Giggle Translate #1: Random Facts About Me (Skydiving, Flashlights, and I'm a WHAT!?!)
I'm bored. So I've been running some paragraphs I've written through a bunch of randomly-chosen languages in a row with Google Translate and then back into English, just for giggles. (I'm not serious, uptight, and a deep-thinker all the time.) It's like a funny, terrible game of "Telephone." (FYI: Bad word ahead. Not my fault. Blame Google Translate. But I did bleep out a couple letters.)
Here are a few of the first ones I've done so far (the original writing was taken from my post "Random Facts About Me, Just For Fun"):
Original paragraph:
I went skydiving once when I was in college. It was amazing to climb out of airplane, hang onto the wing, let go, and glide back down to earth suspended by a ball of air trapped under some fabric. And when they asked me to pull down hard on both toggles to come to a “stop” in midair, it felt like I was swinging from a cloud. I have never experienced such silence and peace and solitary-ness. So glad I did it. Would never do it again. Hope my kids never want to do it!
After several translations:
So in the pitch blackness of a winter’s morning, I grabbed a flashlight and peered inside my underwear, just in case. And that’s when I heard a small voice coming from the dark hallway, “Good morning, Mom!”
It was freakin’ 5:30 in the morning and one of my sons was standing in my doorway, peering into my room to say good morning, just in time to see a spotlight shining down his momma’s underwear. I mean, seriously, what else is there to see in a pitch-black room but the thing that the flashlight is illuminating? Just one more reason for therapy when he gets older and one more chapter for his “Scarred for Life: Memoirs from My Childhood” book.
After several translations:
Here are a few of the first ones I've done so far (the original writing was taken from my post "Random Facts About Me, Just For Fun"):
Original paragraph:
I went skydiving once when I was in college. It was amazing to climb out of airplane, hang onto the wing, let go, and glide back down to earth suspended by a ball of air trapped under some fabric. And when they asked me to pull down hard on both toggles to come to a “stop” in midair, it felt like I was swinging from a cloud. I have never experienced such silence and peace and solitary-ness. So glad I did it. Would never do it again. Hope my kids never want to do it!
After several translations:
I was in my second year when I was in college. It was surprising that the plane came out, leaning on the wing, releasing it and dropping to the ground, standing out from the air that fell into the ground. When I was asked to pull strongly on two scales to stop me, I thought that I was flying out of the cloud. I have never experienced such depth, peace and loneliness. I am very pleased with my work. I will never do it again. The feeling that my children do not want to do this!
(Kinda poetic, isn't it!)
Original paragraph:
One morning this past winter, before the family woke up, I thought I felt a spider run across my thigh. I freaked out and began to brush my thigh and the sheets around me, looking for a bug or beetle or something that might be running around the bed. Then I wondered, What if it got inside my underwear?Original paragraph:
So in the pitch blackness of a winter’s morning, I grabbed a flashlight and peered inside my underwear, just in case. And that’s when I heard a small voice coming from the dark hallway, “Good morning, Mom!”
It was freakin’ 5:30 in the morning and one of my sons was standing in my doorway, peering into my room to say good morning, just in time to see a spotlight shining down his momma’s underwear. I mean, seriously, what else is there to see in a pitch-black room but the thing that the flashlight is illuminating? Just one more reason for therapy when he gets older and one more chapter for his “Scarred for Life: Memoirs from My Childhood” book.
After several translations:
One morning last winter, before the family woke up, I thought I felt a spider crossing my thigh. I got up and started rubbing my thighs and diapers around me in search of an insect or a beetle or something that could walk in bed. So I was wondering what would have happened if I had put on my underwear?
Then, on a winter morning on the field, I took a torch and looked at my underpants just in case. And then I heard a low voice from the dark corridor: "Hi, mom!"
It was 5:30 in the morning and one of my children was standing in front of my door and looking into my room to say goodbye, just in time to see a projector shine in his mother's underpants. I mean seriously, what else is there to see in a dark room, but what lights the flashlight? Just another reason for therapy with increasing age and another chapter for your book "Marked for life: memories of my childhood".
After several translations:
Talk about getting lost in translation!
I particularly like "flying out of the cloud" (Cool word picture!) ... and how "slob" became a much worse insult (I didn't know I was that bad!) ... and how I leave "a box of two feet of garbage" (Wow, I am a slob!) ... and how my "crazy and carefree mind seems to work" (That's a relief! Although it just says "seems to work," so maybe not.) ... and how my four young boys are apparently "sloppy mothers" (Interesting!) ... and how I "started rubbing my thighs and diapers around me in search of an insect" (Oh man, now my secret is out!).
Awesome!
