Adventures of a birthday girl in Michigan

Friday, December 14, 2007: Departed Chicago around 5:30am with my pals Rajiv and Eddie to head for St. Ignace in Michigan's upper peninsula. :)


"Why Michigan?" you ask. Why NOT Michigan?! My friend Rajiv had been to St. Ignace, Mackinac (or Mackinaw) Island, and the Tahquamenon Falls in Michigan and had recommended we go there when we were brainstorming about what to do for both our bdays (his bday is December 9th) while in Argo Tea one lazy afternoon. Thus, an idea was born. :)


The drive didn't seem as long as I thought it would be...probably because I had great company, some fun music, and the occasional laughter producing Mad Libs to pass the time along the way. We arrived in St. Ignace around 2 or 2:30 pm Michigan time (1 hr. ahead of Chicago time). Got settled in with all our crap at the Driftwood Motel there in St. Ignace and headed straight to the motel's restaurant for a late lunch and cocktail. Took a walk down the street after that to check out a few shops, including one that had a Native American Museum in the back. There was a nice and interesting lady working there that we chatted with about the museum's heritage, along with tidbits about the St. Ignace natives and its culture.


We were quickly noticing just how desolate it is at the "mainland" of St. Ignace, especially in the winter according to the locals. Hardly any cars drove by and on the rare occasion a human being was spotted in our vicinity as we walked down the street, the individual passing by would smile and say "Hi, how are you?" beneath their winter clothing. Apparently, most people don't live there in the winter. The remaining locals we talked with would tell us that most people only live there in the winter and live somewhere else in the summer (Florida seemed to be the consensus!).


Talking with the locals was one of the most entertaining thing on the trip. It was funny too because every time we would sit down at a bar or restaurant, the very first question asked of us was "Where are you from?" It was either that obvious we weren't from around there or it's so small of a town that they knew we were out of towners because they didn't recognize our faces!


The lady at the museum that Friday shared with us how she has a penchant for getting stoned while fly fishing on the lake, while our jolly bartender Dustin at the local casino shared that he doesn't leave his house in the winter much unless he goes shopping. (He also told us two funny jokes, one about a nun and another about a guy at at nursing home with Parkinson's, but I'm horrible about remembering jokes). There was "Java Joe" and his wife (Betty? We're not sure what her name is, actually.) we talked with at the Java Joe's restaurant over breakfast Saturday and Sunday morning. They were fun and reminded me a bit of my mom and stepdad. Java Joe was super friendly with a fun personality like my stepdad Keith and "Betty" (for lack of her actual name) had eclectic, interesting things to talk about like my mom. They had lived many places like Denver, L.A, Texas....and "Betty" told us stories about the conservative ways of the locals....as well as some not so conservative folks (she joked that some people don't do anything else in town besides get drunk, get stoned, and "get laid" because it's all they've ever known growing up in the small community). She also talked proudly of her family, particularly her artist son. It made me miss my mom a bit (that was on my birthday too).


There was the bartender at Patrick Sinclair's Irish Pub on Macinac Island who we had a funny conversation with, which partly involved my asking him the craziest thing he's seen a customer do at this particular bar on the island. He told us a drunken middle aged man accepted a dare someone gave him: to walk across the local bridge wearing NOTHING except gloves and socks/shoes. Oh, what idiotic things alcohol can make a person do. Hahaha. Subject of conversation inevitably led to what I do for work. My reply? "Substance Abuse Counselor." He laughed and I elaborated on my drug addict clients.


Then there was the cute twentysomething bartender at a can't-remember-the-name-of-it pub where we had pizza and beer on Saturday night just outside of St. Ignace in Mackinac City. He went on and on about how bad the economy is in Michigan (or at least in the surrounding areas) since they shut down factories, laid off workers, and haven't had many customers in various businesses (including the bar and restaurant industries). He told us he had a young child to support and was only working 2 days a week. Even though we only had a pizza and 5 beers total amongst the 3 of us, we felt bad for the guy (and he was so nice) and decided to leave him a $10 tip after we finished playing a little pool. We're pretty sure we made his night, maybe even his week.


Friday night we took a shuttle (you call them up and they pick you up in a van) to Kewadin Casino just a few short miles away from our motel in St. Ignace. I think we were probably the youngest and best looking people there, but I digress. No big winnings for me. Just some shortlived, albeit fun times, on the penny, nickel and quarter machines. I wasn't a fan of the penny, nor the quarter machine....but I did find this one particular nickel slot machine to be "me lucky charm" (which just means I got to rack up the points and play longer without paying more...hahaha! We enjoyed having a few drinks at the bar, talking with a few of the friendly bartenders and had some dinner there. But the security guards (wannabe cops!) we could have done without. They were being really lame about our taking pictures anywhere NEAR the radius of "the pit" (the term for the floor where all the slot machines and tables are) considering almost all the pictures we took were in the bar area, but whatever. We think they were just bored with nothing else to do, especially since they didn't seem to be strictly enforcing their claims. I got a little tipsy that night. All in all, good times.

On our way back to the motel, our shuttle guy Mike had recommended we try the aforementioned Java Joe's restaurant for breakfast in the morning...so we did. We had omelets Saturday morning and were so impressed that we decided to go back Sunday morning (my birthday!) to try Java Joe's self-proclaimed famous crepes and stuffed french toast. The guys had the crepes and I had the yummy french toast. I thought their food was better than any breakfast place I've been to in Chicago, it was that good! :)


After breakfast Saturday morning, we took the 10:30 ferry ride (the only way to get there, as there are no cars allowed on the island) to Mackinac Island. MANY photos to see later when I post and email through Shutterfly, hopefully later today. :) I had never been on a "real" ferry before besides the silly ones you go on at theme parks,etc. I also had never been on an island. Leave it to me to go to a cold island over a tropical island for a 'first' island experience. Gotta love it.


It was truly cold that Saturday, but we dressed in the highest fashion...with our thermal underwear on underneath to keep everything intact of course, hehehe. If we thought St. Ignace was desolate, the island was EXTREMELY desolate. It was great! :) We were pretty much the only ones on foot; everyone else was on their snowmobiles or could be found in one of the only places open on the island this time of year: the Irish pub. Hahaha. After consuming a tasty and WARM Bailey's Irish coffee at the pub, we "trekked" (as Rajiv likes to say, hehehe) across the island for what turned out to be 4 and a half hours of peace, quiet and absolute beauty. Snow and trees everywhere.


Katie DID have to pee pretty bad though and after holding it for about an hour with no bathrooms in sight, she decided to throw caution to the wind and adapt to nature's whims. Yes, that's right....Handing over my coat and other crap to Eddie, I peed behind a shed that housed a bunch of leather straps out in the middle of nowhere (or somewhere near Arch Rock, to be exact). Needless to say, I felt refreshed afterwards. :)

The main sights we snapped away with our cameras? Fort Mackinac, Arch Rock, St. Ann's Cemetary, Skull Cave, and the Grand Hotel (where they filmed the movie "Somewhere in Time" for those who know the romantic chick flick from the 80's!). The locals around us sped past us with their snowmobiles or could be found hanging out at a bonfire along the lake. Adults drinking and children sledding (usually nearly crashing!) down the hills in the snow. Around 4pm (!!) Eddie suggested we have a "pre-birthday shot" back at the Irish pub to warm our frozen bones before the 4:30 ferry ride back to "the mainland" of St. Ignace. He didn't have to twist my arm! :) After we ate pizza and beer a few hours later, we collapsed at just after 9:00 and slept like absolute champions that night. Hahaha.


Since we had gone to sleep so early though, funny enough....we woke up around 6am: my birthday!! Eddie and Rajiv gave me a card and Borders giftcard as a birthday present and we headed to breakfast. Poor Eddie chipped his tooth (on a CREPE?!?!), but apparently he says he's fine. Over the course of the day, I received random text messages and phone calls from friends. Even though I had no reception on my phone most of that day, it was nice to know others were thinking of me. :) I was able to talk with my mom and brother Alex briefly, but that was the extent of birthday phone conversations. After breakfast we headed out about an hour away to Tahquamenon Falls. Absolutely gorgeous! Took lots of pictures at this place too, then had lunch at the brewery/restaurant on the premises. I hadn't been in a brewery before and decided to try a cherry wheat beer. I also ate something I never saw myself trying until that day: an edible orchid flower. (It came with our meal) I would have to agree with my friend Eddie who said: "It pretty much tastes the way I'd imagine a flower would taste..." Hehehe.


Despite the creepy dead animals (cougars, bears, moose, and any other wintery forest animal you can think of) tacked on the walls, the food we had at this brewery was the best food we had the entire trip. I had a salad with some good bread, charbroiled jumbo shrimp marinated in herbs and beer (mmmm!), rice pilaf, corn, and a bite of a flower. Hahaha. The guys told the staff it was my birthday and so of course they did the whole singing/lit candle on a slice of cake deal. Normally I would have killed them for telling a restaurant it's my birthday, but we were like the only ones there besides a couple sitting beside us....and the "Chocolate Seduction" cake they brought out?!?!? Truly seducing. And I'm not much of a cake person!


