i just got off of my internship. talk about a day from hell. lynne (*my internship supervisor @ the museum) was completely and utterly letting me have it. you know you should start to get a sinking feeling in your stomach when your supervisor takes you outside to talk to you...
things i wish i had done to prevent her from ragging on me so harsh that i started crying twice, the second time with those deep-gut-wrenching sobs that you see people cry in movies when they're ashamed and sometimes in real life even:
1.) I wish i hadn't gone to my mandatory attendance internship meeting today from 1-2:30 PM which cut into my internship time, which is normally 1-4 PM tuesdays and thursdays --but i had to go to the meeting! and the worst part was that while I was in the meeting itself, I could feel this weird "itch" of nervous energy in my legs, like i could feel lynne's anger building up in the distance like a thunderstorm the way old men in movies predict the weather with their rheumatism.
2.) i wish i hadn't gotten food poisoning last week and been out of commission all last thursday, thereby missing last week's thursday shift at my internship.
3.) I wish this damn gallery guide hadn't gotten all weird as HELL in photoshop. I don't know what the fuck is going on with photoshop, but you all know how much energy i invested in doing this gallery guide. it's taken me like a month, and now i have to do it all over again from scratch tomorrow so that it's ready thursday. why? because i can no longer click on objects in their history layers and make them bigger/smaller/change positions/adjust them with their outside box arrows. i am so frustrated.
This is the really weird thing though...
The really weird thing is the sense of deja-vu when I started to cry as Lynne continued to berate me. I haven't cried like that in a long time, the sort of crying that comes from exhaustion, humiliation and the almost psychic knowledge that the person talking to you is so furious and angry with you that nothing you do will ever atone for pissing them off.
The most clear time I can remember crying like that was when I was in 7th grade in Mrs. Knetzger's algebra class. I had her for both science (5th period) and math (6th period) so imagine spending 2 hours in a row seated in a small, hot classroom being taught by--poor lady, bless her but this is a completely apt description--the most boring, dry teacher ever. Her class was the cure for insomnia. Add to this my tormented, anorexic, hated-by-my-peers teenage soul, and you have a formula for disaster. I couldn't be bothered to give a shit about math. I was hurting so much inside that I was just withdrawing from my classes, and math has always been a painful subject for me. My mom even would yell and scream at me about how awful at math I was. My 5th grade teacher, a real honest to goodness Nun at a Catholic school, ripped up my math homework in front of the class and said that I was a failure. Plus a whole bunch of other stuff, but you get the general idea, math is painful. So one day in Mrs. Knetzger's math class, I think I flunked a test. Or didn't turn in my homework for like the 20th consecutive day. Either way, she just absolutely lost it with me in front of the class. She dragged me outside into the hall roughly by the arm, across the hall into the small and odd little cubicle attached to the Shorewood Intermediate School Computer Lab of the time to use the phone. She called my mother. She was saying how I should be ashamed of myself. She made me cry hot down my face and my tongue was all dry and it hurt to look her in the eyes.
That's what it felt like today.
So I wish I could talk to Hedwig, from Hedwig & the Angry Inch, because the song " Thanks.