A few weekends ago Adam and I decided to go out to eat. Not a mind-blowing revelation I know. Not one of you is sitting out there thinking to yourself right now, "A married couple going out to eat? SO SCANDOULOUS! " Us going out to eat is only notable because on this particular day I decided I was so sick and tired of going to the same old places and wanted to try someplace new. But trying out a new restaurant can be a frustrating and difficult endeavor when your husband only eats foods from his five food groups: Burgers, Chicken Fingers, Pizza, French Fries, and Corn. At least he likes one vegetable! So whenever I want to go somewhere new, I typically scour the online menu to double check their burger and chicken finger selections.
I decided I wanted to check out a restaurant called The Elephant Bar. The Elephant Bar is, you guessed it, safari themed. They have animal statues and prints everywhere; it is actually a pretty, cool decorated place. Adam and I settled in, and I ordered a glass of water to drink. I have completely given up soda since I started my diet. Especially at restaurants. But before you start thinking I'm all dedicated and determined you should know I haven't given up soda because I've reached some dieting moral high ground. Nope. I have given it up because soda is empty calories that can be better allotted elsewhere, like for dessert!
So the water came and I took a sip of the water. Everything seemed fine at first, but then I noticed it had a really weird after taste. I couldn't figure out what it was though. Finally, it dawned on me. The water tasted like it had been mixed with dirt! But why? Did they do it on purpose? Was this part of the Safari experience? That is not the Safari experience I signed up for.
Adam saw me cringing and asked me what was wrong. So I forced him to drink it because my discomfort should also be his discomfort. He didn't taste a thing though, and you could have blown me over with a feather when he said that. It was so strong when I tasted it. In fact, he thought I was imaging it, like I had just made it up on my mind, or I was paranoid. I may be a nervous Nancy and sometimes I overreact but I didn't dream up the dirt water!
Adam figured it was just this glass of water, so he thought I should ask for a new one. Which seems like the totally logical thing to do. But I am not logical, and I have that social anxiety thing going for me, so I never complain at restaurants. I realize that requesting new water isn't exactly a complaint, but in my mind it sounded like it. I didn't want to tell my waitress about the dirt water because she would apologize, bring me a new glass, and then question me about the state of my water all evening. Not too mention that sometimes the manager comes out to apologize in these situations. TOO MUCH PRESSURE. I may whine on my blog and to my husband, but in public I'm all sunshine and lollipops
Yeah it is 100% neurotic I know, but that's just me. So I took a deep breathe, slammed the water back like a tequila shot, waited for a new glass, and prayed that my next water wouldn't taste like dirt. The second glass was better but it was still rather "earthy." But I just let it go because it was drinkable. Adam spent a good amount of time trying to convince me it would be ok to say something to the waitress about the water. But my neurosis does not allow me to accept his point of view.
Flash forward a few weekends later when a few people are hanging at my house practicing our counseling skills for the class from Hades. They felt just as scared and just as beat up as I did by the class. Which made me feel better, because my misery loves their company. After we were done practicing, we decided to all go out to eat together. But we experienced the age old problem of nobody wanting to make a decision about where to go to eat. Argh. When this happens, I'm always thinking on the inside, "Someone grow some kahonas and make a choice already! Just don't make me pick, because I hate making decisions!" I'm not hypocritical at all. So I just started throwing out some ideas for places to eat, one of them being the Elephant Bar.
When I said the Elephant Bar, one of my friends whipped around and said, "My kids hate the Elephant Bar! Every time I mention it they complain because they think the water tastes like dirt!" My eyes got wide, and I started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. It felt like I had validation! Adam could take his "water paranoia" theory and shove it where the sun ain't shining. He was so shocked to hear her say it too! Then I got to do my, "I was right, You were wrong" dance. Which is the best dance of all time!
Needless to say we didn't go to the Elephant Bar that night. And if you are wondering if I passed my class, wonder no more because I did. Even though it took them FOREVER to post our grades. They posted the scores two whole days after the day I was supposed to find out! So I spent the whole weekend checking my grades every five minutes, and having mini panic attacks every time I clicked the grade book!
You know how I celebrated? By giving Sarah a bath at 11 at night because someone rolled in something nasty on her walk, and someone who will not be mentioned didn't stop her. So when Sarah walked in the door, I was immediately assaulted by her smell. But the person who will still not be mentioned suggested we wait to bathe her till the next day because they were tired. I told that person that unless they could go out and find the bubble John Travolta used in The Boy in The Plastic Bubble movie for her to be placed in overnight, we were bathing her right then. Oh and maybe while you are at the plastic bubble store you could buy us two plastic bubbles because they look like they would pretty fun to play in.
Showing posts with label Grad School Daze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grad School Daze. Show all posts
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Come One Come All You Precious Guinea Pigs (Get Your Blog Designed for Free)!
Guys, I really miss my blog and blog friends. I swear since I got home from Alabama I've been running a million miles an hour. Right into brick walls. I am currently in the class designed by Satan just to torture fun, bubbly girls with anxiety disorders. The class has robbed me of my bubblenesss, and just made me a girl with an anxiety disorder that is currently kicked into overdrive. The worst part is that since I'm in college I am technically paying people to torture me like this.
But the class is officially over on Thursday, that is if I pass. Which who knows what’s going to happen, because last Thursday my whole class sat through four hours of constructive criticism. But the criticism felt less constructive and more like, I dunno, having all your self-confidence smashed into a million pieces. Then finding the courage to sew your confidence back together, only to have it run over by a semi truck. But pass or fail, I'm excited to get back to regular blogging and reading through my delicious google reader stash. So I'll be by to visit all you lovelies and your blogs pretty soon.
But the class is officially over on Thursday, that is if I pass. Which who knows what’s going to happen, because last Thursday my whole class sat through four hours of constructive criticism. But the criticism felt less constructive and more like, I dunno, having all your self-confidence smashed into a million pieces. Then finding the courage to sew your confidence back together, only to have it run over by a semi truck. But pass or fail, I'm excited to get back to regular blogging and reading through my delicious google reader stash. So I'll be by to visit all you lovelies and your blogs pretty soon.
When my nose isn't in a book or I'm not crying into my cereal about the injustice of having my counseling skills tested (I mean how dare they? Really), I'm teaching myself/relearning photoshop, html, and blog design. I'm hopeful that in a few weeks I can start a small little site to design blogs so I can bring in a little extra cash. I'm going to call it Peachy Keen Designs. But I would really like to test out my skills first to see if I can really do this. So if any of you guys would let me design your blogs for free, I will be your slave for life (or at least until your design. Don't worry I will first create a mock up for you to approve before installing it on your blog. That way if you don't like it/don't want it it is no big deal. And I won't have any hurt feelings promise. Unfortunately I can only offer this to people with blogger blogs because I don't know anything about word press. However if you want a banner for your word press blog, I can do that!
Here are some of the banners I've made so far. These are a little simple but I'm learning so much everyday and improving by the minute. Also I can use photographs to make banners too; I just didn't have any photos I really wanted to use in my banners.
The layouts will include a template (if you want a three-columned blog), banner, background, sidebar title tags, advertising button/entrecard, and a custom signature under every post. And possible custom font for post titles and sidebar title (I'm still working on figure that one out, but I've almost got it). The design will not mess up any of your current widgets, gadgets, of thingamajigs.
