Okay.
I was in a space. An undefined space and I could feel the presence of people but I couldn't see them. But that's not the point! I just knew that I was getting directives from a person(s). Their directive to me? To take Peter Dinklage and weigh him. I had been told- No- I "felt" that I had been told to pick up Peter Dinklage (Mr. Dinklage as himself and not Tyrion, he's definitely just ol' Peter) and weigh him.
So they wanted me to pick up Mr. Dinklage, put him in a box sitting on top of a scale and weigh him. It dawns on me now (in my awakened state) that when we take Vinnie, our parrot, to the vet that's exactly how they weigh him. They put him in this little, plastic box and weigh him on a scale.
Anyway, I won't do it. I keep saying to these non-present bosses that I won't put him in a box and weigh him because I find the whole thing incredibly offensive. I'm all "He's standing right here, he can hear you!" and "Why can't he just step onto the scale himself?"
During this whole conversation Mr. Dinklage is just standing there quietly. In the end, I never weigh him. I consistently repeat that he's a little person and not an animal and I'm totally offended and appalled by their request.
END OF DREAM
What does it mean?
I really want to be a human rights activist? No.
I really need to lose weight? Yes.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Hello, My Name is Bullseye
I hate school. I'm so tired of making flash cards, which seems to be the only way I retain information. My wrists are cramped. I've killed a forest with the amount of index cards I've used. And I cut them in half so I get two flash cards for every one index card I use. And I have to write tiny all the time. And YouTube and their science videos get me through the worst moments because I have THE WORST Biology teacher ever.
He's mean and incomprehensible. He obviously hates American students and when you ask him to clarify something or need more info so you can understand what he's talking about he belittles you, makes fun of you, tells you that you must have eaten too many carbohydrates and now you are sleeping in his class because "Did I not just say that, no?"
He hit me with chalk the other day because he was trying to hit a guy who fell asleep behind me. It was mortifying:
1. Because it ricocheted off of the ceiling so it hit me harder than if he had just missed. And a pellet of chalk off the ceiling, off the knuckle, to the face does not make you react gracefully.
2. It was traumatizing because it brought all this back: in elementary school we use to have 'Sports Night' (equally traumatizing for fat kids) where the different classes of each grade would compete in drills and random sport-centric activities in front of friends and families for points. These points were tallied and the classes would get ribbons that everyone who won first place would totally display on their JanSports for the rest of the year. (This is well before the time of "everybody gets a trophy!")
Anyway, the point is Mr. Gaynord was in charge of the 'training' even though he wasn't the gym teacher and one time he was teaching us a dribbling competition and he said "Whatever you do, don't pass the basketball to the next person like this." And then he did it. It hit me in the face, teeth bleeding, glasses flying, DEATH OF MINUSCULE CONFIDENCE OCCURRED. And then he said "That's why."
Twenty-one years later and clearly the damage to my deep, psychological structure is still there.
(Who got a 90 on their first Psychology test, this girl!)
I hate English simply because I've done really well on my first 2 papers (3rd one still being graded) but I feel like I've done too well that when I bomb my term paper (I will bomb my term paper because I'm overwhelmed) I will be sorely disappointed in my low grade.
And now a random thought:
Today I lit a giant stick of incense with the stove top burner. About twenty minutes later I went to get a drink and smelled gas and realized I had left the burner on. I announced to Mark that I fear we are going to be that old couple that dies horribly in some strange household accident, except we won't make it to 'old' and it will be all my fault.
In addition, whenever I stare at the trail and tiny piles of incense ash I am always reminded of Pompeii and those bodies they found preserved in ash. Creepy.
He's mean and incomprehensible. He obviously hates American students and when you ask him to clarify something or need more info so you can understand what he's talking about he belittles you, makes fun of you, tells you that you must have eaten too many carbohydrates and now you are sleeping in his class because "Did I not just say that, no?"