Next up was Sault (pronounced "Soo") St. Marie, Michigan/border of Canada a few hours away from T. Falls. We didn't stay there long though because it was dark and everything was closed/shut by the time we got there in early evening. I took a few pictures though. Got back to the motel, changed into my "hot pants" (my new jeans that make me look skinny, for those not in the know with Katie lingo!) and headed back to the casino for a few birthday drinks. My dad had called while we were on our way out, so I called him back and chatted for a few minutes once we got to the casino. Later, my friend Carla called as we waited for our shuttle ride back to the motel. She sang to me and made me laugh about various things, as she always does. Love that woman. :) Once back, it was a Scrabble game with Eddie and then went to bed.

Monday December 17, 2007: We headed back home. While I wasn't ready to go back to "reality," I knew it couldn't last forever. But the adventures of this birthday girl were fun while they lasted....

Embracing a new decade: The 30's!! :)

Sooooooo, the next time I'll be writing a blog on here (because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be near a computer again till Tuesday) I will officially be.....30! In the spirit of my upcoming new "decade on Earth" (as my brother Alex says, which made me laugh), I had some motivational moments last week as I contemplated goals and wishes I'd like to accomplish (and/or like to continue doing) in my 30's. In an email yesterday, a friend of mine told me that apparently '30 is the new 20.' Great reassurance. We'll see about that. Hahaha.

In no particular order, here are some of Katie's goals/wishes! :)

1. Let go of (notice I said 'let go' and not 'lose'....if I 'lose' I can find it again, so instead I'd like to 'release' or 'let go of') 30 pounds of excess body fat.

2. Become more active outdoors (hiking and other outdoorsy stuff).

3. Get my very own dog to call my own (Sorry Chloe; I still love you!).

4. Let go of any unhealthy/toxic relationships in my life.

5. Find 'the one' and have a phenomenal, long lasting relationship with him.

6. Travel outside the U.S.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

7. Continue to write honest and meaningful things.

8. Write a book (with Carol?). :)

9. Get involved in some kind of teaching.

10. Decrease my financial debts.

11. Get my next counseling license (whatever the equivalent is of IL's LCPC...so I can get into private practice work someday!).

12. Go on a cruise (Hell yeah! Pack your bags Mom...and Tracy...and Nicole...and whoever else wants to join in on the par-tay!). :)

13. Ride on a motorcyle: at least once. Anyone, anyone? :)

14. Learn CPR/First Aid and become certified.

15. Learn to shoot a gun/go to the gun range with my Dad next time I'm in Florida! :)

16. Get an Ipod. (I REALLY want one!)

17. Stop being a whiner/complainer about dumb shit.

18. Stop being so hard on myself. (Right, Rajiv?) ;)

19. See things as they are and not how I would like them to be (This is VERY hard at times!).

20. Continue being creative with my writing and photography because it makes me happy. :)

21. Continue cultivating honest, loving, and meaningful/intimate relationships with people in my life.

22. Continue engaging in meaningful work with my clients/career.

23. Continue pushing myself beyond comfort zones/fear.

24. Remain interesting by reinventing myself when I feel like it. :)

25. Get married and start a family.

26. Become more attractive and more confident with myself with each passing "older" year of my life!!!!! Cheers to Katie.

27. Utilize acquired wisdom to keep from making the same mistake more than once.

28. Always surround myself (mentally and emotionally) with positive, caring, and inspiring people, ESPECIALLY the strong women "teachers" and "counselors" in my life: Mom, Carla, Tracy, and Carol. Love ya. :)

29. Overcome abandonment and rejection issues: a work in progress.

30. Cut down on my carbs/susceptibility to emotional eating.

31. Ride in a hot air balloon.

32. Organize and participate in a nerdy (but cool, folks!) reading group.

33. Try rock climbing and hang gliding (or is it parasailing? hmmm....).

AND FINALLY......

34. HAVE NO EXPECTATIONS. (Most challenging of all, but I'll do my best on this one!!!)

Blood

I had a very bizarre and somewhat creepy start to my morning on the way to work. I was walking to the train a little after 5am. As I approached Corus bank (my bank, actually) at the corner of Clark and Belmont (on the sidewalk), there was a woman making a call on her cell phone. As I waited for the light to change so I could cross the street, something bright red caught the corner of my peripheral vision to my left.

I looked down to see a crumpled up white dress shirt with some kind of design on a part of it....covered in bright red blood. Almost the entire shirt was red, and it wasn't red paint. It was definitely blood. I found myself muttering "What the hell?" under my breath. I turned around to look at the woman on her cell phone and I assume she was calling the police because I heard her say something about calling to report the bloody shirt she found, not sure if it was something that needed to be investigated/"talked about."

The light then changed and I crossed the street.

Everyone has a story

One of the most interesting things about my job (and there are MANY, lol) is working with new clients. Most of the clients on my caseload have been with me for a year or two now, so it's easy to feel a sense of complacency after you've known a client for awhile. Sure, there are unexpected moments in counseling, but it's not frequent. Most of them can be fairly predictable....with their behavior anyway. So when I get a new client, there's an intriguing anticipation (as long as he/she isn't the difficult client from hell...those aren't as much of a treat to work with) of wondering what his or her story is and what has brought them to walk into our door for treatment. Many of them have a long history of addiction, hence some of them have been in and out of treatment numerous times. But what I have learned working with addicts is that no matter how many times they have had treatment, you have to treat them as if it is the first time because it could be the time it works for them. This past week has been stressful and at times chaotic, as Carol and I have been slammed with new clients transferring to us from a facility that closed abruptly for whatever unknown reason. It's always interesting to see how other clinics do things either similarly or differently than us.

So far (knock on wood) my handful of new clients have been unusually cooperative and nice. I guess I'm so used to resistant and non-compliant low income level clients who typically have a bad attitude that working with these new clientele almost feels like a walk in the park...well, not exactly...but you know what I mean. As part of the intake process of paperwork and putting the new charts together, the doctor I work with wants me to pull certain forms from their former clinic charts that we have. Alot of them have been real thick, which means I've had to sift through lots of paperwork. Through this tedious process, I came across some odd 'personal history' forms that this clinic does that we don't do. At my clinic, we have them fill out very generic paperwork, but the real personal stuff is reserved for when I meet with them to do an intake assessment on a program on my computer. It looks like this clinic wasn't up with the age of technology though; everything was on paper/done by hand!! Holy cow. I would have chronic carpal tunnel. How can some places still have such archaic administrative practices? Wow. Anyway, getting off my tangent there.

What I noticed as I looked at this 'personal history' form was what I thought were odd, irrelevant albeit interesting questions they were asking. I joked to my coworker Manuela that it seemed more like a form they would give someone to fill out if they were applying for a job with the FBI. There was a section on nutrition. It asked what the person typically eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner followed by how often per week they eat each meal and whether they eat a "low," "moderate," or "high" (no pun intended, hehehe) volume of food. An employment section that included how long they were there and if they weren't there anymore, why not. Another one asked how many sexual partners the person has had in the past 10 years and check 'yes' or 'no' for vaginal, anal, and/or oral sex. I'm surprised it didn't ask whether they bought Fruit of the Looms or Victoria's Secret undergarments. Or how often he/she goes to the bathroom or masturbates. It's like, geez. If these kinds of questions must be answered (and I don't believe they do), give the person some privacy to at least not have to write it down on a form that becomes their permanent record in the clinic. Tell the counselor instead on their own terms/comfort level. No wonder it can take clients a long time to feel comfortable trusting and opening up to a healthcare professional.

Have we become too desensitized to treating someone like a human being, instead using labels to describe someone as "morbidly obese," "follower," etc? We as individuals can be these things, sure, but it is only a small part that encompasses our overall self/soul. What's covered on a piece of paper doesn't even begin to reveal the real juicy elements of one's life 'stories' that I get to hear in my many great and at times infamous "Sessions."

Everyone has a story. If I'm lucky, I get to hear their 'novel' with its many chapters....not the Cliff Notes version.

Winter wonderland

For as many years as I've lived in Chicago, I never cease to be in awe of those first few snowstorms at the beginning of each new winter. There's something magical about it, especially at night when the sky is so dark that the powdery snow on the ground glistens in the slightest amount of light. I sometimes wonder how something that falls from the sky can be such a natural beauty. An otherwise boring looking tree in non-snowy cold weather can be suddenly transformed into a "painting" out of a fairytale, covered in heaps of pure white snow. You can hear the soft 'crunch' of your shoes pressing into the snow with each step you take and oddly enough, you can almost hear yourself think....an anomaly in an otherwise noisy city. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow....

