Thursday, June 23, 2011

Note to self: Imghn bring aawrk sixteen fhjnsa???

“I have got the most horrible handwriting in the history of handwriting.” I announced to the office upon finding a post-it note and trying to decipher what past-me was trying to tell me. I cannot, for the life of me, read back notes I make to myself on a post-it without taking at least 15 minutes. Notes that I title and underline to highlight importance.

“Hahaha! Yes, you do,” replied a coworker almost immediately, “which is funny because you are an artist (bless her heart for that) and you have a steady hand. You could never tell you have crappy writing looking at your art.”

I stretched out my hand with my palm face down (palms have faces?) right in front of my eyes, almost to the point of becoming cross-eyed, and held my breath for a more thorough and accurate inspection. Steady as…a…um a thing that is always steady. This made my coworker laugh a little more, but before I could rip her a new one for laughing at my distress, I went back to the more pressing matter at steady hand. What was on that post-it? Since it is on a post-it, I know it is work related. I only use post-it notes for work related messages to my future self. And since some words (using that term very loosely here) are underlined, I know this is an important message. After some time looking at it, I threw in the towel and figured “If it’s *that* important, I will remember later.”

I never thought I would be the type of person who would need to write down memos and notes-to-self ever. Me, who always wakes up on time without needing an alarm, who remembers every colorful detail of my dreams, who remembers every word said in conversations that happened ages ago with people I no longer keep in touch with, who remembers what I wore for my baptism (nice little white dress) even though there are no pictures, but I can assure you, it happened. It’s just that so much shit happens in the office on a daily basis that I need to remind myself of things in colorful sticky note form. Plus it makes my desk area look all pretty and rainbow-y.

To give you an idea, reader, of what my handwritten notes look like do the following: grab a pen or pencil or any writing utensil of your preference, and now grab it with the hand you don’t usually write with (your right hand if you’re lefty, your left hand if you are normal. Ha. I kid, you lefties). Then put on a blindfold, and provoke a seizure, and then write.

I have a theory on why I have such awful handwriting. It’s my mind’s fault. It works at a speed that would get me a ticket if my mind was driving around a school zone. My hand cannot keep up. One time, it actually dropped the pen and slapped me on the forehead then flipped me the bird. I’ve tried to be neater with my writing. I’ve even gone as far as practicing my ABCs in the windows of spare time I may have in the office. Bullshit! That’s bullshit, we all know I twitter/fb/text during those opened windows. But I have tried to be a little neater. Though my neatest handwriting still looks like that of a child's who has just learned to write his/her name. My personal memos/notes I write on the palm of my left hand. It may be the repetition of having to write on my hand after every time I wash them that helps me remember. But it is also the case that this repetition becomes practice, and by the third time I’ve written the memo/note on my hand it has become legible. Be warned, notes written on your palm could be seen by others and you may want to keep those private matters, well, private. One time I went to high five my coworker on a job well done only to be left hanging and given a look of disgust and confusion as he read my imminent future on the palm of my hand: “Get tampons and ointment.”

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to avoid doing what you gotta do.

One of my horoscopes today (I say "one of" because I get my horoscope from different places that are all clearly on different pages) said I will be having a great night. It promised meeting an important new person. It promised that I will be feeling happy with what surprises tonight will offer...oh and that I should watch my money (watch it do what? I do not know) Well, tonight is laundry night. Why my horoscope feels more excited about laundry night than I ever do is beyond me. Or maybe it is that my horoscope is trying to make me feel better by lying to me. Telling me that things are gonna be better than just waiting around for things to rinse and dry, and having to fight for a dryer against the woman who feels that putting one item in there will save it for when her load is done washing and ready to dry.

I hate laundry! Hate it with a hating passion that I have only experienced when my coworker plays Hotel California in her office (next to mine) hundred times in a row. UGH! Part of it may be because I hate having to wait around. Waiting around is the worst waste of time ever. They say patience is a virtue. Well those people who say that never had to wait for their favorite artist to finally drop a record and then announce a tour, or the clock to strike 5pm, or for corn to pop. Another reason may be the people I encounter at a laundry mat. Never not annoying. However, since I sometimes wash in the laundry room in my apartment building, I think it is more than just the annoying people. Perhaps I feel like it is beneath me? No. I would not want or trust anyone else to handle my delicates, but enough about my love life, ha. Perhaps it is that my mom spoiled me by always getting it done for me? Maybe. Maybe it is all of the above.

Discussing tonight's events with my coworker's daughter (who comes in for the summer to help out around the office) I realize that I will go to great lengths and postpone doing laundry.

Coworker's daughter: "Hey, it could be worse. You just do your own laundry. There's eight people in my house. That's a lot of laundry."

Me: "True. But that doesn't make me feel better about having to do mine. It just makes me feel bad for you having to do all that."

Coworker's daughter: "It's not so bad. We have a system."

Me: "Screw the system!"

Coworker's daughter: "You really hate it that much? Ya know, if you keep putting it off you only make it worse on yourself."

Me: "I will always try to put it off as much as I possibly can. Once I drove to Target to buy a new pack of underwear instead."

Coworker's daughter: "You did that to avoid doing laundry?!"

Me: "Hey, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do to avoid doing what you gotta do."