#i chose bsl since he's british

[the3rddenialist]

JJ does Jacksepticeye Intro

Apologies for the quality.

This was meant to be animated but I got busy and then it got stuck in my drafts for weeks. Realised I probably wasn't going to finish it at this rate so I made it into a few frames.

TRANSLATION NOTES BELOW:

This is just the translation process for those curious. I did the research myself. If you have any thoughts yourself I would like to hear it.

"Top of the morning"

So slang doesn't really exist in BSL (British Sign Langauge) or conjoining words (of,the), which left me with "top morning", but that didn't make any sense.

So I went with the literal meaning of the phrase which was "Good Morning", but that made it lose what made it iconic in translation. So instead of doing BSL I used ISL instead, so it retained the Irish aspect.

"to ya laddies."

again, very similar issues to the above. I instead used ISL "Friend", though I am limited by my own art style, as a big way to convey plurals is through mouthing the words and the 's' sound. If I re-did this I would find a phrase to indicate multiple friends better.

"my name is"

Now finally using BSL. Very straightforward as there is a sign for "my name is" already existing.

"Jacksepticeye"

This one was fun. Since I originally was going to animate this, spelling out the name would be time consuming and take pretentious. Which is why many people use shorthand for names, aka, creating a sign for the name.

At the time of making this I watched JSE Kindergaten 2 Series in which he conveyed a similar problem when writing his signature, Jacksepticeye being too long. So instead he shorten it to writing a 'J' and a 'Eyeball' in BSL. Which is what I did here.

and

Very straightforward, as there is a pre-existing sign for 'and'.

welcome

also pre-existing. You don't actually need to repeat 5-times but I wanted to indicated you did needed to repeat the motion.

Thanks for reading.

[gravelgirty]

Hogan’s Heroes: Above My Pay Grade (and over your head)

Part III of the Tape and Needle and Scissors and Thread series.

Follows after Part II, Irish Rejected Potatoes and Incendiary Chocolate

Baker was just a little smaller than Kinch, and wasn’t he grateful for it.

The young man slithered into the radio bunker holding his breath with a grimace over the effluvia of Slim’s mint chewing gum. The man couldn’t live without that stuff.

Weather was not the camp’s friend right now, but at least most of them were dealing with it.  Baker had kicked around a lot of the country before joining up, and the one thing you couldn’t do was yell at the great outdoors and expect results.

He liked Newkirk—most of them did even if they wouldn’t let him anywhere near a card game. The man was a little grouchy but Ma said artists were like that. And anyone who didn’t call Newkirk an artist never saw the man crack a safe. Or make a ballgown out of a Nazi uniform.

Baker looked twice in the tiny space and hunkered his bottom into the one dryish part of the room. Kinchloe had worked a wonder building this room right the first time, and as he’d been told, the earth had been rock-hard and dry as pumice at the time.  Oh, for the days. Smuggling timbers to hold up the sides had been another Kinchloe-miracle, and figuring out how to wire the camp’s reception using the Stalag’s own watchtower? Sheer genius. Baker hoped to meet him someday when the war was over. And if he was denied that chance? Well, unlike a lot of the men at the Stalag, Baker was quite comfortable with his faith in the ability to finish one’s affairs—if not this life, the next would do.

He checked the readings, double-checked the switches, and kept a sharp eye on the main circuit that fed the power through the main box. They weren’t getting much news right now, and nobody knew if that was really good news or bad. Sure, they understood they had to pull back once in a while, but three weeks of ‘holding back’ was a blip on the watches of officers.  For thems on the front line, it was eternity.

Once in a while there was a brief interlude of entertainment as various parties tried to send out doctored news.  They could be kind of fun.  One really remote signal, which they only seemed to get in lousy weather like this, was clearly the work of German freedom fighters who’d worked with the Yanks back in World War I or even earlier—a lot of their phonetics were the same as the camp’s, but the differences were telling: ‘Quack’ instead of ‘Queen’ and ‘Unit’ where ‘Uncle’ ought to be. Baker’s excellent memory let him sift out such conversations and he could tell with fair accuracy if the source was using the Army or Navy forms, how old they were, and if the users were actually English, German, French, or Spanish. Depending on how bored he was, Baker took Hogan’s orders to “fight fire with fire” literally, and answered back on the open waves with whatever language he felt like using at the time. The nice thing about working in a camp like this, was that someone, somewhere, knew the language.

