Where are you?

You may have noticed I haven't written anything on here in almost a week and a half. Something is going on with me. I haven't had a desire to write...at all. I don't like this feeling (or lack thereof) one bit, as I feel a piece of who I am is missing right now.

I write. It's what I do. So where has that part of me gone? The part of me that has a flash of insight, a creative desire, or contemplative inkling to explore a topic through writing has not been there. I miss it terribly, yet I don't know how to get it back. I could force myself to write, I realize. It's not the same though. Contrived writing is boring, lifeless. I want the PASSION for it back. I liken it to a relationship with a lover or spouse. When things 'click' and you feel a connection, it's a wonderful feeling and can even sustain you through the difficult areas of your life. When things feel complacent or 'off' somehow, you feel as if you have to re-examine what's going on in the relationship and what you can do to make it fulfilling and connected again.

My writing is my one true love. I am feeling sad and abandoned. Is my true love on strike? On vacation? Taking a nap? We all need breaks. Just please come back to me. Soon.

Intervention in the ER

I can't write in detail about what happened today (due to confidentiality reasons), but I have a need to write about it in a general sense.

After 3 good days of work last week where I was feeling more confident and competent, I was surprised with a psychiatric bombshell of sorts today. It started off a normal workday, boring even. I only had two appointments scheduled today. My first appointment didn't show up or call. That was at 11:00am. I wouldn't have another appointment until 2:00. My lunch time rolls around at noon. As I'm preparing my lunch in the microwave, the receptionist up front sees me and says I have a call that sounds urgent. Of course, 'urgent' is quite relative in community mental health and so I asked her if I could call whoever back in 10 minutes after I finished eating. She decided to transfer the call to someone else since I was busy. After I finished my lunch, R. comes into my office and tells me we have a crisis on our hands. I decide to cancel my 2:00 appointment.

R. got a call from a social worker at a nearby hospital saying that a client of mine was there due to suicidal ideation. I have only seen this client once about a week ago and the client did not seem suicidal at the time, so I wondered what was going on. I proceeded to talk to R. about the protocols for a situation like this, as I have never dealt with a suicidal client situation before. Honestly, the topic of suicide has always been an uncomfortable and intimidating one for me. I know as a therapist I am supposed to be comfortable with any kind of unpredictable crisis that may arise, but suicidal tendencies in people freak me out a bit. Maybe because I have a fear that if someone were suicidal and I had to intervene, what if nothing I said or did would save them from doing it, ya know? Fortunately, I had great supervision on this tough case today. Seeing as 1.) I didn't have a car to get to the hospital and 2.) I've never done a suicidal psych assessment at a hospital ER before....my supervisor and I went to the hospital together to see if this client needed to be admitted to the psych department there for further observation.

We get to the hospital and it's pretty nice for a hospital, seeing as I don't really like hospitals. They intimidate me. I guess because I equate them with more negative experiences for people than positive ones. Anyone who can work at a hospital has my immediate respect, because talk about total unpredictability and work stress! I must say though, it wasn't as dramatic as I had imagined in my mind once I was there. Most of my inner stress came from the fact that I had no idea how it was going to play out and the process of how to do this psych eval. I couldn't stop thinking about how grateful I felt to have my supervisor there. Anyway, back to what I was saying....

J. and I walk through the black striped doors of the ED (Emergency Department). We walk to the nurse's station and J. asks where we can find Client X. The nurse points to Room Y. My supervisor and I walk into the room. The client is sitting there watching CNN on the tv near the ceiling. We start talking to Client X (mainly J. was talking to the client), gathering more information on what led up to the suicidal ideation and need for (voluntary) hospitalization. J. and I were in there with Client X for about half an hour to 45 minutes. It was determined Client X was definitely in need of a psychiatric bed there in the hospital and I also made my own therapeutic recommendations for when Client X gets out of the hospital.

J. and I tell Client X that we have to call the county for hospital authorization (so the client would be approved for a psychiatric bed), but that we'll be back in a little while to let Client X know what's going on. J. tells me the next step is to find the psych bed coordinator guy (not sure his actual job title) to tell him what's going on and to see if a bed is even available if/when we get approval from the county. We chat with him for 5 to 10 minutes, then I go over to a nearby desk phone to call someone in county. I was quite nervous, but again, glad J. was by my side and prepped me with what kind of questions County Guy was going to ask. I also had the client's crisis plan info in front of me, as well as the info on psych meds and other stuff we gathered from X's eval. The call probably lasted about half an hour. County Guy was helpful and patient with me, as I sometimes had to cup my hand over the phone to ask J. certain details I was unclear about. County Guy got the number of the phone I was on and told me he would call me back shortly to let me know if a bed would be approved for the client or not.

J. and I hung out by the desk, talking for about 10 minutes about different court appearances and psych evals at hospitals she has had to do over the years while we waited for a call back from County Guy. As she shared her experiences, I secretly wished this to be the first AND last time I'll have to do something for a client in any kind of public sector. Seeing as I work in a community mental health setting, it's doubtful to impossible I won't face something like this again. Still, one can hope!

County Guy called back and granted authorization. We were good to go! J. and I let Client X. know a bed would be available in the next half hour and I was given the name of a discharge planner to talk with tomorrow.

I made it through my first ER crisis intervention.

Zone of comfort

The idea of 'comfort' can take different forms:

1. Physical comfort, such as: "This bed is incredibly comfortable. I could lay here for hours."

2. Mental comfort: "I feel comfortable talking to you; I can be myself with you."

3. Emotional comfort: That feeling of ease we have with people in our lives who we can fully express ourselves with...the good, bad, and the idiosyncrasies that distinguish us as unique individuals.

Physical comfort is the easiest to find. Mental comfort can be hard to find, but attainable. If you're really lucky, however, you'll find someone who provides 2-3 out of the 3.

I am reminded of one particular person who is within my zone of comfort, whether we have fun or do absolutely nothing at all.

Tracy and I go way back....well, 'way back' for me anyway: high school. Having moved around quite a bit throughout my lifetime, there are few friends I have known and been close to for longer than my college years.

Most of my close friends have only been around for 2 to 8 years. This may seem like a wide range of time for a long term quality friendship. Compared to how long I have known Tracy, however, it's a stark contrast. We have known each other almost 14 years.

We were in choir together. Worked at Randall's together. Hung out with the same crowd of friends. We have been there through hard times for each other. Know one another's dark secrets, strengths, and vulnerabilities. She knows more about my family than my other friends and I know quite a bit about hers. We sent each other cards and gifts when we lived far away. Visited her in college. Stood up for her in her wedding. Visited her when she lived in Portland and Omaha. And now....here we are, living near each other again after 14 years. I am beyond joyful. It's a bit surreal.

We spent today talking and laughing in her parent's living room. I had not seen her parents since her wedding 7 years ago and yet, it was as if it was just last week. Her parents are like my second family, and she like the sister I always wished I had when I was younger.

I'm not sure if it's partially because I've known her for half my lifetime (thus far); maybe there's a zone of comfort in that. She knows the high school me, the college me, the Chicago me, and the present Seattle me. She's seen different facets of me over the years, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

On my way home tonight, we (Tracy, Justin and I) were talking about who we were back in high school as opposed to now. Aside from the degree of our impulsivities, we reflected on the fact that we aren't that much different (essentially) now than we were back then...in a good way.

Change is a constant given in life. A true zone of comfort, however, is that which is constant in the midst of change. For me, her name is Tracy.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G"

Callie received her first kiss from Vinnie, a boy she had been dating for a few weeks. She was 16 years old. They had gone to see a movie and now they were sitting in his car in her driveway. It was a dark and quiet summer night, slight humidity in the air. He opened the car door for her and walked her up to the back door of the house, lingering near the gate. Both nervously anticipated this moment, palms sweaty and heart beating fast. He kissed her and she felt warm and tingly all over, something she had never experienced before...and would never experience again. It was her first kiss and though it wasn't her last, it set the bar for how a first kiss with someone should be.

Two years later, Callie locks eyes with a guy at the grocery store. He has a great smile and a fit body. She can't tell how old he is, but she has a feeling he's older than her. Eye contact and smiles leads to a date. She discovers he is seven years her senior, had been in the military, and tells her he's from Michigan. For their first date, they go see a depressing Sally Field movie. They don't watch much of it though; they are too busy kissing. She is torn. She likes Eric, but he's not the best kisser. Still, she's optimistic that she can 'teach' him to be better and give him a chance. After the movie, they anticipate a romantic dinner at Steak N' Ale. It's Valentine's Day. Too crowded and too hungry, Callie and Eric opt for the lesser romantic ambiance of IHOP. The more he talks, the more socially inappropriate he seems to her. But she tries to be open-minded. After all, she has flaws too. The meal is decent. They head to the car. Smashing Pumpkins' "1979" is playing. He starts to kiss her. Except his idea of kissing involves licking her face. Callie feels like she's a cat in need of a cleaning. Where did this 'man' learn how to kiss? Or rather, has he ever kissed anyone before her? This marked the end of her interest and intrigue with Eric. He stalked her for a few weeks, even though she avoided him at all costs. Callie cringes whenever she hears "1979," which is sad because it's not the Pumpkins' fault.