If you are interested in me designing your blog, comment on my blog with your e-mail address or email me at brittanyervin86@yahoo.com. Please put something about blog design in the e-mail title so I don't think it is spam and delete it.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Hoo Hoos with Dragonfly Tattoos
Right now I'm in a class called Counseling Psychometrics, it's a little bit about psychological tests, a lot about statistics, and a whole lot of confusing. There are a few classes I took in my undergrad at MUW that I was able to skate through without learning a thing. I took two whole years of French and I can still only really say Bonjour and Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? (Think Moulin Rouge)! I don't have an ear for languages, but I did enjoy reading The Little Prince and eating all that French food. Yum Crepes.
Philosophy flew over my little ditzy blonde head, and I only remember learning the definition of a tautology (which I don't think is even a philosophical term, uhh maybe it is, see I still don't know a thing). And then of course there was applied statistics. I had a rather brilliant but flighty professor who wasn't the best at conveying the concepts, and plus the class was in the computer lab, and that was that time period when Britney Spears was really losing her marbles, so I would spend the whole class reading Perezhilton.com (this was before I realized how freakin mean Perez really is, and stopped encouraging the cruelty).
Most people in the class think our current professor looks like Jason Hammer from Iron Man 2. I told them that I think he looks like a leprechaun, and they told me I was just being mean. But I swear he does! Anyway, when he starts going over all those statistical concepts, we all just start looking around at each other like, "Do you understand what he is saying?" None of us are majoring in counseling because we are good at math. But when we talk about the psychological testing aspect it is somewhat interesting. And last week one of the teams did a presentation on the Rorschach Ink Blot test. You know the test when you interpret ink blots, and if you see sunshine & rainbows you are a good person, if you see gruesome acts you are a psychopath, and if you see dirty things you are just a pervert. It's like an adult version of seeing shapes in the cloud!
After their presentation rapped, they gave us this little hand out with all the little ink-blots on them. But we had no time to look at them because soon we had to get into our teams and do a little group project. But the project didn't take much time, so I whipped out the ink blots so we could check them out.*
Philosophy flew over my little ditzy blonde head, and I only remember learning the definition of a tautology (which I don't think is even a philosophical term, uhh maybe it is, see I still don't know a thing). And then of course there was applied statistics. I had a rather brilliant but flighty professor who wasn't the best at conveying the concepts, and plus the class was in the computer lab, and that was that time period when Britney Spears was really losing her marbles, so I would spend the whole class reading Perezhilton.com (this was before I realized how freakin mean Perez really is, and stopped encouraging the cruelty).
Most people in the class think our current professor looks like Jason Hammer from Iron Man 2. I told them that I think he looks like a leprechaun, and they told me I was just being mean. But I swear he does! Anyway, when he starts going over all those statistical concepts, we all just start looking around at each other like, "Do you understand what he is saying?" None of us are majoring in counseling because we are good at math. But when we talk about the psychological testing aspect it is somewhat interesting. And last week one of the teams did a presentation on the Rorschach Ink Blot test. You know the test when you interpret ink blots, and if you see sunshine & rainbows you are a good person, if you see gruesome acts you are a psychopath, and if you see dirty things you are just a pervert. It's like an adult version of seeing shapes in the cloud!
After their presentation rapped, they gave us this little hand out with all the little ink-blots on them. But we had no time to look at them because soon we had to get into our teams and do a little group project. But the project didn't take much time, so I whipped out the ink blots so we could check them out.*
I have absolutely no clue what this says about me. But the only thing I see when I look at this picture is two elephants joined at the trunks wearing party hats. Does that mean that I'm happy and optimistic? Does it mean that I watched too much Dumbo as a kid? I don't know, but I know no one else in my class saw what I did.
I see two women with their ta-tas hanging out maybe standing around some kind of well. So Mr. Rorschach would probably label me a pervert.....
Anyone call for Optimus Prime (Transformers)?
This is by far my favorite. And I saw something in this one that nobody else did. Two dolphins holding up the Eiffel Tower! Am I crazy are do you see it too?
Then we got to this last inkblot and the whole time we had been hollering out whatever we saw, but this time everyone got really quiet. Because we were all thinking the same thing, and we were all thinking something dirty. And because I can't help myself, and I have no shame, I just blurted out that it looks like a Hoo Hoo with a Dragonfly tattoo! And it probably wouldn't have been so funny had it not been so late and had we not been so tired. But we all just started laughing so hard that we couldn't breath. And there was one boy in our group, and he just turned bright red! I was so worried Professor Leprechaun would catch on, but he didn't. So I guess no matter how old you get it's always a little fun to be a little immature. But really can't you see it? Or does something about being stuck with the same people for fours hours every week but you on the same perverted wave length?
*The hand-out I had with the inkblots had them all really tiny. Now that they are blown up they look a little different than they did on that paper. So if you don't see what I see you are not nuts!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Currently Employed as a Champion Slacker & Napper
I recently wrapped up working until next fall because the school year is ending, so there isn't much work for a tutor. Even if they are a brilliant, beautiful, and amazing tutor like me. In some ways this is bad, Adam and I really have to be careful with our money now, and we can't afford to do a ton of fun things. But on the plus side, I really, really love all the free time. I get up early most mornings, and I drop Adam off at work before heading off to the gym. But I find that I have to keep my grumpiness in check with him, because I had forgotten just how much of a morning person I am not.
I remember back in my middle school days, my mother would come into my bedroom and wake me up after she had already put breakfast on the table. And she wasn't even allowed to talk to me until after I had breakfast and had gotten dressed, because I could be so grumpy. But in defense of my crabby apple self; my mother is a bizarro breed of species known as the morning person. So by the time I had woken up, she would have already had two cups of coffee, cleaned the kitchen, and accomplished world domination. That kind of chirpiness deserves to be punished.
Once I get to gym, I work really hard. Not really working hard at exercising, but working hard not to ever fall off that treadmill again. I swear every time I get on that evil machine now I am convinced I'm going to fall off again. I'm having non stop traumatic flashbacks. But despite my treadmill walking fears, I have something to celebrate because in the last four weeks I've lost 17 lbs! And all the crunches I've been doing are giving me abs, actual abs! Like I have lines on my stomach. Those abs have made me so vain, because I spend so much darn time starting at them.
After I get home, I try to be a good kid, by actually working on some homework. Sometimes I am successful, and sometimes I even manage to finish my homework days in advance. And what do I do when I finish early? I take to facebook to brag to my fellow classmate and good friend A., because I need validation that I am better than him. I'm totally kidding, well I do brag, but not for that reason. Adam and I are good friends with him and his wife, and we go out on double dates all the time. A. and I have a very braggy and snark filled relationship. Plus, I am just better than him. Am I kidding? You decide.
Whether I work-out or not, do homework or not, I typically allot some time in the afternoon for napping. I currently hold a gold medal in napping (along with holding the gold medal for knowing all lyrics to every Vanilla Ice song, tripping over my feet, and busting a move at random intervals). Is there anything better than curling up in the most comfortable bed in the world, your dog snoring next to you, and sleeping an hour or so? I think not. In fact, I've become so devoted to my afternoon naps, that I get mad when I can't have one. The other day I had to stay up because I was waiting for UPS to deliver Adam's birthday gift, and by the end of the day I was as grumpy as a toddler.