Languages were fantastic. He loved them. If you heard his great-great-grandmother talk, it was because back in Africa, nobody thought twice about learning twelve languages before they were mature. Or his mother’s great-uncle who came back from WWI with British Sign Language for his wife. There weren’t enough schools for the colored and there really wasn’t much for the deaf. Least of all for the deaf people of color. But they’d learned, and they’d learned how to sign in British. And the French method, which became American sign, and also, the Sign language of the Plains Indians. There were a few times where Baker had saved their bacon with using that sign around Carter. Carter was too pure a soul to keep his thoughts to himself, but luckily for the Resistance, he answered Sign with Sign and it would never, ever occur to him to talk out loud what someone was saying with their hands.

Carter was a lot of things, but he would never be rude.

This suited Baker. When he’d taken his post Hogan had told him that a leader who knew everything was too weak to trust his own men. Baker had taken THAT to heart. Before long he and Carter were working through what they knew in Sign even if their mouths said different. It was fun, even if Newkirk called it ‘hand-dancing’. (Baker suspected Newkirk knew some BSL).

Humming to himself, Baker popped his ‘phones on his head and toyed with the pleasant possibilities of new equipment.  Or a whole box of vacuum tubes for emergencies. Right now they were down to mostly using the “horsepack set” re-wired to acid batteries instead of the standard hand generator.  It made things interesting because the Germans had a lot of time and money invested in VHF technology and most of the old buzzards giving Hogan his orders were still insisting on protocols that might have worked back in WWI. Baker was glad the scrounging was up to others. There were too many shifts in which it was all his two hands could do to cover up the holes in their system, and there was only so much magnet wire, insulated wire, and galena to go around. Twice since joining the camp he’d had to hold down the fort with his two hands and yelp directions as the others scurried parts to him from the back storage.

All this for unpowered radio. There were days when he missed the grim simplicity of using a steel razor blade and the lead off a pencil to catch a signal in the bottom of a foxhole. At least when it didn’t work, you knew why.

And foxholes could collapse on you. Nah, he didn’t miss that. Forget foxholes. Foxholes could give you nightmares.

I need more sleep, he thought. For a moment he could have sworn there was movement in the room.

The young man looked up, blinking in an attempt to rest his eyes so they would stop seeing things that weren’t there.

A soft plat of mud dropped past his face, grazing his cheek, and died ignominiously on his new clean papers.

“Oh, ugh.” He muttered, and sat back in silent astonishment as the soggy walls quivered like jelly. A moment later he realized it wasn’t the water in his eyes.

O’Brien heard him scream just in time.

# # #

“Ohgod.” Baker stammered. For the past fifteen minutes, that was about all anyone could get out of him.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Carter asked.

“He was nearly smothered in an avalanche of mud!” Newkirk cried.  “Would you be ‘okay?’”

“I don’t know. That’s never happened to me.”

“He’s too cold.” Hogan growled.  “Everyone, back off.  Baker gets the spot behind the stove.” All made space except for LeBeau, who was rustling back and forth through the that cabinet of morbid curiosities he called a spice shelf.  “LeBeau, what are you doing?”

“He’s cold.” LeBeau shot back.  “Don’t worry, I know what he needs—I need that cocoa!” He suddenly yelped. “Someone tell them to hurry up!”

“You heard the men.” Hogan barked.  “I signed for it—Klink should turn them over without any trouble.” Or no more than usual.

It was at that perfect moment that the men returned with the first armload of Red Cross boxes.

It didn’t take long for them to see why Klink was uninterested in paying himself an aggravation tax out of the portions.

# # #

Back in Klink’s office, Klink was wondering if wax cylinders were responsive to the 110% humidity. His precious recordings just weren’t holding up. Perhaps it was the thickness of atmosphere?

“You called for me, Colonel Klink?” Shultz asked politely.

“Oh, yes.” Klink gave up thoughts of music and returned to his desk. “Tell the men to inspect the foundations. As soggy as this earth is, we have to be careful of subsidence.”

