004 - The last day of class.
[mood|
sleepy]
Today was the very last day of "Advanced Typing." When it was time to take the final test, I became very nervous. My palms were even sweating a little. We had to type a series of paragraphs and letters and we were being judged on accuracy as well as on our ability to type quickly. I had just completed the last sentence of the test when the instructor called "time."
We had to wait about half an hour for the results. My classmates and I were called in individually to the instructor's office and given their scores and a certificate of completion (of the course). I couldn't help but clam up again when my name was called, "Holloway, Lee."
Mr. Jenkins said that I had gotten the third highest scores in the class. I didn't know how to react to that though I was thrilled. Well, I still am, though mom seemed much more happy about it than even I was. It's nice that she feels so proud of me but she has a tendency to go overboard and it makes me feel uncomfortable when she makes such a big deal about things. I don't usually like to be the center of attention. Today was no different.
Tonight, I remembered -- relived -- how and when I had misjudged the cut in the kitchen so long ago. I was so, so overwhelmed with anxiety that I almost cut myself again. Would this be called a "near relapse?" It was so tempting. I had taken my kit out from its hiding place and grabbed the pink and white ballerina and block out of the bag. I ran the tiny ballerina's pointed foot along the sharpening block and when I was satisfied, I attempted to cut my thigh. It was then that I caught myself and realized that even though my family has problems, it really is better to be home than at the institution. No, I couldn't let that happen again. I quickly packed everything up - the iodine, the bandages, and so on. I could not have them in my room any longer or else I'd go back to the routine. I felt I had to get rid of them. It'd be the only way to resist temptation.
I passed the kitchen on the way to the garbage cans which were out front, and saw mom locking away the last of the knives in a cabinet. She saw my questioning look and said, "Just a precaution." Yeah. Great way to help me feel better, mom. I turned from her, visibly upset and continued out to the garage, lifted the lid of one of the trash cans, and threw my bag and cigar box full of the cutting tools into it and took a few steps back up the path to the front door. But then I stopped. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with throwing everything away. When I reached into the garbage can again, I saw a newspaper just underneath my stuff and pulled it out also. What had caught my eye was the "HELP WANTED" section. There was something about how I found the newspaper that made it seem like a sign. Destiny. It was then I firmly resolved to get a job.
I found a newspaper lying around the house and noticed the '"Help Wanted" ads. I brought it up to my room and immediately began to circle jobs I might be interested in. When I told mom that I planned to go look for a job tomorrow, she suggested that she give me a ride. I told her I was fine catching the bus, but she'd have none of that. She babies me way too much. :-/
Hopefully, I will find a job tomorrow. I've already started to practice for the interviews. "I have never had a job before but I can assure you that I am very excited about this opportunity. Thank you. Oh -- well I don't have any references yet, but I think the Municipal Tax Office would be a wonderful place to begin my career."
What sorts of jobs did I find in the Help Wanted section? Well, there's an opening for a maid at a motel downtown, a receptionist at the hospital, something at the tax information office and also a secretary position for a law office. Hmm, Lee Holloway, secretary. Maybe.
Alright. I'm going to bed.
"Secretary wanted for Law Office. Typing Skills Mandatory. 2640 Ardmore Ave."