Callie wasn't even in love with Vinnie or Eric. Nor was she in love with Drew when she kissed him seven years later. What was she thinking when she dated Drew?

When she was 20, she had an unexplainable kind of love thing for her friend Ted. She vaguely remembers kissing him. She had too much alcohol the first time they kissed and her memory is hazy. She remembers they were hanging out at her house after work; her birthday was around the corner. It was the best birthday present she received that week. It was something she wanted and never thought she'd get.

Callie liked winter. It was a season that agreed with her, especially when it came to her luck with guys. It wasn't as if they flocked to her or anything, but winter seemed to give her magical luck in this department. She met Rick through a friend. Even though he was a bit younger than her, Callie found herself very attracted to him. She wasn't sure what it was about him, as he really didn't fit her usual 'type.' Rick wasn't at all bookish, but he liked helping people. And he was kind, a gentleman. They talked, flirted, and laughed alot. She knew nothing would come of their spending time together; he didn't even live in the same zip code, the same state. But Callie wanted to kiss him. She kept trying to give him hints. Guys are rarely good with the hints though, so they drank more beer and she kept thinking hopeful thoughts. Early evening turned into late evening, late evening turned into the wee hours of the morning. They were standing in his kitchen and this time it was she that didn't pick up on the hints. And then she saw the magnet suggesting a kiss and kiss, he did. A kiss that blew her out of the kitchen.

Callie meets Adam. She doesn't like him at first, thinks they have absolutely nothing in common. She almost ignored his eagerness to get to know her more. Callie didn't have any particular interest in a guy who was so much younger, he could have been her brother. But he was kind and seemed sincere, maybe even a little lonely. They exchanged letters, what you might call an old fashioned kind of 'courtship' reminiscent of a different era. Even though they were very much opposite in some ways, Callie was drawn to him. She couldn't justify her growing feelings. The stronger her feelings, the more Adam confused the hell out of her. It seemed like he liked her too, but his actions didn't always show it. The first time they met, he gave her a warm hug and bought her a cup of coffee. The second time they met, he bought her a beer. The third time they met, he was about to leave the country. She got her wish, his kiss. Too bad it felt more like a parting gift. Bittersweet.

Callie goes out with the girls for some dancing and drinks. It's not even Christmas, yet she is amused when she spots a guy across the bar...."Santa Clause." Shortly after they make eye contact, Santa approaches Callie and they flirt while his sidekick "Rudolph" checks out Callie's friend, Amy. Callie teases "Santa" for his seasonal getup, laughing and chatting him up. As the hours pass, Callie goes to pay the tab and can't find the cash that had been in her pocket. Freaking out, Callie rechecks her pocket and desperately searches the dancefloor around her. The money is gone. Seeing Callie in distress, "Santa" rescues her by generously offering to pay the $50 bill. Callie is astounded. Perhaps "Santa" does indeed keep track of those who have been naughty and nice, as Callie has just been karmically rewarded. "Santa," "Rudolph," Amy, and Callie decide to go to another bar; they don't want the night to end yet. Callie and "Santa" dance. Callie is wearing his hat, they kiss. And kiss. And kiss. She has never felt so much lust in a kiss as she felt kissing "Santa Clause" that night.

Callie still has the hat.

Are you getting any?

Most people want it, but they're just not getting enough. Some aren't getting it at all. And I'd venture to say that these same individuals have tried everything they can think of to get it.

No, not sex! .....SLEEP!

What's going on?! More and more, I'm hearing various people (from family and friends, to clients I counsel) that they just can't sleep. I feel like I know more people that can't sleep than ones who can. A growing epidemic?

I don't include myself in the insomniac category. Sure, I have nights where I toss and turn....but it's nothing serious that occurs on a regular basis.

It concerns me that something as natural as the biological need for sleep has become a nuisance and a dread rather than a pleasurable and much anticipated 8 hour escape from the daily grind. Sleep plays a crucial role on our overall mental, emotional, and physical well-being. How does a lack of sleep affect one's psyche?

Ok, so I lied about my not having had a sleeping problem. It's not a problem for me now, though it was until fairly recently. I considered it situational, due to my work schedule at my previous counseling job in Chicago. I was waking up at 4am. Horrible, horrible hours! I can definitely say I noticed a difference in how I felt during the almost 3 years I was getting less sleep than I am now.

My memory was not as sharp. I was restless and prone to anxiety/stress more easily. I drank too much coffee to compensate for my sluggish sleep deprivation. I didn't feel as energetic and enthusiastic, the carefree Katie kind of personality people were accustomed to seeing prior to this lack of sleep mode. I also noticed my eating habits weren't the greatest and my desire to exercise had decreased. All in all, the aspect of sleep in my life became detrimental and all-consuming....which is why I can only imagine living with insomnia as a long term lifestyle cannot bear healthy results.

What I'd like to know is: why are so many people experiencing non-sleep symptoms and what can be done to help rectify the issue?

Aside from external reasons (ie, work, not feeling well, distracted by loud noises,etc), does one's mental health play a key role in determining a consistent and appropriate amount of sleep for an individual? In other words, with a little help and awareness of what keeps our mind 'on,' can we eventually discover a successful way to shut it 'off?'

Speak up, insomniacs! I know you're not sleeping, so why not utilize all those restless hours by responding with your own reflections on the subject? :)

Growing up in the 80's: 'Latch Key' and scare tactics

In an email today, a friend of mine mentioned a particular fear he has and I asked him where that fear stems from. He chocked it up to his having been a 'latch key' kid growing up.

For those not familiar with the predominantly 80's coined phrase, 'latch key' kids were those who came home from school to an empty house (hence, they needed a 'key' to get in the house because their parents weren't home) and/or a semi-reliable babysitter to supervise the child while said parents were at work. Sometimes a 'latch key' kid could be an effect of workaholic parents. In most cases, it was the result of single parenthood. In my case, it could have been a little bit of both.

Of course, in 2008 it is not abnormal. The term has likely become obsolete in the face of 'nontraditional' households where it's more abnormal for parents to be home than not. But keep in mind, this was the 1980's. Divorce and blended families were not as commonplace as they are today. Back then, such atypical events could even sometimes be perceived as scandalous, borderline taboo.

I'm not sure the story behind my friend's 'latch key' experience growing up. If it was at all like mine, one thing is for certain. The common denominator was: FEAR. "Don't take any stickers from anyone!" my grandmother would tell me. Why? Well, if you have to lick the back of the sticker for it to work...it just might well be LSD! I think I was 9 or 10 years old when my grandmother used that scare tactic on me.

Then there was the kidnapping craze. I was living in New Hampshire at the time, but I'm pretty sure it was a nationwide 'epidemic.' Kids were seemingly 'snatched up' everywhere you turned (aka, sensationalized on the news). Parents became hyper-vigilant, doing whatever they could to ensure safety. For my mother, it was the 'stranger' book (bless her heart, she meant well). Did anyone else get one of these in the 80's?! This was the scariest book I've ever encountered in my life thus far. I'm not exaggerating whatsoever!

I wish I still had the book now, as a 30 year old woman. It would be funny to see just how 'scary' it is to my 30 year old eyes versus that of a 7 to 9 year old. The front cover of the book is still embedded ever so vividly in my mind. The title escapes me (although I want to say it was something like "Never Talk to Strangers") but here's the cover: A black and white photo of an 8 year old-ish boy with dark hair. He's holding an ice cream cone, in mid lick as he stares back at the reader with a serious, yet unsuspecting look. See what I mean? Creepy.

Within the book were different hypothetical scenarios of the various manipulative tactics evil strangers use (or what we in the psych field like to term 'grooming' which is even more smarmy sounding if you ask me), to lure innocent children into their car and/or far far away from the latch key land that is their home.

One scenario might be little Susie walking home from school. A middle aged man in an Oldsmobile slowly pulls up (always with no one else around, of course) to Susie, whom has a Strawberry Shortcake backpack on her back. His window is down because it's summer and this was before automatic buttons were standard features offered in cars. Middle aged man leans over and says something sweet to little Susie. Somehow, candy always seems to be the luring device. When did kids start acting like mice who salivate at the prospect of sweets? Anyway, so the story goes. You can see where this is going.

I guess it wasn't the bogus scenarios presented in the book that scared me most. It was the mock pictures that freaked me out. I think they even induced some nightmares. I don't know why the pictures bothered me more. Maybe they made the concept more real of a possibility in my youthful imagination.

As if stepping off the school bus, walking home alone and into an empty house isn't scary enough for a young child.....adding scary 'strangers' to the mix just invites a future anxiety disorder for an 80's child!