Schultz blinked. He was a toymaker, not a Civil Engineer. “For all the buildings?”

“Yes, didn’t I say the foundations? I didn’t say ‘some of’ or ‘part of’—“ He hastily corrected himself. “Don’t bother with the prisoners’ barracks. Just concentrate on the main buildings with concrete block.”

“But we do not inspect the prisoners’ barracks.” Schultz said sadly.

Klink thought Schultz was even more optimistically delusional than normal if he hoped for a crumb of LeBeau’s cooking—even the Frenchman couldn’t muster miracles out of muddy puddles and mold—the two most common ingredients in the camp right now.

“They have troubles of their own right now, Schultz. I don’t want to give Hogan a reason to come out here. Right now they’re finding out about those Red Cross packages.”

Schultz shuddered. “Not even the cockroach could make a good meal out of twenty pounds of curry powder.”

“You are probably exaggerating, sergeant.”

“It is possible. But do you think the shipment was on purpose or a mistake?”

“I have no idea. The Red Cross is supposed to be above petty politics.” The lucky, lucky men.

“I was just wondering. It seems cruel to send the prisoners such rations. Especially this time of year.”

“I told Hogan we would be willing to share a portion of our meals with his if he so chose.”

Schultz gagged. “I hope the Geneva Convention doesn’t hear about this.”

“I knew he wouldn’t accept the offer, Shultz!” Klink snapped. “But I had to make it! It was the only thing I could do!”

# # #

DELIVERED FOR EACH PRISONER OF WAR, STALAG XIII:

·        8 ounces Mulberry fruit in syrup

·        16 ounces lentils

·        2 oz. soap

·        16 oz. flour (chickpea)

·        8 biscuits

·        8 oz. margarine

·        12 ounces Nestle's Milk (powdered or canned)

·        14 oz. rice

·        1 lb. pilchard

·        2 oz.  curry powder

·        8 oz. sugar

·        1 oz. dried eggs

·        2 oz. tea

·        1 oz. salt

·        1/4th lb. chocolate

COURTESY OF THE INDIAN RED CROSS SOCIETY

Back in the Barracks, Hogan’s ears were still burning with Klink’s generosity. He kept clam and watched his men as various and sundry truths (all awful) dawned.

“I like good curry as well as the next Brit, but this is too much of a good thing!” Newkirk exclaimed.

“There’s no meat!” Carter exclaimed. “What’s wrong with the rice? Its brown!!”

“Bloody entire world is locked up in this bloody war,” Newkirk ranted. “And every bloody country gets some sort of rations for their own tastes, and we get the only vegetarian rations ever made!”

“What’s a lentil?” Carter wondered. “Don’t they use that to feed sheep?”

“Pour some outside and see if any sheep come runnin. I’ll take care of it meself.”

LeBeau was groaning. This was not the exaggerated “I am an artist” response to Hogan’s orders to create the impossible. This was a man insulted by futility.

“What are pilchards?” Someone was asking.

“Can you eat them with curry?”

“Mulberries! Hot dog! We’ve got fake blood for our next undercover job!”

“I’m allergic to chickpeas!”

“This isn’t even real tea. It’s green tea! I’m not drinking anything that tastes like Timothy Grass!”

“Yippee! Margarine!”

“This is chocolate?”

“Two whole ounces of soap! Everybody cut theirs in half—we can keep clean AND bait the rats!”

“I didn’t know mulberries grew in India.”

“Hey, look! Nestle’s!” Carter yipped. “Man, you want to talk about big blazing fireballs! All that sugar, I guess—oh. Here ya go, LeBeau. Sorry, Baker.”

“Hey, that’s odd.”

No odder than hearing Private Addison open his mouth.

Everyone, even Baker and LeBeau, stopped what they were doing and looked at their token doorstop. He was staring out one of the more convenient cracks in the wall.

Broughton went over to his buddy and peered. “Hey that is odd. Colonel, you might want to take a look. The Germans are acting funny.”

Now everyone was looking.

“They’re inspectin’ the foundations.” Newkirk realized. “Wonder why? Their buildin’s’re solid enough to hold up to any rain.”

