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  1. I'm A Hater by Rhonda Hansome

    Thursday, November 29, 2012


    I’m a hater!  I admit it.  
    If day or night you know exactly where you are, where you want to go and how to get there, you are a direction savant and I hate you; you road sure, path confidant route sage.  Direction savants on land or sea, simply gaze at the fother mucking sky and know the direction in which to move.  

    I’m disoriented stepping out of the bathtub.  I have to leave a trail of bread crumbs...
                                to find my way out of Macys.  

    I came out of the birth canal backwards!

    “Walk this way”, say the direction sure with a confidence I disdain and envy.

    I have lived in NYC all my life, but every time I exit the Lexington Avenue subway I have to grab the nearest Japanese tourist and ask in a faux, non-specific Asian accent: “Which way to Madison Avenue?”  

    I have a sense of direction. And with apologies to Sarah Palin and all who’d be mistakenly offended, my sense of direction IS retarded.  Yes, I suffer from Geographical Dyslexia.

    I’m convinced that Geographical Dyslexia (my self-created term describing my direction dysfunction) is just one manifestation* of my unresolved father issues.  Dad, thanks for abandoning me in utero.  I think of you frequently – every time I walk 3 blocks in the wrong direction.  

                  
    Dear Reader** do you know what this disability, Geographical Dyslexia, did to me who learned to drive in the previous century – BEFORE GPS?  It resulted in horrors too terrifying and numerous to recount here.  Suffice it to say that many, many times I have just parked my car roadside, rocked in the fetal position and sucked my thumb while I cried.  There is a club for the multitudes who have given me directions, Platinum Membership if they advised me while I clutched a tear stained map.  When I look at a map I don’t get which way to go, I get vertigo!


    The last century is more than a decade in the past you deride.  The GPS has come to my rescue, you chide.  So what, I scoff.  The satellite based GPS is a technological marvel that mocks my Geographical Dyslexia with every accusatory declaration of “recalculating.”  My GPS and I have a love - HATE relationship, reminiscent of my erstwhile marriage. My GPS is helpful while condescending and supportive while passive aggressive. 
    For example

    GPS:  In 500 feet get in the left lane, stay in the left lane,  bear left, right turn here.  

    Me:  Right turn here!?  Bitch*** this is a six lane highway and I’m in the left lane!

    GPS:  Turn around when possible.

    Me:  The next exit is 6 miles!

    GPS: Recalculating, recalculating.

    My animosity is legitimate and fervent.  I’m a hater!


    *I have math anxiety and dread computing any scientific formula
     
    **You three are the delight of my blogging life!    
       
    ***That’s her name!
                                                                      




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  2. 4 comments:

    1. that is very funny. i have the same kind of dyslexia. i also never met my father (reasons are more complicated than he just leaving). had the same type of condescendingly "supportive" spouse. years ago, a friend who is in early childhood education told me that trouble with directions is a sign of dyslexia. i said it didn't affect my reading and writing. she said that was why no one picked up on it plus no one tends to think it is a problem if girls don't know where they are going. :-(

    2. and you are brave. i don't drive.

    3. Lisa Harmon said...

      My Mom is the same way but I wonder if she's faking, because she can always find her way to AC.

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