He hit me with chalk the other day because he was trying to hit a guy who fell asleep behind me. It was mortifying:
1. Because it ricocheted off of the ceiling so it hit me harder than if he had just missed. And a pellet of chalk off the ceiling, off the knuckle, to the face does not make you react gracefully.
2. It was traumatizing because it brought all this back: in elementary school we use to have 'Sports Night' (equally traumatizing for fat kids) where the different classes of each grade would compete in drills and random sport-centric activities in front of friends and families for points. These points were tallied and the classes would get ribbons that everyone who won first place would totally display on their JanSports for the rest of the year. (This is well before the time of "everybody gets a trophy!")
Anyway, the point is Mr. Gaynord was in charge of the 'training' even though he wasn't the gym teacher and one time he was teaching us a dribbling competition and he said "Whatever you do, don't pass the basketball to the next person like this." And then he did it. It hit me in the face, teeth bleeding, glasses flying, DEATH OF MINUSCULE CONFIDENCE OCCURRED. And then he said "That's why."
Twenty-one years later and clearly the damage to my deep, psychological structure is still there.
(Who got a 90 on their first Psychology test, this girl!)
I hate English simply because I've done really well on my first 2 papers (3rd one still being graded) but I feel like I've done too well that when I bomb my term paper (I will bomb my term paper because I'm overwhelmed) I will be sorely disappointed in my low grade.
And now a random thought:
Today I lit a giant stick of incense with the stove top burner. About twenty minutes later I went to get a drink and smelled gas and realized I had left the burner on. I announced to Mark that I fear we are going to be that old couple that dies horribly in some strange household accident, except we won't make it to 'old' and it will be all my fault.
In addition, whenever I stare at the trail and tiny piles of incense ash I am always reminded of Pompeii and those bodies they found preserved in ash. Creepy.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
A Simpleton's Book Review
I just read this:
I was not into it at all. It's a NYT bestseller and I'm sure it gets all this attention because it dares to talk about an African country where people get slaughtered because human rights don't exist.
But it was done in some sort of English lollipop way. Very much like the book I Don't Know How She Does It. I'm starting to notice that English authors who write about "modern, hip" English women all have very much the same voice and style. And I don't like it at all. It's all about weird English sass, they always have designer clothes, large estates in the suburbs outside of London. Clearly, I don't relate. But not only that, I just don't think it's good writing. It's all very shallow feeling.
Also, the main characters are a busy, wealthy, white mom and a teenage, illegal immigrant, Nigerian girl who is in mortal danger. It's written by a white English male. Who is probably just like one of his main characters except without the vagina and it just doesn't compute. I'm not saying that you can't write characters who are not like you- but I think that's a skill that not everyone has.
There. I'm done.
I was not into it at all. It's a NYT bestseller and I'm sure it gets all this attention because it dares to talk about an African country where people get slaughtered because human rights don't exist.
But it was done in some sort of English lollipop way. Very much like the book I Don't Know How She Does It. I'm starting to notice that English authors who write about "modern, hip" English women all have very much the same voice and style. And I don't like it at all. It's all about weird English sass, they always have designer clothes, large estates in the suburbs outside of London. Clearly, I don't relate. But not only that, I just don't think it's good writing. It's all very shallow feeling.
Also, the main characters are a busy, wealthy, white mom and a teenage, illegal immigrant, Nigerian girl who is in mortal danger. It's written by a white English male. Who is probably just like one of his main characters except without the vagina and it just doesn't compute. I'm not saying that you can't write characters who are not like you- but I think that's a skill that not everyone has.
There. I'm done.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Bits and Pieces
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
I'm am almost a student again. I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach. Luckily I haven't been losing sleep about it but that's probably because I'm spending 9 hours a day watching two crazy girls. I'm not physically doing much, I'll admit that, but when the heat and humidity are super crazy and you're sitting out in it all day you feel really drained by the end of the day.
I have Monday off, thank the heavens, so I will do the dreaded commute* to my school's bookstore and check out what I need. I hope that it's all there and then I will scour the Internet to get the best rental options. I ain't buying shit! I hope.