“Foundations can shift.” Baker chattered. He was grateful to take LeBeau’s fresh cup of warm water colored with Nestle and some of the ersatz chocolate. He just tried not to think of how it looked like a cup of runny mud. “Maybe theyr’e worried about a collapse.”

“Cor who wouldn’t be? And how are we going to deal with a collapsed tunnel? The earth keeps sinkin’, the Germans are gonna notice. And we’ve got a big hole about to open up right between 2 and 3.”

Hogan had been thinking precisely the same thing. It was possible his brains were rusty from lack of use, but as so often happened, someone’s idle comment was the impetus for his brilliance.

“Baker!” Hogan barked. “Come with me! Right now!”

As the Barracks gaped, Hogan grabbed his staff sergeant and took off running as well as terrain permitted, a sputtering, muddy Baker in tow.

# # #

Klink hadn’t expected Hogan to return quite so quickly, or half as loudly. Or with company. He was in his office trying to figure out how to clean mold off his wax cylinder collection when a particular THUMP announced the return of his particular anti-muse.

“COLONEL KLINK! I DEMAND TO MOVE THE LATRINES RIGHT NOW!”

“Hogan, you shouldn’t be yelling.” Schultz was chiding.

“I DON’T CARE FOR MY MEN TO BE LAUGHINGSTOCKS! RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR MEN, SGT!! I DEMAND YOU GIVE US PERMISSION TO MOVE THE LATRINES!”

“What are you talking about, Hogan?” Schultz asked wearily. “And what is wrong with you, Baker?”

“Mud!”

“I can see that, Hogan.”

“The ground’s getting too soft! It collapsed in on him. Baker’s the first one to fall casualty to this rain but he won’t be the last.” Klink could hear Hogan in the front room as he drew himself up with his hands wrapped around his elbows. “What’s the Stalag going to do about this, Schultz?  As prisoners we have the right not to drown in a sinkhole!”

“Yeah!” Baker chimed in. “What’s K-klink gonna d-do about this?”

Klink opened the door and stared at the incredible sight. Hogan had Baker with him, and Baker was covered with rank mud from head to toe. One of the Barrack’s thin blankets was draped over his shoulders and a cup of thin mud steamed weakly in his hand.

Klink’s skull throbbed. “Baker, why did my men make you fall in the latrine?”

“Uh…” Baker chattered.

Hogan’s mouth was already opening for a fresh salvo of…whatever. Klink lifted his hand and stood. Without a word he went to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle. “Baker, what are you drinking?”

“I think its chocolate.”

“I don’t think the Swiss would approve.” Klink tossed a hefty splash in the mug. “It won’t make it taste better.” He warned. “But it should keep you away from the doctor.”

What the hell. Baker decided his day had just hit a high note. Liquor from a German officer was a pretty damn fine way to summarize his day if he wanted to dwell on the positive. He knocked the whole thing down and gasped for breath. He kept gasping.

Hogan’s nose wrinkled. “What IS that?”

“Wutendes Drachenfeuer.”

“‘Angry dragonfire?’“ Hogan translated with the most suspicious look Klink had seen off anyone outside his own family.

“We carried it with us in the high-altitude flights.”

“Killer-diller, that’s worse than my granny’s How-come-you-so!” Baker’s admiration was frank and unfeigned. Like a return from death, color rose to his cheeks. His spine straightened and a sparkle came back to his eyes. His lips lost their blue tinge. “Zow! I didn’t know you could make moonshine out of cayenne peppers! Wait ‘till I tell Mom! She’ll take a powder for the day job!”

Klink’s monocle fell out. “I am pleased to think your mother would be thankful for the news, but would you speak English? American is hard enough to understand.”

Hogan shook his head. “Are you all right, Baker?”

“Nebber Bedder!” Baker beamed. “Wow.” Steam was coiling off his body as his body temperature rose.

Klink bristled at Hogan’s expression. “It isn’t poison! Unless he was perfectly healthy. It should wear off in half an hour.” His mouth tightened. “Now, did my men mock Baker for falling into the latrine?”

Hogan’s fabricated response was halted as Baker began humming bits and pieces of The Pretty Young Girl of Ronceverte.

