counterparts in EMEA.

I’ve discussed my ongoing learning curve with my coworkers and suppliers in APAC.

It was inevitable…my focus has arrived in Latin America.

Right now I work mostly with Brazil and Mexico.

Since I have zero Portuguese and my Spanish cannot be considered appropriate for business, I have come to rely on Google Translate to do my daily job. I was using BabelFish for a while, but I’ve come to realize that Google Translate is actually a lot more accurate and it handles colloquialisms fairly well.

Even so, it’s not perfect. I really have to watch how I craft my emails. I love the English language and I love to play it fast and loose with grammar and word use. This does not always work well in translation.

While Google will properly translate the words, the meaning gets lost and I will usually get either an “I’m sorry?” or a simple “Que?” from my friends in Latin America.

Ya can’t just throw down a “This ain’t my first rodeo!” or “Put up or shut up!” and expect that’s going to come across the way you meant it.

To make matters more difficult, I’m not only working with people in my own company, but I’m also negotiating with suppliers. Now to my mind, negotiating is a fine art. Language and word choice can be everything.

So I feel a little hamstrung trying to work a deal in another language that I can’t speak. (wait, does “hamstrung” translate?)

For Mexico, I have a buddy in my organization who is originally from Mexico City. So far he’s been willing to be a translator and negotiator on my behalf and he’s doing a great job. I thank him profusely every day.

No such luck finding a native Portuguese speaker who is friendly to my cause.

So it’s off to Google Translator and hope for the best.

Actually, I’ve been shocked at how well I’ve actually been able to complete my work. Here I am cutting multimillion dollar deals with just an online translator and a bit of attitude and somehow, it works. I am able to have Legal review in each country to be sure it all stays the way I negotiated it, and that helps me stay out of trouble.

I love language and I love using language to be persuasive at the negotiation table.

So working through an online translator feels like I’m roping a wild cow in that proverbial rodeo and doing so with one hand tied behind my back.

I’m gonna guess that didn’t translate well.


———————————————


I Speak Google


Como un niño nativo de Nuevo México, no soy ni familiar ni incómodo con la lengua española.

Dicho esto, el español que hablan es una mezcla informal a menudo se refiere como “Spanglish”.

A little Inglés. Un pequeño poco Espanol.

Esto es una ayuda y un obstáculo en mi trabajo diario.

He tenido la oportunidad de trabajar una crónica extensa aprender las maneras y los medios de mis colegas en la región EMEA.

He hablado de mi curva de aprendizaje continuo con mis compañeros de trabajo y proveedores en Asia-Pacífico.

Era inevitable … mi enfoque ha llegado a América Latina.

Ahora mismo trabajan sobre todo con Brasil y México.

Desde que tengo cero portugués y mi español no puede ser considerado apropiado para el negocio, he llegado a depender de Google Translate para hacer mi trabajo diario. Yo estaba usando BabelFish por un tiempo, pero me he dado cuenta de que Google Translate es en realidad mucho más preciso y se maneja bastante bien coloquiales.

Aún así, no es perfecto. Tengo que ver cómo me artesanía mis correos electrónicos. Me encanta el idioma Inglés y me gusta jugar rápido y libremente con la gramática y el uso de la palabra. Esto no siempre funciona bien en la traducción.

Mientras que Google correctamente traducir las palabras, el significado se pierde y yo por lo general se convierte en un “lo siento?” o simple “Que?” de mis amigos en América Latina.

Ya no puede lanzar una “Este no es mi primer rodeo!” o “poner o callarse” y esperar que va a venir a través de la forma que quería decir.

Para hacer las cosas más difíciles, estoy trabajando no sólo con la gente de mi propia empresa, pero también estoy negociando con los proveedores. Ahora en mi opinión, la negociación es un arte. Elección de la lengua y la palabra puede ser todo.

Así que me siento un poco paralizado tratando de trabajar mucho en otro idioma que no puedo hablar. (Tiempo de espera, significa “paralizado” traducir?)

