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Feb. 9th, 2005 06:49 pmI think I have a problem.
A serious one, though I'd be the first to admit that it sounds ridiculous. In short, I can't stand lateness. People being late to meet with me, or me being late to meet with someone else; they both drive me utterly nuts.
I've never noticed it before - sure, when a guy was late last weekend, I was angry, but that would make sense, wouldn't it? He was late, and I had to go do something we'd thought to do as a team by myself. Which was hell for my inner shy person.
But that was normal. It didn't really bring it home.
Today, however...I had a great day. I took a test (which was bad, but I'm not thinking about that, la la la), then got to leave school on a Spanish trip. To an art museaum. To look at Aztec stuff. I just barely made 10 dollars work for lunch (when they say NYC is expensive, they're not joking...), and when we got back, our teachers told us that we didn't have to bother to go to last period. (As I had Spanish last, I could be sure of it. Poor people in my Spanish class had - mwahahaha - a sub.) So I went to the library, and made a mistake in trusting a piece of technology I hadn't personally vertified. The computer clock said that I had lots of time before my class. In reality, it was an hour early. So I ended up being 45 minutes late to my class.
Sucks, yes, but not justifiably called a problem, right?
Not right. My teacher forgave me, no problem. Everyone forgot about it. Except me. My day almost immediately crashed from 'good day' to 'today sucked'. Rationally, I knew that was dumb. I mean, it was basically a good day, right? But I couldn't help it. I felt completely awful - and it was for something that, most likely, only I remember! And I couldn't stop feeling bad about it, either.
Now that I look at it, I can actually notice a trend - I have not been late to school since 3rd grade. Not once. Rarely, I am technically late (and panicking about it, usually), but something happens - the teacher isn't there, the teacher is late, something. But late? Nope. Not me.
I'm always in class early, because I'm terrifed that I'll lose track of time and be late. I know that I have no sense of time, and I mean none, and therefore even when my parents ask me - sternly, because otherwise I'm relaxed about time in this one case - to come down in exactly five minutes, I glance at the clock every 30 seconds because I don't want to be late.
>_< Why am I so obsessed with this?!
A serious one, though I'd be the first to admit that it sounds ridiculous. In short, I can't stand lateness. People being late to meet with me, or me being late to meet with someone else; they both drive me utterly nuts.
I've never noticed it before - sure, when a guy was late last weekend, I was angry, but that would make sense, wouldn't it? He was late, and I had to go do something we'd thought to do as a team by myself. Which was hell for my inner shy person.
But that was normal. It didn't really bring it home.
Today, however...I had a great day. I took a test (which was bad, but I'm not thinking about that, la la la), then got to leave school on a Spanish trip. To an art museaum. To look at Aztec stuff. I just barely made 10 dollars work for lunch (when they say NYC is expensive, they're not joking...), and when we got back, our teachers told us that we didn't have to bother to go to last period. (As I had Spanish last, I could be sure of it. Poor people in my Spanish class had - mwahahaha - a sub.) So I went to the library, and made a mistake in trusting a piece of technology I hadn't personally vertified. The computer clock said that I had lots of time before my class. In reality, it was an hour early. So I ended up being 45 minutes late to my class.
Sucks, yes, but not justifiably called a problem, right?
Not right. My teacher forgave me, no problem. Everyone forgot about it. Except me. My day almost immediately crashed from 'good day' to 'today sucked'. Rationally, I knew that was dumb. I mean, it was basically a good day, right? But I couldn't help it. I felt completely awful - and it was for something that, most likely, only I remember! And I couldn't stop feeling bad about it, either.
Now that I look at it, I can actually notice a trend - I have not been late to school since 3rd grade. Not once. Rarely, I am technically late (and panicking about it, usually), but something happens - the teacher isn't there, the teacher is late, something. But late? Nope. Not me.
I'm always in class early, because I'm terrifed that I'll lose track of time and be late. I know that I have no sense of time, and I mean none, and therefore even when my parents ask me - sternly, because otherwise I'm relaxed about time in this one case - to come down in exactly five minutes, I glance at the clock every 30 seconds because I don't want to be late.
>_< Why am I so obsessed with this?!
