in medias res

Fake Modesty or Genuine Ignorance?

I've decided that more frequent updates would keep me from being too overwhelmed to write my life, so I'm attempting a qvickie post. I'm really avoiding composing the scripts for the Packaging Demonstration Video for all assessment coordinators. Riveting. My few creative suggestions were praised by one editor, and "mm-hmm"ed by the other, so I'm hoping to find a middle ground. Because this is my first solo project, I want to take this seriously, but I also don't feel good turning in something as melba-toast-y as the test administration instructions. (in a Fran Drescher voice: "Please read these instructions to yourself as I read them alooooooud." Fran will not be the voice for my directorial debut. I hope.)

Come join me in my mini-pickle.

I was honored with this assignment because 1) no one else wanted to do it, and 2) I'm young and "good with technology." They think my "no, really I'm not very good with this stuff" is fake modesty. Then my 40 year old co-worker had to give me a quick tutorial on "How to Use PowerPoint." Their golden child may be losing her Midas-touch for something a little less savory. Like mashed potatoes.

I can't complain because My S0-Called Job has the best characters. My Big Boss and my Equivalent are both no-nonsense and hard-nosed with a perfect balance of softness. On Friday, Big Boss came to tell me about how she got so angry that morning, she threw a testing manual against the wall and almost broke her porcelain cat. It's the only time, in all of these years, she has lost her temper. My Equivalent (I must come up with another name for her!) has helped me keep my perspective amid the tension and quick-change tempers. My priorities must exist outside of my cubicle on the fourth floor.

I have work this afternoon and class this evening before I, once again, prove that I have been overestimated. At the Department picnic last week, where I showcased my chocolate eclair and performed doughnuts-in-a-canoe, I became a bit overzealous and gave a "sure, why not!" to the intramural volleyball team.

"Hey, Tara, have you ever played volleyball?" asked my uber-athletic classmate.

I had, but both years of my high school volleyball career consisted of me discovering hip-hop during our warm-ups and getting good at cheering and getting mad at myself for my lack of coordination. I prayed that the coach wouldn't put me in and I'd have all eyes on me. More of me was interally shaking my head in the stands than in the game focusing on moving. I worked really hard and I was okay, but never great.
Tonight, I don my knee pads and step into formation one more time. ("NO! BACK, Tara, FALL BACK!!!" Fall back on my bottom is more like it.)

Stay tuned for more tales of great adventure in the near future. (and less food imagery. I just had some Amish pancakes - made with real Amish - so I'm not sure why it keeps sneaking in there. "If ya get tired, pull over. If ya get hungry, eat something.")

Ciao!

posted by tara @ 9:33 AM