Tuesday, August 28, 2012

What An Email to Guy Friend Looks Like.

In the interest of saving time, as I covered most of what I had planned to blog about in the first place, some of which to my readers, is repetitious, I am cutting/pasting my email last night to Guy Friend. An inner-sanctum look at our life. I've corrected my half-awake typos and random errors, like going totally off-topic, mid-sentence. I shouldn't type emails when I'm tired. I like how I am trying to explain auto-correcting on smartphones in a sentence that makes no literal sense to begin with. I was half asleep at the time. FYI, another sleep walking night without Luke home to shepherd me back into bed. Ack.

Note to self: When out smoking and really tired, try not to pick up the can of seltzer and accidentally try to start drinking out of the cup-shaped ashtray. Blech!

Guy Friend best get a new phone NOW, to avoid such lengthy catch-up emails with me.

Part One: 

Hi (Guy Friend):

Jeepers creepers, you could've told me half the reason you are compelled to join 4,000 different professional associations was because it looks good on your CV!

Yes, journals, and research, and conferences...bippety boppety boo. Time to bite the bullet and start networking, which I'm notoriously horrible at doing. 

I'm now a member of the Illinois Counseling Association and the American Psychological Association. Me. In the APA. What does that REALLY mean, in practicality? They're letting the loonies run the asylum.  My Adlerian therapist, Elena, would be so elatedly amused right now. I should look her up in the alumni directory. 

Speaking of my Adlerian therapists, who did I run into today but Harumi, the dumbshit they paired me with at Swedish after Elena left last year. Her misuse of the English language was strike one. Strike two was how I had to not only ask, but answer all of my own questions while she just sat there like a stump, neither guiding nor providing me with anything of practicality. And she's a PsyD candidate for the sake of Christ!  As was my right as a patient, I was thisclose to asking to be re-assigned a new therapist when Harumi abruptly quit "for personal reasons." Ended up with Erin, who was super, though she goes to the IL School of Prof Psych, which is like the bottom-of-the barrel of the local professional schools. Adler is the only one that preps you for licensing of some obscure nature that supposedly really, really engages potential employers. I can't remember what it's called, but "CRAP" is part of its acronym. De doo doo doo, de dah dah dah.

Oh shit. I smell skunk. I best sit still and turn down The Police. No, it really smells like skunk. And it's not the neighbor's marijuana for once.

I went 2 hours early to get my official ID and CTA pass. That only took 1/2 hour. Copped a squat at a table in the hallway & pumped up my laptop for some pre-class fiddling (er, like figuring out if all my Amazon orders shipped. Like 6 books arrived today, and I had a hell of a time matching them up to all the syllabi and folders I have meticulously laid out in my room.). Today was 3 hours of  professional ethics. (Hang on, I had to legitimately yawn. Twice.) It's interesting, if not a tad ironic at best. There are 9 gregarious, forthcoming students in the class. I'm one of the remaining 2, who are observant introverts, who naturally got paired up to give a presentation in December on the broad issue of "confidentiality." Gee, perhaps a case study in Dr. B*******ka, when she had both Craig and myself as patients, though we were separated, blabbing to Craig that I'd come in for a pregnancy test in '07. Hell, it was either confidentiality or subpoenas and court orders. That was all that was left after my shyness trumped the chance to present end-of-life issues and child/adolescent ethics. I need 7 peer-reviewed citations, and a group activity. Maybe I'll play the game with them where I confidentially tell one of them something specific, have them tell the next person, so on and so forth, to see how fucked up the end resulting story is. Granted, it's not very scientific. I'm sure Quiet Girl and I will think of something animated and interesting. Pray for mania!!!!!

My statistics book came today. Thank GOD that class is online. I was near tears just thumbing through it. Luke. Where's Luke? I have 3 assignments due by Sept 12th in it. He better get crackin', as long as we're talking about ethics and shit, and make Mommy proud. I need at least a B. Seriously. He could totally handle this and I would buy him as many packs of collectible playing cards as my grad budget allowed.  You could've told me it required not only algebra skills but also geometry, both of which I failed in high school!  (No, I'm not serious. I'll do the damn math.)

Spent most of last night armchair counseling my next door neighbor/church friend, who lost her mother yesterday. Her mom was really good friends with my late grandma. So I have wake/funeral shenanigans Thurs/Fri.  The now-deceased was in hospice for only 24 hours when she took her last breath, surrounded by family. I tried my best to explain the grief of losing a parent as coming in waves, especially when you know it's looming and inevitable. Sure, it lessens the shock of losing a parent prematurely and suddenly, but I assured her there are going to be moments of grief and joy and resentment over the shitty way her mother treated her, of which she complained relentlessly. The mom, while still coherent, asked for no more tests and no treatment, as she was 85 and felt like the tests were all torture, and it was pretty clear she had bone cancer. They started the famous morphine drip on Saturday, from which she'd never regain consciousness. The world just celebrated the 116th birthday of the Oldest Woman on Earth. Bravo! Luke asked me when I'll be 100. In 2072, I told him. Luke'll be 72. He has every faith that modern medicine will come up with some longevity-producer by the time I'm elderly, and feeling extra grateful I didn't crap out on him when I was this young. That goes for you too! Stay alive, I need you. 

