Exactness

Every day, when I speak, I pause — (if you have ever crossed paths with me, pause is not something you would quickly associate with how I talk) — but I do pause to think. Sometimes, when the conversation matters more, I even close my eyes for several seconds, right in front of you, to sort through the thoughts and choose my words wisely. Each time I am more careful with the words I use, as I have noticed how carelessly language gets used.

Some words I love are exact in their own messy way.

“Tito” is a common one used by my mother — coined by her, I would dare to say. It can be almost anything useful, though you can surely live without it: from a lemon-shaped container meant to keep used lemons in the fridge, to an extra-long brush for the one part of the car that nothing else can reach.

“Pollo” — not the chicken you are thinking of. In Spain for the last number of years this refers to a “person.” It can carry tenderness at home with loved ones, but I also appreciate the slightly disrespectful tone, as in that “fella.”

“Chisme” — a wonderful catch-all word used by my beloved balcony neighbour, who I shall not mention here. For whom all things can be a “chisme,” as long as the intended word stays at the tip of your tongue, and you can help with hand gestures and pointing.

I often come to disagreements over precision when I speak Spanish with someone who is not an English speaker. I use many words that travel from English into Spanish and are, in fact, correct — often more accurate — but less common in Spain than in England. (A direct consequence of almost fifteen years living in the UK, and now having to be Spanish again.)

So a non-English speaker may not recognise that meaning, only the uses they already know — which are also valid — and that gets them to question me, and often correct me.

I have only learned to say, politely, that I believe that’s correct — but hey, ignorance can be bold. Dictionary in hand, it comes out only to realise I am not wrong after all: they have just discovered another use of their own word, or at least an additional acceptation for it.

I do take a second to recognise that, for once, I am not the black sheep. I actually know things, and the lack of recognition from others is their lack, not mine.

So let them correct you. They have suffered a life of corrections themselves, and it is not my place to make anyone less right. But if they must insist, they can use a dictionary to their heart’s content — it won’t be me trying to be righteous.

With this note, let’s revisit patience, and a few questions you can ask yourself about how patient you are with others — and, most importantly, with yourself.

This post is a wink to a close friend (in case she wanders over here one day, I am sure she will recognise it).

Are you a patient person?

• How do I act when I have to wait?
  Do I stay calm, become restless, complain, or try to rush things?
• How do I react when I feel annoyed?
  Do I pause and choose what to say, or react straight away?
• Can I keep going when things are slow or hard?
  Do I stay with it, change my approach, or give up quickly?

Notes

• Building: ListenEasy
• Reading: Clear Thinking by Shane Parrish
• Looking at: acceptation, patience