Queen of the world.
I was victorious yesterday.
I was victorious in such a way that I'm still grinning about it over 24 hours later.
I was victorious in a slightly epic sort of way.
The presentations of this week have been hanging over my head for, well, weeks. Since I knew about them. In particular, the chemistry presentation has been a looming thundercloud because of the emotions tied into it. I was absolutely furious after I saw I'd gotten what amounted to a 3 out of 5 while the boys got 4 out of 5 on that first presentation, and as anyone who knows me knows...when I get mad, I seethe and I smolder, I obsess darkly and bitterly. It's a waste of time to tell me to do otherwise--when I'm mad, I'm MAD, and I intend to stay that way until I've sorted things out in a way that satisfies me.
Luckily, I don't really get mad that often.
So, I obsessed, and I dwelt on it, and I smoldered. I discussed the situation with my lecture instructor, who said she'd try to have a word with my sorry excuse for a lab partner. And when he and I met, out came Dominikki. I told him I was doing the Powerpoint and that he could decide what section he wanted to present. So, I obsessed over said Powerpoint all. weekend. long. It couldn't be just any run-of-the-mill Powerpoint. It had to be aesthetically pleasing, concise, clean, and generally awesome. Luckily, I have mad skillz in this, and created a presentation that was as beautiful as it was professional. I arrived early on Tuesday to make last-minute changes, and was feeling so good that I told Cassie we'd go first. I then left the room to go print some last-minute notes.
...However, the other computers weren't working. So I came back to the computers in the hall directly outside the lab, and as I was begging the printer to cooperate, Blake (a classmate) came out into the hall, and said, "Whooo boy, your lab partner is maaad."
I said, "What? Why?"
Blake shook his head. "He came in and wanted to know what order we were going in. And Cassie said, "y'all are going first. And he said, "WHUT!" and Cassie said, "Yeah, Nikki said y'all'd go first." And he said, "WHUT. I DIDN'T TELL HER WE'D GO FIRST!"
...
Take a moment, ladies and gentlemen. Take a moment to let that roll over you. Do you see the delicious top notes of sexism in there? The control-freak heart notes? The batshit crazy social skills of a rabid hamster base? Yeeeah.
I started to snicker, and Blake said, "I told him that you didn't GIVE a shit what he said."
I sat up and said, "WHAT. Are you serious? You actually SAID that?"
And he said, "Yeah." He paused. "Well, you DON'T, do you?"
And I just started laughing. "No, no, I don't," I said.
We went into the classroom and James and Trevor were in there, looking over their notes. James gave me a death stare. Trevor merely shook his head in what I've come to recognize as his "this is bullshit" expression. I see it a lot, particularly with regards to James. James wanted to see the powerpoint, naturally. I could tell he was looking for something to criticize, but, of course, there was nothing. So, we got our stuff set up, and began the presentation.
My part was, of course, good. I'm a good public speaker, even when I'm still kinda hoarse from a hockey game. Trevor was well-spoken as well. He's a smart kid. And he probably gets a free pass even if he does flounder because, well, he's pretty.
But then it was James's turn. The last part of the presentation. All he had to do was talk about the results and the problems we had and then wrap it up. That was all. I put bulleted points on his two slides for him. I didn't drown the slides in information because a) we didn't need it and b) it's unprofessional.
But...
He.
Completely.
Fell.
Apart.
He stuttered, he stumbled, he had long noticeable pauses as he tried to remember this or that. He forgot key words, and the last few sentences were garbled. He went to the last slide, and just looked at it. All he had to do was sum up our experience and talk about how we wanted to use a particular combination of reagents but had to rework it because one of the reagents we wanted wasn't available.
And then the moment of glory arrived. He looked at the slide, and then he me with this pleading version of that same "oh shit" look. I just looked at him, and then after a long pause, I said what he was supposed to say.