“Baker, you are too young to know that song.” Hogan sighed. “Colonel, we need to move the latrines to a safer spot for now. The rains—“

“Yes, yes, I understand, but I don’t know where you could move them.” Klink snapped. “Oh—“ A thought came to him. “Move them to your Barracks!”

“My Barracks?!” Hogan yelped. “But the smell—“

“It would be the safest place to put them, wouldn’t it? You may not appreciate this, but Barracks 3 is one of the drier places in the camp!” Klink locked the cabinet, sat down, and began writing busily. “That is an order, Hogan! Move the Prisoner Latrines to Barracks 3!”

“Don’t snap your cap, sir.” Baker beamed. “We can do it. I’ll help.”

“You are not helping.”

“I can sing to the men. I know lots of songs for field labor.”

“I’m sure you do, Baker…”

Klink sighed in relief as they left. Schultz was still staring.

“The latrine collapsed on him! I haven’t seen anything like that since the last war!”

“I was afraid something like this would happen.”

“Hogan looks very angry.”

“I did tell him to move the latrines to Barracks 3.”

“Oh. That would not make anyone happy.”

“Well if they don’t want to find a sinkhole where the toilet is, they’d best make changes. I warned the Engineers! But did they listen to me, oh, no!” He puffed out his chest and crossed his eyes. “Kolonel Klink, ve asshure you ve know vat ve are talking about.”

Schultz laughed. “You have a good impersonation of Hochstetter.”

“That wasn’t Hochstetter. Things are bad enough without him being here!” Klink’s voice dropped. “And he’s overdue for a visit as it is.”

The Germans shut up, but their eyes cast nervous lines about the room. Hochstetter was a more immediate devil than der Fuhrer…and it was never wise to invoke the devil.

[fluentlanguage]

Clear the List November 2019: No-English Lessons as a Beginner?!

Clear the List November 2019: No-English Lessons at My Level?!

Hello and welcome to another blog post in the Clear The List series, the monthly language learning round-up about language learning goals and progress.

That’s right - NOVEMBER goals! October was a very interesting month for my language learning as I tried out something I had never tried before. Exciting stuff!

This check-in is part of the #clearthelist round-up hosted by Shannon Kennedy and Lindsay Williams.

What Happened in October?

I was busy signing up participants for the next Fluent German Retreat, and then I travelled to the USA again! This time, my time was spent at a retreat in Colorado and it took up about half of the month. So that means I had half of the month for studying languages.

I don’t usually allow a lot of my weekend to become language study time as I want to spend it with my husband and my inner lazybones, but this month I challenged myself and took several lessons on Saturday afternoons. It was actually great fun, and definitely a time of the week that now feels open for languages.

The Fluent Show in October

I travelled to London to record my first ever interview in person! The interview was with David Peterson, the remarkable creator of languages for TV shows like Game of Thrones, The 100, and Defiance. The resulting show is out on 11 November so look out for it in your usual podcast locations.

Recording in person was a new adventure for me and I travelled up to London with brand new microphones, cables, and mic stands! It’s worth it for a special recording atmosphere, I can’t wait to record in person again soon. If you listen to just one episode from October 2019, I recommend this deep dive into finding a perfect language teacher with my co-host Lindsay Williams.

Reminder: The Fluent Show has opened a Patreon page. This allows all listeners to become involved in making the show with a small monthly pledge. If you want to become a part of the community, please visit our Patreon page.

Language Goals and Progress

During the month of October, I pushed myself to take as many italki lessons as possible in the italki language challenge.

If you’ve never heard of italki, click here to find out more and get $10 credit - it is a platform for finding online language teachers, and it’s excellent.

Now before the big reveal, lemme tell you a thing: italki sets the challenge goals in lesson hours. But for me, language lessons are rarely an hour long when I’m crouching around somewhere at an early level. With the approach I took in Chinese, an hour would have felt very exhausting for me and the tutor so I chose to take lots of lessons but many of them were half an hour long.

And on that note, I totally didn’t meet the goal of 12 study hours. But I hadn’t expected to.

Instead, I took 6.25 hours of study time split over 9 lessons. The results were surprisingly positive, I felt reinvigorated and reminded how much I love languages! Here are the specifics.