Intimacy is better than 'best'

I was thinking last night about how my friendships have changed over the years. Not too long ago, I was thinking it seemed to me that friendships get harder as one grows up into adulthood and it saddened me. After having a very honest, emotional and thought provoking conversation about this very subject with two very close friends of mine last night, I was filled with quite the opposite feeling though: gratitude. My feeling that friendships can be difficult certainly hasn't changed, but my outlook on it has shifted. Just because something is hard, doesn't mean it's a bad thing; it can be a very positive thing. At the risk of sounding cliche, the hardest and most challenging things in life can also provide us the most unconditional, priceless reward: love, compassion, hope, honesty, intimacy, and the capacity for profound growth/change (both within ourselves AND within our most meaningful relationships with others). My dinner with two friends last night started out normal, but felt anything but normal as I headed home, walking down my street and quietly contemplating these deeper matters.


Midway through dinner, my friend Rajiv (pictured here) and I got in a bit of a 'spat.' It bothered me more than it seemed to bother him and I was prepared to leave without finishing my meal because I was so upset. Something within myself stopped me though and I decided to stay. I'm glad I did. In the past, whenever I have felt I was being judged or attacked in any way by someone I considered a 'best' friend, I would go in retreat mode. One of my "best" friends from high school betrayed me so badly that I ended the friendship and haven't spoken to her since my last year of undergraduate college. It seemed like my "best" friends either loved me or they judged me. It was a foreign concept to me that a friend could do both and even more foreign, that it's perfectly alright and natural, healthy even, to be a mixture of the two. Still, I sometimes have a hard time knowing how to respond when arguments arise. I tend to think there's something wrong with the friendship if we're disagreeing, not seeing eye to eye. I have to step back and remind myself that conflict doesn't mean a friendship is in jeopardy. Rajiv has given me this gift in our friendship, the gift of a healthy argument. Don't get me wrong, I don't like it. I don't like arguing with ANYONE, let anyone those closest to me....but I have become more comfortable with the uncomfortable feeling because it usually brings us closer to understanding each other in the bigger scheme of things.


My friendships from my early to mid twenties have been shaped by the memories of what a 'best' friend has come to mean for me. I don't like the 'best friend' title anymore and if you know me well, you may notice I don't refer to any 'best' friends of mine. "Close," yes. "Best," no. When I have felt someone was my "best friend" in the past, I have been hurt, betrayed, and confused by what I felt were not genuine intentions. The term has come to have a negative connotation instead of a positive one. Instead, nowadays I like to use the word 'close' friend. The word carries more meaning for me and it leaves me feeling more hopeful of having a genuine and long lasting connection. I have had too many friendships when I was younger where it felt more like lip service, stereotypical and fake.


And now as I approach my thirties, it (friendship) has become so much more rich with intimacy. It simultaneously gives me great terror/anxiety and great joy! Last night, my friend Rajiv had pointed out things about me that he didn't like or found annoying. It really hurt my feelings and it wasn't so much what he was telling me. I kept trying to drill into his head that it was the way he comes across when he has something honest to say. I value honest feedback, but it's all in the approach. Seeing as he and I can both be stubborn about getting our point across (must be a Sagittarian thing, hahaha!), I think he and I could both work on how we communicate with each other. With a good give and take between us though, it's something that we can work on. After raising our voices and brief tears on my part, we were able to work past the argument and have a very interesting conversation about the vulnerabilities of friendship and how scary it can be to open yourself up to a friend in an intimate way. As much as it scares me, I still want it: an 'intimate friend.' So I push myself past the discomfort and look at what's really going on.

It may not happen right away, but our ability to intimately share things with others that may initially be uncomfortable to hear can reap something greater in the long run: knowing that you can still be yourself and no matter how good, bad, or unpredictable that may be, you are still loved for who you are. "Best" friends fade. "Intimate" friends are in it for the long haul.

Interestingly, I just had a session with a client this morning and something he said stuck with me as the perfect analogy for the theme of intimate friendships. He was talking about his pet lovebirds, how they will fight with each other in their cage one minute, and then be kissing each other the next. I laughed and told him that maybe there's something we humans can learn from lovebirds....that even if you're upset with someone you love in one moment, you can be reminded of why you love that same person in the next moment....to kiss and make up. And that's more real than one might possibly hope for in a friend.

With that said, I'd like to include a blog my friend Rajiv wrote last night about thoughts he had about friendship after our dinner discussion. My response to his blog follows, as well as my other close friend Eddie's response to his blog. Cheers to intimate friendships. :)

"What do friendships really mean?" (Rajiv)

I got to thinking about friendships tonite after I got home for dinner. Well, I have been thinking about it for a while now to put down my thoughts just so that, if not for anything else, I can read it again in a few years from now and would force me to think if I still believe in what I wrote today. I hope I do.

From since I was a little kid, being in the company of other kids my age would make me feel good. Being with other kids, playing with them, joking with them made me feel wanted and desired. I never really had a problem making friends at school. I consider myself a very friendly person, somebody who is easy to talk to, somebody who loves to listen and somebody who always is patient. I have been lucky to have had a few very good friends. And by friendships, I mean people I can open myself out to completely and let all my fears, all my inhibitions and all my true feelings out. A friend to me is somebody I will feel comfortable to be bare with, with all my feelings and all that I am feeling. There would nothing to be embarassed about, nothing to be scared about.

I know there are different kinds of friends we all have...friends we hang out with occasionally, friends we go out and have a couple of beers with and then there are friends who we can open ourselves out to completely with both the good and the ugly and would still feel assured in our hearts that they would accept us no matter what.

I have had friends of both kinds in the 31 years of my life. I am sure I am gonna meet a lot more people in my life and I hope I form a few good friendships with at least some of them. But, as I get older, I have realised something about myself that was probably something I have done subconsciously all along, just never realised it. I am the kind of person who believes in real friendships, people who stay with you through thick and thin. Maybe that is why I have a few friends, because I probably expect a lot from friendships. I have very high standards. Friends aren't just the people you connect with to go out and have a few drinks with or watch a movie or two and do small talk with. I mean all that is good, but I am the kind of person who gets tired of that easily. All through my years in grade school and high school and even my college years, I have made friends for the long-term, people I will remember till I die.

Sometimes it makes me wonder as I get older, is it just enough to have friends or do we really need 'more', by 'more' I mean friends who will not be afraid to say what they have to say for the greater good, or will they just succumb to the stereotype? I would personally have friends who would rather tell me how they really feel that just words I want to hear, because even though those words might sting in the beginning, I would know somebody really cared enough about me to have taken that step.

Maybe what I say is difficult to comprehend because none of us want to be lonely really. We all seek companinonships, but at the risk of sounding different...I would rather have just a couple friends who I can truly call my FRIENDS than just people who can fill my address book with.

My response:

Wonderfully spoken. :) And if I didn't answer your question last night, the people I am closest to in my life don't tell me what I want to hear....like I said, it's just the WAY they say something honestly. I too was thinking about friendships walking down my street to go home last night. This whole time I've been freaking out about my upcoming 30th birthday, last night I had the opposite reaction....one of gratitude.

My relationships are only getting better as the years progress, more of the kind you mention: the good, the bad, and the uncomfortable (I don't like to say 'ugly' because to me that word just sounds petty and relationships are more complex than that) all wrapped into one. I think the reason I get so uncomfortable and hurt by things you say at times is because when I was younger my friendships seemed to be 'all or nothing.' Either a friend loved me in a loyal way, or they betrayed/hurt me in some very harsh way. Contemplating this last night though, I realized maybe like Eddie was saying, I too am feeling my way through the dark of what it feels like to have a more 'real' intimate friendship....one that you can laugh with one day, but feel completely vulnerable and exposed with in a good AND scary way the next.

Funny enough, I was thinking about writing a blog about this subject today too....but I think you about covered it Rajiv. :) I still don't think I can live up to your high standards of friendship and part of me doesn't want to. I'm more the kind of person that meets people where they're at (mentally and emotionally), so I think that is why I get frustrated when I don't get that in return in friendships....but perhaps it's like we were talking about last night: we are just different people, and that's ok too.

As long as we can continue to be honest and respectful of one another (you, me, and anyone in a friendship really), friendship can only grow stronger from it. Love you, Katie

Eddie's response to Rajiv's blog:

I concur. Having wonderful, caring people around me often (namely you and Katie) has made it much easier for me to let go of people in my life who didn't have anything to offer. I fall into a rut easily - in many aspects of my life - and having certain 'friends' in my life for as long as I did was really leaving me with an empty feeling. I have far fewer friends now at 29 than I did ten or even five years ago - but you know what? I am happy with this. Like you said I would much rather have a few people in my life that really matter instead of just having people who fill my cell phone. That isn't to say that I don't still have a few friends who are like that - but far fewer than I used to.Ask most people who have 100 people in their cell phone, and they will say the same thing. Only a few really matter. The ones who call everybody they know their friend, well, let's not get into that right now!It's pretty easy. You expect A LOT out of friends because you have had a very hard time meeting people and making friends which turn out to be REAL friends. Your standards used to be lower, and after being blown off so many times, and knowing dysfunctional people, you decided that enough was enough - you were only going to surround yourself with people who mattered.