But my napping is also causing me guilt. You see Adam accidentally threw out our 2010 census form, and then I read that California had one of the worst Census turnout numbers in the whole country. And I've been feeling super guilty for a while now, thinking about how all the little California kids wouldn't get the education they needed, and how there wouldn't be enough city buses or hospitals all because Adam threw away the stupid form! But then I found out that they are going door to door, and was relieved. I figured I wouldn't be responsible for ruining the kid’s future anymore! But they keep coming by in the afternoon, when I'm asleep. And every time I wake up and see one of those blue "We Stopped By" census forms on the door, I feel like I'm being chastised for my lazy behaviors. Yet I won't sacrifice my naps, those poor, poor children.
I attend class once a week, and even though it is my only commitment, I still feel like it is intruding on my Me Me Me Me Time. A feeling I never had when I worked all day and then went to class. But the truth is I'm still really loving school. OK sometimes I find myself sobbing to Adam in the bedroom and saying, "What if I can't pass Graduate Portfolio 2!" "I'll never be able to complete my practicum......" "What if I suck at this." Being a therapist has really been my only career ambition (other than wanted to grow up to be a "Vegetarian" when I was five) for so long, that the thought of failing is terrifying. But the more I learn about counseling, the more I know this is for me. And that is rewarding. Plus in what other degree program can you spend 20 minutes talking about whether or not hugging your clients is appropriate?
Other plans for this summer? A trip home to Alabama to spend some time with my mother and friends. A friend's wedding in Atlanta. Gosh, I love me some weddings. My nieces coming out to visit (ut oh I have to entertain two teenagers). But other than that, I'm looking forward to a summer full of napping and slacking.
I remember back in my middle school days, my mother would come into my bedroom and wake me up after she had already put breakfast on the table. And she wasn't even allowed to talk to me until after I had breakfast and had gotten dressed, because I could be so grumpy. But in defense of my crabby apple self; my mother is a bizarro breed of species known as the morning person. So by the time I had woken up, she would have already had two cups of coffee, cleaned the kitchen, and accomplished world domination. That kind of chirpiness deserves to be punished.
Once I get to gym, I work really hard. Not really working hard at exercising, but working hard not to ever fall off that treadmill again. I swear every time I get on that evil machine now I am convinced I'm going to fall off again. I'm having non stop traumatic flashbacks. But despite my treadmill walking fears, I have something to celebrate because in the last four weeks I've lost 17 lbs! And all the crunches I've been doing are giving me abs, actual abs! Like I have lines on my stomach. Those abs have made me so vain, because I spend so much darn time starting at them.
After I get home, I try to be a good kid, by actually working on some homework. Sometimes I am successful, and sometimes I even manage to finish my homework days in advance. And what do I do when I finish early? I take to facebook to brag to my fellow classmate and good friend A., because I need validation that I am better than him. I'm totally kidding, well I do brag, but not for that reason. Adam and I are good friends with him and his wife, and we go out on double dates all the time. A. and I have a very braggy and snark filled relationship. Plus, I am just better than him. Am I kidding? You decide.
Whether I work-out or not, do homework or not, I typically allot some time in the afternoon for napping. I currently hold a gold medal in napping (along with holding the gold medal for knowing all lyrics to every Vanilla Ice song, tripping over my feet, and busting a move at random intervals). Is there anything better than curling up in the most comfortable bed in the world, your dog snoring next to you, and sleeping an hour or so? I think not. In fact, I've become so devoted to my afternoon naps, that I get mad when I can't have one. The other day I had to stay up because I was waiting for UPS to deliver Adam's birthday gift, and by the end of the day I was as grumpy as a toddler.
But my napping is also causing me guilt. You see Adam accidentally threw out our 2010 census form, and then I read that California had one of the worst Census turnout numbers in the whole country. And I've been feeling super guilty for a while now, thinking about how all the little California kids wouldn't get the education they needed, and how there wouldn't be enough city buses or hospitals all because Adam threw away the stupid form! But then I found out that they are going door to door, and was relieved. I figured I wouldn't be responsible for ruining the kid’s future anymore! But they keep coming by in the afternoon, when I'm asleep. And every time I wake up and see one of those blue "We Stopped By" census forms on the door, I feel like I'm being chastised for my lazy behaviors. Yet I won't sacrifice my naps, those poor, poor children.
I attend class once a week, and even though it is my only commitment, I still feel like it is intruding on my Me Me Me Me Time. A feeling I never had when I worked all day and then went to class. But the truth is I'm still really loving school. OK sometimes I find myself sobbing to Adam in the bedroom and saying, "What if I can't pass Graduate Portfolio 2!" "I'll never be able to complete my practicum......" "What if I suck at this." Being a therapist has really been my only career ambition (other than wanted to grow up to be a "Vegetarian" when I was five) for so long, that the thought of failing is terrifying. But the more I learn about counseling, the more I know this is for me. And that is rewarding. Plus in what other degree program can you spend 20 minutes talking about whether or not hugging your clients is appropriate?
Other plans for this summer? A trip home to Alabama to spend some time with my mother and friends. A friend's wedding in Atlanta. Gosh, I love me some weddings. My nieces coming out to visit (ut oh I have to entertain two teenagers). But other than that, I'm looking forward to a summer full of napping and slacking.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Playing Hookey
I've been attending school for over 8 months now. I've done the calculations. I've attended class 38 times, and a total of 152 hours! That is six whole days people! Snaps for me! In all that time, I have never missed one day of class until last week. This is pretty amazing, considering that when I was a undergrad, I often skipped class. At the beginning of each semester, I would find out how many days I could miss each class, and make a chart. I would then document the days I missed, so I wouldn't go over. I wasn't doing anything really bad, just the normal college stuff. You know, staying up so late that it would take a category five tornado to get me out of my plastic dorm mattress (properly potty proofed for us college students).
I guess in grad school, I've just gotten a lot more responsible. Although it could be that I am married now, so I'm going to bed at more reasonable hours (most of the time). Or that I'm paying a butt load of money to attend this school. Or that I attend class with the same people every week, and I'm a scardy cat, and I don't want them to judge me. Yeah that is probably my real motivation.
But last Thursday was the end of some hard and long weeks. Plus, I had just gotten a fat check in the mail (a refund from my school loans). Which technically, this is money that I have to pay back eventually, but it still feels like a huge treat when it comes. So I started to consider skipping class, and going out to eat with Adam instead. I expected him to talk me out of skipping, but he didn't. I needed him to guilt me, and save my perfect attendance record! Ugh what is he good for?
So we bugged off, and went to Famous Daves for dinner. After dinner started, the text messages started rolling in from concerned classmates, "Where are You? Are You OK?" I felt like a deer in the headlights (or that armadillo I ran over late one night in college, when we were returning from a krispee kreme donut run in Tuscaloosa, on a dark Alabama highway. My friend in the front seat and I started screeching, and the girls in the back were freaking out, because they didn't know what we were screaming about. Then BAM the armadillo was no more. I guess they really are nature's speed bumps) But darn my class mates and their well meaning ways! My first instinct was to lie and say I had car trouble or that my third cousins neighbor ex-roommate’s dog died, and I was too bereaved to attend class. But I knew that was ridiculous, so I told them the truth. I just needed a mental health day.
During dinner, I gave two benedryls to Adam for some allergy problems he had been having. He hardly ever takes any medication, so he asked me if it was ok for him to take two. Adam is a big guy, so I told him of course he could take two! I just mentioned that Adam does not take many medications and he never drinks. The night before we married we had a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. And the boys talked him into taking a vodka shot. He downed the shot, and immediately stripped off his shirt and ran around the lawn. It was hilarious.