At what point does a psychoeducational tool like warning your child about the perils of 'evil' people out there or 'bad' stickers do more harm than good? I wonder.

I especially wonder how many other children of the 80's experienced something similar. Do share, but don't scare. :)

Guy OF my dreams? No, just guys IN my dreams.

I woke up this morning remembering a dream about yet another guy (this is the second night in a row) I know. The first dream (the night before last) was of a slightly sexual nature, about a friend of mine. In the dream, he had wanted to sleep with me and I told him I didn't think it was a good idea because we're friends. Apparently, I changed my mind by the end of the dream. Hahaha. I actually told this friend about my dream yesterday and we had a good laugh. This second dream (last night), however, was just as odd. I only remember bits and pieces, so I'll do my best in writing about it here. I was at some kind of social gathering. Wandering around, I glanced behind me and there was my ex-boyfriend Andrew (some of you readers may recall his name from a few of my much older blog entries, where I was angry that I had run into him on my early morning CTA commute in Chicago a few times in the past year....that's who I'm talking about!).

The way I began talking to him in my dream felt SO real, great even! At first I was cordial, not wanting to ruffle any feathers. But within minutes, I became confrontational in almost a combative way. He acted as if we had been pals for years, it having conveniently 'slipped' his mind how disrespectful he has been. It was funny to hear myself call him an asshole in the dream. He was shocked to hear me say anything that a 'bitch' (aka, a woman who speaks her mind!) might say. Surely Katie is too 'nice' for that. Ha. Anyway, I reminded him of the times he simply ignored me on the bus and didn't even say 'hi,' as if I was a total stranger he didn't even know, date, etc. At first, he got defensive. But then he realized those (and other things) were jackass-like actions. I should have known I was dreaming, as this never would happen in 'real life.' hahaha

I've noticed between these dreams and what's been going on with certain challenges in my life this past week....there is a common thread: speaking my mind, asserting myself. While I have grown more comfortable with honesty and standing up for myself/expressing how I feel about someone or a situation in an appropriate way, it can still provoke anxiety. You don't know what will happen if you choose to really let it all out with what you need to say, hence the anxiety and risk. Yesterday I had to be completely honest with my supervisor about something and while the problem hasn't gone away, I feel better having her know where I'm coming from. What she chooses to do with the revelation is up to her, just as it is with the guys IN my dreams. :)

The psychology of impressions

It is said that you never get a second chance to make a first impression. But don't you get a chance to make fluctuating impressions? I have been thinking about this today.

While first impressions can definitely hold considerable influence, how often does the image we present (a la 'the first impression') truly reflect who we are deep down? Think about the different kinds of impressions we can possibly make through our interactions with others in a given day: on a job interview, on a date, with family and friends, with colleagues, and with strangers in any number of social scenarios. That's a helluva lot of impressions (!), and I would venture to say that they will not all be the same.

It's not a good or bad thing, it just depends on the context of the situation. Perhaps it also depends on our body language/nonverbal communication (which, if you didn't know actually accounts for 75% of what we communicate to others!), as well as taking into account our comfort level, personality (introvert vs. extrovert), and personal psychological history (my PC way of saying our 'issues,' challenges, insecurities,etc...hahaha). Then there's the factor of whether one is genuine and open, or distrustful, superficial. Or whether the person you meet (and vice versa) reminds you of someone else you've known, for good or bad. It's no wonder we question how well we really know someone.

With so much mis-communication going on in the efforts to express ourselves and leave any kind of 'impression,' in retrospect we sometimes sabotage ourselves from demonstrating the best impressions. When this occurs, we attract what we didn't want or not attract what we truly DO want...especially in regard to important relationships. What impression, or vibe, are we giving off?

For me personally, there have been people I have met whom I liked right away without any logical reason to explain it. Maybe those were the individuals that gave off a likeable aura of genuineness, kindness, and confidence within themselves.

Then there are those who I have not liked at first because they seemed guarded, rude, uninterested,etc. Time will go by, and one day they show me a different side.....the impression has fluctuated, and it drives me with a deep curiosity to get to know them more to find out which impression is the most representative of the person.

I've also experienced people who are the most complex of all, for these interesting characters fall somewhere in the middle. For example, one guy I know was very kind and attentive when I first met him. A sincere and fairly open person, over time became flaky, aloof and like a chameleon. He can still be kind and is definitely a friendly, likeable person, but there's something I can't pinpoint about the impression he leaves on me. And it's not a good thing. On the other hand, I love it when I don't like someone at first and one day after talking with them about something on a deeper level (or at least one of a certain comfortability), I suddenly respect and like the person. It can be that instantaneous for me. Is that bizarre?! Is it just me that feels this way with people at times? Well, I have never claimed to be normal!

It would be cool if there was a way to discover all the different impressions we give out in various contexts, like an experiment or survey of some sort. It would be interesting to see if overall, impressions from various sources were consistent or contradictory. Once in awhile, someone will tell me the impression they have had of me and it usually just makes me laugh. I've gotten anything from 'shy' to 'distant/guarded,' 'approachable,' 'prissy,' 'sweet,' and 'demure with an edge' (yeah, I don't know about the prissy and demure with an edge ones....both were from people I worked with at one time, hmmm....). My favorite, by far, was from a client I had very briefly at my last counseling job, whom made a comment about me having the a face like "Shirley Temple" (good/angelic) and her belief that surely I had no skeletons in MY closet. HA!!

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly, based on my theory), none of the observed impressions are totally accurate. Sure, there may be some degree of truth in each impression, but not a strong indicator of me overall. I don't think it's because I'm trying to hide anything though; it has to do with context. Interestingly though, these days I find myself acting more or less the same in 90% of situations (the exception being my work environment with counseling and coworkers, as you might understandably imagine why). I wonder if it's due to yet another factor to take into consideration: age. With maturity and wisdom, comes ease. There is less of a tendency to feel self-conscious or to give a shit about how others perceive you. Not to say that you will act badly or in a hostile manner; you're just more liberated and self-aware of who you are as a person.

And what we think and feel about ourselves is the ultimate and only impression that truly matters.

Am I meant to be a therapist 'forever?'

I have been thinking about this off and on the past 24 hours. In an IM conversation with a friend last night, I was telling him how I don't think I could be a therapist for the rest of my life because I don't think I have the patience for it. Today, however, I realized it's not about an issue of patience. It's about an issue of independence, not to mention the time and energy for 'me' time.

I made somewhat of a spontaneous decision/goal for myself today and in a weird way, it gave me a sense of reassurance. Having just finished my SECOND day of my new counseling job, I already feel inundated with information and responsibilities, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this new role assigned to me. I know it's partially because I'm new and have SO much to learn as far as the computer program, daily operations, and learning all the requirements of caseload management. I realize alot of my anxiety will subside once I get in the swing of knowing what the hell I'm doing, but what if the bogged down feeling never goes away?

Agencies seem to be notorious for giving you more than you can reasonably (sanity wise) handle....because they can. It's like working at the bottom rung of a ladder: you don't have much power to be selective. You're forced to take what they give you and hope you don't fall prey to burnout. You know it's bad when you wish you could clone yourself, just so you can feel a relief that everything you need to do will get done.

See, being a therapist at an agency isn't just counseling. People typically tend to perceive counseling in the stereotypical ways portrayed in tv shows and movies. Scenes of therapists who have their own private practice office with posh couches where the client easily and effortlessly vents about their problems as the therapist (who is usually wearing glasses, I guess to look 'scholarly?') says some cliche' phrase whilst pensively waiting for the client to have some kind of insightful moment/say something pivotal. Ha! I wish it were that easy and simple sometimes!

What people don't know and/or understand is that there's case management bullshit that comes along with the job. Plus, the clientele aren't always the cream of the therapist's dream crop. They too are usually at the bottom rung of the ladder. I've learned that the saying 'you get what you pay for' couldn't be more true......

which is why I've decided that I am giving myself 2-3 years to figure out a clever way to get myself a job working independently (once I'm licensed, I plan on researching this top to bottom!) in a private practice setting.

If I do not, I have determined that I will reconsider my career path. Shocking? Not to me. Why? Because there is more to life than identifying myself with my work and I refuse to become a burnt out slave with no life outside of work (aka, a cranky and unhappy human being) and/or too exhausted to do anything but work. And I see that being a possibility if I don't somehow get the hell out of the agency arena.

I'm not sure what else I could do for work. I enjoy writing, but I don't know how I could turn that into a career...unless I became a journalist or write a book. Hmmm, any suggestions?

On a positive note, I do like the other therapists at work. It's weird to go from working independently (like at my last job) with my own office to a group setting of sharing one big office with 6 or 7 other therapists), but it is nice to have other therapists to talk to nearby. They (along with the receptionist) have been very kind and helpful with all my slightly frazzled questions and seem interested in wanting to get to know me too, which has been comforting.