My date with a 2 year old

I had told my friend Bridget if she ever wanted me to watch her 2 year old son Ian, I'd be happy to do it. I know she and her husband Mark don't get a chance to go out very often for grownup fun much anymore and I love kids.....so when she asked if I could watch him last night, I said "Of course!" While I'm great with kids, I have to admit I was a tad nervous. I have babysat young children before, but it had been a LONG time since I had watched a two year old. I forgot how much work it is to keep an eye on a toddler...regardless of how good or bad the child's behavior. I think I have a newfound respect for first-time parents (Ian is their first and only child thus far). I can totally understand now how parents don't have time for much else (especially the parent that is alone to take care of the child for hours on end) in the child's first few formative years.

I arrived shortly after 6:00pm and boy, were they happy to see me! Bridget told me she has not seen the friends she and Mark would be meeting for dinner since she was almost 9 months pregnant...about two years ago! No wonder she was so appreciative of me watching the little guy. They gave me a rundown of when to give him grapes for a pre-bedtime snack, what to do if he locks any of the doors (yes, he's done it before with his grandma apparently!), when to give him his cup of milk and water, changing and doubling up his diaper before bedtime, and the bedtime ritual (let him pick two trucks to take to bed and zip him up in a very user friendly toddler blanket). I got worried that I would forget something and even considered, "do I need to write all this down? What if I forget something?" I felt like I was back in school, except the subject matter seemed more foreign to me. I began to wonder how good of a mother I would be over the course of the evening. I think I got an "A+" on the average, but still...I had to wonder.

He cried a little bit when he saw his parents get in the elevator, but I picked him up and reassured him with my soft and calm voice that we were going to have fun hanging out together and that they would be back later. We played with oodles of cars: big cars, Matchbox cars, Monster trucks with the big wheels, and the medium sized cars that look nice but don't travel very far when you push them across the floor. I'd chase him around the apartment with one of those things that have the handle: when you roll it on the floor, the balls inside the plastic thing go up and down with a loud 'popping' sound. He ate his grapes and drank his milk. Everything was going swell....until I had to run to the bathroom to pee real quick. Mark had told me earlier not to worry if I had to go to the bathroom ("If he tries to come in, you can just kick him out," he joked). He didn't try to come into the bathroom, however, and his being really quiet is what worried me. When I came out of the bathroom, he was sitting still on the couch just looking at me. Seeing as he is generally a slightly hyper boy, I wondered if there was a reason he was being quieter than usual. Sure enough, I smelled something bad. We had a dirty diaper in our midst...the very thing I was most nervous about from the get-go.

I honestly can't even remember the last time I changed a diaper and/or WHOSE diaper it was for that matter. What if I forgot how? Is changing a diaper like riding a bike or driving a car....once you learn, no matter how long it is before you do it again, you can 'pick it up' again easily? Hmmm, I wasn't so sure. Ian looked at me with trusting eyes and a carefree attitude. I'm glad someone was feeling relaxed about the dirty diaper in this situation. I thought to myself, "Ok, I can do this. I have a Master's Degree in Marriage and Family Counseling, after all. It's just a diaper, Katie." At least this is how I reassured myself to wing it. I picked Ian up and began to strategize the best way to place Ian on the changing table. Ian seemed longer than the changing table, so this was a bit tricky. After deciding laying him down sideways seemed most feasible, it was time for the diaper showdown: It vs. Me. I had to win. Little did I know it would be worse than I anticipated, but I endured with grace and a sense of humor....so did Ian. With Huggies baby wipes and two Winnie the Pooh (and Tigger too!) diapers in tow, Ian smiled at me with the occasional laugh. I cleaned him up and carefully disposed the dirty diaper in the diaper receptacle to my right as I playfully teased him saying "I'm glad someone thinks this is funny..." Phew, got the cleaning out of the way. That was quickly replaced by an equally anxiety producing feeling: "What is the proper front and back side of the diaper? If I remember correctly, the tape/velcro on the side is the back part of the diaper..." I decided to use the diaper he had been wearing as guidance: Winnie the Pooh is on front, Tigger on the back (Which reinforced my theory, putting the side tabs on the back of the diaper). Success!

Being the diligent babysitter I was striving to be, I looked around for some fresh, clean pajama bottoms to replace the slightly 'spoiled' ones he was currently wearing. I searched a few nearby drawers, but came up emptyhanded. Oh well, I tried. I pick up Ian off the table and put him on the floor, whereupon we work as a team to manuever his little legs back into aforementioned pajama bottoms. I was proud of the little guy. He steadied himself pretty well, putting one leg and then another into each pant leg as he held onto my arm. Mission accomplished! It was smooth sailing after that, minus a slight glitch in zipping up his body blanket as he squirmed around. He babbled a little bit here and there before falling asleep about an hour later, but he didn't cry at all.

Aside from the diaper dilemna, I'd say my date with a 2 year old was the best date I've had in awhile. One could even say there might be a second date someday....

Birth control pill for men?

On my way to work this morning, I stumbled across a morning talk show (Drex in the morning...they usually have interesting cultural topics they talk about) where they were discussing the possibility of a male birth control pill in the works. Who knows if/when it may be approved by the FDA, but I found the idea very interesting and thought provoking. It raises alot of questions (in my mind, anyway)...not only for men, but for women as well.

How many men would be willing to take a birth control pill? Would women trust a man with such a hefty responsibility, especially when a failure to do so could create an unplanned pregnancy? Would this create a whole new can of worms, ie a man being more reluctant to use a condom if he claims he is taking the male birth control pill? Is there a reason certain birth control methods work for certain genders? Think about it. Even with the advent of the female condom, it's not as widely used and feasible as the male condom. Perhaps the male birth control would be the same way? While the idea of a male birth control pill seems great and empowering in theory, how successful would it be in application? I looked up an article online for further info and thought I'd share it here. I'd love to hear your thoughts/take on this, dear reader......

Male birth control pill soon a reality
By John Schieszer
MSNBC contributor
SEATTLE, Oct. 1 — - Forty-year-old Scott Hardin says he’s glad that men may soon have a new choice when it comes to birth control. But, he adds, he would not even consider taking a male hormonal contraceptive. Hardin is like many men who are pleased to hear they may have a new option but are wary of taking any type of hormones.

“I would rather rely on a solution that doesn’t involving medicating myself and the problems women have had with hormone therapy doesn’t make me anxious to want to sign on to taking a hormone-type therapy,” says Hardin, who is single and a college administrator.For the first time, a safe, effective and reversible hormonal male contraceptive appears to be within reach. Several formulations are expected to become commercially available within the near future. Men may soon have the options of a daily pill to be taken orally, a patch or gel to be applied to the skin, an injection given every three months or an implant placed under the skin every 12 months, according to Seattle researchers.“It largely depends on how funding continues. The technology is there. We know how it would work,” says Dr. Andrea Coviello, who is helping to test several male contraceptives at the Population Center for Research in Reproduction at the University of Washington in Seattle.

Coviello and her colleagues have found that a male contraceptive that releases testosterone over three months is potentially a safe and practical method of contraception. The Seattle researchers have been testing a sustained-released, testosterone micro-capsule, which consists of a thick liquid administered by injection under the skin.“I never had any real noticeable side effects. I didn’t notice any mood changes. I may have put on a little weight,” says Larry Setlow, a 39-year-old computer programmer with a small software company in Seattle. He has taken part in three male hormonal contraceptive clinical trials at the University of Washington and has received both pills and injections.“They all worked really well and I was able to look at my lab results and see my sperm count drop to zero,” says Setlow.Women have had the option of a safe, effective and reversible form of contraception since the development of the female oral contraceptive pill in the 1960s.

Female contraceptives use hormones, estrogens and progestins, to shut off the release of eggs to prevent pregnancy. Male hormonal contraceptives work pretty much the same way: hormones, such as testosterone and progestins, are used to turn off sperm production.“It seemed like I was getting headaches and then there were times when I woke up sweating at night and I had to change my shirt. Other than that, I didn’t have any side effects,” says 45-year-old Quentin Brown, who lives in Los Angeles and has been a volunteer in a study of MHCs at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center in Torrance, Calif. Brown has been taking hormonal contraceptives for more than a year. He reports no problems with weight gain or acne, two side effects that occurred in earlier versions of MHCs tested in the 1990s.Brown, who is married and has three children, hopes his kids will one day be able to benefit from the new technology. His would like his son, who is now 17, to one day have the option of taking a male birth control pill.

Brown believes many men will see “their pill” as a good idea and will want to use it.“It is time for men to have some control. I think it would empower men and deter some women out there from their nefarious plans,” says Brown. “Some women are out there to use men to get pregnant. This could deter women from doing this. An athlete or a singer is someone who could be a target and they could put a stop to that.”Studies conducted by the World Health Organization show that men from many countries around the world would welcome MHCs. The WHO has tested MHCs in hundreds of volunteers in various countries around the world and have not found it difficult to recruit volunteers for their studies. Researchers say many men are very willing to become involved in the studies and are anxious to see a male birth control pill on the market.