Thirty minutes after I gave Adam the meds, he started acting really funny. He started talking loud and cracking the lamest jokes that he found HI-LAR-IOUS. The type of jokes that if I were to tell, he would just stare at my like I was insane. Then a song having something to do with trains started playing, and he made up a choo choo dance. And then did it at the table! I was having fun, but I couldn't figure out why he was acting so out of character. But then it clicked, that the bendryl was making him act drunk. As drunk as you are after a round of badly played beer pong. I told him this, and he was like, "Woah, I am drunk." I totally drugged my husband! But I mean come on, who is such a light weight that they can't handle two benedryls? My husband that’s who.
I even had to drive us home, as he reclined in the passengers seat, to try and sleep it off on the way home. Then as soon as we got home, Adam went to take a nap. He told me to wake him up in thirty minutes, so I did, but he kept requesting another 30 mins. I was turning into a human snooze button. But he never did get up, meaning that he went to bed at 7:30, and I spent the rest of the evening alone. At least I had The Real House B****** of New York to keep me company.
I guess in grad school, I've just gotten a lot more responsible. Although it could be that I am married now, so I'm going to bed at more reasonable hours (most of the time). Or that I'm paying a butt load of money to attend this school. Or that I attend class with the same people every week, and I'm a scardy cat, and I don't want them to judge me. Yeah that is probably my real motivation.
But last Thursday was the end of some hard and long weeks. Plus, I had just gotten a fat check in the mail (a refund from my school loans). Which technically, this is money that I have to pay back eventually, but it still feels like a huge treat when it comes. So I started to consider skipping class, and going out to eat with Adam instead. I expected him to talk me out of skipping, but he didn't. I needed him to guilt me, and save my perfect attendance record! Ugh what is he good for?
So we bugged off, and went to Famous Daves for dinner. After dinner started, the text messages started rolling in from concerned classmates, "Where are You? Are You OK?" I felt like a deer in the headlights (or that armadillo I ran over late one night in college, when we were returning from a krispee kreme donut run in Tuscaloosa, on a dark Alabama highway. My friend in the front seat and I started screeching, and the girls in the back were freaking out, because they didn't know what we were screaming about. Then BAM the armadillo was no more. I guess they really are nature's speed bumps) But darn my class mates and their well meaning ways! My first instinct was to lie and say I had car trouble or that my third cousins neighbor ex-roommate’s dog died, and I was too bereaved to attend class. But I knew that was ridiculous, so I told them the truth. I just needed a mental health day.
During dinner, I gave two benedryls to Adam for some allergy problems he had been having. He hardly ever takes any medication, so he asked me if it was ok for him to take two. Adam is a big guy, so I told him of course he could take two! I just mentioned that Adam does not take many medications and he never drinks. The night before we married we had a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. And the boys talked him into taking a vodka shot. He downed the shot, and immediately stripped off his shirt and ran around the lawn. It was hilarious.
Thirty minutes after I gave Adam the meds, he started acting really funny. He started talking loud and cracking the lamest jokes that he found HI-LAR-IOUS. The type of jokes that if I were to tell, he would just stare at my like I was insane. Then a song having something to do with trains started playing, and he made up a choo choo dance. And then did it at the table! I was having fun, but I couldn't figure out why he was acting so out of character. But then it clicked, that the bendryl was making him act drunk. As drunk as you are after a round of badly played beer pong. I told him this, and he was like, "Woah, I am drunk." I totally drugged my husband! But I mean come on, who is such a light weight that they can't handle two benedryls? My husband that’s who.
I even had to drive us home, as he reclined in the passengers seat, to try and sleep it off on the way home. Then as soon as we got home, Adam went to take a nap. He told me to wake him up in thirty minutes, so I did, but he kept requesting another 30 mins. I was turning into a human snooze button. But he never did get up, meaning that he went to bed at 7:30, and I spent the rest of the evening alone. At least I had The Real House B****** of New York to keep me company.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Bring Me Your Repetitive, Dreaded, and Mundane Tasks
School is slowly eating my entire life. Two weeks ago, I was walking around the house, feeling like a hippopotamus was sitting on my chest, because of my role-play (it went pretty well). Not that you would know it, my professor has a complete pa-pa-pa-pa-poker face, there is no reading her. And yes, I just referenced Lady GaGa. I've probably said this before, but sometimes when I get really anxious and the event happens and it ends up not being so bad, I kind of wish something bad did happen. Because when I get home, after spending a week running around like a chicken with my head cut off, the person I was whining to typically says, "See I told you it wouldn't be so bad." And sure I'm glad it wasn't so bad, but just one time I want my fears to be justified. So I can tell them, "See it was that bad!"
I didn't even get to breath a sigh of relief, before having to jump into my next assignments. The weekend before last, I was at Borders with my Team from school working on our assignment on a Friday night. School work on a Friday night! Now mind you, I probably wouldn't have done anything exciting with my Friday night, maybe watch some TV and pick my belly button lent. But it is the idea of working on a Friday night, that bothers me. After the meeting, I spent that whole weekend slaving away, working on paper after paper. Being jealous of Adam as he played video games and went to bed early. Pulling my hair out, because I had no clue how I was going to get it all done on time.
But I pulled it off, and dragged my tired butt to my last class in group counseling. I was so excited to get that class behind me, so I could kick start my three-day weekend. The first weekend in months that I didn't have any homework. I was going to do things I never get to do! Like watch all my movies on the DVR! Take Baths! Go to Bed Early! Read more than 20 pages at a time! So I woke up on Friday looking forward to the free day ahead of me. I puttered around the house, I read some blogs, I watched a movie, and by noon I was bored.
Not just a little bored, but the type of bored I was as a child, when I would plop down on the chair in our living room and whine to my mother, "I'M BORED!." Then she would rattle off several things I could do, but I was so stuck in the boredom that nothing seemed worthwhile. So I waited and waited for Adam to come home, hoping he could entertain me. He is like my little monkey that I make dance! But that didn't work either. So I just got through Friday, believing that Saturday would be better. But it wasn't, and I spent the whole weekend BORED.
So I have come to an awful conclusion. I only enjoy my free time when I shouldn't be having it, and I'm supposed to be doing something else. I enjoy the guilt that comes with procrastinating. And worse than that, I seemingly enjoy doing school work. Who loves doing research and writing papers? Apparently I do. I guess I've been a student so long it has just melded into my identity. So who knows what my life will be like post school. I may have to keep going for my doctorate just to stay satisfied.
I didn't even get to breath a sigh of relief, before having to jump into my next assignments. The weekend before last, I was at Borders with my Team from school working on our assignment on a Friday night. School work on a Friday night! Now mind you, I probably wouldn't have done anything exciting with my Friday night, maybe watch some TV and pick my belly button lent. But it is the idea of working on a Friday night, that bothers me. After the meeting, I spent that whole weekend slaving away, working on paper after paper. Being jealous of Adam as he played video games and went to bed early. Pulling my hair out, because I had no clue how I was going to get it all done on time.
But I pulled it off, and dragged my tired butt to my last class in group counseling. I was so excited to get that class behind me, so I could kick start my three-day weekend. The first weekend in months that I didn't have any homework. I was going to do things I never get to do! Like watch all my movies on the DVR! Take Baths! Go to Bed Early! Read more than 20 pages at a time! So I woke up on Friday looking forward to the free day ahead of me. I puttered around the house, I read some blogs, I watched a movie, and by noon I was bored.
