Day 3. It’s a wonderful life ….. hanging out in a warm, glowing yurt. Okay. I’ll tell you something. I’m a bit obsessed with yurts. I SO want one. Better yet, I want to go to Central Asia or go to Mongolia and stay in a yurt for, oh, 2 months. Who wants to come with?
The first image is my Google image of the day. The others are just because …. I love yurts!
Cozy, isn’t it?
To the person who found my blog by Googling “steno machine hard to learn?” — oh, God bless you for that little hopeful question mark. It’s kinda precious to me, actually. So I hesitate to write things, nasty things, that will change that phrase to “STENO MACHINE HARD TO LEARN!!!!” but I feel I MUST do so, because of your very preciousness and naivete.
I used to be you. Only I chose — fleetingly — “being a court reporter” to please my parents, not myself. So maybe you think, “Well, I’m different; I really want to do this.” Trust me: YOU DO NOT. You just don’t know yet how much you DO NOT want to do this. You are ignorant and by that, I don’t mean stupid. I mean, you lack the requisite knowledge to make a wise choice. And the schools won’t give it to you or — you wouldn’t enroll!
The drop-out rate at most schools is upwards of 85% because it is such a soul-crushingly awful experience. I tried to remind myself of the alleged heaps of cash that would just pile around my house like useful dust bunnies once I was finally a court reporter. Turns out, that never motivated me. The pretty dream of heaps of cash was crushed under the suffocating weight of the daily hideousness that is court reporting school.
First, dear stranger, you must learn the steno language. Trust me, it is a language that takes time to master much like any language. The difference is you don’t speak it, you write it. FAST. VERY FREAKIN’ FAST. 200+ wpm FAST. But in the beginning, on that bizarro keyboard, you will struggle mightily just to write words like HAT and DOG and TACK. And when you’re struggling with those words, just remember this: Not too many lawyers and judges repeatedly use words like HAT and DOG and TACK. Nope. Their words are generally a lot bigger, a lot less familiar. So, seriously, good luck with all THAT.
If I sound discouraging, I mean to be. I admit it. I’ve been a court reporting student and a court reporting teacher. I KNOW what I’m talking about. And I will be honest: Court reporting school is not some 6- to 9-month program. It will take you years. 3 to 5 years is average. When I was in school there was a woman who’d been there for 12 years already. I kid you not, dear stranger. Don’t let the schools fool you into believing you’ll be done in a year. YOU WILL NOT. You more than likely will not finish and will walk away with heaps of cash that you owe, not that you earned. I was fortunate to be able to pay cash while I was in school, so I didn’t walk away with debt. I just walked away. School was cheaper than it is now. I’m talking you’ll pay at least, oh, $25,000 — and that’s IF you finish in 3 years. God help your pocketbook if it takes you longer. (It just might.)
Second, dear stranger, every day you are in court reporting school, you will know FAILURE. Every damn day and I say this without exaggeration. This is what I ultimately could not handle. My psyche couldn’t take it anymore. For my own mental and emotional health, I had to stop. I was always such a good student, BA with high honors, blah blah, and that all fell away sitting and stressing behind that damn machine. Partly, because I didn’t want it with my whole heart or even a little piece of my heart, but partly because the schools are structured to keep you there LONGER so you will owe them more money. They are only there to help you fail. I’m sorry. It’s true. I’ve seen both sides of it, as a student and a teacher. It doesn’t serve their interests to help you get through school quickly. So when they dictate material to you, they make sure it will be the most impossibly difficult material they can find. It will not be “hop on pop,” or other material dotted with easy, one-syllable words. No. It’ll be more like:
The petition and physicians’ certificates prepared in this matter constitute the formal method of detaining a person who is asserted to be subject to involuntary admission. These documents are not evidence against the Respondent and do not create any inference that the Respondent is a person subject to involuntary admission.
And actually, that’s not that bad, but I can’t find anything worse at the moment. Oh, and did your mind kinda wander as you read that? Did you brain go somewhere less boring? Well, then you just blew it. Because if your instructor was dictating that to you as part of a test at say, oh, 160 wpm and you lost focus for a few seconds and started thinking about what you’ll make for dinner or how your nail polish is chipped or how you hate that girl’s haircut, you just failed that day’s test. Why? Because you have to pass at 98% accuracy.
So let’s do some dreaded math. Most tests are 5 minutes long. Let’s take that 160 wpm as an example. 5 minutes @ 160 is a total of 800 words. In order to pass at 98%, when you transcribe that from steno into English, you must get 784 words correct. You’re allowed 16 errors in all that. If you lose focus for a mere 7 seconds out of those 5 LONNNNG minutes, YOU HAVE LOST TOO MANY WORDS. You did not pass. You throw those notes in the trash, knowing that another day is lost to you. You go home and get drunk or torture small animals or whatever.
At every speed level, there can be up to 10 such tests you must pass just to get to the next level. You can go months — MONTHS! — without passing a single test. Because your mind wanders. (Not mine, of course.) Or because your hands shake with nerves. Or because you didn’t understand the context of what was said and wrote the wrong word, or several wrong words.
I do hope you’re getting this, dear stranger. Court reporting school is like a dementor from Harry Potter: It will suck your soul away and leave you a withered shell.
If this sounds good to you, by all means, sign up immediately! I have a machine you can have! Carpe diem!
Look, I only enjoy it now for the endless, ridiculous stories I have about it, not for the heaps of cash cushioning my ass as I write this post.