*For the past 4 years I've managed to maintain employment in my neighborhood. That means that riding the subway is very rare, spending a fortune on Metrocards hasn't really happened, and I don't have to give myself lots of extra time. But now I will have to travel a little over an hour on the crowded, rush-hour subway on a daily basis. I may go insane.
When thinking of August and news and thoughts I should share I figured bullet-point form would be best:
-Panic over electric bills (a recent common theme) because it's been so hot the AC is pretty much always on.
-Aly Raisman from the US Women's Gymnastics team is stunning and I have a people crush on her because people freaked out when she made it to the All-Around Finals instead of some other chick. Sure, she placed 4th. But she still goes home with 2 gold medals (Team & Floor Exercise). Go Aly!
-I'm relieved that the wacky Japanese guy from this season's Project Runway bowed out of the competition. He drove me craycray.
-Luckily I've been able to avoid the dad/photographer I sort of know who asked me to pose nude for him. In my inability to say no in awkward situations I gave him a 'maybe, I'll think about it' and then ran away. The daycare his daughter goes to is up the street from me and it's closed down for August so he hasn't been in my side of the neighborhood. So hopefully that will help me to avoid him.
-I was asked to babysit three girls overnight (ages 7,4,2) and was totally freaked out and then at the last minute the overnight was cancelled. Instead I watched them through the afternoon and put them to bed. All was great, I haven't seen them as a their babysitter in some time so it was nice and fun. But when I put them to bed they got all weepy for mom and dad and it was sort of heartbreaking. At the same time I was glad it wasn't an overnight because when kids cry at bedtime I always use the line "It will be okay, when you wake up mommy and daddy will be here!" And it had been an overnight clearly that wouldn't have been true. Phew!
-Two friends moved closer to me in the past month and I'm really excited. Even though we're all busy and I'm always worried I'll be that pesky hanger-on person I'm stoked that if we decide we DO want to hang out, it's just that much easier. We've already enjoyed dinners and a drink night and no one had to call a cab or take a sketchy train ride home. So hooray!
I'm am almost a student again. I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach. Luckily I haven't been losing sleep about it but that's probably because I'm spending 9 hours a day watching two crazy girls. I'm not physically doing much, I'll admit that, but when the heat and humidity are super crazy and you're sitting out in it all day you feel really drained by the end of the day.
I have Monday off, thank the heavens, so I will do the dreaded commute* to my school's bookstore and check out what I need. I hope that it's all there and then I will scour the Internet to get the best rental options. I ain't buying shit! I hope.
*For the past 4 years I've managed to maintain employment in my neighborhood. That means that riding the subway is very rare, spending a fortune on Metrocards hasn't really happened, and I don't have to give myself lots of extra time. But now I will have to travel a little over an hour on the crowded, rush-hour subway on a daily basis. I may go insane.
When thinking of August and news and thoughts I should share I figured bullet-point form would be best:
-Panic over electric bills (a recent common theme) because it's been so hot the AC is pretty much always on.
-Aly Raisman from the US Women's Gymnastics team is stunning and I have a people crush on her because people freaked out when she made it to the All-Around Finals instead of some other chick. Sure, she placed 4th. But she still goes home with 2 gold medals (Team & Floor Exercise). Go Aly!
-I'm relieved that the wacky Japanese guy from this season's Project Runway bowed out of the competition. He drove me craycray.
-Luckily I've been able to avoid the dad/photographer I sort of know who asked me to pose nude for him. In my inability to say no in awkward situations I gave him a 'maybe, I'll think about it' and then ran away. The daycare his daughter goes to is up the street from me and it's closed down for August so he hasn't been in my side of the neighborhood. So hopefully that will help me to avoid him.