I knew it better than he did, and not because I put it together. He had the same information in front of him that I did. It wasn't even that he gets nervous in front of people, because he was fine when we presented the first time. It was that he didn't know his shit, plain and simple. He wasn't able to pull the memory from his brain. He had to have it right in front of him, or he completely folded like a house of cards in a hurricane. And what's more--everyone saw him do it. Everyone knew he didn't know his shit.
When we made eye contact, I knew I'd owned him. And he knew that he'd been owned. He sat with his back to Trevor and me when we went back to our seats, and did not look at us or speak to us for the rest of the afternoon. Trevor and I had a merry time. We had our laptops, and when I sat down, Trevor nudged my chair and tilted his toward me. He'd typed "he only stuttered 100 times" in the google search bar. I started to snicker, and then he whispered, "26 times. I counted."
So.
Whenever I have these moments where my inner bitch comes out, I enjoy them. I so rarely get to be a bitch. I am not a woman who is especially comfortable being assertive (no shit, Nikki). My status quo is generally pretty calm, polite, friendly. And I rarely drop that general outward appearance. So, when I have a reason to unleash my nastier side...I enjoy it. It's a powerful feeling. I have the capacity to be very nasty indeed. And it's very cathartic to muse over what I could do if I decided to fully unleash The Bitch Within. Just like I always know what to say to make someone feel better, so too do I always know how to rip them apart.
But, inevitably, someone comes along and tells me I should be the bigger person. I should take the high road. Etc. Etc.
Does everyone else get this same lecture?
Sometimes, ladies and gentlemen, I simply don't WANT to take the proverbial higher road. I know it's there. I don't care. I am a good person 98% of the time. And to be told "oh, you should be better than that"...it's a slap in the face. It implies that all the times when I AM a good person just don't matter. Because I have this one time where I want to be a bitch, or I want to make someone hurt because they made me hurt, and suddenly my general good behavior isn't worth a shit? I don't need a lecture on compassion. I don't need trite words about how "OF COURSE I'M THE BETTER PERSON!". Why must I be hushed? Why must I be squelched? Why does everyone else get to be a bitch, but I don't?
Now I just sound whiny. I think I just lost some badass points there. So I'm going to stop whining and resume celebrating.
I was victorious in such a way that I'm still grinning about it over 24 hours later.
I was victorious in a slightly epic sort of way.
The presentations of this week have been hanging over my head for, well, weeks. Since I knew about them. In particular, the chemistry presentation has been a looming thundercloud because of the emotions tied into it. I was absolutely furious after I saw I'd gotten what amounted to a 3 out of 5 while the boys got 4 out of 5 on that first presentation, and as anyone who knows me knows...when I get mad, I seethe and I smolder, I obsess darkly and bitterly. It's a waste of time to tell me to do otherwise--when I'm mad, I'm MAD, and I intend to stay that way until I've sorted things out in a way that satisfies me.
Luckily, I don't really get mad that often.
So, I obsessed, and I dwelt on it, and I smoldered. I discussed the situation with my lecture instructor, who said she'd try to have a word with my sorry excuse for a lab partner. And when he and I met, out came Dominikki. I told him I was doing the Powerpoint and that he could decide what section he wanted to present. So, I obsessed over said Powerpoint all. weekend. long. It couldn't be just any run-of-the-mill Powerpoint. It had to be aesthetically pleasing, concise, clean, and generally awesome. Luckily, I have mad skillz in this, and created a presentation that was as beautiful as it was professional. I arrived early on Tuesday to make last-minute changes, and was feeling so good that I told Cassie we'd go first. I then left the room to go print some last-minute notes.
...However, the other computers weren't working. So I came back to the computers in the hall directly outside the lab, and as I was begging the printer to cooperate, Blake (a classmate) came out into the hall, and said, "Whooo boy, your lab partner is maaad."
I said, "What? Why?"
Blake shook his head. "He came in and wanted to know what order we were going in. And Cassie said, "y'all are going first. And he said, "WHUT!" and Cassie said, "Yeah, Nikki said y'all'd go first." And he said, "WHUT. I DIDN'T TELL HER WE'D GO FIRST!"
...