Mandarin Chinese

Wow! Considering I was tutor-less a month ago, the italki challenge absolutely pushed me to find a new style and tutor that worked for me. And in Chinese, I tried a whole new approach this time.

Instead of choosing an experienced and formally qualified tutor, I decided to go with what italki calls a “community tutor”, i.e. someone who is ready to help and teach but who hasn’t formally studied the language as much.

This was 100% the right decision for someone like me who is

an experienced language learner

already working with 1 or 2 guiding resources

pretty confident about knowing what to do.

Going for a tutor who approaches teaching less formally suits my own informal style perfectly, especially since I tend to follow up after class and do my own homework without prompting.

By the way, you can learn more about the differences and what they mean in this month’s podcast episode about language teachers.

No-English Lessons at My Level?!

I took inspiration from Scott Young’s interview on the Actual Fluency podcast (episode 164). In this interview, Scott mentioned that he used to hire tutors and tell them beforehand that he doesn’t know a lot but he wants to eliminate English during the class, so he will heavily use google translate.

I had previously taken lessons that involved a tutor working through a textbook with me, and I did not enjoy them so much. So I figured “what the heck” and decided to throw myself in at the deep end and speak terrible internet Chinese to a few people. They get paid, after all!

And the result was totally positive! I enjoyed each class, had lots of fun, experimented, and understood almost nothing my partners said to me. But it didn’t matter! We came away after 30 minutes feeling like there had been some level of conversation.

I am NOT speaking well yet, but or the first time since I started, I was having fun in Chinese.

If you want to try this out for yourself, go for it! The key is having good follow-up.

Each tutor was very diligent about typing what they said for me, so that after the lesson I took time to copy it into my notebook and I reviewed it for myself. This added about 30 minutes of follow-up time to the lessons, but it’s how I was able to remember things, and it’s also writing practice. Worth it!

App and Book Update

I’m enjoying Lingodeer and Assimil’s “Chinese False Beginners” workbook.

LingQ has fallen by the wayside because I’ve now finished the beginner’s material and there is a big gap between beginner and intermediate. No one wants to review 50 expressions after every page.

Welsh

I also took online lessons with a new Welsh teacher, who was lovely! After my US trip I noticed that I was particularly rusty, so getting right back into an hour of conversation was crucial. Looking forward to more!

In other goals, I have finally booked my next trip to Wales! I’m going to Cardiff/Pontypridd for a Sadwrn Siarad on 23 November and I cannot wait. Love Cardiff, and it’s been too long.

Wildcard Language!

My wildcard language for the italki challenge was BSL (British Sign Language), and I loved each of my 2 classes so much that it left me very eager to learn more and more. In reality, this would come at the cost of either Welsh or Chinese…what to do? Maybe I end up being a learner of all my local languages?

Language Goals for November 2019

Let’s get into detail then! November is a month without international travel, and I’m grateful for it.

Listening

When I’m a beginner in any language, listening without the visuals makes me feel more lost than supported. So this is all about my intermediate/advanced language, Welsh. I regularly listen to the radio and watch TV in Welsh, so my goal is to continue the good work with radio 2-3 times a week and TV for at least 2 hours without subtitles.

When I’m in Cardiff, I’ll also see if I can’t make it to a gig in Welsh.

In Chinese I’ll take a bit of Yabla practice but it’s not my main focus.

Reading

In Chinese, I read a lot as it’s my main source of information. My goal is to complete 2 more chapters in the Assimil workbook and to review the handwritten lesson notes I make.

In Welsh, once again I will finish Ffenestri. I WILL!!! It’s an important goal because then I can take it to Cardiff, give it away to another learner, and get a new supply.

Speaking

I want to build on the good work from October and take another 4 italki lessons in Chinese.

In Welsh, I’m obviously going to a whole day about siarad (speaking), and will also try to hang out with local friends when I’m in Cardiff. I am so excited.

Writing

This is one for Chinese study, where I want to continue my discipline in terms of following up on each lesson with hand-written notes that I can review easily.

What About You?

How do you work with online tutors? How was your October? Leave a comment below or if you’re an Instagram fan, click on the post below to share your own goals in your stories with my template.