-I was asked to babysit three girls overnight (ages 7,4,2) and was totally freaked out and then at the last minute the overnight was cancelled. Instead I watched them through the afternoon and put them to bed. All was great, I haven't seen them as a their babysitter in some time so it was nice and fun. But when I put them to bed they got all weepy for mom and dad and it was sort of heartbreaking. At the same time I was glad it wasn't an overnight because when kids cry at bedtime I always use the line "It will be okay, when you wake up mommy and daddy will be here!" And it had been an overnight clearly that wouldn't have been true. Phew!
-Two friends moved closer to me in the past month and I'm really excited. Even though we're all busy and I'm always worried I'll be that pesky hanger-on person I'm stoked that if we decide we DO want to hang out, it's just that much easier. We've already enjoyed dinners and a drink night and no one had to call a cab or take a sketchy train ride home. So hooray!
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Andrew Jackson Haunts Me
So the day had come where I had to finally make good on the promise to take the girls to the pool. We were all packed up and were walking to the 1 train to take up to Van Cortlandt pool and we turned the corner where a Bank of America stands. We had our eyes on the ground because the sun was so bright when, at the exact same time, Big Girl and I gasp. Splayed there, on the ground, is not only a 20 dollar bill but a stack of bills. I bend down crazy fast and snatch them up. The girls are squealing with joy. To a 7 yr. old and a 4.5 yr old finding a quarter is a big deal, imagine a 20 dollar bill.
I stand there in a total state of dumb shock. Clearly, for this stack to still be on the ground it must have just been dropped. Like seconds earlier. So I stand there waiting for someone to dart back around the corner all panicked and freaking out blubbering about dropped money. But no one comes. I tell the girls to lower their voices and I count the money.
It's 160 dollars.
Holy Shit.
In a way my heart drops and accelerates all at the same time. I'm stoked that we just found all this money but I know there is just no way I can keep it. I just can't keep this amount of money.
For so many reasons:
I envisioned some old lady possibly coming back to ask around and no one having it.
I envisioned having to explain to the mom that I found all this money and just kept it even though Big Girl sorta found it first. (I would've thrown them a twenty for their piggy banks but it would be weird).
It just felt...strange.
So I say "We can't keep this. It's just too much." and I go into Bank of America and even though my brain is screaming I go up to the window and say "We just found this. Can I give it to you just in case someone comes back to ask about it?" And they look at me like I'm insane. BECAUSE I AM. (Later my mom tells me I should've asked if there was any policy where I could come back and claim it but when you have two little hyped-up kids you just want to split)
And I run out of there because I just don't want to be dealing with it anymore. Big Girl can't stop fantasizing what we could do with that money and she's making me feel so full of terrible regret. All I can see is my Con Ed bill paid for. By the time we get to the end of the block I'm so bummed.
I'll be honest- if the girls weren't there I probably would've kept it. I would feel a little weird but I'm pretty sure I'd skip to my favorite drug store right down the street and spend some immediately to make it mine, all mine. But all I could think about was being a 'good role model' (it sounds gag worthy but I swear it's true). I wanted them to think about someone else's hardship.
I thought about their dad who is a total douche and that he's teaching them to be completely insensitive to other's struggles. I've been with the family when he's been rude to, talked back to, made fun of homeless people in front of them and it drives me crazy. I've heard Big Girl repeat stuff about poor people. She once was talking about a friend who wears the same shoes everyday (7yr old gasp) and I was so mad that I informed her that some people in the world don't even have shoes. "What do they wear then?" NOTHING I replied. Her mind was momentarily blown.
Anyway, since she has a dad who is teaching her some pretty sketchy morals I just couldn't keep that money in front of her. I have to (if only for a moment) be a better person.
But I was bummed all day.
Later that afternoon when I was depositing them off at home and dad was splayed on the couch listening to Metallica so loud he couldn't even hear his daughter (god forbid he lower it) she excitedly told him about the money we found and turned in.
He looks at me and goes "Well, you're a better person than me." I may have said it with a smirk and had the tone of light humor to protect myself but I turned to him and said:
"Oh, I know."
