Absolutely terrifying drive today.

I've had this dream a few times: there's a monster or vaguely unholy type of baddie out there and it's up to me to stop it because I'm some kind of chosen warrior (didn't we all want to be Jedi Knights when we were kids?). Unfortunately, even though I know I'm supposed to be this warrior type, I have no fucking clue what do to. In the dream, I've forgotten (or perhaps never taken) any kind of training that would help me fight this monster. But it comes, regardless, spoiling for a fight. I'm scared shitless. There's a sick kind of knowing dread in my stomach that I am going to be ripped to shreds. But I have to go forward. I have to fight the monster, even though victory is impossible.

So that was a little what it was like today going with Other Supervising Attorney to her house, knowing that I would be driving the stick shift car back to the office and then to my house. She was worried about her sick baby, so she didn't really talk about the details of driving stick (and I may have overrepresented how much I knew about it). I tried to carry on conversation with her, but I was stressing the whole time about watching when she pressed the clutch, when she shifted, etc. And then we got to her house, which is on the top of a hill, and she said, "Oh, and the CD player doesn't work so well, and -- " and I told her, "It's okay, just go see your baby" and she smiled and gave me the key and said, "Good luck!" and walked away, and I got in and coasted down the hill in neutral and then stopped just fine at the end of the hill, but then sat there for 5 minutes because I couldn't figure out how to make the car go again.

Note to self: car does not move forward when you press the gas IF IT IS IN NEUTRAL.

I actually got the car moving without too much trouble once I figured out I needed it to be in first gear, but that was just the beginning of my troubles. She lives on a quiet street. At the end of it, I had to turn onto a busy street. And there the terror really began.

You see, the last time I drove a stick shift car was at least three or four years ago, and that was for one hour. In a parking lot. With the Ringleted One by my side telling me what to do and calming me down. And before that, it was an hour with bigbro (in his 1971 Volkswagen SQUAREBACK, not Bug, as I mistakenly stated in an earlier entry), way back in -- god, 1997? Yeah. In neither situation had I actually driven in traffic. With other cars around. That had to wait behind me when I stalled (just once, though!) and had to restart the car. And had to wait as I herked and jerked my way forward a few inches at a time for a good 15 seconds before I got the car rolling. And had to switch lanes because I was going 20 freakin' miles an hour since I was too scared to shift into third. And had to sit behind me when, at the top of the hill leading to my house, I started to roll backwards when I was trying to move forward to merge onto my street.

The amazing thing? Not one driver honked at me. At one point, I put my hazards on -- only to find out later that I hadn't put them on at all. I might have gotten some dirty looks and muttered curses, but I was too terrified and worried about not grinding the gears to notice.

But enough about the nice drivers of Anchorage, and back to meeeee. Meee and my terrrorrrr. Because Ah tell yeww, Ah was petrified. I seriously did not know enough to drive this car, and here I was in midday traffic, 10 miles away from the office, in the city, with stoplights and cars and jaywalking pedestrians -- god, I'm breaking into hives just thinking about it. I could not believe I was actually in the car doing this, making up ideas about when to shift, trying to ignore the strange protesting sounds coming from the engine, praying that stoplights wouldn't turn red, reminding myself under my breath, "To stop, just press the brake and the clutch. Press the break and the clutch to stop. To stop, just press brake and clutch. Brake and clutch. Brake and clutch."

I did remember what bigbro told me: that our dad had learned how to drive a stick shift in a parking lot when he somehow rented a moving truck that was manual. And I remembered that bigbro himself learned on the fly. But I am sure that they were not as ill-prepared as I was. Nor as frightened.

All the stuff with the car today helped me not think about the other stressful situation at work. Today I meant to talk with Supervisor about farming the work out for this reply due in two weeks to others, because I didn't think I could finish it in time. But I was preempted; he sat down and said he'd just look over the cases himself. And that he wanted me to write part of the brief because it would be a good learning experience. Which is nice. But it was sad that I couldn't do what he had assigned, and I said so. "No, no, no," he said, "I have a tendency to project my work style, which is that I just want to be given the assignment and then be left alone."

"Well," I replied, "then since I know that, it's on me to tell you that it was too much to chew."

"But you wouldn't know that it was too much," he countered, and he was right. Which is kinda what I've been thinking.

I guess I feel a little guilty for not completing this research myself, but I've got no ruler against which to measure myself. Maybe it was a task that my schoolmates would have easily accomplished. Maybe not. Maybe the Wonder Intern last year could have done it all and I'm just a total doofus in comparison. (I think that's entirely possible -- she was described to me as "a machine" by another attorney.) I have no idea.

But I also don't think it's so bad that he took work away from me, because: 1. I wasn't going to finish it on time, and you don't turn things in late to a state supreme court; 2. I am by all rights a moron right now at research because I just haven't done it enough; and 3. I don't care about being good at research because I don't like it and I don't really care about being a stellar lawyer. I don't even want to be a lawyer! So that makes things much easier.

I really don't have ambitions to impress anyone here. I've got enough recommenders from other jobs who thought I did great work so that I don't need these guys. Which doesn't mean I'm not going to work hard. I'm just not going to care that much if they decide I'm not SuperLawClerk.

Yay for low ambitions!

So in sum: petrifying, incomprehensible and uncomprehending terror in the Subaru; "eh"-ness in the office; and weekend trip to Kenai. Yeah, Roommate and I are going to rent a car (trust me, if you'd been in the parking lot where we practiced driving tonight, you'd know we were not ready to take the Subaru out for a 3-hour-long drive through a national forest) and go for a short trip to our landlady's new house in Kenai. There's supposed to be some good salmon watching there.

Oof. It's 2:45 am. How? Oh yes: driving in circles for an hour in the high school parking lot down the street, stopping and starting, stopping and starting, stopping and starting... Poor little Subaru.