Original paragraph:
And I’m a slob. Truly. I would leave a wrapper two feet from the garbage can. I would even look at the garbage can and think, I should walk two steps over there and throw this out. But then I would think, But I’m already headed in the other direction. So I would just drop the wrapper on the counter, intending to get to it later, along with all the other wrappers and papers that I let pile up there. To my crazy, slobby mind, it seems efficient. It’s like, Well, there’s already one piece of garbage on the counter and I have to clean that up eventually, so I may as well just put this new piece of garbage next to it so that I can pick them both up at the same time. It makes sense in my mind and I have the intention to be clean and efficient, yet somehow I don’t seem to get around to doing it anytime soon. It’s really pathetic.
A little while ago, I was walking through the house, griping in my head about how messy it is with four young boys at home who have a “slobby mommy.” And when I walked into the kitchen, there – crawling across the floor – was a slug! Made my point for me! (In my defense, he must have hitched a ride on the gardening shoes that I had just worn in the garden. I hope! ‘Cuz I’d sure hate to think that he had been exploring our home for awhile, going, “Gee, this place looks just right for me and my slug babies!”)
(While I am messy with papers and clothes and wrappers, I am extremely cautious about food garbage and about coming into contact with food that’s been left out. When I cook, I know exactly where the clean spots are on my counter so I know where I can safely put plates, cups, utensils, pot lids, and stirring spoons. But to everyone else it looks like sheer chaos and like I’m playing a game of “Let’s see who can catch salmonella first.”)
And I’m a slob. Truly. I would leave a wrapper two feet from the garbage can. I would even look at the garbage can and think, I should walk two steps over there and throw this out. But then I would think, But I’m already headed in the other direction. So I would just drop the wrapper on the counter, intending to get to it later, along with all the other wrappers and papers that I let pile up there. To my crazy, slobby mind, it seems efficient. It’s like, Well, there’s already one piece of garbage on the counter and I have to clean that up eventually, so I may as well just put this new piece of garbage next to it so that I can pick them both up at the same time. It makes sense in my mind and I have the intention to be clean and efficient, yet somehow I don’t seem to get around to doing it anytime soon. It’s really pathetic.
A little while ago, I was walking through the house, griping in my head about how messy it is with four young boys at home who have a “slobby mommy.” And when I walked into the kitchen, there – crawling across the floor – was a slug! Made my point for me! (In my defense, he must have hitched a ride on the gardening shoes that I had just worn in the garden. I hope! ‘Cuz I’d sure hate to think that he had been exploring our home for awhile, going, “Gee, this place looks just right for me and my slug babies!”)
(While I am messy with papers and clothes and wrappers, I am extremely cautious about food garbage and about coming into contact with food that’s been left out. When I cook, I know exactly where the clean spots are on my counter so I know where I can safely put plates, cups, utensils, pot lids, and stirring spoons. But to everyone else it looks like sheer chaos and like I’m playing a game of “Let’s see who can catch salmonella first.”)
After several translations:
And I'm an @$$hole. It's real. I leave a box of two feet of garbage. I even looked at the trash and thought I should take two steps there and throw them away. But then I think, but I go the other way. So I released the over-the-counter package for future access along with all the other packages and paper that I stack there. My crazy and carefree mind seems to work. It's like I already have a tray on the counter, and at some point I have to clean it so I can put it aside so I can pick it up at the same time. It makes sense in my head and I intend to keep it clean and efficient, but I don't do it quickly. He is very patient.
I went home a while ago and remembered how upset I was at home with four kids who are 'sloppy mothers'. As I entered the kitchen, a snail crawled on the floor! I've made myself aware of myself! (For my protection, I had to wear the garden shoes he wore in the garden. I hope so! "Because I like to think he inspected our house for a while and said," God yes, this place is perfect to me and my little snails! ")
(Although I mix paper, clothes and packaging, I am very careful about food waste and when I come in contact with leftovers. When I cook, I know exactly where the clean parts are on the Mo counter so I know where I am plates, cups, cutlery, lids and spoons. But overall, it sounds like a real tragedy: "You know you can get Salmonella in the first place.)"Talk about getting lost in translation!
I particularly like "flying out of the cloud" (Cool word picture!) ... and how "slob" became a much worse insult (I didn't know I was that bad!) ... and how I leave "a box of two feet of garbage" (Wow, I am a slob!) ... and how my "crazy and carefree mind seems to work" (That's a relief! Although it just says "seems to work," so maybe not.) ... and how my four young boys are apparently "sloppy mothers" (Interesting!) ... and how I "started rubbing my thighs and diapers around me in search of an insect" (Oh man, now my secret is out!).
Awesome!
