up too late, typed too much
Nov. 21st, 2004 04:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempWednesday I met with my fellow literacy volunteers. We had to share our tutoring experiences and participate in lame group exercises. It was boring, but not excruciatingly so, even if I take into account the presence of Writer Girl, a decent enough individual who happens to annoy me. Three reasons:
1. She often introduces her insights on life and tutoring with the phrase, "Well, as a professional writer," which, though true, does not need to be stated on a weekly basis. I am going to start answering any questions posed to me with the phrase, "Well, as a professional temp."
2. When we had to take part in an exercise that involved discussing problems we have had with writing, she actually raised her hand and said that she might not be able to take part, being a Professional Writer and all.
3. Envy. I want to be a Professional Writer who annoyingly opens every sentence with the phrase, "Well, as a professional writer," dammit!
On Wednesday we had to share our "wow" tutoring moments. I talked about how in our last session, R read a sentence and I was so excited I clapped. She went on at length about how her "wow" moment had more to do with her eyes being opened to someone else's suffering and, as an extension of that, a deeper understanding of humanity. Everyone nodded sagely about How Wise That Is. I wanted to fling a pen at her head.
After a ridiculous group exercise that involved pinning behavior to potential learning disabilities, during which I totally made a stupid mistake that made me wonder whether I needed a tutor, the meeting broke up and I trotted out to my little blue car, determined to go home and study. I went home and watched TV for two hours instead, and then frantically skimmed the vocabulary section of my GRE prep book before falling into an exhausted, lovely sleep.
Woke up the next morning to the music of my mother hollering about charging my cell phone. I hollered back that I would charge it, and to please chill out because I'm not an idiot child. And then I went downstairs and realized that I couldn't charge my phone because my charger was in my purse, and I left my purse under the table at literacy volunteers headquarters the night before. AWESOME.
Hauled butt to the meeting location, a church in a bad part of town, and discovered my purse there (thank God). Realized had forgotten to eat breakfast and so I went to the corner store and bought granola bars and a Diet Pepsi (breakfast of champions). Spent the entire time I was being rung up doing my best not to stare at the packets next to the register that had names like "HORNY GOAT POWDER [Sexual Stimulant]" in huge, bold lettering.
(Did not purchase any.)
I finally hit the road and got ready to drive two and a half hours because for some unknown reason, the GREs were not given in my area for the entire month of November. Had to drive down to Wappingers Falls to take the test. Wappingers Falls is, in my opinion, one of the most awesome municipality names in New York State, right up there with Hicksville (it does exist).
Signs spotted on the Thruway:
-AIRCRAFT USED IN SPEED ENFORCEMENT, which made me imagine mega-helicopters hovering over the highways with huge supermagnets dangling from their undercarriage, ready to lift offending vehicles off of the highway the same way I did little plastic fish from my perch on the couch when I was a little kid (I loved that magnetic fishing set); and
-IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, DIAL 911 (FREE CELL PHONE CALL), which made me picture someone sitting off on the side of the road, smoke billowing under the hood of the car, perhaps pinned behind the wheel, staring at a cell phone and saying to him or herself, "But those overages just KILLED me last month."
I had a lot of time to think about these things because I don't have a CD player, and I couldn't find a good station for a good chunk of time on my drive down.
Mapquest directions in hand, I got predictably lost after getting off the highway and ended up at this run-down tiny grocery store/post office/deli where the people inside appeared to have been untouched by the last thirty years. It was bizarre. I went back outside to the parking lot and decided to call the testing location for directions, and after only getting a pre-recorded message, I responded in a mature, adult manner by hollering "GODDAMMIT!" in the middle of the parking lot. I also stomped my foot.
I was appropriately mortified when I realized there was someone standing ten feet away who had heard me, an older guy who looked like a local. I apologized and he kind of smiled, said, "You swearing at anyone in particular, or just the world in general?" and then gave me directions when he heard my predicament.
Thank you, kindly run-down tiny grocery store/post office/deli parking lot man!
The testing center was in this run-down building next to the loading dock for Home Depot, next door to a building that had huge signs advertising manicures and exotic fish sales. I really hope it was legit. Either way, there was testing, which involved having my picture taken (left house with wet hair and no makeup! Horrible!) and being brutally bored for three hours. But I finished, accepted my scores, did okay and left there feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders!
A weight I promptly replaced with more credit card debt, as I felt the need to reward myself with frivolous purchases like The Office Christmas Special and a polka-dot bag for my tutoring stuff, which I so almost shoplifted because I'd been carrying it around with the handle looped around my wrist, and I was halfway through the store's doors when I realized I hadn't paid for it.
But did not shoplift! Am still law-abiding member of society, with GRE scores to boot! And I would write more but I've suddenly made that turn from late night wired to truck hit me exhausted, and so I'm off to bed.
1. She often introduces her insights on life and tutoring with the phrase, "Well, as a professional writer," which, though true, does not need to be stated on a weekly basis. I am going to start answering any questions posed to me with the phrase, "Well, as a professional temp."
2. When we had to take part in an exercise that involved discussing problems we have had with writing, she actually raised her hand and said that she might not be able to take part, being a Professional Writer and all.
3. Envy. I want to be a Professional Writer who annoyingly opens every sentence with the phrase, "Well, as a professional writer," dammit!