Finally, dear stranger, I don’t want you to go away all, “Jeez. What a downer. She sucks.” So I offer an exception to everything I just said.
You should definitely go to court reporting school if:
— your name is Tiffani or Ambyr or Sha’nal
— you’re kinda slutty.
— you’re just out of high school or between 17 and 20 years of age. Students of this age do quite well on the machine. They are young and stupid. They are not analytical in any way. They have no problem whatsoever disengaging their brain from the words coming at them, which is weirdly essential.
— you have not the slightest knowledge or understanding of the rules of English grammar. You hate English, actually, and barely speak it. You will do well, again, just writing all the priddypriddy sounds you hear. WEEE!!
— your vocabulary is atrocious. You hate words. Again, they’re all just sounds to you. Gablahdehedeludihank.
— you think there’s nothing wrong with this phrase: “The School of Hard Knox.” Good for you! GO FOR IT!
— you don’t care if lawyers make you write for hours on end while they’re eating takeout. You have no backbone. It’s okay. They got you a sandwich, too! It’s on your machine. Now …. just lowerrr your head — wait! Your hands stopped moving! — and, you know, take a bite. You could ask for a break — but you’re so superrrr nice!! “What does ‘asertiv’ meen??”
— you didn’t understand anything in that italicized paragraph above.
— you said “huh?” at the phrase “Carpe Diem.”
— you relish the chance to pay for a dementor-like experience.
So if words ARE all just sounds to you, if you cannot spell, if you cannot punctuate, if you hate English, if you love dementors, you will be a GREAT court reporting student. The only thing left to suck outta you IS your soul because your brain waved toodeloo a long time ago. You’ll get through school faster than most and then …. you’ll be the world’s worst court reporter. I saw it over and over and over again. You’ll reach that elusive goal because your brain is disconnected and then fall flat on your face when you discover you actually need it. Because it’s not just sounds, because context counts, because comprehension counts, because vocabulary counts — because lawyers and judges read your transcripts and pay good money for them.
It’s the strange paradox of court reporting schools: the dummies graduate and fail; the smarties fail to graduate.
That’s the best I can explain it to you, dear stranger. Which one are you gonna be?
(And the fact that you and I, dear stranger, just might be the only ones who even read this post should prove to you once and for all how deeply hideous the whole thing really is!)
Continuing my holiday experiment: Daily delving into Google images to see what pops up under the search heading “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
Here’s the next one.
When superheroes retire?? I have no idea what’s going on here. But it IS a wonderful life when you see somethin’ like this, don’t you think:
You guys totally missed the chance to do “A Christmas Carol” ripoff.
Ken Lay’s Ghost is Marley’s Ghost. Skilling is Scrooge.
Jeez. It’s so OBVIOUS.
I have a post I’m working on about something very specific from It’s a Wonderful Life. Today, I was Googling some images for it and suddenly, this idea hit me. And I’m just gonna do it.
For the month of December, I’m going to be posting random images that come up when I Google It’s a Wonderful Life. Why? I don’t know, really, but as I clicked through them, I was struck by the sheer variety of images that came up under the heading It’s a Wonderful Life. Obviously, a lot of them are related to the movie, but so many of them are just from …. life. Regular ol’ life. Random, weird, wonderful life.
Here’s the first image from my grand holiday experiment, Googling “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
The Sock Monkey Nativity:
I want one. So SO much. I mean, we only recently discussed my penchant for the sock monkey. But a baby Jesus sock monkey?
O Holy Night, people!!
Happy December, all!!
It’s officially December now by the clock out here and that means this:
Time for the silly competition MB and I traditionally have on December 1st.
It involves a stupid Christmas song and the equally stupid lyrics we made up for it. And for some reason likely only discernible by that glorious relationship guru Dr. Phil, the stupidity lives on unabated in our hearts year after year. Because as long as I can remember, we’ve had this competition: The first one of us to sing this stupid little ditty to the other on December 1st wins. You can wake the person up with it. March into the bathroom while they’re showering and sing it. Call them at work and sing it. Whatever. It has to be sung, though. You can’t send it in the mail or write it down. You must sing the stupid, stupid song.
Do NOT ask me to tell you the song. Have I mentioned it is STUPID???
The winner becomes the King or Queen of Christmas. It’s only an honorary title, really. Neither of us actually REIGNS over Christmas when we win — alas! — but the winner does kinda reign over the, uhm, non-winner/quivering subject in a benevolent monarch-y way for the Christmas season. Oh, and there’s a special gift involved for the Christmas Monarch, chosen by the non-winner/quivering subject. The first year we did it, I think MB won. But it was all very loose and free-form, nothing really set, and he was like, “So what do I get?” “Uhm, you’re the King of Christmas, er somethin’ like that??” “Oh, okay.” But now, we are ridiculously attached to the whole retarded deal.
Yep. Thaaaat’s right.
Go snort your scorn somewhere else, you Commoners of a Predictable Christmas!
So now, I’m still awake — well, unless I’m sleep-blogging — and MB has fallen asleep over there on the couch. It’s officially December 1st. I COULD wake him up with it right now. But …. oh, I won last year. I’m torn. TORN, I tell you! It’s almost TOO easy right now. We are so competitive on this. I should just be cut-throat, huh? This is so dumb. I cannot believe I’m even blogging about this. Okay, look …. there he is. It’d be so easy … wake him up, Tracey … come on …. SING IT! SING IT!! GAH!!
Tell ya later what happened …. you’re all asleep anyway.
