Friday, February 22, 2002

Language is all-powerful. Or at least I can't seem to get myself to feel - or worse, act - otherwise.

I had a dinner last night for all the staff I am in charge of. Eight of the 11 came (of those who couldn't come, one just had a baby, one was on her way to a funeral and one was teaching a class). And while I understood nearly all that was said, and it was even fun, I felt undermined completely throughout the evening by my poor Swedish conversational abilities, despite being bolstered by many glasses of red wine. And this was a completely casual evening, just for fun, no work involved, all-play all-the-time. I was just so terribly nervous, unnecessarily nervous. I nearly burned myself with a cigarette at the beginning of the evening, and my voice damn near cracked at one point. Oh, the horror.

The problem is, that I feel like I can't be a proper boss without my precious English. I feel I have no authority, and probably worse, that I have no control over whatever situation I'm in where I'm supposed to be the person everyone looks to, the man with the answers.

I hate feeling this way.

I must get over this or I am going to be one unhappy and unholy mess.

The Swedish word for the day is fegis. It means chickenshit yellow-belly coward.

- by Francis S.

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