Para México, tengo un amigo en mi organización que es originario de la Ciudad de México. Hasta ahora ha estado dispuesto a ser un traductor y negociador en mi nombre y que está haciendo un gran trabajo. Le doy las gracias profusamente todos los días.

No hubo suerte para encontrar un hablante nativo portugués, que es amigo de mi causa.

Por lo que es de al traductor de Google y esperar lo mejor.

En realidad, he sido sorprendido por lo bien hecho, he podido completar mi trabajo. Aquí estoy haciendo tratos multimillonarios con sólo un traductor en línea y un poco de actitud y de alguna manera, funciona. Yo soy capaz de tener opinión legal en cada país para asegurarse de que todas las estancias de la forma en que lo negociado, por lo que me ayuda a mantenerme fuera de problemas.

Me encanta el idioma y me encanta usar el lenguaje para ser persuasivo en la mesa de negociación.

Así que trabajar a través de un traductor en línea se siente como que estoy cuerda una vaca salvaje en ese rodeo proverbial y hacerlo con una mano atada a la espalda.

Voy a suponer que no se tradujo así.






Image by Jakub Krechowicz and used royalty free from stock.xchng.


The Laws of A State Named Denial

So. Here we are. The eighth day of the month. No big deal, right? Just like every other 8th day of any other month.

People keeping saying something about an “event” or some something or other coming up at the end of the month.

I have no idea what they are talking about.

I’m sure it’s nothing. Some fake internet celebration like that one day where everyone was supposed to leave their bank and go to a credit union.

You know, I keep trying to schedule meeting for the last two weeks of the month but everyone’s calendars are busy! I mean, all day, every day.

There must be a training session or something.

Weird.

I cannot imagine what in the heck must be going on. This is just another simple ordinary month. Nothing special going on. Just another month in the year.

Not sure why, but there is a tree that has sprung up down the hallway from my office. Must be the company plant-care team trying something out. Perhaps I’ll call them and say I think it’s in the way. Hard to walk around it.

And the mail team must have dumped off some lost packages over there, because there are all of these boxes by that dumb tree.

I mean, we’re all trying to do a job here!

The grocery stores sure are playing bouncy music lately. Lots of bells. Maybe that’s the new trend in music? Sometimes it’s horns. Or heavy electric guitar. But these days, bells.

Seriously, am I missing something? It seems like everyone is up to something but I don’t know what.

Nope. It’s just another day in just another month and nowhere NEAR the end of the year because that cannot possibly be.

It’s like April, right? Of 2003? Or maybe 1999?

Because time cannot possibly be moving this fast.

It just can’t.

It can’t it can’t it can’t!!!

Greetings from the State of Denial. Population: Me.




This non-event thusly satisfies today’s Theme Thursday word: event


A Symphony of Fail

I am the ape man. I am the walrus.

Ku-ku-kachu.

I am neither of those things. I am the fail whale.





Yes. That is me, sad tighty whiteys and all.

Fail a’ Fail-a-rino.

Today is November 30th. The last day of the festivities that are National Novel Writing Month.

This is the annual event where writers challenge themselves to write 50,000 words in 30 days.

2011 marks the sixth time I have had a go at NaNoWriMo.

My first shot was in 2004. I struggled, but made it the first time out of the gate. There have been years since then when I have skipped participation. But every one of the five years I have tried my hand at NaNoWriMo, I have succeeded in passing the finish line by the 30th of the month.

One year, I finished in 21 days. Yeah, that rocked.

This year, however. Well.

50,000 words are the goal. As of this moment, I have 14,239.

See. I didn’t just fail a little. I failed a lot.

A big round blobby smelly unctuous fail.

That’s me. Mz Failsalot.

I was going to simply try to hide this away. Pretend it didn’t happen. Not say a word. Not mention it to anybody unless they asked.

Then I decided that confession is good for the soul.

Own it! Sing it! Love it!

Yes, yes…I’m one of those perfectionist kinda gals. It makes me happy to complete what I start. Completing a project matters.