Later, I was talking to my mom, explaining how I only turned it in because the girls were there. She told me to stop feeling so bad, it's not like that money would've have drastically changed my life (true) but I'm no angel. Instead of sucking it up and moving on I loudly declared "These kids are ruining my life!"
I stand there in a total state of dumb shock. Clearly, for this stack to still be on the ground it must have just been dropped. Like seconds earlier. So I stand there waiting for someone to dart back around the corner all panicked and freaking out blubbering about dropped money. But no one comes. I tell the girls to lower their voices and I count the money.
It's 160 dollars.
Holy Shit.
In a way my heart drops and accelerates all at the same time. I'm stoked that we just found all this money but I know there is just no way I can keep it. I just can't keep this amount of money.
For so many reasons:
I envisioned some old lady possibly coming back to ask around and no one having it.
I envisioned having to explain to the mom that I found all this money and just kept it even though Big Girl sorta found it first. (I would've thrown them a twenty for their piggy banks but it would be weird).
It just felt...strange.
So I say "We can't keep this. It's just too much." and I go into Bank of America and even though my brain is screaming I go up to the window and say "We just found this. Can I give it to you just in case someone comes back to ask about it?" And they look at me like I'm insane. BECAUSE I AM. (Later my mom tells me I should've asked if there was any policy where I could come back and claim it but when you have two little hyped-up kids you just want to split)
And I run out of there because I just don't want to be dealing with it anymore. Big Girl can't stop fantasizing what we could do with that money and she's making me feel so full of terrible regret. All I can see is my Con Ed bill paid for. By the time we get to the end of the block I'm so bummed.
I'll be honest- if the girls weren't there I probably would've kept it. I would feel a little weird but I'm pretty sure I'd skip to my favorite drug store right down the street and spend some immediately to make it mine, all mine. But all I could think about was being a 'good role model' (it sounds gag worthy but I swear it's true). I wanted them to think about someone else's hardship.
I thought about their dad who is a total douche and that he's teaching them to be completely insensitive to other's struggles. I've been with the family when he's been rude to, talked back to, made fun of homeless people in front of them and it drives me crazy. I've heard Big Girl repeat stuff about poor people. She once was talking about a friend who wears the same shoes everyday (7yr old gasp) and I was so mad that I informed her that some people in the world don't even have shoes. "What do they wear then?" NOTHING I replied. Her mind was momentarily blown.
Anyway, since she has a dad who is teaching her some pretty sketchy morals I just couldn't keep that money in front of her. I have to (if only for a moment) be a better person.
But I was bummed all day.
Later that afternoon when I was depositing them off at home and dad was splayed on the couch listening to Metallica so loud he couldn't even hear his daughter (god forbid he lower it) she excitedly told him about the money we found and turned in.
He looks at me and goes "Well, you're a better person than me." I may have said it with a smirk and had the tone of light humor to protect myself but I turned to him and said:
"Oh, I know."
Later, I was talking to my mom, explaining how I only turned it in because the girls were there. She told me to stop feeling so bad, it's not like that money would've have drastically changed my life (true) but I'm no angel. Instead of sucking it up and moving on I loudly declared "These kids are ruining my life!"
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Need the Blue Ice
So HOT. Please make it go away. We used the air conditioner for 2, maybe 2 and a half days in June when the first heat wave (panic across the city) hit and I opened our Con Edison bill and I freaked out. It was $93. Now...sure there are people who pay hundreds and hundreds each month. I work for one dude who, on average, pays like $500 a month on electric and gas. But they don't turn a single thing off. EVER.
Mark and I sit in the dark for as long as possible. Only when the birds start to assume that day is done and they start to nestle down even though they so want to remain at their food bowls do we go "Time to turn on a lamp!" and they lift their wings in jubilation. "Yay! More sunflower seed for me!"
And yes, the rates are rising so even if we don't run things our bill will still creep up but that doesn't mean I'm not going to panic. We would probably sweat it out for longer and only use the air at bed time if we didn't have these pets who are completely miserable. Which is ironic because technically they are tropical birds but since they've never lived a day in the tropics we do our best to keep them comfortable.
