Today I got my first art history paper back and I can’t believe I’m going to write this out loud, but I was disappointed that I only got an A.
This reveals a certain degree of insanity on so many levels, it’s almost not worth getting into them all in writing. Aside from the obvious fact that, you know, an A is a perfect grade and by most people’s logic, you can’t really be any better than perfect, there is also the little matter of my consistently setting unattainable goals, yadda yadda… I’ll spare you the inner dialog because it’s been brutal enough to hear it in my own head without actually putting it down for witnesses to bear.
Yesterday I had a pop quiz in my American history course in which I had to list and briefly describe three issues that contributed to the start of the American Revolution. I started writing, and had barely finished three sentences of issue number one – the obvious “no taxation without representation” – when she told us time was up and we had to hand them in. This put me into such a tailspin that I was prepared to go directly to the admissions office at Queens College and withdraw immediately because I was too much of a failure to even successfully pass a five-minute pop quiz in American history. And this comes from someone who already HAS a college degree from a very prestigious university, not to mention a very successful and well-paying job at a major financial institution in New York City.
It has honestly taken me hours and days and most of this week to talk myself down to the point where I can see the insanity of my logic and realize that as important as the issues leading up to the American Revolution were, perhaps they don’t really have as much bearing on my livelihood as I would like to think. And that maybe getting an A instead of an A+ in 20th century art is not really a failure but something of a success.
Throughout the whole process of self-therapy I’ve undergone in the last two days, one phrase has repeated itself over and over again in my head: I am a DORK. When I dared utter that sentiment out loud to a friend, she reminded me that of course not, you are not a dork. To which I responded, OK, I am a GEEK. Because what I haven’t mentioned yet is that in addition to all of this, I’ve also managed to solve some of her technological issues over the phone, including rescuing her microbiology assignment from certain doom by figuring out how to point her HTML code to the right folders containing her image files so her Elvis image would show up for her professor. That is pretty geeky. She couldn’t disagree.
Anyway, to sum it up: GEEK + DORK = GERK. All hail: A new vocabulary is born.