Not just a little bored, but the type of bored I was as a child, when I would plop down on the chair in our living room and whine to my mother, "I'M BORED!." Then she would rattle off several things I could do, but I was so stuck in the boredom that nothing seemed worthwhile. So I waited and waited for Adam to come home, hoping he could entertain me. He is like my little monkey that I make dance! But that didn't work either. So I just got through Friday, believing that Saturday would be better. But it wasn't, and I spent the whole weekend BORED.
So I have come to an awful conclusion. I only enjoy my free time when I shouldn't be having it, and I'm supposed to be doing something else. I enjoy the guilt that comes with procrastinating. And worse than that, I seemingly enjoy doing school work. Who loves doing research and writing papers? Apparently I do. I guess I've been a student so long it has just melded into my identity. So who knows what my life will be like post school. I may have to keep going for my doctorate just to stay satisfied.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I Need a Support Group to Run a Support Group
So I have another pesky role-play Thursday night for that class. You know where I get in front of the class and play therapist, and I ask people about how the feel about their feeeeeeeeeelings. While all 16 people in my class, plus the professor are looking at me with their scary eyes, my heart is beating like a jungle drum, and basically I'm convinced that I will just die. And how dare they actually make me act like a therapist, when I'm going to school to become a therapist?!? Life is just so unjust.
I know that one of my New Year's Resolutions is to become more confident in role-plays. Believe it or not, I am slightly less nervous than I was the last time around. But I have made about as much progress as a person who claims to be doing better on their diet by eating 3.75 spoonfuls of frosting a day instead of their usual four. Baby Steps, Right?
I'm doing my group therapy presentation and role play on Social Anxiety. This is ironic for two reasons-In college, I once saw a flyer for a social anxiety support group and I thought,” No one will show up!" Ha. Plus, most of my own anxiety issues center around social activities and interactions. So I will be experiencing some of the symptoms I'm supposed to be treating. Is this what a marriage therapist feels like when they are getting divorced?
Earlier today, I was having a woe is me, life is hard moment about this all, so I posted this to my twitter:
I also sent the exact same message to my husband via email. This is when you learn that following me on twitter is a lot like being married to me. The angst, the PMS, the bad grammar, the excitement over random things, the "did she really just say that" moments, and all the other brilliant and awe inspiring things I say. You guys are so lucky to know me. *snort!*
Adam’s replies were sweet in the beginning:
Adam: If there’s anything you want to practice tonight just let me know. I can play multiple roles.
Me: Maybe, if only to get idea bout what I'm going to say, so I have some direction. It’s just annoying, because I've never done bad in a role play, and yet I don’t believe in myself.
Adam: It’s okay. I don’t believe in you either. :P
This conversation, my friends, sums up my entire marriage quite fittingly. Support and Sarcasm all rolled into one.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Introducing Pimples Galore!
So the last time I was in class was three weeks ago (due to winter break). This was my first break since June, and it has been fabulous. Believe it or not, there is life outside of Grad School! Who knew? During that class, I had to do my role-play. Yes that sounds kinky, but unfortunately for me and you, it's just not. Basically I wrote a vignette, based on some situation someone might see a therapist for, and then had to play therapist for 20 minutes in front of the class with a classmate.
Believe me, being a therapist involves a lot more than just asking, "And How Does That Make You feel?" It is about thinking on your feet, because you can't plan out what a client will say. Luckily, I survived and actually did really well. But because I am a rational, well adjusted, young woman the days leading up to my role-play involved a lot of just threatening to drop out of school altogether, because really why even try? Fatalist, much?
Once my role-play was done, I felt like the weight of two half-ton twins was lifted off my shoulders, and I could sit back and watch my classmates role play (Meaning I could harshly judge them). One girl in my glass had written a vignette about a male teenager, who was suffering from body dysmorphic disorder (this is when a person is excessively worried about what they see as a problem in their physical appearance, and this problem may not even exist. Kind of like Michael Jackson and his nose). For her role-play, she had written that the client was obsessed with his extremely, mild case of acne. The guy chosen to be the client was this really kind and husky man, that I will call Walter.
During his role-play, Walter said that his friends on his football team often make fun of his obsession with his acne. The therapist asked him what were some of thing things his friends were saying, and he replied that they called him "Crater Face" and "Pimples Galore." When he said Pimples Galore, soda just about came out my nose, and I was having to bite my tongue to keep from laughing and ruining the role-play. It's just the image of this guy on the football team, who is as big as a football player himself being called "Pimples Galore," is the funniest thing ever. Is it just me, or is that hilarious? Maybe you have to know him, I don't know.
But on our break, I started talking to my classmates about those commercials you see on TV where someone gets a pimple and then freaks out because how can they they possibly go on a date when they have a pimple! It goes something like this, "Gee Wilikers, I have a blemish on my nose, Suzy Q will never go to the sock hop with me now!" Ok so that was the 1950's version of the modern day acne treatment commercials. But I always thought those commercials were so silly, I've never gotten one pimple, that would keep me chained to the house. Now I get how a severe case of acne would be a horrible thing, although I've never really had a complexion problem. But one pimple, come on on people. I wasn't buying it.
Then on Monday morning, I woke up with a zit where the skin meets my upper lip, and that sucker was monstrous. I swear I've never seen a zit that size. I don't know what show it is, but I've seen this cartoon where a big zit on this guy's face talks to and influences this guy to do evil things, and it totally reminded me of my zit.
When I really started looking at my pimple, I figure out it was three pimples that had kind of combined together to form one giant, evil entity of pus. Not only was it ugly, but it was one of those painful pimples that drive you batty. So of course, I have to pop it to stop the pain, and I'm popping all three centers of the pimple repeatedly (gross image, I know), and using my quick fix trick of toothpaste, but nothing is working.
Then, Adam comes home from work and tells me its looks like I have herpes on my lip. At first, I'm like how does he know what herpes looks like?" ]and then I think, "OMG, it looks like I have herpes." Gee, thanks Adam for given me a complex about my pimple. Of course, I was out of concealer, and all week my younger students have been pointing out my pimple. I told one 2nd grader, that one day she would have pimples too, and she told me that could never happen to her. Good luck, sweetheart!
Honestly, I think my pimple is some kind of karmic payback, for laughing so hard about the whole "Pimples Galore" thing. But man that nickname still makes me laugh. Also, now I get it, one pimple can affect your day!
Believe me, being a therapist involves a lot more than just asking, "And How Does That Make You feel?" It is about thinking on your feet, because you can't plan out what a client will say. Luckily, I survived and actually did really well. But because I am a rational, well adjusted, young woman the days leading up to my role-play involved a lot of just threatening to drop out of school altogether, because really why even try? Fatalist, much?
Once my role-play was done, I felt like the weight of two half-ton twins was lifted off my shoulders, and I could sit back and watch my classmates role play (Meaning I could harshly judge them). One girl in my glass had written a vignette about a male teenager, who was suffering from body dysmorphic disorder (this is when a person is excessively worried about what they see as a problem in their physical appearance, and this problem may not even exist. Kind of like Michael Jackson and his nose). For her role-play, she had written that the client was obsessed with his extremely, mild case of acne. The guy chosen to be the client was this really kind and husky man, that I will call Walter.
