Monday, 06/05/06 - 8:45 pm.
Long days like this one tend to have extremely low and high points. My low point was getting yelled at while I was driving; a bus driver insulted me, just because I couldn't switch lanes...well, see, mister, you can't switch if other cars are driving at top speed. I know you don't have the capacity to realize that, but it's how it is.
*Sigh* Well, I did feel like crying, because I suck like that. But I was driving with Victor and Victoria, so I let it pass. By now I'm over it, but I gave it serious thought, when I came back home at noon, to lock myself up and cry for a while. But I didn't.
See, I brought Victoria home, after our weekly monday morning meeting, because we were going to see a psychiatrist at 2, to interview him shortly (we are working on personality disorders for a subject...I did my anorexia nervosa research for last semester; this time I chose borderline, and Victoria, antisocial).
Well, that's a high point, right there: the psychiatrist is a lovely person, exactly how you'd imagine a psychiatrist to be: with beard, tall, lanky, dressed in earth-y colors, with glasses. What caught me first was that he has John Lennon drawings (I mean, drawings John did) in the waiting room. Many, many.
He's a great guy, and as Victoria tells me, he always has time for her. He was very kind to us, and even told us one day we could get together to discuss more certain subjects we kinda talked about. At some point, his cell phone started to ring; the ring tone was Eleanor Rigby, THE song. I would never answer if my ring tone was a Beatle tune.
I asked him where he got all those Lennon drawings, and he said he got them all at some garage sale for $5 altogether. Ok, first, he made it sound like here there are garage sales, when there aren't; second...that was a sad deal for whoever made it (obviously not a Beatles fan) but a sweet deal for him. Damn, such luck.
I don't complain, though!!! WrongGuy gave me an Abbey Road poster this evening!!!! My ways of seeing WrongGuy have changed since I first mentioned here, years ago. His mistakes were funny, and we thought he was a bit excentric. He is, but he's hilarious, and a nice guy. He's a fellow instructor, so we tend to spend time talking in the cubicle. He's like 26, and already divorced; he got married with a french gal who cheated on him. One day we were talking of how depressed he was, because of other things, too, and he was thinking of dropping out. I told him he could count on me if he needed to be listened to.
His grandpa isn't very well, and he had to shave his head. WG showed up with his own head shaved, too, "to keep him company". He got a lot of jokes on it, including from me before I knew the reason (and now I'm a bit ashamed) but I thought, and told him, that it was sweet, what he did.
He'd offered me the Abbey Road poster some time ago, but I'd forgotten. Tonight, before class, he had it for me. I had to hug him, and I hope one day I can return the favor.
We'd also spent the afternoon together, cleaning up the cubicle. Patty, our CommPsych professor walked in on saturday, and told us it was a disgrace, and that we should take some action. The cubicle is disgusting...but just ours. The other careers' cubicles have lockers, and water, and nice desks, and they're clean, and some even have a phone. We have roaches, dust, uneven desks, and a locked closet that nobody has the key for.
So WG and I decided to clean up and change the place of the desks. It changed a bit, and even Patty showed up and congratulated us for being so empowered (a very common word in CommPsych). She even offered her phone to call Maintenance, so they could pick up a huge board that's been abandoned since last semester. WG threw our trashcan to the trash, because it had fungus at the bottom. Our next plans are writing a letter to the department, guidelines for the instructors, and possibly painting the walls.
Alright, alriht. It's been a day of more highs than lows. Yay for that. I'm only upset, at the moment, because I miss Joseph and I don't have time to sit and write and the deadline is around the corner, and possibly I won't make it, because I don't have that 1% of inspiration, nor the 99% time for transpiration. I mean, I have a lot of stuff to do.
Just because of that, I skipped my only class of today. It's a complete waste of time, though I'm sorry the professor is in danger of abortion.