A range of choicesOver the past 5 years, researchers around the world have had a great deal of success with male contraceptive pills, patches, implants and creams that deliver various amounts of hormones. It is now believed that an MHC in the form of a daily pill could be available on the market within 5 to 7 years and implants could arrive even sooner.

“An injectible or an implant (similar to Norplant for women) will be the first to be approved. The big studies are now under way,” says Dr. Christina Wang, who is heading up the clinical trials of MHCs at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center.She and her colleagues have found that a combination of progestin and androgen implants are safe, effective, inexpensive and entirely reversible. The California researchers have tested several different products in hundreds of men and are also collaborating with investigators in China. A Chinese clinical trial is now under way at 10 different sites across China and includes 1,000 men. The Phase III trial involves a single injection given once every month. Wang hopes to start a similar trial in the United States within the next 2 years.

We are trying to find the best combination with the least amount of side effects and then the least amount of medication that may be required to get the maximum effects,” says Wang.Wang adds that in some countries, a low-cost, reversible and long-acting form of an MHC could become commercially available within the next 3 years. However, she says it will probably be at least 5 years before one is approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.Interestingly, Wang says there is now greater interest in this technology than there ever was in the past and there is now more funding available worldwide than ever before.But will men take it? Some say yes, some say only if their partners make them, and other say they would never even consider it.
© 2007 MSNBC Interactive

"Classy" quote of the week

Carol just told me this woman came in yesterday from one of our other clinics needing to be guest dosed at our clinic. The woman apparently didn't have enough money to make her full payment or something and said to our nurse "I guess I'm gonna have to suck some dick to get more money." The nurse just looked at her.

I told Carol we need to start a collection of quotes around here.

Freudian couch

I haven't written a blog all week, partly because I've been busy at work and partly because I've been trying to get over a cold and haven't had anything in particular to write about. Even though today will likely turn out to be a slightly busy day at work, I had to squeeze in some time to write something today. No main topic though, just some "free association" of thoughts a la Freudian style (but a lot less bizarre!).

Yesterday I went to yet another free seminar as part of my brilliant plan to get as many CEUS accrued as possible without having to spend a dime. After I left the two hour seminar, I got to thinking that it seems like I feel slightly depressed every time I leave one of those seminars and I wasn't quite sure why. I still don't really know, other than to guess that sometimes it seems like there is more negativity one has to deal with being a therapist than the positive. Not to sound pessimistic, but it feels that way quite a bit....even in problem solving mode. It's like you have to look at something from a negative aspect before you can get to the positive aspect. This may not make sense to the 'outside' (non-therapist) world, but I think it's reality...at least with substance abusers. I think I felt this way when I worked with the young, abused and/or severely misbehaved children at my internship too though. I wonder if I would feel this way with my own private practice. I don't think I would. The background of the clientele plays a HUGE part. Hmmm. Interestingly, the speaker yesterday (really good, by the way) was talking about how as much as we like to throw around the psychological terms "power" and "control", whether in reference to ourselves or others/clients....it's all an illusion. None of us have it, even if we think we do. I pondered his statement and can't agree more.

I noticed something funny about myself when I was at the seminar. This particular speaker wanted to start off by having everyone in the audience (about 25 people) introduce themselves by giving their name, where they work, and what they would like to get out of the seminar. First of all, I hate answering those kinds of questions. They just feel very cliche to me, but whatever. But what's funny is that for as much as I've gone beyond my comfort zones professionally, I still have slight anxiety when it comes to public speaking. I thought it went away the last year or so I was in graduate school, but I feel it come back every time I'm in a room with more than 5 or 10 people where I have to talk about myself, all eyes front and center on me, hanging on my every word. For as much social interaction I have with people on a daily basis, my anxiety goes up in this kind of situation. I felt so silly for feeling that way. Oh well. :)

I woke up this morning having remembered some short and random dreams I had. The first one: I'm walking around one of the "village" neighborhoods back in my old high school town of Kingwood, Texas. It was early evening and I was just kinda roaming around, not really sure where I was going, but I wasn't scared or anxious either. I do remember looking around for signs that other people were around, but no one was there. Next thing I know, I'm walking down the middle of a street in my old middle school town of Chesapeake/Great Bridge, Virginia. Someone is walking behind me. I got the feeling it was a friend of mine because we were talking a bit and I looked up at the dark, starlit sky. I see a beautiful shooting star and get all excited because isn't that rare to see?! I point it out to my friend, but I was the only one to see it.

Next dream: My friend Erika's brother Nick was in my dream. I was talking to his firefighter colleagues, laughing as they were telling me they wanted to play a practical joke on him. They wanted to create a false fire alarm, send their trucks out with the sirens and lights going off, call him to come in to help them out with a fire (even though there wasn't a fire) on his day off or something. They wanted me to help them with their joke, to make it more believable to Nick. He hurriedly jumps into his car and I ride along with him in the passenger seat. The weird thing was that he had a feeling it was some kind of setup...so as if we were in an action movie (hahaha), he starts driving around like a maniac...fast and unpredictably, with the hope that it would throw them off when he turned down the wrong street or obscure side streets. And it worked. The sound of sirens faded into the distance. He didn't know I was part of the plan though. He looks at me and asks me if I want to see a late night movie or if I want to go to a bar ("Cheetah's" I think he called it, hahaha!). I chose the bar. End of dream.

Finally, I only remember bits and pieces of this dream: At first I'm hanging out in this room with a few guys and at one point, they are talking about me as if I'm not there. One says to the other something about how he wanted me so bad? Next thing I know, I'm sitting in this woman's lap (?!) at a desk writing a letter. Another woman comes up to us and nudges me about getting going. I look at the clock on the wall and start freaking out when I see that it's nearly 1:30 in the morning. I don't know what kind of letter I was writing, but it seemed important enough for me to lose sleep over. All I could think was, "How the hell am I going to go to bed and wake up at 4:00am NOW?!" Wow, even in my dreams I'm cognizant of the fact that I have to wake up so early in the morning for work. How hilarious.

After having the wonderful pleasure (note sarcasm) of seeing my awful-not-a-good-person-at-all-ex-boyfriend-from-many-moons-ago the past two days in a row on the morning bus commute.......I decided something has to give, even if I'm the one who has to do something different about it. Fuck the #156 bus, I thought. Today I took the train to Fullerton, then got a ride with Carol the rest of the way to work. And will from now on. The end. :)

Now I'm counting down for my 2 day holiday to begin....

Update to my WTTB blog

For those of you who read my "Walking, Talking Time Bomb" blog last month....here's an update of what happened today (it was his first time back since that last time he was here a few weeks ago). Last week his wife (who is Carol's client) called Carol, crying about how my client was having some episodes (I knew it!) and she was concerned, thinking she might call his psychiatrist if things got worse. A few weeks ago, my boss had made tentative plans to want he and I to talk to the client, just to make sure the client (and staff) were feeling safe in regard to the guy's mental health. But the more I thought about it, I decided I wanted to play it by ear and see what he'd be like next time he came in (that day being today) before I assessed what should (if anything) be done. I didn't want to feed his possible paranoia that we're 'out to get him.' I'm so glad going with the flow works so well at work, because I think it turned out well today.

When he came in, he apologized to Manuela for his erratic behavior. He told her he had stopped taking his meds, so it was bad, but now he's doing better because he's back on the meds (he told me so when I asked him....assuming he's telling the truth, which I think he is because he appeared calmer and didn't have that nutty glint in his eye that is characteristic of him when he's off the meds). I pulled him into my office for a few minutes to ask him how he's been doing, as I know he's had some stressful things going on lately. I also asked if he'd been to his psychiatrist lately and he stated that he has an appointment next month. I told him it's important for him to feel safe, as it is for us (staff) to feel that way as well. I emphatically pointed out that if he starts to feel parnoid or that we are 'out to get him,' it is important for him to know it is his illness talking, not reality. I asked him if he would go to the hospital if it was real bad/necessary and he said he would go if his wife wanted/needed him to go. I told him to keep me posted on his mental health; he said he would. I feel better from the talk now and am going to update my boss, which means we don't have to have the serious talk with him now that was originally planned for the client, myself, and the boss. We'll see how it goes....

Writing, reading, and all that jazz

Can I just say I love this man? The more books I read by this man, the more I am led to believe he is my gay soulmate. I started reading "Sellevision" a few days ago, which I was surprised to find myself picking up because it's his only fiction novel. Me having a tendency toward book/genre snobbishness, I wasn't sure I'd like the one fictitious work more than his nonfiction/memoir-style books (It is the only book I had not yet read by him, to date). But au contraire. I love this man. I think when God developed the quirky part of our brains that make both Augusten and I weird in that idiosyncratic and witty kind of way.....God took cells from the same 'collective' brain, thus connecting Augusten and I in some bizarre bookish, writerly kind of way with our similar sense of humor. Or so I like to think.

Even though I like to read ALOT and CAN read fast....doesn't mean I do so that often. So I know I really like an author when I can't put a book down and finish it within a day or two of opening the book to page 1. Augusten Burroughs just has this amazing knack for bringing his eccentric characters to life. He can describe their most minute characteristics, while at the same time mocking them from that third person point of view. Hilarious. It's writers like him that make me want to write my own funny, or strange but true, stories all the more.