I have my first session tomorrow. I'll be curious to see how it goes and as time goes on, how the clientele at this agency compare/contrast to those I worked with at my previous job (if they will be easier to work with, more difficult, or about the same). This factor may also influence how much I will enjoy this job.

When I found myself starting to get stressed out today (about all the shit I have yet to get done), I reassured myself that I am only one person and certain things take priority over others. Whatever I won't do today, will be there waiting for me on my desk tomorrow. Because it stays there. I don't take work home with me and I will not make it a habit of staying later than 5:00.

And that's the way it's gonna be. :)

Early morning ramblings

I'm feeling deja vu, waking up at the crack of dawn again like old times....though at least this time it's 5am and only for today, my first day of the new full-time job. I have orientation with HR and some psych program training at the agency's main location from 8am to noon-ish, then I have to go to the location where I'll work to do whatever else (no clue yet) for the remainder of the day.

I hope I make it through the day with enough energy and pizazzz (I just felt like using the word 'pizazz'). I didn't sleep much last night with the heat/no AC in the house, plus my pre-work jitters.

Interestingly, I do recall having a dream last night that I was in this really big building. I walked into this room that looked like a library or student center, like it was a college campus. There were escalators and stairs below me and what frightened me about them was that they were very steep....to go down. One might think climbing DOWN stairs would be easier than climbing up, but not so much. I was trying to hold on to the side of the wall in order to guide myself to start climbing down on the steep steps in order not to fall. What annoyed me was that in front of the stairs ahead of me, I see someone on an escalator...effortlessly of course. I wondered how the hell they got to the escalator and wished I knew where to get on/off. Instead, I had to deal with the stairs and no one else was around. I was the only one on the stairs, totally isolated.

I also remember dreaming about an old client of mine, this guy who had started to get clean and sober a few months before I left Chicago for Washington (in 'real life'). In the dream, I saw him and asked him how he was doing. He looked well and I was so happy for him. It also made me feel good that I partially helped get him to that point in his life. I have been feeling a little nervous about my new job, so in a weird way, this little dream tidbit gave me a slight comforting assurance that my work jitters will likely subside once I get acclimated.

Well, gotta get going. More about my first day later.....

Honest to --------> Truth

I had an epiphany, while taking a shower of all things. I was reflecting on different things that have been happening in my life lately. Yet again, the message has come through in the form of clothes. Sort of like the cliche' "Been there, done that, got the t-shirt"....except for me, it's more like "Got the t-shirt while I'm on my way to getting there and doing that."

Last year, it was my uncle's "Follow Your Bliss" sweatshirt that led me to contemplate how the philosophical statement pertained to my life. A little over a year later, I find myself frequently brought back to this year's personal message for me written on a $3 t-shirt I bought at the BBW: "Honest." There were three different t-shirts with three different words written on them, yet I was drawn to 'honest.' Now, it's beginning to make sense to me.....

When I was pondering this idea while taking my shower earlier, I thought about 'honest' and 'truth.' At first, I considered them to be synonymous terms, words one could use interchangeably for all contexts. When I thought about experiences I have had this past week though, I changed my mind about it.

For the most part, I feel I'm a pretty honest person. I consciously live my life with the intention of doing the right thing, treating others as I wanted to be treated, and being honest with myself (this is where 'honest' comes in). When I thought about truth, however, I couldn't help but wonder how deeply I live with 'truth.'

Curious, I looked up the definitions of both 'honest' and 'truth' on Google. Sure enough, Wikipedia defines 'truth' with how I was beginning to define it for myself: "The meaning of the word truth extends from honesty, good faith, and sincerity in general, to agreement with fact or reality in particular."

So, here's where the epiphany comes in. If truth is merely an extension of honesty, why can't I live with truth or more importantly, I suppose I should rephrase that by saying: why haven't I lived with a deeper level of truth all this time? I know, pretty deep thoughts for a Friday afternoon in June!

But seriously, I think I'm currently getting more and more to that place of embodying truth. This is especially the case with relationships: as related to work, friendships, and scarier still....maybe even those of the romantic variety.

Just when I have gotten to a point where I feel like I have great relationships with people in my life, I'm surprised to discover them becoming even richer in the depth of 'truth.' I don't know what has kept me from this deeper level of truth before, maybe fear of the unknown, the vulnerability that comes with intimacy, or the anxiety of how uncomfortable 'truth' can be because it involves risk on one or both individuals in the relationship.

Being one to face and tackle my irrational fears head on though, I find myself both excited and nervous about this new process of change within my relationships. Yet, I'm finding it has been a wonderful thing so far.

Here are some examples of what I'm talking about to demonstrate what I mean in a less cerebral way.....

At my part-time job, even though it's not the place I want to be and it's not something I'm passionate about, I have done my best to do not only the right thing, but also with honesty.....and yes, truth. It's been interesting to watch it unfold in a few different ways:

One woman I work with (an assistant manager) was initially driving me crazy with the way she tended to hover around me, trying to micromanage me and not give me the space and freedom to trust that I could handle situations on my own. At first, I wasn't going to say anything, but after the other assistant manager prodded me to divulge more, I thought, "What do I have to lose?" Not one to stir the pot in regard to interpersonal relationships, I told her where I was coming from with diplomatic honesty and sincerity. I wasn't sure if I would regret it later or that this person would betray my trust in telling her, but I just let it go. It was out there, so whatever. Then, the next time I worked with the challenging woman.....her demeanor shifted around me. I don't know if my confidante told this woman; it didn't matter to me because being honest worked in my favor. I no longer felt annoyed with the woman; she has been laidback around me since!

A few other work related examples of honesty leading to truth includes partially how I landed my new full-time job a few days ago....

To make a long story short, part of the conversation I had with the program manager involved her telling me how much the staff liked me at my second interview and in turn, I told her how much I like her, the staff, the place/environment and how out of all the interviews I have been on, their agency was the only one I truly liked and really wanted to work. By others, this could be seen as saying what the person wants to hear and maybe not the most professional thing to say to someone who perhaps one should be more formal with in such a situation.....but I had to say it because that's how I 'honestly' felt.

At the same time, I felt a little guilty about having to quit my part-time job without giving the proper 2 week notice. I could have just quit on the spot and the idea did appeal to me. But it's not who I am. I want to embody both 'honest' and 'truth,' which isn't always easy to do. Still, I decided to compromise and work a few more weekends at the part-time job because it's the right thing to do.

I remember when I was younger, I couldn't stand hypocrisy. I still don't, but most especially when I was a teenager. I told myself that if it is up to me, I will live my life 'walking my talk,' only telling others things what I myself can/have done (aka, 'truth') to the best of my ability.

Even more difficult than living my truth at work, is living 'truth' in my relationships. But I think I'm slowly getting there. One thing I have really enjoyed about being 30 thus far? I have been even MORE confidently honest with myself, especially in regard to the role (or responsibility) I play in the choices I have made/continue to make, the patterns I have created that have kept me stagnant somehow, and recognizing what I need to do to change for the better.

There are many examples I have noticed of 'truth' in my relationships lately, but this one stands out to me the most. The other day I was surprised when a friend of mine revealed to me that she was upset with me because she felt I had not been a very supportive friend to her at a time when she needed it most. Initially, I was taken aback and hurt by her words. Instead of becoming defensive or beating myself up about it though, I really listened to what she had to say and was glad she told me (even if it wasn't pleasant). I told her I have always prided myself on being a great friend to those very close and dear to me, so I felt especially bad that I had let her down and apologized. There were no hard feelings, simply an 'honest' conversation between friends.

I was uncomfortable with it at first, but my love for our friendship was even stronger and I think it deepened the value and 'truth' of our friendship all that much more now. I realized that is what I want most out of ALL my significant relationships, the ones that inspire deeper connection and intimacy. It can be scary, sure. It can also provide an emotional depth I never could have fathomed before this point of my life, a journey of 'truth.'

What does 'truth' in my relationships look like?

It's a reciprocal balance of emotional and mental maturity between two people and being able to recognize those 'truth'-ful relationships I have with overwhelming gratitude. It's about consciously exploring those particular relationships on a deeper level and steering away from the ones that aren't there now and/or accepting the ones that may never be....honestly, an incredibly hard thing for me to work on (letting go of the ones lacking this, especially romantically speaking), but....

It's the truth, my truth. And it's absolutely liberating. :)

EXTRAordinary

(Yes, I took this picture). :)

When asked to describe the 'best' ideal day of one's life, I find it interesting when someone opts for an EXTRAordinary day. That is, just another day of what makes one the most joyful (laughing, having a nice cooked meal, spending quality time with family and friends, enjoying something beautiful,etc), only with just a touch of extra goodness.

One would think that if you could choose what would make the 'best' day of your life, you might choose to win the lottery or get married, or do something outrageously adventurous/risk taking....but that's not what people usually say.

