Cursing

I hate meetings. I hate them the same way I hate waking up early on a Saturday morning. It's a hassle, an insult, an interruption, and there are a thousand different reasons it's the wrong thing to do; but there's always one reason why I have to do it - and I usually end up hating that reason. That's how I feel about meetings. No matter what the goal is, being stuck in a little room with the same five people as usual, listening to the same person as usual drone on and on and on about the same nonsense as usual makes me want to fucking scream.

So, to keep from exploding in a ridiculous ball of misplaced rage, I now spend my meeting time quietly trying to better myself. The last few days, I've been trying to re-learn how to write in cursive. It's probably been 25 years since I was last required to write in cursive, and, while never good, my handwriting today is horrible. I couldn't remember how to make upper-case Fs, Qs or Zs; I tried writing my wife's name, but couldn't figure out how to handle the transition from a "w" to an "n" without drawing each stroke slowly and deliberately, like a 4th grader. Last meeting, I filled up four sheets of notebook paper with "The quick brown fox...", song lyrics and random alliterative sentences. It's horrible. I need remedial handwriting classes.