formerly a fearless temp

Do you know what I hate? I hate when you discover you've been operating under a false assumption. For example, I assumed that the blue folder on the top shelf of my bookshelf was the blue folder I needed to complete my independent study writeup tonight (the blue folder I need has stuff in there like format, and structure, and notes about where I was going). Instead it turns out to be the blue folder for my job hunt, which is also necessary at some point, but NOT RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW I need the stupid independent study folder, so I can BS another eight pages before I go to bed and ENJOY MY MONDAY. Instead I have this stupid OTHER blue folder.

Why are they both blue folders? Because I am stupid.

GRR! ARGH! EXPLETIVE DELETED! I seriously don't even know where to begin looking for this. I hate losing things. And the thing is, I lose things a lot. There's a familiar pattern.

Step One: Realize something is lost. GRR! ARGH! EXPLETIVE DELETED!

Step Two: Wallow for at ten minutes in sadness over the item being misplaced.

Step Three: Engage in some intense self-loathing for being so disorganized (this can take anywhere from twenty minutes to two hours; I think I'm clocking in at fifty minutes right now).

Step Four: Compose a procrastinatory LJ entry.

Step Five: Start actively looking.

Look at how much time I would save if I just jumped right from Step One to Step Five. That's what a sensible, efficient person would do. But I bet sensible, efficient people don't lose things with the frequency that I do, and therefore don't have to engage in this kind of behavior. WHY AM I NOT SENSIBLE AND EFFICIENT? I know this is my fault. I would say that I have tried to change, but I haven't. I joined the get_a_handle LJ community, and I've watched Clean Sweep on TLC, and I totally watch Oprah every chance I get, but that's about as far as I go. And so I remain a defective model of human being. Le Sigh.

Off to search. Frustration vented.

ETA: This is totally random, but since I am going to be AMAZINGLY SUPER PRODUCTIVE after I find my GD folder, and therefore won't be writing any other LJ entries tonight, I wanted to share this. Last night I went out to dinner with my family and seated at the next table was this guy who was the spitting image of Dwight Schrute from The Office. He had the glasses, the hair, the vaguely creepy mannerisms - the whole nine. He was wearing an "I *heart* Me" T-shirt and was seated across from a woman whom he barely spoke to the entire evening, and sat the entire time turned almost sideways, staring at something behind me (or at least I hope that's what he was staring at, and not, you know, me).

Lest you think it was just me, halfway through dinner I leaned back so as to be out of his line of vision, and whispered to my brother, "Doesn't that guy look like Dwight from The Office?"

And my brother looked over all super-caj, and then said, "Dude. Totally."

Dwight lives!

ETA Part Deux: FOUND IT! It was literally in the first place I looked, and took approx. twelve seconds to find. Am so ridiculous. All that time wasted, all that stress, over nothing. Story of my life. Additional bonus: I think I have to write a lot less than I anticipated having to. Sweetness.

Really going now.

I totally guessed more winners than anyone else at the Golden Globes get together I went to tonight, which means that I'm nine dollars richer than I was when the event started. Sweetness! Guess who's getting an actual lunch tomorrow instead of a bag of Smartfood? Yes! That's right! Me!

In other news: I have misplaced the very expensive textbook I need for class tomorrow night. I blame this on my better impulses, because my better impulses led me to clean my office yesterday (and by "office" I mean "corner of the room I share with my father's computer, a treadmill, several suitcases, multiple potted plants, and my father's artwork"), and now I can't find anything. Very irritating. I mean, okay, sure, it does look a bit less like a deranged shut-in/burgeoning serial killer's workspace, but I don't really care about appearances right now. Well, okay, I do care about appearances - namely the appearance of my nose, which has suddenly turned the angry shade of red I recognize from two things: (1) that claymation Rudolph special, and (2) pictures of myself in high school. If I could travel back in time and change anything, I would definitely go back to high school and give myself a better haircut and a vial of Clinique liquid concealer. I would probably also tell myself to drop AP Calc and stress out less.

