Thursday, February 23, 2012

I Don't Get It



A recurring theme throughout my life has been that I don't quite "get it."  Despite all my best efforts and intentions, I somehow fuck shit up.

In second grade, I remember first noticing this when my class was playing kickball, as a large playground ball collided with my head. I had been scanning the sky for signs of bird activity that might indicate that the people from the parallel universe from which I was sure I had been ushered were coming for me soon. Several classmates expressed a great deal of irritation at the fact that I was "not playing" when my classroom teacher explained to them sharply that I "didn't understand."

This situation has not necessarily improved.

I park crooked. After carefully aiming my minivan, carefully backing up to straighten out, carefully driving back in again, and turning the engine off, inevitably I get out and see that yes–once again the car has been parked as if by a drunken teenager. I don't even bother to parallel park, except under extreme duress, my relation to spatial matters being such that somehow my car is invariably parked two feet out into traffic.

I have worked at my job for four and a half years, during which time we have used the same time sheets to record our work hours, and yet, I fuck these up. I record my work hours in the leave column. I miscalculate my  leave. I scribble. I cross out. Often, I throw out a whole time sheet and transcribe an entire two week period onto a new one out of sheer embarrassment. Sometimes, I transcribe the errors onto the new sheet, too.

I cannot adjust swim goggles, bicycle helmets or ice skates. I have to get another adult to assist me with these matters. I cannot remember how to tie slip knots. In fact, I cannot tie a child's shoes in such a way that they will  remain tied. When I open a Band-Aid package, I invariably twist the Band-Aid so that the latex adheres to part of itself and sticks on the child in a lumpy way. I cannot fix a little girls's pony tail or braid when called to do so. At least, not unless it's Crazy Hair Day at school. When called upon to perform basic mental math, as often as not, I am wrong.

And yet, I am allowed to instruct your children to read.

My students, who regard me mostly with affection–especially my second graders–often giggle to themselves as I routinely knock over water bottles, drop dry erase markers and wonder aloud where I have put something. I suppose this allows them to feel that, although I am there to instruct them with their reading, perhaps they may be of some assistance to me in coping with my basic life skills, and so the situation is more egalitarian than a normal teacher-student relationship. I am good for their self-esteem.

I am not entirely sure why it is that, although I believe my intelligence to above average in general, I am so sub-par in these basic life skills. It does seem to be an experience common to many recovering alcoholics and addicts. I think the source may be a basic defect in attitude. While most people, when discovering a major defect or deficit in their situations, I believe tend to deal directly with it, alcoholics and addicts tend to try to adapt to it, thus learning nothing.

For example, we have an older dishwasher and the silverware basket has worn a hole in one of its sections. The result of this is that utensils dropped into this section fall partway through and prevent the entire rack from rolling in and out. It is massively irritating. So, literally for months, my husband (also a recovering alcoholic) has contrived a specific strategy of placing utensils in this section just so and attempted to teach this to the five other people who load the dishwasher in this house, with the level of success you might expect, which is quite limited. My strategy, which is even less effective, is to ignore the situation until I become extremely irritated by the blockage caused by utensils in the dishwasher.

After four months, it just occurred to me that I could replace the silverware basket. And for about twenty dollars, and the investment of  ten minutes of time online, I was able to order a new part. Duh.

This, I think, is what is wrong with me. After almost twenty years of continuous sobriety, I have taken on a lot of really important flaws in my character, but I have ignored most of the little ones. I suppose I could undertake to actually learn how to adjust a swim goggle, tighten an ice skate or properly park a car.

But I am pretty busy blogging, so I might not have time.


14 comments:

  1. I hate to tell you this, but you are a lot like me, or I am a lot like you. No, stay away from the pills, the knife, the rope. It's not worth it. You can always change and leave me behind. It's okay.

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    1. If I had a rope, I would not be able to tie it the right way to form a noose. If I had a knife, I would nick myself in a stupid way and end up with a dumb scar. If I had pills, it would turn out to be vitamin D. That kind of thing...

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  2. I suspect that at least some of your tendencies to habitual incompetence are inherited. At least they make for humerous blog posts.

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    1. Next I think I will write on interesting accidents that I have had. That could be even more embarrassing.

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  3. That's such a great "I don't get it" picture. I'm glad to know I'm not alone in the bizarrely incompetent department. I always tell people: "I could probably figure that out, but I've moved on to other things in my head."
    Adapting is a useful skill anyway.

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    1. If I learned how to do these things, then I would HAVE to do them, right? Now I don't have to. And my older children have learned to tighten their own ice skates and swim goggles. Soon they can drive me around and park for me, too.

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  4. I am nothing like you, or you are nothing like me. Can't figure out which one. But your articles held my interest so that I want to read more. Thanks for giving me something great to read for a little while.

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    1. Perhaps you are a good shoelace tier, but appreciate the humor of those who can't tie shoes, in which case I thank you heartily. I strive to be a source of amusement for others. Amusement and, perhaps, concern. :P

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  5. Hilarious! I'm right there with you on the math seriously deficient/above average in reading/writing/social science. It is frustrating 'cause when your ego wants to tell you how smart you are, you remember that you don't know how to multiply fractions. hah.

    Scatterbrained and a bit clumsy are signs of genius, so don't feel bad. :)

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    1. I don't think it's fair that they average IQ. I want two separate ones.

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  6. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this....parallel parking is my nemesis. I can't figure out how to do it! Let's talk about my sense of direction...I think I might have some type of spacial dyslexia. (example) When I enter a restroom at a restaurant, take care of business, proceed to exit, I always go in the opposite direction I came in. I cannot seem to correct this. I guess it's a defect. It's been fun! ;)

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    1. My mother has lost her car more than once so I'm sure she would feel your pain. I wrote about one time here: http://faithinambiguity.blogspot.com/2011/12/people-who-take-topomax-should-never-do.html
      I don't do that, but I have no idea what surrounds me...at all. No memory of my physical environment. I lived in a town for two years with a giant guard tower right near the entrance, but I never saw it. "What guard tower?"

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  7. I can totally see myself doing the dishwasher thing.

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    1. Never even occurs to me there might be a solution other than trying to adapt.

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