Red in the Face
Ok, so those two little "gems" of writing that I spilled out yesterday morning for class? They could have used some proofreading. A lot of proofreading. On the way back from class I decided I was going to read R my pieces*. I got through maybe the first sentence before I realized just how badlyI had mangled those 8 words. I was too embarrassed to continue reading. No, I could not allow the love of my life - the man who watches me pee on a regular basis, who tolerates the sweaty clothes I leave laying around the bathroom - to see me fail at something as simple as a written paragraph. How on earth was I going to face my professor in class the following week? How was I going to show this careless, over anxious face to a stranger, not so much my senior, who looks at me blankly and slightly quizzically when I open my mouth to speak in his class?
I have been worrying over this in the background since last night. I have been thinking that perhaps the best thing to do would be to revise it, and send the new version to him via email along with profuse apologies and explanations as to why I sounded like such an airhead dipshit.
However it's late now, and aside from being sleepy, I think I'll just tuck my tail between my legs and at least read what I have written next time I give hime something.
The other point of angst today, was the fact that I confessed to my mother that I hate my job and I want out. It was a resignation lettter away from quitting - and while when I put it that way it sounds scary, it was really just a statement of fact. I said it, got emotional for 3 minutes until my timer went off and I went back to work. My day continued to suck, as usual lately, but that was all. Although I did have to bring a whole bunch of stuff home with me, so I stuck it all in a box. I had a little fantasy as I walked down the hall that this was my last walk, my green mile; that the box held the contents of my desk, and that the push of the door handle to get into into the stairwell would be the final sound of my goodbye.
Such a good thing that today was a Friday.
*this in itself shows how blindly optimistic I was that they were good: we were in a dark car, going 75 mph on the freeway and I get insanely car sick when I glance at my shoes, let alone read a whole page of text.
I have been worrying over this in the background since last night. I have been thinking that perhaps the best thing to do would be to revise it, and send the new version to him via email along with profuse apologies and explanations as to why I sounded like such an airhead dipshit.
However it's late now, and aside from being sleepy, I think I'll just tuck my tail between my legs and at least read what I have written next time I give hime something.
The other point of angst today, was the fact that I confessed to my mother that I hate my job and I want out. It was a resignation lettter away from quitting - and while when I put it that way it sounds scary, it was really just a statement of fact. I said it, got emotional for 3 minutes until my timer went off and I went back to work. My day continued to suck, as usual lately, but that was all. Although I did have to bring a whole bunch of stuff home with me, so I stuck it all in a box. I had a little fantasy as I walked down the hall that this was my last walk, my green mile; that the box held the contents of my desk, and that the push of the door handle to get into into the stairwell would be the final sound of my goodbye.
Such a good thing that today was a Friday.
*this in itself shows how blindly optimistic I was that they were good: we were in a dark car, going 75 mph on the freeway and I get insanely car sick when I glance at my shoes, let alone read a whole page of text.
posted by beef at 12:13 AM
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