Research done on people who have won the lottery has interestingly shown that it's not an event that influences long lasting happiness, joy, or fulfillment; it's one's enduring lifelong attitude and intrinsic values. Lotto winners who were happy and optimistic people BEFORE they even won the lotto remain optimistic and happy after. These individuals may just be MORE happy, no less and no drastically different. On a similar note, people who were miserly and negative were STILL that way overall after a lotto win. This is just one example that demonstrates the power of one's thoughts and values. It's the little things that reflect on the bigger things, not the other way around. Or so I believe.

Today was such a day for me. I think my new middle name should be "Moderate." I'm neither overly optimistic/joyful, nor overly negative/depressed. I'm somewhere in between on a given day, and I think it's a good thing because I don't get stuck in any one mood for too long.

If asked this same question of what would be my ideal day in all it's average goodness, I would say today: June 25, 2008.

Here's what made it an EXTRAordinary day of my life:
1. I woke up at 9am, no alarm clock.

2. It was a perfect day: blue sky with scattered little clouds, slightly breezy and between 65 to 70 degrees.

3. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that being persistent sometimes DOES work in my favor and landed me the job I think will be the best job for me. My future is exciting and full of possibilities.

4. I realized I have phenomenal parents that have given me SO much love, support, and encouragement. I'd like to say my friends have done this for me. While I love my friends, however, honestly my parents are the ones who have REALLY listened and put up with me at my most difficult of days the past four months. Even when I'm a pain in the ass, they are there to offer wisdom gleaned from their own lifelong experiences or, simply do nothing but be patient and listen to me. I'm truly grateful for them.

5. I went for a long walk, happy about my exciting new job prospect. Rajiv was the first person (outside my household) I told/called while on my walk; chatted with him for a few minutes.

6. Had a yummy iced vanilla latte from Tully's. What's an EXTRAordinary day without my love for coffee mentioned? :)

7. Called a dear friend of mine (Carla) whom I haven't talked to in 3 months and talked for over an hour. The best conversation I've had with her in a really long time. I felt a sense of connection I haven't felt for awhile with a friend, talking and laughing like old times.

8. Talked with another friend (Amber) on the phone. Again, had another long and great conversation with her too. And laughed...alot. I felt so comforted to reconnect with some of my female friendships. As much as I love my male friendships, bonding with my girls creates a different feeling within me.

9. While I wasn't able to talk to a few other friends who called me today, it felt nice to know they were thinking of me.

10. Had a good conversation with my dad. If you know me well and/or have known me for years, you know why this is included in my EXTRA life day. :)

11. Played Scrabble and laughed alot (again).

12. Had delicious grilled portabella mushrooms for dinner.

13. Reflected on how lucky I am to have what I have and to be who I am, with the most sincere gratitude.

14. I felt most like 'me' (in various ways) than I have felt in months, leading me to appreciate where I'm at and where I'm going all the more.

Not too much, not too little, just "moderate" with a pinch of EXTRAordinary.

Ironic sequel to my last blog entry (George Carlin)

I just finished writing a blog about generosity and how it can lift my moods. I then went to write a quick email to a friend when, at the corner of my eye, I see on my facebook page that both my brother Alex and my friend Shannon have both put "RIP George Carlin" on their status update. I know people die, but I am in utter shock and sadness. The man who has made me laugh more than any other comedian....gone.

This is weird too because my mom and I were just talking about him like a month ago. I had asked her what he was up to these days, wondering if he had any new comedic material and/or books he was working on. I remembered missing the opportunity to meet him when he was at the Borders on State Street in Chicago for a book signing event, back in 2004 I think. I was so pissed that I had class and couldn't attend, but was excited to set the book aside for him to sign for my brother Alex (he, including my mom and I, are huge fans!). I was going to surprise Alex with a personally autographed George Carlin book that Christmas. I later found out that George couldn't personalize the autographs by name due to bad arthritis in his hands. These were the memories I recalled. George and my family. My family and George. George as the embodiment of our 'extended family,' a sort of crazy uncle we wish we had as someone to entertain us at an otherwise ordinary family gathering.

It's not just what George said to make us laugh, it's the way he said it. Though crass and certainly NOT politically correct, George liked to 'keep it real' no matter how much he tended to push the envelope. With a love for words, he had a way of expressing what others wouldn't say, or what others simply didn't have the balls to say. This is what my family and I enjoyed most about him. He valued the gift of laughter and comedy, a gift he gave generously to his audience for decades.

I think I speak for my mom and Alex when I say: We love you George. You will be missed deeply.

I may just have to find some George dvds to watch this week and laugh....in your memory. :)

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George Carlin, irreverent comedian, dies at 71

By Mel Watkins (International Herald Tribune)

Monday, June 23, 2008

George Carlin, the Grammy-Award winning standup comedian and actor who was hailed for his irreverent social commentary, poignant observations of the absurdities of everyday life and language, and groundbreaking routines like "Seven Words You Can Never Use on Television," died in Los Angeles on Sunday, according to his publicist, Jeff Abraham. He was 71.

The cause of death was heart failure, according to Abraham.

Carlin began his standup comedy act in the late 1950s and made his first television solo guest appearance on "The Merv Griffin Show" in 1965. At that time, he was primarily known for his clever wordplay and reminiscences of his Irish working-class upbringing in New York.

But from the outset there were indications of an anti-establishment edge to his comedy. Initially, it surfaced in the witty patter of a host of offbeat characters like the wacky sportscaster Biff Barf and the hippy-dippy weatherman Al Sleet. "The weather was dominated by a large Canadian low, which is not to be confused with a Mexican high. Tonight's forecast . . . dark, continued mostly dark tonight turning to widely scattered light in the morning."

Carlin released his first comedy album, "Take-Offs and Put-Ons," to rave reviews in 1967. He also dabbled in acting, winning a recurring part as Marlo Thomas' theatrical agent in the sitcom "That Girl" (1966-67) and a supporting role in the movie "With Six You Get Egg-Roll," released in 1968.

By the end of the decade, he was one of America's best known comedians. He made more than 80 major TV appearances during that time, including the Ed Sullivan Show and Johnny Carson's Tonight Show; he was also regularly featured at major nightclubs in New York and Las Vegas.

That early success and celebrity, however, was as dinky and hollow as a gratuitous pratfall to Carlin. "I was entertaining the fathers and the mothers of the people I sympathized with, and in some cases associated with, and whose point of view I shared," he recalled later, as quoted in the book "Going Too Far" by Tony Hendra, which was published in 1987. "I was a traitor, in so many words. I was living a lie."

In 1970, Carlin discarded his suit, tie, and clean-cut image as well as the relatively conventional material that had catapulted him to the top. Carlin reinvented himself, emerging with a beard, long hair, jeans and a routine that, according to one critic, was steeped in "drugs and bawdy language." There was an immediate backlash. The Frontier Hotel in Las Vegas terminated his three-year contract, and, months later, he was advised to leave town when an angry mob threatened him at the Lake Geneva Playboy Club. Afterward, he temporarily abandoned the nightclub circuit and began appearing at coffee houses, folk clubs and colleges where he found a younger, hipper audience that was more attuned to both his new image and his material.

By 1972, when he released his second album, "FM & AM," his star was again on the rise. The album, which won a Grammy Award as best comedy recording, combined older material on the "AM" side with bolder, more acerbic routines on the "FM" side. Among the more controversial cuts was a routine euphemistically entitled "Shoot," in which Carlin explored the etymology and common usage of the popular idiom for excrement. The bit was part of the comic's longer routine "Seven Words That Can Never Be Said on Television," which appeared on his third album "Class Clown," also released in 1972.

"There are some words you can say part of the time. Most of the time 'ass' is all right on television," Carlin noted in his introduction to the then controversial monologue. "You can say, well, 'You've made a perfect ass of yourself tonight.' You can use ass in a religious sense, if you happen to be the redeemer riding into town on one — perfectly all right."

The material seems innocuous by today's standards, but it caused an uproar when broadcast on the New York radio station WBAI in the early seventies. The station was censured and fined by the FCC. And in 1978, their ruling was supported by the Supreme Court, which Time magazine reported, "upheld an FCC ban on 'offensive material' during hours when children are in the audience." Carlin, refused to drop the bit and was arrested several times after reciting it on stage.

Carlin released a half dozen comedy albums during the '70s, including the million-record sellers "Class Clown," "Occupation: Foole" (1973) and "An Evening With Wally Lando" (1975). He was chosen to host the first episode of the late-night comedy show "Saturday Night Live" in 1975. And two years later, he found the perfect platform for his brand of acerbic, cerebral, sometimes off-color standup humor in the fledgling, less restricted world of cable television. By 1977, when his first HBO comedy special, "George Carlin at USC" was aired, he was recognized as one of the era's most influential comedians. In the years following his 1977 cable debut, Carlin was nominated for a half dozen Grammy awards and received CableAces awards for best stand-up comedy special for "George Carlin: Doin' It Again (1990) and "George Carlin: Jammin'" (1992). He also won his second Grammy for the album "Jammin'" in 1994.

