Monday, November 26, 2007

I'm Not OC, Really I'm Not

I was up all night writing a five page paper for dental lab.

On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and its relation to dentistry.

It hurt.


I better get an A on it.

Or I'm climbing a clock tower, I swear to god...


Added December 6:

No shooting rampages necessary - I got a 99% on the paper...I missed a comma, hence the 1% deduction.
Ms. Shockey is a really strict grader, so I should feel good about the score - but I can't help thinking "if only I hadn't missed that comma"....I think I need medication. As Woody Allen said "There's nothing wrong with you that Prozac and a mallet won't cure."

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Happy Holidays

Ah, Thanksgiving...that festive occasion when we gather together with the people we feel obligated to see and consume a meal we feel obligated to eat. When we pray to a god we don't believe in that a particular relative won't force us to finally say that insulting thing we've wanted to say for the past three Thanksgivings but were never quite drunk enough to say. When you bite into that delicious looking deviled egg, only to unfortunately discover that your new mother-in-law uses an entirely different recipe than you are used to and you wonder how rude it would be to spit it into a napkin, then do the "right" thing and reluctantly swallow it with a smile. When we are felt up by various members of the opposite sex we are vaguely related to, or when a second cousin twice-removed-by-marriage pretends that repeatedly poking your husband and calling him a "ticklish little baby" is perfectly acceptable. When we wander out to the wood shed to view the dead deer hanging inside because it sounds like more fun than hanging out with the in-laws...

Oh, what's that? You had a lovely meal with a family you adore and you all held hands and said "grace" and then took turns sharing the blessings you are thankful for? Well screw you, you well-adjusted freak, the rest of us had a shitty day and the only thing we are thankful for is that we don't have to do it again for another year...

What? It's only a month until Christmas? Oh for the love of god....

Friday, November 16, 2007

Parliamentary Procedure and Self-Perception

Yesterday in dental lab my class elected officers for the first ever American Dental Assistants Association in West Virginia. I went into class swearing to god that I would refuse any nomination I was given on the grounds that (a) I'm freakin busy (b) it's not my style to be in charge of ANYTHING - I'm neither a leader nor a follower, I'm an observant and sarcastic bystander...that reminds me of what Ringo said when asked by the press whether the Beatles were mod or rocker; he wittily replied "Neither, I'm a mocker"...excellent...Damn you, tangent! Where was I? Oh yes, reasons I planned to refuse possible duties...(c) I don't like "clubs". I'm rather anti-social, but not in a dangerous way.

When it came time for nominations my worst instincts were confirmed when I was put up for two out of the six posts. Secretary and Parliamentarian. Which brings me to the entire reason for this particular blog...when the term "parliamentarian" was written on the board, I was amazed when a good half of the class simultaneously said "That sounds like a Jen job." To which I replied somewhat under my breath "That's because you all think I'm the only person who knows what the word means." A few of the girls sitting near enough heard me and said that was exactly right. Ms. Shockey, our awesome instructor (well, I think she's awesome, in addition to her extensive dental knowledge and experience she is also a medical examiner...there's just something about a woman who cuts up dead bodies you gotta respect, know what I mean?) then explained what the term "parliamentary procedure" meant. Here's a link, in case you're not familiar with the term either. (Thank you wikipedia, bastion of quasi-knowledge.) Someone said "Yes, that sounds like Jen, she's a little ass kicker. She'll keep everybody in line."


Is that really how I come off? Anyone who has actually known me since I was young could tell you that I am "the smart one" or "the shy one" or maybe even "the funny one" in my family, but a tough girl? My psychology teacher said he thought I was probably pretty rebellious as an adolescent when we were discussing human development. Boy, could that not be the furthest thing from the truth. I've never been in a physical fight of any kind, I abhor confrontation, and I hate to admit it but it truly never even occurred to me as a teenager that I could have risen up and gone against my overbearing and overprotective mother's religious and socially paranoid house rules.