Still looking for that elusive campus part-time job. I might just apply for the writing tutor one and tell them I can work all day Fridays, but not Tuesdays and see if they'll break the job into 2 people. More jobs are reportedly to post soon, which is good, because anything involving Excel and Outlook and non-envelope stuffing seems unattainable. Like I have time for this shit.

See, now it smells like weed. Hard to tell sometimes.

Tomorrow is 4 hours of "how to counsel people," where we role play and whatnot. For that, I had to buy my own digital dictaphone. No tapes with these mofos. It converts the conversations into mp3's which go on a flash drive for the professor. Without training in medical transcription, We have to dictate progress notes on our pretend sessions. That'll be fun because even though I think we'll be given "roles," it lets my inner nutcase come out and I can use my practical knowledge and experience. You had cadavers. We all get to screw with one another's heads. 

Weds are 3 hours of theory/theorists/history, and an hour-long weekly meeting w/our academic advisors, mine whom I ran into in the smoke hole outside today. She's alright in my book already. No, I'm not quitting until that check for my stipend comes in the mail. Weds night is a meeting at church re: Luke's confirmation. Woot! He asked me what's different at church once you become a real "member" after confirmation. I told him, "You get offering envelopes and you can vote in meetings. Apart from that, nothing."

(Friday night practice was great. I went in the sacristy--the little room where they prepare communion and flowers--and opened the fridge to put in my extra water bottle. Literally, the Consecrated Remains of Our Holy Lord and Savior Jesus Christ came flying out of the fridge, in a jar that came opened, and I stood there picking up the gluten-free version of Jesus' body and shoving the wafers back into the jar, which Pastor Dave caught me doing. "I'll bless them again later," he said. Whoops.)

Still don't know what the online Life Development course is all about, but it doesn't start until Sept 10th. Maybe they'll help explain why the Christian right wing insists a clump of cells deserves more human rights than a living mother, and people who are misguided and naive will stop referring to me as a Zygote Murderer for being pro-choice. I know, I know, you're Catholic. "An eminence front...it's a put on..." as The Who so aptly said. 

That's it in a nutshell. I'll get used to the schedule and material and it won't seem so daunting. But it's all good. It's all God. But I'm sorry, I'm not going to enter into a discourse with a 22 year old on how "psychodynamic" my semester is packed. In casual conversation!. 

Get some rest, I can see why you want to come home and veg out. I get it. 

Let me know when you get a new phone! This is insanity! Wait until you have to type with your fingers directly on the smartphone, or it'll automatically correct in appropriate solutions, direction aside. Try to get the text-by-spoken word that's in the new on the iPhone-s-i think it's called. Could be very useful for your purposes.

I really am excited and happy to part of the Adler organization. I just feel a little out place with all the young people. I'll get into the swing of things by next week. But a a fuill-blown manic episode would come in VERY handy right now. Too bad I'm stabilized.

Shoot me a few when you get a chance. I couldn't wait to tell you all about it.  :)

Lots of love,
Annie xoxo

Addendum this morning:

I, again, really shouldn't type when I'm half asleep.I I just re-read this and half it is laden with typos and half-thoughts, oh, the horror. Sleep walked into my mom's room asking her some random question at 11:30 pm, had closed Luke's door though he wasn't home (as is typical when I sleepwalk--I go looking for Luke), and lost my glasses AGAIN. Where'd I find them? In the kitchen drawer where the eyeglass cleaning towels are located. So at some point in my half-consciousness, I went to clean my glasses and put them in the drawer & went back to bed, my mother furious, as is also per usual. At least it wasn't 4am. Now it's 6am and I'm totally coherent. More or less.

Enjoy your day at work. I have a new perspective on how hard you work even after just one day at Adler. And what you had to go through to become a doctor. For that, you have my eternal respect. You must be in peak fitness and used to the frantic pace to keep up with what you're doing. I just pray I have your wherewithal after I'm a shrink.

I forgot to tell you that after we graduate, we can practice as licensed counseling psychologists for 2 years under supervision of a PsyD, PhD or MD for an additional set of initials after our names, and at that time, if we pass that board exam, we can open a private practice. Not that I want to do that, as I'll probably work in a non-profit or other social service organization that treats substance abusers and alcoholics. Plenty of time to sort that out.

We'll have to start making plans to make plans to make plans after Labor Day. My schedule's packed but I have nights free (except for every other Thurs, which is Luke's therapy).  It's looking like October for Tattoo #2, the word "mindfulness" in Sanskrit, bigger and on the inside of my LEFT arm. This time, P'Dave's taking me, as I'm tagging along with his niece, Chloe, who is getting 2 tattoos. Dave's thinking of getting his tattoo filled in. 

Wow. on iTunes, a George Harrison song ("Woman, You've Been on My Mind," or something to that effect, from that demos CD I gave you) which segued directly into a song by his son, Dhani's band, thenewno2. It sounded literally just like George but doing electronica. Bizarre.

Hare Krishna!

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