Take a moment, ladies and gentlemen. Take a moment to let that roll over you. Do you see the delicious top notes of sexism in there? The control-freak heart notes? The batshit crazy social skills of a rabid hamster base? Yeeeah.
I started to snicker, and Blake said, "I told him that you didn't GIVE a shit what he said."
I sat up and said, "WHAT. Are you serious? You actually SAID that?"
And he said, "Yeah." He paused. "Well, you DON'T, do you?"
And I just started laughing. "No, no, I don't," I said.
We went into the classroom and James and Trevor were in there, looking over their notes. James gave me a death stare. Trevor merely shook his head in what I've come to recognize as his "this is bullshit" expression. I see it a lot, particularly with regards to James. James wanted to see the powerpoint, naturally. I could tell he was looking for something to criticize, but, of course, there was nothing. So, we got our stuff set up, and began the presentation.
My part was, of course, good. I'm a good public speaker, even when I'm still kinda hoarse from a hockey game. Trevor was well-spoken as well. He's a smart kid. And he probably gets a free pass even if he does flounder because, well, he's pretty.
But then it was James's turn. The last part of the presentation. All he had to do was talk about the results and the problems we had and then wrap it up. That was all. I put bulleted points on his two slides for him. I didn't drown the slides in information because a) we didn't need it and b) it's unprofessional.
But...
He.
Completely.
Fell.
Apart.
He stuttered, he stumbled, he had long noticeable pauses as he tried to remember this or that. He forgot key words, and the last few sentences were garbled. He went to the last slide, and just looked at it. All he had to do was sum up our experience and talk about how we wanted to use a particular combination of reagents but had to rework it because one of the reagents we wanted wasn't available.
And then the moment of glory arrived. He looked at the slide, and then he me with this pleading version of that same "oh shit" look. I just looked at him, and then after a long pause, I said what he was supposed to say.
I knew it better than he did, and not because I put it together. He had the same information in front of him that I did. It wasn't even that he gets nervous in front of people, because he was fine when we presented the first time. It was that he didn't know his shit, plain and simple. He wasn't able to pull the memory from his brain. He had to have it right in front of him, or he completely folded like a house of cards in a hurricane. And what's more--everyone saw him do it. Everyone knew he didn't know his shit.
When we made eye contact, I knew I'd owned him. And he knew that he'd been owned. He sat with his back to Trevor and me when we went back to our seats, and did not look at us or speak to us for the rest of the afternoon. Trevor and I had a merry time. We had our laptops, and when I sat down, Trevor nudged my chair and tilted his toward me. He'd typed "he only stuttered 100 times" in the google search bar. I started to snicker, and then he whispered, "26 times. I counted."
So.
Whenever I have these moments where my inner bitch comes out, I enjoy them. I so rarely get to be a bitch. I am not a woman who is especially comfortable being assertive (no shit, Nikki). My status quo is generally pretty calm, polite, friendly. And I rarely drop that general outward appearance. So, when I have a reason to unleash my nastier side...I enjoy it. It's a powerful feeling. I have the capacity to be very nasty indeed. And it's very cathartic to muse over what I could do if I decided to fully unleash The Bitch Within. Just like I always know what to say to make someone feel better, so too do I always know how to rip them apart.
But, inevitably, someone comes along and tells me I should be the bigger person. I should take the high road. Etc. Etc.
Does everyone else get this same lecture?
Sometimes, ladies and gentlemen, I simply don't WANT to take the proverbial higher road. I know it's there. I don't care. I am a good person 98% of the time. And to be told "oh, you should be better than that"...it's a slap in the face. It implies that all the times when I AM a good person just don't matter. Because I have this one time where I want to be a bitch, or I want to make someone hurt because they made me hurt, and suddenly my general good behavior isn't worth a shit? I don't need a lecture on compassion. I don't need trite words about how "OF COURSE I'M THE BETTER PERSON!". Why must I be hushed? Why must I be squelched? Why does everyone else get to be a bitch, but I don't?
Now I just sound whiny. I think I just lost some badass points there. So I'm going to stop whining and resume celebrating.