If I Could Just Slap Myself Sometimes

I woke up this morning after having a decent 1.5hrs sleep.  I knew it was going to be a tough day as I had an oral exam lined up and needed all spark plugs firing.

Not sure if I told you, but exams make me quite ill.  It is the same feeling I get when I am waiting in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time.  I want to turn around and bail out of that 60 person queue, then I hear a micro kid bragging about the number of times they have been on that same ride.  C’mon Dva, it can’t be all that bad, micro kid can do it!

I did the exam, felt okay then took some constructive feedback.  I ran to the bathroom expecting to cry (no tears, more like a facial heave).  I went back to my workstation and all of sudden the watery discharge was leaking from the ball valves.  REALLY? I couldn’t seem to cry in private, but when someone asked me how the exam went, it was an American Idol finale.  Call up my special someone for advise, his reply with his sexy accent “Harden da feck up luv” (I can always count on him to tell me like it is, then console me – love him for that).  Then I started feeling like a real lemon for crying about crying.  It is not easy being an emotional woman sometimes.  It took me a good 2 hours to snap out of it.  I revised the exam questions as they were still fresh, and realized I did not bring my A Game.  How can I go to an exam without my A Game?  That’s like going into a book store expecting to try on shoes, that is some stupid ‘dotkom’.

It is so easy to feel like a complete failure if one thing goes sour.  The domino reaction started.  I went from not knowing an answer to ‘it doesn’t matter the apocalypse is going to happen anyway’.  Guess what? Sometimes, we just need to get real.  Easier said than done right? Wrong!  I betcha next time you are feeling like shit you say “Get real [insert your negative ass here] or blog about it”, you will snap out of it. Honestly, I find it takes a lot more effort to blog about fiction than fact (even though my life sounds like fiction). This autobiography stuff is not as easy as one may think you know, but, I digress.  Anyways, I may have looked and sounded crazy as I  told myself to get real, but in this case the engine turned over and I was back on the road again (wish I could say the same about a little car I last blogged about).  As soon as I knew my 411, I was ready to face Simon again.

Today was all about pursuing my goal and taking the necessary means to get there.  First of all, crying at work is retarded!  Unless it is quite substantial, there is no need to open that valve.  Second, had I got enough sleep, I wouldn’t be so damn cranky.  And third, there is always something more important to do in an 8 hour shift than crying – like making a fan out of colorful Post-its.  This morning I needed a slap in the face; but now, I’m giving myself a pat on the back!

Life is too short to cry over spilled bubble tea (get a straw, and suck it up)…

Getting ‘er dun Diva

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