Yesterday I strolled over to the Borders on Clark and Diversey in my neighborhood to browse around. As if I don't have enough books (!!), but I ended up getting a Chuck Palahniuk book of nonfiction essays called "Stranger Than Fiction" (no, it's not the same as the movie with the same title). I had only read one of his books a few years back, "Diary" I think. It was ok, but I wasn't totally enthralled with his fictive work. I was drawn to STF though because I saw it was a collection of random, bizarre essays. It had me brainstorming about the kind of book I'd want to write someday. I have a hard time narrowing down one specific topic...obviously, as demonstrated by various topics I blog about. I thought, "Aha, essays! Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? That's perfect!!!" I can have different chapters for different topics, but they will all be considered 'essays' (or for the ones that are too amusing for a serious title like 'essays' could be titled....'anecdotes'). That way, I could throw in some autobiographical stories from childhood, the horrible teen angst years, and a decade of random twentysomething experiences that would likely take up the majority of 'good material' (aka people watching stories, tales from the counselor's office, random travel/adventure anecdotes, experiences of working in a bookstore, dating foibles, family drama, life in the city, my insights into human nature/mental health.....and the list goes on and on).

Yes, yes. It's all coming to me now. This will be a great second career for Katie. And one of the very first 'dedication' pages will read: "For Augusten, thanks for the warped and crazy inspiration"

Going green!

I used to have a problem picking out the best, ripe avocados....the ones that looked perfect, like the one in this picture. Many times I would cut it open, but much to my chagrin, it would either be spoiled or not quite 'ready' to eat yet. Unfortunately, once the avocado has been split open, you've already taken the gamble. It's either eat it nasty or suffer in silence as you throw away the wasted, untouched avocado in the trash. But over the past six months, my "technique" for picking out the ideal avocado has significantly improved. Call it my avocado intuition by giving it the right 'feel' with my hands or my ability to calculate my chances of more 'hits' vs. 'misses.' Whatever the case may be, that problem has been replaced by a new one: an avocado addiction.

Loving guacamole just isn't enough anymore. I MUST have avocados almost every day to feel 'satisfied.' So much for my new healthier ways. Sure, avocados are high in the good kind of fat, but surely the USDA wasn't anticipating a 29 year old woman like myself would be consuming them like a fiend. And to think people could have been worried about my margarita intake! Ha.

Can too many avocados have the reverse effect? Can it clog my arteries for life like my hardcore bacon consumption did in my childhood years? Sigh. Oh my. Whether it's on my salads, on my veggie burger sandwiches, with tortilla chips, or simply on the side, it's become problematic. I may just start shitting avocado pits soon if this continues. Not good, NOT good! I need to go on avocado strike. Or maybe there's a meeting for other Avocado Addicts. Did I mention I have an avocado in my desk drawer that I brought to work today? When I went to Dominick's on Friday, there was a mesh bag full of four small avocados for $3.99; I just couldn't resist! Oh, sorry I was daydreaming.

Ok, I'm getting hungry now.....

Convictions

What would you do if you were accused of a crime...or even a minor offense that you didn't commit? Would you stand by your convictions, feeling that 'the truth will set me free' (so to speak) and risk an actual conviction (aka jail/prison time) to prove a point/the truth? Or would you take the consequences for whatever it was, even if it was a lie/something you didn't do? And does the situation dictate whether you would do one or the other (follow your 'truth' vs. 'authority')? I am reminded of philosophical debates on such matters, such as those written by Plato (who questions what is more important: what is best for the self or what is best for society?) and Henry David Thoreau ("Civil Disobedience".....though this extends more towards going to jail for something you strongly believe in, such as people who get arrested in the midst of a political activist/protest, not paying the obligatory government taxes and usually anything else society/government imposes on us).

It made me wonder where one should draw the line between doing the right thing for the self (especially if it isn't hurting anyone else, or standing up for oneself when wrongly accused of something he/she did not commit) and when to sacrifice individual needs for the bigger scheme of things. I read something recently, I think it was in Osho's "Freedom", where it is said that first and foremost we are individuals....therefore individuals by default must come first before collective thoughts and actions. In a way, I can see how this makes sense. For a long time, I never understood when people would say that in order to take care of other people, you have to take care of yourself first. It seemed like a sort of contradiction....but as I get older, I notice how true that seems to be. How good are you to anyone else if you aren't doing what's best for yourself first? Of course, one could argue it's dangerous, selfish, and greedy,etc. But it doesn't have to be. It can be a positive, altruistic choice. I had a session with a client earlier that had me thinking about these things. I thought it was interesting enough to think more and write about it here.

While I'd like to be able to answer my rhetorical questions, I don't think I can. I'd like to think I would stand up for myself if thrown in jail and/or being given some kind of negative consequences for something I didn't do, but then a part of me thinks maybe it still happened for a reason....something I wouldn't have control over/be able to conquer. Again, I suppose it depends on the circumstances. If it were minor, I'd probably just do what an authority figure tells me to do......but if it were a serious crime, I don't think I could say I killed someone when I did not. I wonder how often this sort of thing happened centuries ago. Probably pretty often. I know it still goes on in the world now, but I guess I try not to think about it. Too depressing and somewhat futile to change.

Eyes

It has been said that eyes are the 'window to the soul', but why is that? Why not our smiles, our laughter, our words, our touch? Why the eyes? Does the eye serve as a sort of mirror into our inner world?

When we look into someone's eyes and vice versa, we have the capacity to exchange a deeper acknowledgment and understanding of what it is to be "known." I look into a baby's eyes, filled with such wonder and fascination of the world around him/her. Babies seem to intuitively sense the joy or despair of the person they are looking at. When I am joyful, smile and make eye contact with a baby, their eyes lock on me. Sometimes there is a smile, sometimes it is just the eyes that speak to me. Regardless, I feel a connection in that moment of pure joy and innocence.

When I am socializing in an energetic atmosphere in a crowd of faces and lock eyes with a stranger, something has happened. I may not understand it, but it's there in the eyes. A gaze can be strong and long-lasting. It can also be fleeting, maybe out of apprehension or confusion. What determines our comfort level when we look at or 'into' each other? If one is comfortable and at ease, is that a good thing or is better to have slight anxiety, to up the ante with intimacy? If we look too long, it becomes 'staring.' This can provoke a creepy, threatening, nervous, or annoying response from the one being looked at. If we avoid eye contact (partially or totally), we can run the risk of becoming rude, insecure, seemingly bored/uninterested, self-absorbed.

But it also behooves us to be mindful of eye contact with others, as it can tell us alot about ourselves and the other person. In counseling sessions, I feel like I can sense the lies from the truth based on the individual's eye contact (or lack thereof) as they are talking to me. I can also see sadness, pain, joy, and excitement in their eyes.

When I am interested in a guy and there is mutual eye contact as we talk and get to know each other, it sometimes freaks me out....the fear of what he might see...or maybe what he won't? And I know I'm not alone here. Many people crave, yet simultaneously shun intimacy. Anxiety of 'being seen' can be related to one's confidence level, but not always. What we see when we really LOOK at/into each other can remind us of the person we are, the person we used to be, the person we'd like to be. The other person may also invoke feelings within ourselves that we may not understand....wonderful or not so wonderful. Conversely, we may be left wondering what the other person is experiencing in that same moment...also being looked at/into!

I wonder what life would be like in this world if everyone could only communicate with each other through the eyes and nonverbal expressions, no words. Would we understand and really know each other better? Would our feelings be stronger and conveyed more honestly, more intimately?

Haunting of the Rats

Just looking at this picture as I type this blog gives me the creeps. I feel like this creature is going to jump out of the screen, right onto my desk....scavenging for cheese, yet finding nothing but Orbit gum and Bath and Body Works Sensual Amber Body Lotion for the taking. Or me for breakfast, yikes. So it turns out I'm not haunted by the "normal" things like everyday people. Watching John Carpenter's "Halloween" gets me a little on the edge of the couch. Standing or sitting near a crazy person on the CTA even makes me flinch a little, though usually more from stifling a chuckle from an entertainment standpoint. Seeing the occasional bug on the wall in my apartment ruffles my feathers a bit, but I calmly find a shoe with a firm sole or a very thick, padded paper product to squish it dead (so much for my pacifist ways) and I move on. No fear. Crisis averted. Gone. What doesn't seem to leave my thoughts or dreams lately? Rats. Lately, no matter where I turn, there they are: on the street or in my dreams (er, nightmares). What is up? About an hour before I had to wake up this morning, I was awakened by this frightening nightmarish scenario. Although not real, it still haunts me....especially when I look at this horrid rat photo. Why do I torture myself this way?