I know that we never see ourselves exactly as others do, but I really am surprised that the apparent general consensus about me at school is the exact opposite of how I see myself. I am, in my opinion, bookish, odd, vaguely amusing, pretty but in a weird way you can't quite put your finger on, and above all else, solitary to the point of being almost unable to identify with those around me. I like people, but only because I like to watch and analyze them in a very removed way, like a scientist with lab rats, not because I want their friendship or acceptance.

Are we who we think we are, or are we who others perceive us to be? Is it possible to be both? What if the two are diametrically opposed to one another?

By the way, I am now the parliamentarian for the West Virginia chapter of the American Dental Assistants Association. I couldn't turn down the nomination, even though I desperately wanted to. See? Told ya I can't stand confrontation...sigh...

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Tiny Tidbits of Hilarity

Courtesy of bob via text message last night while he was in a hotel out of town...

"floovenhoffenmacher" directly translates as one who wants a candy bar but does not want to put on pants

and then, twenty-one minutes later...

"machenhausenflooven" one whose chocolate desire overrides inability to overcome laziness to don pants

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

The #1 Thing NOT to Say in Psychology Class

so i was sitting in psych class on monday and prof drago was talking about word association and started to demonstrate the concept by asking random people to say the first word that comes to mind when he says another specific word. for instance, drago said "mother" and people variously responded with "father", "love", etc. (oh, and by the way, the dean - a tiny rigid little woman with no apparent sense of humor - was sitting in on class that day, and happened to have positioned herself at the desk directly next to mine.) it was all well and good until he said "horse" and my first thought was "cock". i barely managed to stifle my laughter and avoided making eye contact with him, hoping to god he wouldn't call on me and i'd be forced to unconvincingly make up something more acceptable, like "saddle" or "pony" or "cart" like the rest of the well-adjusted little students were saying. mercifully drago didn't notice me and i was spared...of course, if the dean hadn't been there...i probably would have just said it...hahaha, what would papa freud think?

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Tasty Morsels of Culture at the National Gallery

For Zoe's 7th birthday (October 6th) we took her to the Smithsonian to see mummies and dinosaur bones, per her request. When this did not prove to be as thrilling as she expected (she actually said "I thought dinosaurs would be bigger" in a very nonplussed kind of way while we stood beneath the hulking frame of a t-rex) i seized the opportunity and told her we would be peeking into the National Gallery for a minute. We ended up spending the rest of the day there. What a selfish mother I am...but I couldn't help myself, it was like church for me (except without the obligatory uncomfortable clothes.)
The first thing I spotted was this huge Claes Oldenburg typewriter eraser as we were passing by the sculpture garden, so of course we ducked in there first...
Then I suspected I saw a Lichtenstein and practically took off running through the garden to get at it. It was indeed, and I about dropped dead with sheer joy (not for the last time that day...)

When we finally made it inside, there was so much to see that we really didn't even know where to start; we had not planned to go there and we kept promising Zoe that we would only look at a few things.
Here is Van Gogh's self-portrait...the shades of blue are amazingly vibrant. Incidentally, did you know that it is now widely believed that he went insane from the lead in his paints? He cleaned his brushes by sucking the paint off in his mouth as he worked...
We wandered through the old masters, bob had a religious experience with some Rembrandts and a Dali, and i got momentarily distracted by some adorably fashionable Japanese schoolgirls who were giggling together near the rotunda fountain. By this time Zoe was bored and exhausted, but we couldn't leave without seeing the Warhols, so we went to the East building where Zoe took a rest...
And I got to see more Lichtenstein
and two huge canvases by Jackson Pollock (one of my absolute favorite artists, you can literally feel the madness in his works, its incredible)
And then, at last, the Holy Grail...the Andy Warhol room
I didn't know what pieces were there, I just knew they had some. When I saw Marilyn I was utterly speechless. My first instinct was to stuff it in my purse and make a run for the exit, taking down any security guards who tried to stop me with a flying roundhouse kick to the head (did I ever mention I was married to an alcoholic Native American kickboxer for a month? No? Slipped my mind...) Eventually I was able to quell the crazy voices in my head saying "Take it, it SHOULD be yours" and i just stood and stared and sighed.
Oh, Marilyn......