Ding by Stereotype

In the last week, I have gone without a single reason to rant. The only reason I for a rant was diminished by the fact that the person who hit my car so perfectly fit two driver stereotypes that there is no point in even going there.

In fact the driver so perfectly fit the stereotypes, I have started saying, “you know ‘who’ the driver was,” to people who ask me about it. So far everyone has said something to the effect of, “how ‘ *$^*# ’ was ‘ $@! ’?” (typing in symbols is tough – you never know where the ‘word’ ends and punctuation begins – but if you read carefully, you know what the symbols mean!) And so far, everyone has filled in the blanks correctly.

As a result, a rant on the subject of *$^*# drivers is pointless.

I’ve written about the song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” from the musical Avenue Q before. One line says “racist jokes my be uncouth, but we laugh because they’re based on truth.” The dent in my car is proof positive, but it has been so often repeated, the gag is no longer funny.

Meanwhile, my car has an ouchie. Actually, it is barely a boo-boo, but I feel much less macho driving around in imperfection.

Too Smart for My Own Good

This past Saturday I sat for the GRE at one of the internet testing sites. I’ve already earned a Master’s degree, so though I have taken the GRE before, it was well before the five-year-window for which test scores are good, I had to take it again for the new Master’s program to which I am applying. Most disgustingly, the scores have no bearing on admission as this program has admission based on a portfolio and interviews with co-workers; nevertheless, the graduate school requires the test scores be on file.

So I forked out the $140 the test cost and woke up early on a Saturday to take it. I didn’t bother to review any sample questions or the online study guides my $140 had paid for. I resolved to see just how fast I could make it through the test.

I finished in less than half the time allotted. I was pumped.

And then the scores came up.

Remember – I made absolutely no preparation. The last real math class I had was in the spring of 1986 – almost twenty-two years ago.

Going into the testing room, my internal measure of success was getting out in the shortest possible time so I could go back to bed or get on with my Saturday.

And then the scores came up.

Kind readers, have you figured out that I have a competitive side and a bit of an ego that… well… that spills out of my head from time to time? I know that about myself and it sometimes gets the better of me.

Because then the scores came up.

I had done well!

In fact, I was shocked to see that the combined score of verbal and reasoning was exactly the same as I had earned on the SAT in 1984! (Yes, I remember my SAT scores.)

The competitive side of me rose up and I have been kicking myself ever since.

The scores were good!

What if I had used the scratch paper on a few of the math problems?

What if I had actually picked up one of the sharpened pencils they had handed me instead of doing all mental math? People who dine with me know how dangerous it is to rely on my mental math.

What if I had really read the passages instead of scanning for key words?

What if….

The scores could have been REALLY good!

I almost want to dish out another $140, prepare for the test, and take my time answering it. My competitive side keeps grabbing for the credit card, but my frugal side keeps slapping the competitive hand away.

I have nothing to gain from taking the test again but peace of mind knowing I did as well as I could. The GRE is not a measure of intelligence but a measure of academic skills; knowing I didn’t make full use of the academic skills I have gained over the years gnaws at my mind every waking moment.

The scores could have been really, really good.

Nevertheless, the scores will do for now, but I learned this about me: I will not blow off future tests for convenience.

The next scores will be incredibly good!

Family Guy...or Not

I’ve always wanted to be a father. Even though I knew I would not have a traditional family or biological child, adoption remained an option I have considered from time to time. However, after having two little ones in my house for a few hours, I’m rethinking that idea.

When my brothers and I were young, our parents always warned us about being quiet and still whenever we went to visit old relatives or neighbors – anyone who was not used to having small children around. They said it made them nervous.

I’m now one of those old people.

One of my brothers came to Thanksgiving with is wife, son, and two foster children. Their coming thrilled me as they had never been to my house and I’ve lived here over a year and a half. They stayed just over four hours.

As soon as the kids were safely in the car seat, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. My home was quiet again. I really relish the peace of being home alone or being here with someone who will just sit and read.

A guy recently asked me what my greatest fault was. That was easy to answer: I’m a genius and I’m always right. It is especially true around my house. I’ve lived alone longer than I have lived with others, and I am particular in the way things are done. My house is not always the neatest or cleanest, but I organize and clean in certain ways.

As far as I’m concerned, there is only one way to load the dishwasher for maximum efficiency and cleaning.

I make my bed in a certain way. The pillows are turned a specific direction and the cases are put on in a particular way so they look best when the pillows are turned that direction only. The stuffed animals on my bed have an order as well.

The same goes for ironing my shirts. I iron each morning as I get ready for work. I work through the shirt parts in a deliberate manner: collar, left sleeve, right sleeve, right front, left front, back. It works for me and no part ever goes unironed.

I’m likely scaring away any potential dates out there, but those who are not scared away: I’m really a pretty good catch, but I will reload the dishwasher when you are done.

New York - Day 5

Another day of conference, that while good, did not entirely meet the needs I had professionally. It was good, intense, and valuable information, but it never quite addressed what I was seeking.

I did, however, have my first experience at presenting at a national conference as part of our team. That moment of glory and recognition died a pitiful death that evening while I was waiting in line for a cabaret show my friend J. had suggested and was attending with some of his partners. One of them mentioned a presentation she attended that morning and commented on how valuable she found the information. I casually interjected that I was the presenter and she adamantly replied that no, it was not my presentation, "Don't take offense, but they guy who presented was taller and was wearing a dark suit."

The easiest way out of an awkward situation is through humor, so I replied that I had changed clothes in the intervening fourteen hours and removed my leg extensions. At that point she ceded that I was indeed the presenter. Maybe it was the dry wit that convinced her because I'm not sure she bought the leg-extension argument.

Earlier, to begin the evening, I met Eric, his bf, and Lunar Gemini for drinks at Barrage during happy hour. As always an evening with them was filled with humor and political vitriol - just a good time. They alone are reason enough to visit New York.

Upon leaving them, I went to see the off-Broadway production of the new musical, Frankenstein. I give the performers tons of credit for the quality turns they presented with material that was decidedly lacking, from a source that clearly exceeded the skill of the team who put it together.

And that led to the instance of my ego being cut off at the knees, so to speak, at Don't Tell Mama. I'm quick to forgive and even more quick to get over my ego (no comment from the peanut gallery), so I took most of the group a few doors down to The Ritz (no website found), a bar and dance club. So me of New York's prettiest boys were there and we danced until 2:30 a.m.

Actually, that was technically day six, so maybe it should be on the next post....