During the course of his career, Carlin overcame numerous personal trials. His early arrests for obscenity (all of which were dismissed) and struggle to overcome his self-described "heavy drug use" were the most publicized. But in the '80s he also weathered serious tax problems, a heart attack and two open heart surgeries. His greatest setback was the loss of his wife, Brenda Hosbrook, who died in 1997. They had been married for 36 years. Carlin is survived by wife, Sally Wade; daughter Kelly Carlin McCall; son-in-law, Bob McCall; older brother, Patrick Carlin; sister-in-law, Marlene Carlin and long time manager, business partner and best friend Jerold Hamza.

"Goonies never say die": Adventures in Oregon

I recently told my friend Ricky (who is visiting from out of town) that I would be off for three days in a row this week and spontaneously came up with the idea to check out some hot spots in Oregon, if he was up for it. He was, and off we went.

We left Monday morning in his rental car, with "G.G." (the name of his lovely GPS navigator) in tow. We had a rough idea of some places we wanted to check out, but nothing set in stone. It was an absolutely beautiful day; we couldn't have asked for better weather. Sunny sky with temperatures in the slight 70's, no humidity! After arriving in Portland a little after 1:00, we headed to the Portland Zoo. Ricky had wanted to go there because he had heard it's supposedly awesome.

In retrospect, it certainly wasn't all it was cracked up to be...at least we didn't think so. It was ok, but definitely not a photography lover's dream. Trees engulf a majority of the zoo, which gives the feeling one is walking through a pseudo-rainforest. Very soothing to walk through (minus the endless crowds of overactive young children swarming us, on a summer camp field trip I am guessing) and the shade from the trees conducive to hot and humid days. For taking pictures though, not so much. In addition to the trees creating a mostly dark atmosphere, most animals were behind glass windows and/or behind metal wirings of some sort. I took lots of photos, but was not satisfied with the quality of most of them. We also wondered if the animals were doped up on some drugs because most of them were napping or on their way to naptime. Ricky: "I want some ACTIVE animals!" In the rare instances an animal was actually standing or 'active' in the slightest way, they were usually mooning us. There are only so many pictures one can take of an animal's ass! Needless to say, the zoo wasn't particularly the top highlight of our Oregon adventures. Oh well.

After the zoo debacle, we checked in to the nearby Holiday Inn to drop our shit off before heading out for a late lunch. I had a craving for some suburban restaurant food. Olive Garden in Beaverton, Oregon won the grand prize. I must say we had overly friendly and attentive waitresses/servers during our two day Oregon trip, probably the most friendly waitresses I've had at a restaurant. I think Oregon is my new favorite state. Anyway, getting back to what I was saying. Having seen that we were the poster children for tourists (me in my "I Heart New York" tshirt, ironic cause I've never actually been to New York....and Ricky with his multiple Oregon brochures splayed in front of him on the table), the waitress is nosy and starts asking us questions. We chat with her off and on, usually her catching us in mid forkful of food with her curious questions. She was very perky indeed and gave us some more possible ideas of places to check out.

Towards the end of our meal, my phone rings. It's a local number; I don't answer. Minutes later, I check my message. It's a lady from a women's treatment program, wanting to know if I'd be interested to set up an interview with her for this Thursday afternoon. I save the message and decide to call her tomorrow. Not two minutes later, our waitress is delivering some food to the party of six or seven behind our table. I'm not one to typically eavesdrop on conversations, but it was the strangest thing. I didn't hear anything else and yet I heard her say "I have a degree in Substance Abuse Counseling." My ears perked up. I cannot escape themes of substance abuse, even while on vacation! I thought it was funny, the irony.

As she turned around to walk away from the table and walk past our table, I stopped her. "Did I just hear you say you have a degree in Substance Abuse Counseling?!" My ears did not deceive me; it was true. She went on to tell me that for two years, she was prescribed to take Xanax for horrible panic/anxiety problems and that she remembers hardly anything from that time of her life (meaning, she got hooked on it). She went on to rebuild her life, adding "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do." I assume this is what made her decide to pursue her degree, to give back to others. While it seems to be something she is passionate about, she went on to say that she makes more money working at Olive Garden ("I believe it" I tell her) and that counselors should be paid more money since they're the ones helping all these troubled people. I couldn't stop shaking my head in absolute agreement.....

Next stop: Portland's highly acclaimed Japanese Garden. This turned out to be my favorite place in Portland. Even the pictures I took don't do it justice. This place is as close as it gets to the real thing. It's like stepping into a different realm of existence, representing the epitome of 'zen,' 'peace,' and simplistic 'beauty.' Japanese architecture, waterfalls, flowers, bamboo shoots with water dripping into small fountains, moss covered rocks, cool shaped steps and walking paths, rocks in sand. Simply amazing and relaxing.

We then walked across the street to the Rose Test Garden. The smells emanating in the air as we walked in couldn't even fit in a single bottle of the most floral of perfumes. Another photographer's paradise. Unfortunately, my digital camera died after taking just one photo there. I was upset, but thought maybe the gods were trying to tell me that this was literally the time for me to 'Stop and smell the roses." So I did. Plus, I can snatch some of Ricky's photos later. :)

We went back to the hotel to call it a night. I had a margarita in the bar area of the hotel, though it tasted more like seltzer water with a pinch of lime and tequila. Hmmm, I don't know.....

End of day 1. I sleep like a rock on the heavenly Holiday Inn bed. Ahhh.

Tuesday, June 17 2008
I wake up to the sound of an airplane or helicopter. With the drapes closed, it is very dark in the room. I have no sense of time and think it must be late in the morning. It's only 7:15am! But I'm awake and unpredictably excited, so I hop out of bed and take a shower, pack my bag, and am ready to go! Ricky wakes up around 8:30, wondering why I didn't wake him up; I didn't want to be a Travel Nazi. After grabbing some breakfast and coffee for the road, we head towards our next destination: Astoria, Oregon. I'm stoked because this is the place where parts of "The Goonies" was filmed.

Ricky searches for a travel route on "G.G." and she tells us Astoria is about 75 miles away. We're guided along a very green, scenic route that reminds me of a cross between parts of Georgia (with blueberry farm/patches) and parts of Michigan (from my birthday trip in December). On the last 30 or 40 miles of our journey on this desolate, winding country road though.....the little gas icon lights up, indicating that there's a fourth of a tank left. GG tells us that the nearest gas station is 15 miles away, but when we head in the direction of where she claims there is a gas station, it takes us down a dead end dirt road. I'm getting a little nervous. We have no bars on our cell phones. In my mind, I'm already strategizing what the hell we would do if the car were to suddenly stop. I tell Ricky I've already been with two friends whose car ran out of gas (1. Year 2000: Nicole's car in San Marcos, Tx and 2. Year 2004: Kris' car in front of Melrose restaurant on Broadway in my Chicago neighborhood). "I don't want you to be the third," I tell him.

"Oh, just think of the blog you could write...." Ricky says.
I'm not that hard up for blog material, am I?

At mile marker 23 or thereabouts, we come upon an older gentleman road worker. Ricky rolls the window down and asks how far to the nearest gas station. Right around marker number 10. Hope we can make it. Surprisingly, we managed to endure the anxiety with a mutual sense of humor considering. I continued to play DJ with an 80's cd. Listened to a minute or two of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" and then I decided,

"Perhaps this isn't the best song to be listening to right now..."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

Of course, neither was "Smooth Criminal," but I liked the song too much to skip that as well. I took my chances with our gas crisis fate.

We started counting down the mile markers. It gave us an unexplainable sense of motivation and hope that we would outfox the vehicle. Fortunately, we glided into the old country gas station with body parts and dignity still intact. After we pull out of the station with a FULL tank of gas, Ricky tells me the lady working there told him alot of people that come to her gas station are in nervous mode by the time they find this godsent of a gas station. Like I said: middle of nowhere folks.

It's too bad we couldn't have stopped along that journey because it truly was beautiful, ideal for taking pictures.

Nearing the end of our journey by this point, we finally arrive in Astoria around noon. Walked around, took a few pictures, and had lunch at a seafood restaurant along the water. The weather was teetering on slightly crappy to borderline nice. At this point, I figured the day couldn't go downhill after the gas scare. Thankfully, I was right. :)

Again, we had a delightful waitress: full of smiles and great touristy suggestions. I had a tasty clam chowder breadbowl. It wasn't as thick as New England Clam Chowder, though it was still creamy. I had to wonder, does Oregon have their own characteristic version of clam chowder?