So we've established that summer is here. Which means I'm miserable. Not only do I hate humidity and heat, my body just can't handle it. I've passed out and vomited and have had intravenous liquids all thanks to my handful of heat stroke episodes during my youth. Which is also funny for the same way the thing about my birds is funny: Genetically, I'm of Puerto Rican descent, though we know I'm pretty gringa, or as I more gently put it Sorta Rican. But basically, if the world was not modern and homogenized I'd be living on a Caribbean island drinking fruit juices and sweating like a pig and should be able to deal with it just fine. But alas, I've never even been to the Caribbean. So dear god, get me to an air conditioner.
But, of course, in my quest for perfecting being in a bad mood I have other reasons to hate summer. One of them being that my loving, gentle, intelligent husband happily stumbled into a teaching job 3 years ago and is enjoying yet another summer off while I traipse around Manhattan and the Bronx with two spoiled kids who are apparently just too precious to be put in day camp. So every morning I get up and have to mutter to myself in the shower "It's not his fault, don't be mad at him, it's not his fault, don't be mad at him, it's not his fault, don't be mad at him." And then get out of the shower and try and smile at him as he says good morning. But I can barely see his smile because he literally walks around with a cloud of joy and ecstasy around his face.
I mean, points for him. He's still getting up and making my coffee for me. Probably because he knows I'm one step away from having a nervous breakdown. But still...ask me in August if that whole routine is still playing out.
And yes, considering I will be losing a lot of work hours when I return to being a full-time student in the Fall (AHHHH!) I should be jumping for joy to have a full babysitting gig this summer that pays me. You know. With actual money. But I get so overwhelmed by taking care of these EXTREMELY needy kids for a whole, very long, very hot (I mentioned it's hot, right?) very tiring day. Also, I think that I get used to having so much free time during the school year to do all my errands during the day when other people are at work that I miss it. I miss going to the supermarket and it's only grandmas and delivery men. I miss going to the post office and being the second person in line instead of the 54th. I miss having energy at 1pm and doing my workout instead of coming home and being too tired to exercise. I miss watching TMZ without Mark being home and being mad that I'm watching TMZ.
And finally, I'm terrified that I'm going to be extremely burned out by the end of the summer that I will bomb in my classes because I will be physically exhausted. I'm really, really scared about that. If I don't do well, if I don't get into the nursing phase of the classes then this whole drama has been for nothing and my brain can't even wrap around that. It's too terrible.
Sigh. Well, Mark is taking a nap (I'm trying not to be annoyed because it is a Sunday, but I know this is like his 5th nap this week). I just finished the household bills. And I'm counting down the days until I can sit back, relax, and watch the new Breaking Bad season. Crystal meth...hmm...maybe that will help me get through my classes....
Mark and I sit in the dark for as long as possible. Only when the birds start to assume that day is done and they start to nestle down even though they so want to remain at their food bowls do we go "Time to turn on a lamp!" and they lift their wings in jubilation. "Yay! More sunflower seed for me!"
And yes, the rates are rising so even if we don't run things our bill will still creep up but that doesn't mean I'm not going to panic. We would probably sweat it out for longer and only use the air at bed time if we didn't have these pets who are completely miserable. Which is ironic because technically they are tropical birds but since they've never lived a day in the tropics we do our best to keep them comfortable.
So we've established that summer is here. Which means I'm miserable. Not only do I hate humidity and heat, my body just can't handle it. I've passed out and vomited and have had intravenous liquids all thanks to my handful of heat stroke episodes during my youth. Which is also funny for the same way the thing about my birds is funny: Genetically, I'm of Puerto Rican descent, though we know I'm pretty gringa, or as I more gently put it Sorta Rican. But basically, if the world was not modern and homogenized I'd be living on a Caribbean island drinking fruit juices and sweating like a pig and should be able to deal with it just fine. But alas, I've never even been to the Caribbean. So dear god, get me to an air conditioner.
