Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Anyone intersted in a turquoise 1991 automatic VW Golf?

Do you ever feel like life is some sort of sick joke and you're the butt of it? Or like someone somewhere is watching you and either snickering or shaking their head? If so, then maybe we could start a club. Or a support group. Or a new political party.

Why the frustration? I had my second driving hour today, and here are the major points:

1. I made every mistake in the book (how I avoided totaling the car is beyond me).

2. My driving instructor had to grab the steering wheel three times because I somehow messed up.

3. My instructor told me twice that had today been the test, I would have failed.

What bewilders me is the fact that I can drive. Or I thought I could. Katinka and I drove all over Germany. I've had my license for about six years now. I've driven in Germany since last September. Why is this so difficult?

At the rate things are going, I might be ebay-ing my dear Scaramouche.

Between Sunday and today, I'm realizing how horribly I react under stress and pressure. My mind somehow ceases to function normally, and in a matter of seconds I turn from a semi-normal person into a blinking idiot with motor-skill malfunctions.

Lyric of the day: "The bitter taste is cumbersome..." (Thanks to Seven Mary Three)

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