Our waitress gave us a plethora of exciting options. "The Goonies" was apparently filmed in various locations, the house being just up the street near/just past 39th. We never did find this on our trip back, but I'm sure it's up there somewhere. We told her we wanted to check out the coast and inquired as to where the end shot was filmed. Good thing we asked; we never would have found out on our own. FYI to all you Goonies enthusiasts: Cannon Beach. And it rocks. But more on that in a minute. With her help, we narrowed our to-do itinerary to the following places:

1. The Astoria column (which is historically significant, as part of the Lewis and Clark expedition,etc). We drove up there and snapped a few pictures, a view overlooking Astoria.

2. Cape Disappointment Lighthouse. We wondered what would motivate one to see something with the word 'disappointment' in it, yet I was driven by the quest to get a picture of a lighthouse. Ricky bragged about having great lighthouse photos from the coast of Maine (yes, I'm jealous). He took pity on me since I had none and thus, we headed to Cape Disappointment. Went on an awesome hike there. Very lush with lots of trees. We also came upon this little island called the Dead Man's Cove. Climbed down there and hung out for a bit. It reminded me of an island you'd see on "Lost" or similar such survivor type islands. I enjoyed this spot immensely. Took lots of pictures.

We continued on our hike to Cape Disappointment. Let's just say it lives up to its name, a very stark contrast to its lighthouse cousins on the East coast. It was smaller than I thought. Dilapidated with white paint that had been chipped away, it was obvious mother nature did not favor this shitty lighthouse either. We made our way back to our starting point, out of breath and sweaty from our great, arduous hike.

3. Cannon Beach
Next to the Japanese Garden, this was our other favorite place. Now I know why people rave about the Oregon Coast. Wow. An hour or two away from Astoria, Cannon Beach is awe inspiring. My photos didn't fully capture the magical magnificence of this place either. I still snapped away though. There was some kind of reception going on at the Ecola State Park (which is part of Cannon Beach) when we arrived, probably a wedding reception. Note to self: Remember this place when I am looking for a spot to get married someday!

We ended up finding this dirt path trail. Feeling adventurous, we veered off onto the path with a curiosity of where it would take us. It was definitely a hiking road less traveled. If it wasn't for the carved out dirt trail, one never would have guessed it was a hiking area. We had to push past tall patches of grass/nature and a few minutes later, came upon a steep section that descented to the bottom of the beach/rocks (I'm guessing about 40 to 60 feet below us). Ricky spotted a cave. We wondered if this was THE cave where the Goonies came out of, victorious and richer. Ricky was itching to go down there. He was feeling crazy and I was feeling cautious. While it seemed risky and fun, the reality was that I was wearing cheap Payless sneakers with no traction. I trust myself and nature when it comes to adventure hikes, but not Payless. I encouraged him to go for it. Meanwhile, I sat my ass down on the steep hill where I had stopped with my hike, and documented his crazy descent. I told him his ass better make it back up, because I didn't have my phone with me and there wasn't a human being in sight (for the second time, in our quest for adventure on this trip). I didn't want to end up as an example of nature experience gone awry in one of those survivor/in the wild books. My imagination was in overdrive again. So what do I do? Click away with my camera. I obviously wasn't that panic stricken. It would be just like me though to die careening off a cliff that I didn't even have the audacity to conquer due to lack of shoe preparation. But, "Goonies never say die."



Ricky ended up sliding down half of the way down and made it back up a few minutes later, still alive! I swear I saw a small gray creature scurry past five feet away from me. Thankfully, whatever it was stayed hidden while I attempted my way back. I had to jump from the hill I was chilling out at onto the more even patch of dirt. This was the only moment I was truly nervous, because Ricky wasn't there to grab my hand as a balance during this jump and one slight wrong move, I'd be sliding down that same steep spot down to the bottom NOT by choice. Seeing as I'm writing this, that was not the case. I felt a slight triumph and we made our way back to the car. This marked a momentous ending to the Oregon turned Goonies adventures.

Social Psychology in full form, albeit at its worst

Social Psychology ranked high on the top ten list of most interesting psych classes I took for my major, though some of the things I learned were truly disturbing and shameful. One that still stands out vividly in my mind to this day was that of the bystander effect/apathy (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bystander_effect for a more detailed explanation). It made me wonder if I were hypothetically in such an emergency scenario, if I would succumb to the same social conditioning cues. I don't think I would. Why? The opposite of bystander effect: empathy-altruism.

Perhaps it has less to do with social conditioning and more to do with whether one has empathy and altruistic values. Those that have empathy are more likely to get involved and jump right in when there is an emergency, regardless of what's in it for them or how many people are around. You get involved because 1. it's the right thing to do and 2. to do so is to have compassion for another human being.

I heard about an alarming and tragic accident on the news last week, but I'm just now getting around to writing about it. I just remembered it was something that bothered me and almost made me question whether human beings are inherently good when put to the test.

A 78 year old Hartford, Connecticut man was hit by a car as he was crossing the street. His body flew through the air and landed off to the side of the road. Severely injured and bleeding (profusely I would imagine), not only did the person who hit him speed off without a conscience, several bystanders did NOTHING for minutes on end. The lack of intervention disgusts me. I am reminded why I choose not to watch the news very often; I know I would be more cynical than I already feel about people just watching the occasional news story.

I do realize there are good people who do good things all the time, and yet it's not "sensational" enough to make the news. But that's a whole other subject of discussion!

Psychologically speaking, this tragic incident reinforces the bystander apathy theory. People are reluctant to get involved or take on any kind of social responsibility. This doesn't sit well with me, at all. I love psychology, don't get me wrong, but in some instances, it goes beyond psychology.

My spiritual and philosophical side isn't satisfied with that theory to explain the prevalence of apathy in so many societal scenarios. It goes deeper than the mind (psychology). It's about the heart, that of compassion and a sense of humanity. Where is it? Do we as a society pick and choose what is easiest or the most self-beneficial to be compassionate about, as if we're at the grocery store trying to choose between limes and lemons? As if it's all about oneself, not that of interconnectedness. I cannot fathom this; I am not selective with my compassion. My cup runneth over, as the saying goes.

What was going on with the bystanders as they walked by the bleeding man? Was it "Oh, he'll be ok....he doesn't look that bad..." or "I need to get to class/work/somewhere and don't have time!"?
Did any of them feel horrible later, in retrospect, for not choosing to be the one to step up to the plate and be a compassionate citizen? I wasn't there, so I couldn't tell ya. Hopefully I'll never have to answer such questions from an experiential standpoint.

On a more positive note, I'll tell you something slightly of the same variety with a different ending, one of empathy.

I can't remember when this happened, sometime in the past six months I think. My mom told me she was driving and saw an elderly woman fall nearby in the road.

She helped her.

Right away and with no hesitation.

Weird and random things about me

1. Culture and sociology topics completely fascinate me.
2. Fake people really annoy me. I'm too honest and genuine, so I have a hard time faking when I don't care for someone. I'll be polite, but not overly friendly in such instances.
3. I tend to be more witty in person or on the phone than online. I think I come across more serious online. No idea why though. Maybe my nonverbal communication is more playful and animated?
4. People may perceive me as 'girly' at times, which I think is hilarious because the only thing that makes me 'girly' is that I wear makeup....which I only do because it helps me look more like an adult and less like a teenager (I have a problem of looking too young at times).
5. I leave the ends of pickles on the plate at restaurants, uneaten. Yup, I'm weird.
6. I have adverse psychological reactions to too much of anything: too much routine, too much chaos, too much noise, too much socializing, too much time on my hands, too much judgment/negativity, too much dogma....therefore, I strive for happy mediums in my life. :)
7. Though I have a spiritual side, I rarely talk about it. I'm more private when it comes to this aspect of myself.
8. I wish I had my own therapist sometimes. A great, objective listener with helpful and insightful qualities is hard to find when I am the one who needs guidance and solutions to challenges.
9. Needy people annoy me, yet I can be just as needy at times too...and I then annoy myself. Haha.
10. According to my mother, 'you read the strangest books....' and I love telling weird anecdotes.
11. I love most things Latin: margaritas, food, men. Yes, I should have either been born with a Latin background or perhaps as my friend Sebastian says, I just need to date/marry a 'brown boy' already. hehehe
12. I don't talk about myself as much as most people, unless I feel close to a particular person or sometimes in my writing.
13. I have more questions than answers, which apparently not everyone likes.
14. I have avocado craving phases.
15. I'm not typically a jealous person, but when I do get jealous, it's not usually in a romantic sense but more in the aspect of adventure and travel. For example, I am slightly jealous of my brother's recent travels around the world. Maybe this is why I become both intrigued and depressed whenever I watch The Travel Channel (don't watch it much anymore, hahaha!).
16. The cost of my student loans could probably buy me a small house.
17. I wonder if I'll ever get married.
18. I want a dog 'child' to call my own (more than I want a human child).
19. I could never give up cheese. I tried once and it only lasted a few days. I love it too much. I will never be a vegan!
20. At some point in time, I have had a crush on my close male friends.