On Wednesday we had to share our "wow" tutoring moments. I talked about how in our last session, R read a sentence and I was so excited I clapped. She went on at length about how her "wow" moment had more to do with her eyes being opened to someone else's suffering and, as an extension of that, a deeper understanding of humanity. Everyone nodded sagely about How Wise That Is. I wanted to fling a pen at her head.
After a ridiculous group exercise that involved pinning behavior to potential learning disabilities, during which I totally made a stupid mistake that made me wonder whether I needed a tutor, the meeting broke up and I trotted out to my little blue car, determined to go home and study. I went home and watched TV for two hours instead, and then frantically skimmed the vocabulary section of my GRE prep book before falling into an exhausted, lovely sleep.
Woke up the next morning to the music of my mother hollering about charging my cell phone. I hollered back that I would charge it, and to please chill out because I'm not an idiot child. And then I went downstairs and realized that I couldn't charge my phone because my charger was in my purse, and I left my purse under the table at literacy volunteers headquarters the night before. AWESOME.
Hauled butt to the meeting location, a church in a bad part of town, and discovered my purse there (thank God). Realized had forgotten to eat breakfast and so I went to the corner store and bought granola bars and a Diet Pepsi (breakfast of champions). Spent the entire time I was being rung up doing my best not to stare at the packets next to the register that had names like "HORNY GOAT POWDER [Sexual Stimulant]" in huge, bold lettering.
(Did not purchase any.)
I finally hit the road and got ready to drive two and a half hours because for some unknown reason, the GREs were not given in my area for the entire month of November. Had to drive down to Wappingers Falls to take the test. Wappingers Falls is, in my opinion, one of the most awesome municipality names in New York State, right up there with Hicksville (it does exist).
Signs spotted on the Thruway:
-AIRCRAFT USED IN SPEED ENFORCEMENT, which made me imagine mega-helicopters hovering over the highways with huge supermagnets dangling from their undercarriage, ready to lift offending vehicles off of the highway the same way I did little plastic fish from my perch on the couch when I was a little kid (I loved that magnetic fishing set); and
-IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, DIAL 911 (FREE CELL PHONE CALL), which made me picture someone sitting off on the side of the road, smoke billowing under the hood of the car, perhaps pinned behind the wheel, staring at a cell phone and saying to him or herself, "But those overages just KILLED me last month."
I had a lot of time to think about these things because I don't have a CD player, and I couldn't find a good station for a good chunk of time on my drive down.
Mapquest directions in hand, I got predictably lost after getting off the highway and ended up at this run-down tiny grocery store/post office/deli where the people inside appeared to have been untouched by the last thirty years. It was bizarre. I went back outside to the parking lot and decided to call the testing location for directions, and after only getting a pre-recorded message, I responded in a mature, adult manner by hollering "GODDAMMIT!" in the middle of the parking lot. I also stomped my foot.
I was appropriately mortified when I realized there was someone standing ten feet away who had heard me, an older guy who looked like a local. I apologized and he kind of smiled, said, "You swearing at anyone in particular, or just the world in general?" and then gave me directions when he heard my predicament.
Thank you, kindly run-down tiny grocery store/post office/deli parking lot man!
The testing center was in this run-down building next to the loading dock for Home Depot, next door to a building that had huge signs advertising manicures and exotic fish sales. I really hope it was legit. Either way, there was testing, which involved having my picture taken (left house with wet hair and no makeup! Horrible!) and being brutally bored for three hours. But I finished, accepted my scores, did okay and left there feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders!
A weight I promptly replaced with more credit card debt, as I felt the need to reward myself with frivolous purchases like The Office Christmas Special and a polka-dot bag for my tutoring stuff, which I so almost shoplifted because I'd been carrying it around with the handle looped around my wrist, and I was halfway through the store's doors when I realized I hadn't paid for it.
But did not shoplift! Am still law-abiding member of society, with GRE scores to boot! And I would write more but I've suddenly made that turn from late night wired to truck hit me exhausted, and so I'm off to bed.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-21 07:28 am (UTC)I think I'm going to be using the phrase "speaking as a professional writer" a lot in the coming days. It's magical! It dresses up any sentence!
"Speaking as a professional writer, I thought I'd make lasagna for dinner."
"Speaking as a professional writer, I can't find my watch. Or remember my blood type, come to that. How much did I, speaking as a professional writer, have to drink?"
"Speaking as a professional writer, oh my god fuck me NOW."
See? Works in any context! Delightful to behold! Really, really irritating!
Plus, her "wow" moment is so appallingly, stunningly schlocky and meaningless that I find myself wondering if "professional writer" means, in this context, "public telephone sanitizer who dreams of being just like her hero, Barbara Cartland, someday." Because - gag.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-22 12:59 pm (UTC)Gag indeed! I felt the same way, and felt kind of mean for it at the time (I have to check all of my reactions to her a few times to make sure that I'm not just reacting on pure, unbridled, irrational envy), but I think that was one of those moments that passes the test.
And the good thing about the whole dealio is that I probably won't have to spend much time with her after this at all, except for one more big tutors' meeting, which is good, because I was totally on the verge of slapping her or, at the very least, giving her a dirty look (which is about as violent as I get).