Also, I’m excessively proud of my ability to produce words. Not just any words, but halfway decent words written at a rapid clip. Paragraphs with a good foundation that some powerful editing can improve and shape into literary magic.

But this year, way too many hours at work (a project is failing and I’m paddling as fast as I can to keep it a’float), a prolonged bout of writers block (see Monday’s post), and an extraordinary amount of hubris (I had the audacity to TALK ABOUT my story idea…..that is certain death to creativity) came together in the perfect storm that smashed my tiny seafaring vessel to the rocks.

Oh, the drama! The anxiety! The shaaaaaaame.

Yep. I blew it. I firmly believe that owning it, giving my failure both light and air, and speaking of it publicly……Well, all of that takes the sting out of it. Draws out the venom.

Helps me be ok with it. And learn from it.

So today, I sing a song of failure. It starts off sad, like an Irish lament, but ends up peppy like a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical.

Fffffffffffffffffffffffailure where the agony comes sweeping down The Muse!

Whew. Now I just need to do an act of contrition, and the Universe will grant me absolution.

Right?




Fail whale image is by Ed Wheeler and found on deviantart.com. Follow him on Twitter @EduardoWheeler


Letter To Be Posted On The Office Fridge

Dear Coworkers:

There are some things you should know about me…..Not the least of which is: I am *staunchly* opposed to any and all theft of lunch food from our mutually shared and oh-so-handy full sized office refrigerator.

We all work a lot of hours. I think it’s important that we all get along. It’s vital that we all feel free to pack a lovely, delicious, enticing lunch to provide some comfort to break up the hectic pace we all have to endure here at this Big Ol’ Company.

Times are tough. Bring-your-own bagged lunches are on the rise.

But so is lunch theft. It isn’t pretty and it isn’t nice.

Let me tell you, all of you crazy assed ladies who bring in that no fat, no salt, no fun frozen shrink wrapped plastic foods with the word “healthy” somewhere in the title….you have nothing to worry about. Your crap is safe. No one wants that.

You, dude who brings in your wife’s amazing looking homemade Indian food? Watch yourself. That smells soooo good in the microwave every day and I confess I have considered ripping you off in a big way.

Despite being vehemently opposed to the theft of office fridge food, I have…wondered. Thought. Ok, yes, I have had lust in my heart for that Ziploc bag with an luscious looking sandwich inside and no other identifying information.

The person who left that adorable teeny tiny pumpkin pie on the top of your lunch sack last week, visible for all to see? You almost lost that. I *seriously* contemplated the crime. It would have been so easy.

But when such thoughts arise, I step back. I take a deep breath. I go into myself and remember my own personal values, my morals, and I remember how bitched out I got when someone stole my Pop Chips (I will hunt you down and do horrifying things to you with a staple remover, dear thieving coworker, be certain of that).

Then I find my core of strength and I step away. I remember how wrong lunch bag theft is. Then I hold my head high and refrain.

But today. Today is a test I’m not sure I can pass.

Evidently the group that sits on the other side of this floor is having themselves a little party today. So they are storing some goodies in our fridge because theirs is full.

Do you know what is sitting in my fridge, right now, on the shelf right above my own little lunch bag?

A HUGE PLATTER OF DEVILED EGGS.

Deviled eggs! Yards of them! It’s an enormous platter! No one would miss a few, right? Peel back the Saran Wrap, throw a couple back, chomp, and walk away scot-free.

Do you people really think I am made to resist deviled eggs? I am not!

Get behind me, Satan!

Even the most morally just have a breaking point. And you just found mine.

So I post this letter by way of saying….get them the hell out of my fridge or they are going away and they are going away fast.

And why wasn’t I invited to the party, you uptight Finance freaks?

Wait a minute! I bet one of you took my Pop Chips.

Gimme some deviled eggs and I won’t come at you with my staple remover!

Gimme, gimme, gimme……..







Image from the Thindulge blog, though in no way do I advocate healthy-ifying deviled eggs. The photo was just too pretty to pass up.