Apparently, I was on my way to work and it was dark outside (see how real it sounds? haha). Because it was still early in the morning, the neighborhood I was walking in was very desolate and quiet. I didn't see anyone or anything around me, except for the street I was walking on, stream-lined with apartment buildings as far as the eye could see. Wait, I see something else! First, he was scurrying along and then: he jumps thirty feet into the air towards me. Even though I was completely scared shitless, I recall thinking that it couldn't be possible that a rat could have that much jumping power/velocity...to jump so high and so far. I felt like I had stepped into a rat circus, but without a trapeze, rings of fire, or the obligatory decorated elephant with the bored look on his face. No, this was a circus out of the "Twilight Zone" or a Stephen King novel.

Luckily, I was able to dodge that first rat's jump. I look across the street and see him running through the gutters atop the connected apartment buildings, as if it was his takeoff platform for yes, another jump. Unfortunately, I am right. He makes another jump, this time right towards my face. Like something out of the "Matrix," at the exact moment the rat approached my face, my left hand quickly catches the smarmy vermin firmly like a baseball and throws it back with a fast and strong release. I didn't even have time to think about how nasty it felt to have groped the rat in my hand for those split two seconds. It was either that, or have the rat attack and chomp away at my face with his lethal teeth. I walk on and it's over...but is it?

I wake up and see that I have another hour to sleep before the alarm goes off. It's only a dream, but I was close to calling Carol for a ride this morning. I'm such a wimp when it comes to rats.

Highbrow times

It's that time of year again....the time when I feel like hibernating in my apartment, curling up under a soft warm blanket with a literary great that can take me back in time....back in time to highbrow times. As I started reading the included short introductory biography section in Anton Chekov's compilation of short stories the other day, it occurred to me how much more interesting and diverse writers seemed to be in previous centuries than the current 21st century. Or maybe people of this time period were more honest and forthcoming in revealing the "real" person behind the writer's literary works? I don't know. But I DO know that when I have picked up a book by Leo Tolstoy, Oscar Wilde, Anais Nin, Sylvia Plath, the Marquis de Sade, W.S. Maugham, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mary Shelley,etc, etc....they seem like people I would be personally fascinated to know if I were living in that time period.

They seem like people you would enjoy having an intellectual conversation with or share your most intimate thoughts, feelings, passions and creativity. In fact, as I recall my friend Jennie (and even my friend Sebastian) saying once upon a time, such classic writers are perhaps more interesting in reading about their personal life and/or memoirs and letters they wrote than even their fictitious endeavors. I would have to concur.

"The Journals of Sylvia Plath" were alot more interesting and revealing of Plath than were her confusing, highly idiosyncratic poems and the great "Bell Jar." And while I absolutely loved Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Gray," the published letters he wrote to his lover Lord Alfred Douglas found in "De Profundis" are even more intimate and phenomenal. I haven't read any of Nin's erotic fiction, but one of my favorite books sitting on my bookshelf has got to be "Henry and June," an account of her love affair with a literary great of the time, Henry Miller. Such passion, lust, and inner neuroses.

When I think about writers I feel this way about in modern day times, however, I am at a loss. There are few I can recall liking and being curious about beyond the books they wrote strictly for entertainment purposes. Maybe Augusten Burroughs, David Sedaris, and Dan Savage....but they are already in the memoir genre anyway, so technically it doesn't even count!

What I wonder is: what has changed? Why are writers less interesting than those of yesteryear? Is living in an ever expanding age of technology make it more difficult to establish (or even a want to do so) that most vulnerable rapport between writer and reader? Has culture shifted the writer away from revealing too much? Or maybe writers have become more focused on selling books (aka making money!) vs. "selling their soul" with their words? If I were to become a published writer, even though it would be scary, I would want my readers to "know" me via my thoughts and feelings that for whatever reason became part and parcel of who I am as a writer....because two centuries from now, aren't you going to remember the little things about the writer more than their literary achievements? Substance and character.

Classic authors are timeless. Their books are still read by people in 2007, their personal lives dissected and analyzed with utmost curiosity. It's the presence of inner psychological workings that set them apart from contemporaries. Maybe this is why they are timeless remembrances?

Little Miss Personality

As much as we make changes within ourselves, even outside ourselves (our environment, who we surround ourselves with in our personal life, ad infinitum)....the very foundation of one's personality doesn't change that much. Sure, we may even acquire new thoughts, feelings, behaviors, idiosyncrasies....but who are we really, at the core? Certain aspects that would usually shine on a frequent basis (years ago) may go in hiding for awhile (in the present), but those qualities are still there. And sometimes I think maybe those crazy fun parts of the personality are more enjoyable because they don't come out that often. I'm sure you're waiting for the explanation. Ok, here goes.

The past two years since I have been working, my usual "carefree" and fun to be around/crazy part of me hasn't been 'out to play' as much. While I know who I am and know I still have it in me somewhere (haha), there's just something to be said about my friends seeing that side of me. I think my friend Rajiv saw this side of me, in totality (!!), for the first time last night. Once in awhile a friend desperately wants me to party it up and I just can't muster up any desire for nightlife. In those moments, I will shamefully lament to the friend (it has frequently been Rajiv, hahaha) : "I wish you knew me prior to two years ago. The Katie you know isn't as fun as the present Katie who works six days a week early in the morning." It's not even shame, now that I think about it. I think it's more sadness for myself. I miss that part of me. But again, maybe it makes me all that much happier in the rare instances where I surprise myself...and others.

Yesterday I had an absolute shitty day at work with all kinds of conceivable stresses. I thought I was on the verge of an anxiety attack or at least borderline 'about to go postal' status. I happened to be out running errands when Rajiv called to tell me he was in my neighborhood. He wanted to meet at Broadway and Wellington. The plan was to get coffee, but by the time I was about 10 feet in front of the local dive bar Friar Tuck's, well, I thought to myself, "Fuck coffee. I need an alcoholic beverage!" Most people would probably have a nervous breakdown when they are stressed. Katie has her own breakdown: unpredictable fun. :)

You should have seen the look on Rajiv's face (MANY times, haha!) yesterday every time I did something that wasn't like me...at least that he's ever seen from hanging out with me. One cranberry vodka turned into two for me. We went back to my place to wait for Eddie to meet up with us before going somewhere else. I was slightly buzzed and feeling more relaxed, quirky. I was dressed casually and Rajiv suggested I dress up. At first, I was hesitant, but then I thought, "Why not?!" I know I always feel better when I dress up in more attractive clothes. I also painted my nails a Valentine red. Sure enough, I was feeling a little more feisty as I walked out the door with my hair back in a clip, my best sexy black shirt, jeans, and black boots. I felt like my age. Imagine that! "Grandma" went into hiding and "Little Miss Personality" came out to play for the night. We hit Cesar's for Strawberry Margaritas and then another dive bar on Halsted and Wellington. Cracking jokes, being silly, slightly provocative, rebellious. The only thing missing was some dancing, but I'm not complaining. :)

At one point, Rajiv looked at me and said "I like THIS Katie." Hahaha. I was so proud to have him see that side of me, for him to know that 'she' does exist. And I think maybe she will be totally revived the day substance abuse counseling (aka her "Grandma" persona) becomes part of her distant past.

As I stumbled back into my apartment a little after 10:00pm, I get a text message from Eddie: "U were really fun tonite. We had a lot of fun. Love ya."

My response? "It's nice to know I have the fun girl in me still."

Even with a hangover, I can't help but smile. Being a responsible adult is important, but so is spontaneity.

A walking, talking time bomb

I had to write about this, simply because it gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach and I'm not sure what to do about it. In any case, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't as far as how to handle/not handle the complicated scenario....which is why I thought, 'why not blog about it?' Maybe it will help to get an outsider's point of view from my readers.

Here's a very brief synopsis of what got me in a state of confusion and slight worry this morning at work.....

A few months ago, I had a client who had flipped out on me over the phone, shouting disrespectful expletives when I told him the consequences of his actions for not complying with something. Long story short, he ended up apologizing within a few weeks in our next counseling session and I asked him if we were on the same page again. He said it was....and I really thought it was too. He has been compliant, participating in counseling and all that. Nothing to indicate what I'm about to tell you, aside from the fact that he does have some mental problems (hospitalized numerous times in the past for psychotic episodes, hearing voices, violent behavior,etc). When on his meds though, he's stable and a friendly non-threatening individual. I saw him the other day for one on one counseling and while he was telling me some strange things, it was nothing more strange than what other people tell me in counseling sessions. After all, "normal" vs. "abnormal" is really quite relative (to me anyway).

So today I'm all laidback and carefree, waiting for my four people to show up for the group session I do the last Wednesday of every month. I start group and it's ok, for the most part. I was focusing on the cognitive patterns of an addict vs. those in recovery mode. We were going over this handout I had. The left column had negative/addict statements (ie, "I'm worthless," "I need drugs to numb the pain", etc) and the right was more positive/recovery statements (ie, "I did that well, "I can tolerate feeling down",etc). It was interesting to discuss these dichotomies with them. The only thing that struck me as inappropriate and 'off' was the fact that at one point we were talking about relationships/connecting with others (recovery mode) as opposed to isolating oneself (addict mode) and when I started relating it to PTSD (ie, behaviors like self-mutilation,etc), he said he once cut himself "over a woman." He went on to say that women can make men do evil things, "like Cleopatra." He wasn't saying it in a humorous way either. I was like, WHAT?!?! I didn't appreciate that comment, especially with two women in the group and being one myself. So I reframed it by telling him that it's not about men and women, it's about the choices one makes. Still, in my mind I thought that was 'off' and fairly misogynistic, but knowing he's not entirely 'healthy' mentally, I brushed it off.