During his role-play, Walter said that his friends on his football team often make fun of his obsession with his acne. The therapist asked him what were some of thing things his friends were saying, and he replied that they called him "Crater Face" and "Pimples Galore." When he said Pimples Galore, soda just about came out my nose, and I was having to bite my tongue to keep from laughing and ruining the role-play. It's just the image of this guy on the football team, who is as big as a football player himself being called "Pimples Galore," is the funniest thing ever. Is it just me, or is that hilarious? Maybe you have to know him, I don't know.
But on our break, I started talking to my classmates about those commercials you see on TV where someone gets a pimple and then freaks out because how can they they possibly go on a date when they have a pimple! It goes something like this, "Gee Wilikers, I have a blemish on my nose, Suzy Q will never go to the sock hop with me now!" Ok so that was the 1950's version of the modern day acne treatment commercials. But I always thought those commercials were so silly, I've never gotten one pimple, that would keep me chained to the house. Now I get how a severe case of acne would be a horrible thing, although I've never really had a complexion problem. But one pimple, come on on people. I wasn't buying it.
Then on Monday morning, I woke up with a zit where the skin meets my upper lip, and that sucker was monstrous. I swear I've never seen a zit that size. I don't know what show it is, but I've seen this cartoon where a big zit on this guy's face talks to and influences this guy to do evil things, and it totally reminded me of my zit.
When I really started looking at my pimple, I figure out it was three pimples that had kind of combined together to form one giant, evil entity of pus. Not only was it ugly, but it was one of those painful pimples that drive you batty. So of course, I have to pop it to stop the pain, and I'm popping all three centers of the pimple repeatedly (gross image, I know), and using my quick fix trick of toothpaste, but nothing is working.
Then, Adam comes home from work and tells me its looks like I have herpes on my lip. At first, I'm like how does he know what herpes looks like?" ]and then I think, "OMG, it looks like I have herpes." Gee, thanks Adam for given me a complex about my pimple. Of course, I was out of concealer, and all week my younger students have been pointing out my pimple. I told one 2nd grader, that one day she would have pimples too, and she told me that could never happen to her. Good luck, sweetheart!
Honestly, I think my pimple is some kind of karmic payback, for laughing so hard about the whole "Pimples Galore" thing. But man that nickname still makes me laugh. Also, now I get it, one pimple can affect your day!
Friday, December 18, 2009
From Point A to Point B
I feel like my life has been going a million miles an hour since I started the great grad school adventure. In some ways it is completely awesome, and in other ways its like I saw a oncoming train and thought, "gee, let's see what would happen if I jumped in front of it!" When I graduated from college and moved 2,000 miles away from everything I've ever known, I was pretty naive in thinking it was going to be a big old piece of pie. I thought because I had a degree I would get a job right away and live happily ever after and be financially secure for life. (OK I wasn't that bad, but a little like that).
But it just wasn't that easy. It might have been different had I not graduated into this economy, but my job search stretched on for months and months, with one disappointment after another. After a while it really started taking a toll on my self esteem. And because I wasn't working or going to school, I had no built in methods for making friends. And more than anything, I missed having friends. I've never considered myself an extremely social person. In fact, I have a lot of social anxiety. When I first started therapy, I was diagnosed with social anxiety, before we determined that I was mainly just scared of life itself. But over the years, I have managed to develop a lot of close friendships with people who I adore and who are understanding of the fact it is almost physically impossible for me to carry on a phone conversation and sometimes I get to nervous to attend their parties.
So with all this stuff going on, I really started to realize I had to reevaluate my life plan a little bit.I also had to accept that this just might mean going back to school. I mean I really thought I was done with school. My mother wanted me to have a master's degree, but ummm to put it politely I couldn't have cared less. I wanted to know if there was life out there that didn't involve sitting behind a desk and trying not to fall asleep. But gradually it just seemed like a good idea to me, and I always wanted to become a therapist. So that is what I decided to do.
So here I am 6 months later with three classes under my belt, and busier than I have ever been in my entire life. Sometimes I think what the heck did I get myself into? But I actually love going to class, and even when its really hard, I'm so passionate about what I'm doing. And I'm really starting to make friends, and an even bigger plus I've made friends with a guy. I hardly ever make friends with guys, unless its someone one of my girlfriends are dating. I don't trust men, maybe because I have been hurt by lets say 95% of all men who have ever been in my life. So its a positive step for me.
What it boils down to is that I'm probably the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. And maybe its cliche and a little cheesy, but I do really believe everything happen for a reason. So just maybe, it was suppose to be so hard for me last year, so I could get to the point I am now.
P.S.-I'm leaving Saturday to spend a little time with my family for Christmas. My grandmother has dial-up, and I am way too impatient to deal with that. So I won't be around much, so Happy Holidays everyone!
But it just wasn't that easy. It might have been different had I not graduated into this economy, but my job search stretched on for months and months, with one disappointment after another. After a while it really started taking a toll on my self esteem. And because I wasn't working or going to school, I had no built in methods for making friends. And more than anything, I missed having friends. I've never considered myself an extremely social person. In fact, I have a lot of social anxiety. When I first started therapy, I was diagnosed with social anxiety, before we determined that I was mainly just scared of life itself. But over the years, I have managed to develop a lot of close friendships with people who I adore and who are understanding of the fact it is almost physically impossible for me to carry on a phone conversation and sometimes I get to nervous to attend their parties.
So with all this stuff going on, I really started to realize I had to reevaluate my life plan a little bit.I also had to accept that this just might mean going back to school. I mean I really thought I was done with school. My mother wanted me to have a master's degree, but ummm to put it politely I couldn't have cared less. I wanted to know if there was life out there that didn't involve sitting behind a desk and trying not to fall asleep. But gradually it just seemed like a good idea to me, and I always wanted to become a therapist. So that is what I decided to do.
So here I am 6 months later with three classes under my belt, and busier than I have ever been in my entire life. Sometimes I think what the heck did I get myself into? But I actually love going to class, and even when its really hard, I'm so passionate about what I'm doing. And I'm really starting to make friends, and an even bigger plus I've made friends with a guy. I hardly ever make friends with guys, unless its someone one of my girlfriends are dating. I don't trust men, maybe because I have been hurt by lets say 95% of all men who have ever been in my life. So its a positive step for me.
What it boils down to is that I'm probably the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. And maybe its cliche and a little cheesy, but I do really believe everything happen for a reason. So just maybe, it was suppose to be so hard for me last year, so I could get to the point I am now.
P.S.-I'm leaving Saturday to spend a little time with my family for Christmas. My grandmother has dial-up, and I am way too impatient to deal with that. So I won't be around much, so Happy Holidays everyone!
