Tag Archives: hope

Blogging, Gaming (unwillingly), Sculpting and Conceiving

The Millinery Shop by Edgar Degas This work is in the public domain.
The Millinery Shop
by Edgar Degas
This work is in the public domain.

Some updates about life… aka I want to blabber about “me”.

I could not spare as much time on the blog as I wanted because I had a lot of work… ehem games to play… Just a reminder, I am a translator and tester at a mobile game company… So gaming is work for me…

Another reminder, I don’t like video games. Before working here, I thought I just did not know enough about games to get hooked on them. Recently, I have come to the realization that I want to like them because I like geeks. But it is about time I admitted I am not one…

And I completed my sculpture class without missing a session. Big deal for me, since I love quitting stuff, but I enjoyed almost all sessions of the course. I would have loved to post some pictures here but I am still doing the little bit I can to keep the blog invisible to people I know, so I can’t.

The responses to my “masterpieces” were diverse… Some laughed… A little too much… Some were interested in the material rather than the work. Others were very much surprised by what a person, as in me, can create in 3D. 😀

Whatever the response, I was proud to be able to create something. No matter how simple or amateurish the statuettes may be, I am happy to see the result of my own creativity, something I have missed a lot working in translation for games where most text is devoid of any depth. Not all, but most…

And, another piece of info that can be, let’s be honest, of little interest to you :), is I am trying to conceive…

Now, I have a question, how do people manage to keep it all discreet until they are like 5 months pregnant? I am announcing, almost to everyone, the days of my intercourse!

I am making huge fuss about the coffee and wine I am trying to avoid. I am already asking around about hospitals and obstetricians, maternity leave and details about dealing with pregnancy.

And of course I am considering a baby blog…

Ugh, I am going to be one of these annoying moms who cannot shut up about their kids, aren’t I? If, of course, I ever manage to make it to delivery… But, for that, I need to be pregnant first… I know that much about biology…

PS: I am so impatient to see the results of my conceptive efforts, I almost peed on my smart phone… I may be overdependent on my phone’s intelligence…


Coming to Canada (3): Where I was mistaken

First I found a job at a restaurant as a waitress. Working as a waitress with a master’s degree from a fine university in Australia would be unthinkable in Turkey. Where I come from, waiting tables pays very little and it is even seen as a demeaning job for a well educated person, a perception I could never understand. That is why I told few people back home when serving food to customers turned out to be my starting point on the new continent. I thought that that was the point where I could finally observe some improvement in my standards. After all, in many American or Canadian movies, people seem to be somehow able to survive on a waiter’s wage. Well, soon I found out that though the pay was much better than what I would have earned in Turkey, it still turned out to be too close to minimum wage and tips didn’t make much difference. Apparently, whenever I chose to eat out, the waiters/waitresses could easily express their frustration if I ever tipped less than 15% and demanded more but when I started working, demanding more was not an option.

Things got even weirder when I found out that the owner of the restaurant, a divorced mother had led a difficult life which probably had contributed to her being a difficult and maybe a little bit of an abusive boss. After a couple of months I spent there, not going back home for my grandfather’s sudden funeral simply because I had promised to work there while she was on vacation in Cuba, after helping the mother and her kid with homework that they took hours to do and trying to be positive no matter what, when I announced that I had finally been recruited for the translation job I had been telling her about, she refused to realize that I would be leaving the restaurant and that she would have to put a job announcement for a new waiter if she did not wish to be doing it herself. When I finally did leave, working in both jobs for two weeks, in other words spending every moment I was awake working just to be able to say goodbye to the restaurant owner in a friendly atmosphere, she did make an announcement. I was announced a “foe” and the one time I had to step back in there afterwards, stepping in from 12 degrees below zero, I wanted be out on the street again to warm my spine. So that was a few months’ “close” friendship wasted. My first professional experience and first person I thought I could call a friend ended in dismay. The only relief of this outcome was that by the end, I had accepted for a fact that a friendship with her was not an easy one to maintain and would require a lot of sacrifice on my part with little appreciation in return.

 Nevertheless, the new translation job was my new bundle of hope!

Coming to Canada (2)

At 5 am, my parents and I arrived at the airport and met my husband and his family. Being grown up and all, we both chose to spend our last night in Turkey with our own parents. Many people were surprised at our choice but I think it makes sense; after all, we would be spending a lot of time in the same house in the days to come.

I was hyper energetic and my heart was racing faster than a purebred on steroids (had to google this). Colors were brighter, future was promising despite the doubts in my head and I was with my hubby whom I trusted to hold my hand whenever I needed (ehem). That was true happiness.

Thank god, I was not naïve enough to believe that these feelings would be ever lasting. I knew that in the months to come, I would be going crazy either looking for jobs and wondering why noone ever responded to my applications or even worse, still waiting for the damn work permit, and of course it was the latter case. I knew that we would be stuck doing the same activities as we would be too broke to “spice up” our daily routines, which would lead to some kind of frustration in our relationship every once in a while. I also knew that I would be feeling very lonely, since lacking a work permit and study permit along with money means there are few ways I could socialize.

Yet, I still did enjoy these first months, as I had enough time to take long walks through the city and daydream about the shops, jobs and lives behind the building walls I passed by. It was once again in these first few months that I did everything I can to find out about events and festivals in the city. I believed that from then on, life could only get better. I thought that as soon as I found a job in this country where human rights are respected, where people can express their wishes freely, where life is easier, our lives would only be on the rise for a better standard of living.

That’s where I was mistaken…