Then, after group ended and everyone left, Manuella tells me she doesn't feel safe with this particular individual and goes on to tell me what transpired before the group out in the waiting area (I didn't hear all that took place because I was in a brief one on one session with a client before the group). Long story short, she heard him telling some people about the incident that happened with me a few months ago and started saying negative things about all of us, including a comment questioning why there are all women working here, that there's bound to be gossip because we're women (as in, his paranoid thinking has led him to believe all of us female employees are talking about him). But here's the real scary part that had Manuela slightly shaken....and Manuela NEVER gets shaken. I've worked with the woman for almost two and a half years and she's a pillar of strength, even in the most complicated/intimidating circumstances. The woman can hold her own. She heard him say something along the lines of "I'm crazy and I'll kill someone if I have to."

What do you do when you have a ticking time bomb in your midst? It's one thing to live in fear over something that is completely unknown to you, for no reason at all. It's quite another when you've been made cognizant of potential danger. It reminds me of the paradox of criminals and premeditation to commit crime. It is a well-known established fact that law enforcement cannot do anything unless a crime has been committed, even if threats are made. While I understand the logic, how scary is that though? When you're the one IN the situation, it's alot more frightening....to feel like you have no control over the possibility that a loose cannon with some screws loose in their head may walk into the clinic one day in Jekkyl and Hyde mode, only to pull out a gun and pull the trigger. Manuela said she can always push the emergency button (at the front desk, there is a button that if pushed, police will show up asap), but I told her she shouldn't even have to think about pushing that button. I told her that if she feels unsafe, we should tell our boss, have a meeting to discuss it with him. But then I wonder if it would set him off even more.

I'm reminded of just how scary my job makes me feel sometimes, knowing that some of the people I'm helping may in fact be thinking such aggressive thoughts. And while it's just a thought, I believe thoughts are things. You have to have a thought before it manifests as action. If the thought is already put out there, where does thought and intention begin or end?

What do you think? What would you do if you were me?

The "Witching" Hour

In the "spirit" of the day before Halloween, here's an interesting "historical" definition of the title of this blog and then my warped example of such. The events I'm about to describe didn't take place at midnight, but between 5am and 6am (when it still technically LOOKs like midnight, but with a whole lot less people around. Lol)......

According to the wonderful cyberlibrary of Wikipedia:

"In European folklore, the witching hour is the time when supernatural creatures such as witches, demons, and ghosts are thought to be at their most powerful, and black magic at its most effective. This hour is typically midnight, and the term may now be used to refer to midnight, or any late hour, even without having the associated superstitious beliefs.In neopaganism, it is sometimes used to refer solely to midnights occurring during a full moon, when a witch's power is supposedly at its greatest."

I walked out of my apartment building a few minutes earlier than my usual "routine" time to leave. It was just like any other ordinary morning waiting for the bus...or so I thought. At the corner of Belmont and Sheridan, as I wait for the #156 bus around 5:15ish every morning, I stand next to three or four newspaper dispensers, with a convenience store about 5 feet behind me. Occasionally there will be one or two early commuters joining me at the bus stop, but a majority of the time, I am the only person standing there. Today was one such day, though I discovered I had a "visitor."

When I hear this slight scuffle of noise, I turn down my music/headphones and turn around to the source of the noise. It's a RAT. Right in front of the front door to the convenience store! I think I literally jumped up off the ground an inch or two. I hopped off the sidewalk and onto the street, carefully walking around to stand on the other side of the newspaper dispensers....as far away from the disgusting vermin as I could get without being unseen by an approaching bus. I waited a minute, looking over to see if the rat was still there, in hopes of resuming my original spot to stand. Phew, not there. But then I'm paranoid, thinking maybe Mr. Rat will jump out of the plant shrubbery and I'm beginning to think any passerbys in their cars must think I'm a paranoid schizophrenic because I keep turning around, looking all around me with vigilance.

I get a false sense of security and breathe out, relax. Oh wait! There he is again, jumping from the far right shrubbery back in front of the door. What's mind boggling is that I don't recall seeing any food or crumbs on the ground. So why he kept being drawn back to that damn door, I haven't the foggiest. I think he just wanted to torment me...and it worked. Not only was I freaked out by this creepy creature, but I looked like an idiot when I jumped upon hearing a leaf on the ground brush past me on the street. I thought it was the rat playing mind games. And it was just a leaf. Finally, I see the bus coming. Thank goodness for small miracles. Get me away from this stinkin' rat, I think.

Suddenly, I hear someone shouting REALLY loudly. I turn around and there's a middle aged man who looks like he's about to run a marathon...he's got a tshirt on with "VAIL" printed widely across the pale pink (yes, you heard right: PINK) shirt he's wearing similar to what track runners/athletes wear. He's jogging in place and at first I thought he was talking loudly to get my attention (I was listening to music) and ask me a question. But then I turn my music down to listen to what he's saying. He made no sense. It was as if he thought he was a sports announcer, talking about "squares" and who knows what else. It wasn't gibberish, but it also had no point. And no, he wasn't talking on a cell phone or anyone else around for that matter, continuing to jog in place without crossing the street or with any intention of moving anytime soon. I'm thinking, what is going ON this morning?!

Fortunately, the bus pulled up at that moment and I climb aboard. If you recall from an older blog, I had mentioned the bus driver (whom I refer to as "Jeff Foxworthy Bus Driver", for obvious physical similarities) who always looks at my shoes when I get on the bus. Well, today I was glad he had something else to look at besides my feet. Something far more amusing: an athlete turned loco, jogging in place and shouting to himself. I put in my transit card and turned around to look at the crazy man. JFBD make eye contact. He chuckles, I chuckle. I shake my head and say "I don't know...." and make my way to the back of the bus. As I get comfortable in my seat, the bus makes a right onto Sheridan. I look out the window and there before my eyes....the crazy man waving AT ME. Hilarity surrounds me....always.

I get off the bus minutes later and almost miss my transfer because the #73 driver decides to leave before the scheduled "departure time" and I have to start sprinting towards the next bus stop across the street where the bus has stopped at. I barely make it, but I do. As I'm walking to work after a series of aforementioned bizarre and random "events," a cyclist going past me gives me the "turn around and stare" look. "What was that about?" I ask myself. Okay, moving along.

I get to work and notice Carol and Annie aren't there yet, which is weird because they usually are always the first to get to work before me. I look 15 feet ahead to see a random object on the sidewalk. Curiosity getting the best of me (per usual), I keep walking to get a closer look. Yes, it IS in fact what it appears to be: a folded over mattress and semi-decent looking frame (according to Carol...perhaps she's in need of a frame. The story is already weird. Why stop now? hehehe) underneath it. I shake my head. It's only 5:57am, my witching hour.

If this is any indication of how the rest of the day may unfold, wish me luck! And I can only imagine what Halloween may bring tomorrow. Watch your back folks. It's a creepy crawly world out there.

California fires

I don't know about you, but I find myself glued to the news the past 24 hours. We have a plasma tv on the wall right outside my office here at work and yesterday I heard about the fires on CNN. At first, I thought it was just another 'wildfires in California' story, as it seems they have fires there often...or at least around this time of year with the Santa Ana winds typical of the season. When I watched the news last night, however, I began to realize the severity of the situation. (See picture on left for illlustration: taken from above the Earth out in space by NASA). Crazy stuff.

I feel bad for all the people who have had to evacuate their homes on short, short notice. One guy who had been told it was safe for him to go back to his house briefly to pick up some medication,etc the following day realized that he had left so abruptly that he had left the front door open on his way out! Thankfully, at least there have been minimal fatalities. I guess if you have to choose between your home and your life, it definitely puts things in perspective. Still though, my heart goes out to the 900, 000+ people who have had to abandon their homes...some of which even include firefighters and reporters whose own houses have burned to the ground in the process of them doing their jobs! Wow. It makes me wonder what I would do in this kind of situation. I think I would miss having some of my things in my apartment if I ended up losing everything, but I think what would have me the most distressed is: Where do you go next? How do you start all over again?

It brings me back to the events of Hurricane Katrina and all those residents who were displaced. It turned their lives upside down. I can't even imagine. Carol said she heard that they even think an arsonist might have started a "3 point" fire, ie a fire in three different locations that ended up spreading/multiplying. I didn't hear such news. I certainly hope that's not true though. It's bad enough you can't control what Mother Nature does, but if there's someone out there who would deliberately start the fires....man. While I am empathizing with everyone in Southern California, I can't help but be grateful for my little life and little studio apartment here in Chicago...counting my everyday blessings.