What if the draft were reinstated?

"Day Zero," starring Chris Klein, Elijah Wood, and Jon Bernthal centers around three friends in New York City who have been called to serve their country with reinstatement of the draft. It is a compelling drama in that it emphasizes the emotional and philosophical toll it takes on these characters more so than political stances on the war issue.

While they have 30 days to prepare themselves for the life changing event, issues of love, loyalty, courage, dark secrets and honor emerge throughout the film. Though it is primarily a drama, there are some witty moments (particularly with Wood's character) and it is refreshing not to see stereotypical personalities often characteristic of most mainstream blockbuster movies.

It's not a matter of whether one will be drafted or not; choice is irrelevant. Instead....

How will you cope with it, mentally and emotionally? If you knew you were heading to a warzone soon, would you live your life any differently? Care more, care less? Avoid or confront yourself (psychologically)?

And where does our loyalty lie? Who takes the most precedence: individual or society?

The return of retail, a smelly job.

So I started a part-time job today. I didn't think I would find myself returning to retail, but when you need to pay the bills while you hold out for a full-time job....retail is the easiest route. I had a 6 hour orientation/training today on my first day. I was reminded of the absolute cheesiness of customer service videos. I felt like I stepped into an episode of the UK's "The Office" where Garreth is demonstrating to a new employee how to lift up a box the 'proper' way (with the knees, NOT the back!), as serious as can be. Rocket science folks! Hahaha. Even though it's retail, at least it's some income to pay my bills, stave off temporary boredom with a change of atmosphere, AND it's quite a fragrant smelly environment....better smelling than my last job. :) It's interesting how smells can affect moods and reflect one's personality. In my training, I learned that 70% of customers like floral smells the most. As usual, I'm atypical from the rest of the crowd: I noticed I like the sensual exotic smells. Wonder what that signifies....

Adventures of Katie

I'm SO tired right now after such a busy weekend, but I wanted to write about it before I lose my motivation.....

This weekend was perhaps the best weekend I've had since I've been in Washington. Saturday was a splendidly warm and sunny day. We did a little shopping and had lunch at the Sunlight Cafe in the University district area off Roosevelt (see my Yelp review on the right side of this page!). Great vegetarian restaurant with an earthy, alternative feel. It really reminded me of a place I'd find in Chicago, like Chicago Diner (a Chicago favorite). I must admit though, it made me a little sad and missing Chicago, as well as thinking how much my friend Melissa would love it. I told her I will have to take her to this place whenever she comes to visit Seattle from San Francisco.

Yesterday morning (Sunday) I woke up at the crack of dawn to go with my mom and our Sheltie dog Chloe to a Meetup.com Sheltie group in Bellevue. I was pretty stoked to finally be going to a meetup after hearing people rave about it, especially since my social life has taken a nosedive the past few months. I also got to see more of the Bellevue area, which reminded me of a cross between certain quaint areas of Kingwood and Austin, Texas. Very nice woodsy park area, Robinswood Dog Park or something like that. We had trouble finding the right dog corral at first because we were looking for the East corral, obscured by trees way in the back of the overall park area. Chloe FREAKED out by a big white dog that kept trying to chase and play with her in the other corral. Chloe is a 10 year old geriatric dog who can't take the anxiety of a dog who looks like the Marshmallow Man from her perspective. Poor Chloe.

Once we found the right corral, her neurotic behavior diminished...albeit she was still lazy and antisocial with the other Shelties. A small and friendly group. One lady with her dog Sasha, who actually looked like she could be Chloe's twin except Sasha was a bit longer and taller than Chloe. This other couple and their Sheltie, Charlie. And the meetup group leader and her Sheltie. I can't remember the name of that dog, but he was gorgeous; a paler looking Sheltie with blue eyes and mainly white fur. We played with them and talked about their funny quirks, like how Chloe likes to smear her scent all over our clothes and blankets when they are brand new/just washed. Or how the leader's dog barks every time he hears her phone ring and the shower water come on because he doesn't like the high pitch sounds. All in all, it was a beautiful morning. It was nice to do something different, meet and chat with new people.

A few hours later, my cousin Ladd came over to hang out with us for the remainder of the weekend. We ate 'summery food' (grilled veggies, fruit salad, potato salad, baked beans, pasta salad, etc) and talked about various things. I find it interesting that no matter how frequently I spend time with my family and/or listen to tons of family stories, I never cease to hear a new story. Of course there are ones that get repeated, but I enjoy hearing new funny or random stories. For some reason, it tends to be more fun when my cousin Ladd is part of the storytelling; it must be his animated style....I can't stop laughing. He's my favorite relative of the extended family. He fills more of an older sibling role, feeling more like an older brother I always wished I had. I'm glad I live near him now; more opportunities to hang out, talk, and go on adventurous excursions....like today.

Ladd crashed with us at my parent's place last night and then this morning we headed out a few hours away to the Washington coast, an area called Griffiths Priday State Park and Pacific Beach, which is along the Pacific Ocean. It was a fun 2 hour road trip, with us talking more, laughing (a given), and occasionally singing along to some old school 80's tunes Ladd had on his mp3. I can't remember the last time I went to the beach, probably when I was in Florida around this time last year. Even though it was in the 60's and overcast, it was incredibly relaxing and fun. I couldn't believe the volume of crabs, sand dollars, and colorful shells that were endlessly scattered on the sand! Took copious photos and meandered along the shore, taking in the salty ocean air, calm breeze and zen silence (there were hardly any people on the vast beach, an anomaly for a holiday). Pure bliss. Ate a picnic lunch and after walking (and my taking even MORE photos), headed home.

Outdoor adventures galore and always new places to explore here in Washington....

Pieces of dreams

A few interesting bits and pieces of dreams I had last night.....

Dream Scenario #1: I think we were having some kind of family reunion at my mom's house. There was a group of family members from my mom's side of the family (Crookers), people I haven't seen in years. Even though people seemed to be talking/communicating with each other, I remember it still seemed pretty quiet in the house and it felt like it was very early in the morning around 5am. The coolest part was seeing my grandparents. My grandfather looked the same, tall and thin, donning his glasses and characteristic sense of humor. The only exception was he appeared younger by the clothes he was wearing, like from the 1970's. He was talking to my mom and I about something, but I can't remember what. I walked in and out of the kitchen, as my mom had made a pot of coffee for everyone. I think I gave my grandmother a hug. Very warm and comforting. Short, but great dream since I rarely dream about my grandparents anymore (they have both been deceased for years). It's comforting to know that your love for someone doesn't die when they die physically.

Dream Scenario #2: It looked like I was in Chicago because I felt like I was in a big city late, late at night. I was with a female friend, though I can't recall who exactly. I got the feeling we just left a concert and were in search of a bathroom because my friend had to pee really bad. I'm not sure why she didn't go at a bathroom at the venue, but we searched around nonetheless in random areas of the city. You'd have thought bathrooms were suddenly obsolete. We ended up finding this dilapidated bathroom in what could have been an abandoned building or warehouse. When I walked into the place, I didn't even want to STAND there, that's how gross it felt. Dirty concrete floors, wet disheveled toilet paper spread over the floors of the stalls. Clogged toilets. A door that had been ripped off merely hanging off the hinge on one stall and two other stalls that had no door at all. One girl had been trying to pee in the stall with the door barely hanging when we walked in and I felt bad that we startled her and had bothered her privacy since there was no door. I knew it wasn't my fault, but I still felt bad for the girl that she couldn't pee in privacy because of the horrific bathroom. I asked my friend if she really wanted to use the bathroom here of all places. She flat out insisted that she could not hold it any longer and had to go, even if it was in this gross environment. That's all I remember.

Next piece of dream I remember: I was hanging out with my friend Tracy and "Smith" (Samantha's boyfriend from "Sex and the City"....hahahaha). We were sitting at a white metal table outside, perhaps on an outside porch of a restaurant. I wondered how I knew him in the dream or vice versa. We were talking and he needed to leave soon. Wrapping up the conversation, I made a comment about how he'll have to let me know when he's in Seattle again. He told me "It's probably not going to last much longer with Kim (Cattrall)...." and he threw down two tickets, what appeared to be tickets to a Seattle Mariners game or some kind of sporting event. I was confused and asked him if he was going to be traveling or if he got a new job that would bring him back to Seattle. "Are you in a band or something?" I asked. "Well, no...not exactly." He went on to say that he would be cleaning the streets around the sports stadium with those big sliding brooms after the games. I thought it was weird, but I was polite. Tracy was mad at me for some reason, maybe she thought I was trying to start something with this guy who had a girlfriend. He put his Gucci or Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses on and left to go to the...bathroom (hahaha). I didn't realize that until just now...reappearance of a bathroom in this dream. Hmmm, wonder what that's about...