But, of course, in my quest for perfecting being in a bad mood I have other reasons to hate summer. One of them being that my loving, gentle, intelligent husband happily stumbled into a teaching job 3 years ago and is enjoying yet another summer off while I traipse around Manhattan and the Bronx with two spoiled kids who are apparently just too precious to be put in day camp. So every morning I get up and have to mutter to myself in the shower "It's not his fault, don't be mad at him, it's not his fault, don't be mad at him, it's not his fault, don't be mad at him." And then get out of the shower and try and smile at him as he says good morning. But I can barely see his smile because he literally walks around with a cloud of joy and ecstasy around his face.
I mean, points for him. He's still getting up and making my coffee for me. Probably because he knows I'm one step away from having a nervous breakdown. But still...ask me in August if that whole routine is still playing out.
And yes, considering I will be losing a lot of work hours when I return to being a full-time student in the Fall (AHHHH!) I should be jumping for joy to have a full babysitting gig this summer that pays me. You know. With actual money. But I get so overwhelmed by taking care of these EXTREMELY needy kids for a whole, very long, very hot (I mentioned it's hot, right?) very tiring day. Also, I think that I get used to having so much free time during the school year to do all my errands during the day when other people are at work that I miss it. I miss going to the supermarket and it's only grandmas and delivery men. I miss going to the post office and being the second person in line instead of the 54th. I miss having energy at 1pm and doing my workout instead of coming home and being too tired to exercise. I miss watching TMZ without Mark being home and being mad that I'm watching TMZ.
And finally, I'm terrified that I'm going to be extremely burned out by the end of the summer that I will bomb in my classes because I will be physically exhausted. I'm really, really scared about that. If I don't do well, if I don't get into the nursing phase of the classes then this whole drama has been for nothing and my brain can't even wrap around that. It's too terrible.
Sigh. Well, Mark is taking a nap (I'm trying not to be annoyed because it is a Sunday, but I know this is like his 5th nap this week). I just finished the household bills. And I'm counting down the days until I can sit back, relax, and watch the new Breaking Bad season. Crystal meth...hmm...maybe that will help me get through my classes....
Monday, June 4, 2012
After They Were Mean to Me
So I cried and studied and cried and studied and watched an assload of videos on Khan Academy's website. I went to take my math assessment test and told myself 'It's untimed. Just deep breathes and figure out what to do.' So I go in there and breeze through a few. It's the kind of test that gets more difficult as you answer correctly. I'm definitely feeling like the studying was helpful and then suddenly BAM. I hit a type of question that I had absolutely no idea how to solve. I try and try and it's multiple choice but none of the solutions I come up with are remotely like the options. I guess a few and get tossed back to an easy question, which to me meant the computer was making sure it had progressed me forward appropriately. But then I was back to the hard questions. I was trying my best. Not feeling pressured during this untimed test.
Then the proctor goes "Just so you know the lab closes at 5pm. So you need to be finished by then or your test won't be complete. You have time but you know..." and she just fades out. It's 4:30. Now I'm freaking out. The program is designed where I can't see how many questions I have left. If I knew the total then I would figure out how much time I have to mess with each question. But suddenly this untimed test is very much timed and there's no f'ing way I'm not going to finish and then maybe have to come back and relive the whole nightmare. So basically I just start clicking answers and then suddenly the test was done. I was totally annoyed because I really only had like eight questions left and could have totally taken more time but in the end I would have still been guessing.
At the test they give you a card and it tells you when to go to the advising office to register. My date was June 4. But then across the bottom it says 'Transfer students will receive separate card'. Of course. Still waiting for this mysterious card. So I figure I will wait for the card and if I don't get it then I will at least show up on June 4th. So suddenly it's May 23rd. I get my mail in the p.m. So here I am 5:30 on May 23rd and I get my card in the mail and my appointment is for May 23rd. 9:30am. MOTHER F.