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Big Banging Birth Order
A few weeks ago my in-laws, Adam, and I went and to a taping of The Big Bang Theory, and we had a blast. Jim Parsons and Johnny Galecki (also played David on Roseanne) were oh so good, and oh so cute. And did you know that Johnny Galecki played Rusty Griswold on Christmas Vacation? He looks nothing like he did then, so that totally blew my mind to find out that was him. And now your mind is blown too. Blown, I tell you! We had so much fun at the taping, that we decided we wanted to see more live tapings before we move away from California in a few years. By the way, The Big Bang Theory is one of the best sitcoms ever.The day after the taping I had class. I was really bemoaning being alive that day, because after having guests all week, I was just craving some down time. I'm the kind of person who needs tons of alone time to just do nothing to recharge my batteries. I get really cranky without that. But I'm no longer an undergrad, and if I miss one class I lose 4 points from my final grade, so its not worth it. But we had fun in class that night, we were talking about birth order, so we broke into groups according to our place in the family to discuss similarities and differences. Once we had talked for about ten minutes, each group presented what they found. My group, the babies, were very undeceive and didn't want to put ourselves into any one category. Then she moved onto the oldest children, they started spouting off statistics like 95% of us play musical instruments. Also, 80% felt that their parents treated them like babysitters. The rest of the class was dying laughing, because we couldn't believe how exact they were being. And then the teacher forgot to talk the to middle children, and moved on. This of course was hilarious, because the middle children always say they are the forgotten children (and suffer from Jan Brady syndrome, Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!).
It was interesting how each group acted out the stereotypes of birth order. The oldest kids were structured, the babies were all over the map, and the middle children were briefly overlooked. I love that kind of stuff, but I'm such a pysch nerd. Since that night, we have had a funny rivalry going on in our class. If someone who is the baby in the family accidentally interrupts an older kid they yell, "Isn't that just like the baby of the family!" And anytime an oldest kid offers suggestions, we accuse them of being bossy. And who cares what the middle child does, JUST KIDDING. We are having blast, and I love everyone in my program.
Friday, July 24, 2009
I Didn't Join the Circus...
Week Four of class had been hanging over my head, since I don't know, Week One? And this last week has certainly been a stressful one. I started my ten page paper two weeks ahead of the due date, and then I wrote one page every night. Before you start thinking that I am the most responsible person in the world, know that I do this because I can not handle pressure. I can not sit back as deadlines go whizzing past my head. When I do that, I send myself down a shame spiral that ends with me eating strawberry cheesecake ben & jerry's ice cream in the dark over the kitchen sink. This is a decidedly bad plan of action considering the fact I have lost 45 lbs in the last few months. BRAGGING ALERT. See how I just snuck that in there, I'm rather proud of myself. I mean who loses weight after the wedding?
So I finished my paper last Thursday, after spending two days at Borders with my laptop using their books for research, so I didn't have to buy the books. Yes, I am yet again a poor college student. I felt so guilty for using the books, that I just kept buying treats (that is the excuse I'm sticking with). So I finished the paper & turned that bad boy in, before turning my attention to the OMG ITS GOING TO KILL ME PRESENTATION. First can I say there are a million things I'd rather do, including peeling back my toe nails with a pair of tweezers (nice imagery huh) than give a speech. I didn't really sleep well the two nights before my presentation, because I could not stop rehearsing my speech in my head while I was lying in bed.
But then D-day came around, and pass or fail I just wanted it to be behind me. I was bemoaning my last name, because believe it or not the M name puts me at the end of the role. I knew if I sat through everyone else's speeches my anxiety would just keep on rising. But then the heavens parted and God cut me some slack when the professor called us alphabetically from our first names! I made a note to call my mother, and thank her for giving me the number 2 most popular name in the 80's that was second in the alphabet! So I got to go second, and I think I did pretty well. I won’t find out how I did time wise until after week 6 though.
After the speeches the professor handed us a story called, "Who Killed John Doe?" She told us we would have a few minutes to read through the story and decide who the killer was. I was excited, I thought I was about to read a murder mystery! I read the first few sentences, before deciding it was the wife. I watch SNAPPED on Oxygen, so I know it is always the wife. If Adam ever comes up dead, just know I probably did it. Shush don't tell the police.
But then I read on and it was a depressing tale about how the hospital had turned him away because of his insurance company. And also how the legislators focused on education and road reforms instead of healthcare issues, like the voters had wanted. So on and so forth. That seriously killed my murder mystery buzz. Next we got into groups (so they could see how we worked with others for the evaluation process) and we had to give a short presentation on who we decided was responsible.
The last thing we did was some mock counseling sessions. It was really scary to get up in front of the class and be a therapist. Our classmates presented us with their real problems (but not too serious of ones). We are all "babies" in this process, and our clients were supposed to be nice to us newbies. But once when I asked a question he responded, "I don't know, that is why I'm talking to you." And I just felt stumped so I said, "Ut oh!" and the whole class laughed. Ultimately, I don't think I was better or worse than any of my classmates. But this weekend I'm going to have some mock counseling sessions with my husband just to practice. But if Adam starts talking about issues he has with me, I might just pop him. HAHA. Maybe that would be unprofessional.
I have several things to write about other than school, like how I got attacked by a mean jellyfish *bad squishy*! So as soon as I get some free time I will. I feel like I’m running a million different directions lately but I’m loving it.
So I finished my paper last Thursday, after spending two days at Borders with my laptop using their books for research, so I didn't have to buy the books. Yes, I am yet again a poor college student. I felt so guilty for using the books, that I just kept buying treats (that is the excuse I'm sticking with). So I finished the paper & turned that bad boy in, before turning my attention to the OMG ITS GOING TO KILL ME PRESENTATION. First can I say there are a million things I'd rather do, including peeling back my toe nails with a pair of tweezers (nice imagery huh) than give a speech. I didn't really sleep well the two nights before my presentation, because I could not stop rehearsing my speech in my head while I was lying in bed.
But then D-day came around, and pass or fail I just wanted it to be behind me. I was bemoaning my last name, because believe it or not the M name puts me at the end of the role. I knew if I sat through everyone else's speeches my anxiety would just keep on rising. But then the heavens parted and God cut me some slack when the professor called us alphabetically from our first names! I made a note to call my mother, and thank her for giving me the number 2 most popular name in the 80's that was second in the alphabet! So I got to go second, and I think I did pretty well. I won’t find out how I did time wise until after week 6 though.
After the speeches the professor handed us a story called, "Who Killed John Doe?" She told us we would have a few minutes to read through the story and decide who the killer was. I was excited, I thought I was about to read a murder mystery! I read the first few sentences, before deciding it was the wife. I watch SNAPPED on Oxygen, so I know it is always the wife. If Adam ever comes up dead, just know I probably did it. Shush don't tell the police.
But then I read on and it was a depressing tale about how the hospital had turned him away because of his insurance company. And also how the legislators focused on education and road reforms instead of healthcare issues, like the voters had wanted. So on and so forth. That seriously killed my murder mystery buzz. Next we got into groups (so they could see how we worked with others for the evaluation process) and we had to give a short presentation on who we decided was responsible.
The last thing we did was some mock counseling sessions. It was really scary to get up in front of the class and be a therapist. Our classmates presented us with their real problems (but not too serious of ones). We are all "babies" in this process, and our clients were supposed to be nice to us newbies. But once when I asked a question he responded, "I don't know, that is why I'm talking to you." And I just felt stumped so I said, "Ut oh!" and the whole class laughed. Ultimately, I don't think I was better or worse than any of my classmates. But this weekend I'm going to have some mock counseling sessions with my husband just to practice. But if Adam starts talking about issues he has with me, I might just pop him. HAHA. Maybe that would be unprofessional.
I have several things to write about other than school, like how I got attacked by a mean jellyfish *bad squishy*! So as soon as I get some free time I will. I feel like I’m running a million different directions lately but I’m loving it.
.