I bet that's the advice my future self would give me right now - well, beauty tips adjusted for future developments and discoveries. But the less stressing advice would almost definitely remain the same. I am working on that. I am not completely succeeding.

You know how sometimes you'll be writing an LJ entry, and you'll get to the next part of it, and you write three versions of that next part and each one of them sucks more than the one that came before? Yeah, that's happening right now. I'm cutting my losses and going to bed.

One quick note: I'm going to try to update more in this here LJ, because I feel it's better for my mental health to have as many outlets as possible for my random stressy outbursts. This means that while the quantity of entries may go up, the quality will almost definitely continue to decline. Apologies in advance!

So I have another temp job tomorrow. Joy! My temp agency pimp (timp), Chris, called me yesterday and said RandomCompany wanted me to start tomorrow morning. I said sure. Then she called back and said that the company wanted me to sit down for an interview, which was annoying because it's a two week assignment covering phones and, also, the whole POINT of temping is not having to interview. I guess they just wanted to look me over, make sure I have a full set of teeth or something. Like I'm livestock.

Anyway, apparently I did okay because I'm headed out there at 8AM tomorrow. Again, joy!

The interview took place right after my Big Scary Ed Psych Test, which I've been whining about to anyone and everyone for the past week or so. I'm surprised anyone is still speaking to me. In fact, the experience has highlighted how awesome my friends are, as one called me from a train station, another from Germany, another from her car, all to find out how the test was. Every time I answered the call I was touched by their thoughtfulness and touched by self-loathing, because it made me realize exactly how much I've been whining about it, and also, would I be so thoughtful? Perhaps we should revisit the Forgetting the Best Friend's Birthday Incident of 2004.

On second thought, let's not.

Anyway, the test: The test consisted of eight essay questions, I filled a blue book, I completely made up one answer and found out when I checked the book that I wasn't completely off track. I will find out if I passed tomorrow. OMG THE STRESS. But I will not say anymore because, again, have been whining about it for a week now.

Post-test and interview, I scooted forty-five minutes north to meet R for some tutoring. You guys. He is doing so well. I can't figure out a way to write about it that isn't incredibly corny. Last week he sounded out "parking" on his own. This week he got a whole stack of vocabulary flashcards right for the first time. Lest I get too overconfident, he still says "plastic" for almost every word starting with p. Why? I don't know. Last week he was saying "place" for every p word. I learned from my Ed Psych studying that the worst thing to do is to introduce a number of vocabulary words starting with the same letter to a student. Right now I've got him trying to learn, like, five words that start with p. Go me! Awesome!

Also, "did" is almost always "don't" even though I've never, ever included "don't" in an exercise. It's maddening. Last week I actually sat there and said, "see, let's try - okay, d-i-d is did, okay? D-i-d did. D-i-d did, d-i-d did, d-i-d did, d-i-d did." I actually kind of sang it after the sixth or seventh time, bopping around in my seat. R just looked at me like I was crazy. Which I am.

I finished up my super-exciting thrill-packed day at the nursing home, where I dropped off some adult diapers from my grandfather. He called to ask them to drop them off yesterday. At 1:50 in the morning. I was awake and everything, but it gave me a heart attack, all, "Oh my God, someone's DEAD" and then, when I pick up, it's his wide-awake voice saying, "Oh, hello, dear, could you bring by some didees?"

Tonight he greeted me at the door of his room with the following statement: "Sweetheart! How nice of you to come see me! I have to go to the bathroom." Then he proceeded to roll into the bathroom use the facilities with the door open while I stood awkwardly by the windows and listened to hear if he'd fallen in or down or anything. Good times.

Afterwards we watched the end of an Audrey Hepburn/Cary Grant movie together. Audrey Hepburn was okay. Cary Grant was awesome (is he ever not?).

And now I have to go to bed!