I was steaming. So I called the next day and asked about it and the guy said "oh, you can come in anytime" and I got all snarky and said "The last time I was told that, I came in and everyone was rude to me." He bumbled and stuttered and basically I thought I'll just go in on my next day available.
So I did and was seen. It was pretty easy breezy which was so needed. It turns out that I missed being placed in a second level math test by only three points!! Which I was actually amazingly thrilled about. Let's process this: the last math class I took was a non-regents, very basic, math class my senior year of high school. So in 13 years I may have not progressed but I have ended up exactly where I should be and not even more behind. And only by three points. I was totally happy.
So now I'm registered for 14 credits, will be in class for an epic amount of hours taking all the sort of classes any standard freshman has to take and I will lose a lot of work hours but I'm sort of thrilled. Just a bit.
I was glad that it all worked out because I had had the worst week ever before that. My dad was ill, I had a huge, annoying, frustrating dilemma with the family I work for that resulted in my having to give up a job, and then my sweet, yummy, beautiful old dog had to be put to sleep and it was THE WORST DAY EVER. It was pretty horrible and I'm 70% certain that I will never have a dog again just so I don't have to experience that pain again. And I'm not even my mom who saw him as the third baby she never had. Horrible. I'll just stop there.
So now I just have to figure out how to be a student again, rent books, syllabus collecting, actually have homework that doesn't require me to create a story out of my ass. Meanwhile still being a wife who doesn't want to live in squalid conditions and commute to school for an hour each way everyday. I hope I survive.
Then the proctor goes "Just so you know the lab closes at 5pm. So you need to be finished by then or your test won't be complete. You have time but you know..." and she just fades out. It's 4:30. Now I'm freaking out. The program is designed where I can't see how many questions I have left. If I knew the total then I would figure out how much time I have to mess with each question. But suddenly this untimed test is very much timed and there's no f'ing way I'm not going to finish and then maybe have to come back and relive the whole nightmare. So basically I just start clicking answers and then suddenly the test was done. I was totally annoyed because I really only had like eight questions left and could have totally taken more time but in the end I would have still been guessing.
At the test they give you a card and it tells you when to go to the advising office to register. My date was June 4. But then across the bottom it says 'Transfer students will receive separate card'. Of course. Still waiting for this mysterious card. So I figure I will wait for the card and if I don't get it then I will at least show up on June 4th. So suddenly it's May 23rd. I get my mail in the p.m. So here I am 5:30 on May 23rd and I get my card in the mail and my appointment is for May 23rd. 9:30am. MOTHER F.
I was steaming. So I called the next day and asked about it and the guy said "oh, you can come in anytime" and I got all snarky and said "The last time I was told that, I came in and everyone was rude to me." He bumbled and stuttered and basically I thought I'll just go in on my next day available.
So I did and was seen. It was pretty easy breezy which was so needed. It turns out that I missed being placed in a second level math test by only three points!! Which I was actually amazingly thrilled about. Let's process this: the last math class I took was a non-regents, very basic, math class my senior year of high school. So in 13 years I may have not progressed but I have ended up exactly where I should be and not even more behind. And only by three points. I was totally happy.
So now I'm registered for 14 credits, will be in class for an epic amount of hours taking all the sort of classes any standard freshman has to take and I will lose a lot of work hours but I'm sort of thrilled. Just a bit.
I was glad that it all worked out because I had had the worst week ever before that. My dad was ill, I had a huge, annoying, frustrating dilemma with the family I work for that resulted in my having to give up a job, and then my sweet, yummy, beautiful old dog had to be put to sleep and it was THE WORST DAY EVER. It was pretty horrible and I'm 70% certain that I will never have a dog again just so I don't have to experience that pain again. And I'm not even my mom who saw him as the third baby she never had. Horrible. I'll just stop there.
So now I just have to figure out how to be a student again, rent books, syllabus collecting, actually have homework that doesn't require me to create a story out of my ass. Meanwhile still being a wife who doesn't want to live in squalid conditions and commute to school for an hour each way everyday. I hope I survive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)