365 days ago (give or take):
I may have just jumped off the deep end. Before I knew what I was saying, I had agreed to adopt my brother's 107 lb, hefty, golden retriever, Sarah Lee. Or as we like to call her Sara WEEEEEE! In a high pitch voice that makes everyone around you cringe.
Sarah Lee makes her first blog appearance. How sweet.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Great Grad School Adventure
The first weeks of what will from here on out be known as My Great Grad School adventure have sucked me into a black hole. The class I am in now is Graduate Portfolio I. I have to do well in this class to be officially accepted into the program. Basically they are evaluating me to make sure that once I get my shiny new degree and am released to go out and heal the world I won't screw up anybody. And I'm not saying I have to pass with simply an A or B, no I have to pass every single criterion they have decided on. NO PRESSURE.
I had to turn in a paper before I even attended my first class. So come August when my nieces are complaining to me about how they got homework the first week of school, I can tell them how I had a paper due before I even STARTED my class. And then I will cringe, because that sounds like a something my mother would have said THAT would have driven me bonkers as a teen. But now I understand why she said those things, because the stone, cold truth is I am becoming my mother. This means I am probably only a few months away from wearing a fanny pack when I go on vacation, and at that point I might as well throw in the towel on this thing called life.
The second week the professor asked us to write a topic on a piece a paper that we could give a 5 minute long spontaneous speech on. My first thought was to talk about King Henry VIII and his six wives, because I know the Tudor era like the back of my hand. But I ultimately decided on TV shows, so I could spend the entire time dissecting the plot lines from The Real Housewives of New Jersey. "Is Danielle a dirty, dirty whore?" ( Yes) "What the heck did she try to do to Dina?" and " Why does Jacqueline store ear plugs in her boobs?!"
But no the professor put all the topics in a bag, and we chose at random. I picked financial difficulties. I know this sounds like an easy topic (and I definitely have some financial difficulties) but it is hard to talk for five minutes with no preparation. So I ended up telling everyone how much we pay for rent, and how much my car cost. Something I would never do in any other situation. That whole speech was a real bummer, because I had all that stuff to say about The Real Housewives!
But I got through that and now I am in week three, and am currently putting together a ten page paper and presentation. But the worst part is I have to give a 5 minute presentation to 3 professors who are judging me. And this presentation has be within 30 seconds of 5 minutes, and it is the time limit that is really wigging me out. So if you don't hear from me after Monday, just assume I ran away and joined the circus because I just couldn't handle it. Although come to think of it, running away and joining the circus would make for some great blogging material.
I had to turn in a paper before I even attended my first class. So come August when my nieces are complaining to me about how they got homework the first week of school, I can tell them how I had a paper due before I even STARTED my class. And then I will cringe, because that sounds like a something my mother would have said THAT would have driven me bonkers as a teen. But now I understand why she said those things, because the stone, cold truth is I am becoming my mother. This means I am probably only a few months away from wearing a fanny pack when I go on vacation, and at that point I might as well throw in the towel on this thing called life.
The second week the professor asked us to write a topic on a piece a paper that we could give a 5 minute long spontaneous speech on. My first thought was to talk about King Henry VIII and his six wives, because I know the Tudor era like the back of my hand. But I ultimately decided on TV shows, so I could spend the entire time dissecting the plot lines from The Real Housewives of New Jersey. "Is Danielle a dirty, dirty whore?" ( Yes) "What the heck did she try to do to Dina?" and " Why does Jacqueline store ear plugs in her boobs?!"
But no the professor put all the topics in a bag, and we chose at random. I picked financial difficulties. I know this sounds like an easy topic (and I definitely have some financial difficulties) but it is hard to talk for five minutes with no preparation. So I ended up telling everyone how much we pay for rent, and how much my car cost. Something I would never do in any other situation. That whole speech was a real bummer, because I had all that stuff to say about The Real Housewives!
But I got through that and now I am in week three, and am currently putting together a ten page paper and presentation. But the worst part is I have to give a 5 minute presentation to 3 professors who are judging me. And this presentation has be within 30 seconds of 5 minutes, and it is the time limit that is really wigging me out. So if you don't hear from me after Monday, just assume I ran away and joined the circus because I just couldn't handle it. Although come to think of it, running away and joining the circus would make for some great blogging material.
.
365 days ago (give or take):
Today I was watching Top Chief, and it occurred to me how very passionate these people are about cooking. And it is like that on most reality shows. Like them or not, you have to admit these people really know what they want. They know what they love, and are trying to make it to top anyway they can. And I can truly admire that.
I was really struggling to find what I wanted out of my life. I'm glad I'm working towards that now.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Back at Square One
The other night my school gave this to me to sign, and I found it really funny. I know they were trying to use some kind of cheesy tool for motivation, but it seemed very kindergarten. I have to wonder though-is this a legally binding contract? The worst part is that I'm getting a MFCT not a MSFT. I can't believe I wrote the wrong degree! Oh brother. As you might have guessed from this picture or from my tweets, the other night was my first night of grad school.I was really nervous the day before my first class, which honestly isn't that much different than any other day for me. I left the house two hours before class started even though it was only a 15 minute drive. I was convinced this would be the one time that my GPS failed me. I would not get to my class on time, and this would make me ultimately flunk out of school. Adam would divorce me because I was a big fat loser, and I would become a hippy nomad, who never ever got to see an episode of The Real World again.
Because of my zealous over planning, I was naturally the first one there. So I got to watch everyone as they came in. I then started playing a little mind game, “Do they look smarter or dumber than me?" I don't usually play games like this, I rarely judge people in my everyday life. But when you are feeling like one big fuzzball of inadequacies, insecurities, and feelings that you may be about to derail your life, IT HELPS. Err it helps until person after person looks like they could be rocket scientists, and it makes you feel like you should give up on life right then. But finally someone walks in that you could possibly beat in a spelling bee, and for a brief moment everything is OK.
Of course most of my anxieties about class turned out to be silly, but isn't that the story of my life? I waste entire days worrying about everything that could go wrong, and none of that ever happens. And even though I'm relieved nothing bad happened, I kind of wish it had, so my crazy irrational side could finally turn to the sane side of me and holler, "I TOLD YOU SO."
My first class in some ways made me feel better about the next three years and in other ways worse. It is going to be a long, long road definitely, but it is something I feel that I can handle. "Anything worth having comes with trials worth withstanding..."
.
365 days ago (give or take):
The best thing about being rich would have to be that you are no longer considered “weird.” When you are rich they just call you “eccentric.” So I could walk down Pacific Coast Highway with my underwear on my head, and no one would put me in a straight jacket.
I had a tag on my toe.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Oh The Places You'll Go: The Sequel
Last week I applied to Graduate school, and I got in! I rock at life obviously. I am unbelievably excited, but also unbelievably terrified. My first class, which starts at the end of June, is a six-week long mental evaluation to determine if I'm sane enough to be unleashed to counsel the public. What if they give me an ink blot test and I tell them I see a polar bear balancing on top of the leaning Tower of Pisa, and from that answer they determine I hate my mother and kick me out of the program? Oh so many new things for me to spend my next two and a half years of my life worrying about!
365 days ago (give or take):
Lark spilled her guts about how she had been hiding the McDonald’s cups in her room under her bed. She did this so we wouldn’t know how often she had been splurging on fast food. Frankly none of us really cared about her love of the big mac. I’m a fan of the Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese myself, which is evident by my thunder thighs.
Oh the secret life of MUW girls.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
