And so it begins

First afternoon of summer break and I have decided to start in on one of my goals - a book a week.  Today, however, I decided that since it was the middle of the week, it would be a perfect week to finish a book that I started several months ago: Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies.  Here is an excerpt I read today, on family photos:

There are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition.  But I like that, when who we are shows.  Everything is usually so masked or perfumed or disguised in the world, and it's so touching when you get to see something real and human. I think that's why most of us stay close to our families, no matter how neurotic the members, how deeply annoying or dull - because when people have seen you at your worst, you don't have to put on the mask as much.  And that gives us license to try on that radical hat of liberation, the hat of self-acceptance; we're allowed to escape from underneath one of the fatwas.

Amen. I love her.  So wise (and SO hilarious).  Interestingly enough I think someone told me recently that I have a writing style like Anne Lamott.  It was one of the biggest compliments I've ever received.  But the more I think about it, I think I may have dreamed it.  Either way, I think that's important to pay attention to: the fact that being compared to Anne Lamott is (or would be, if it were real) one of the biggest compliments I could ever receive.

Here's to anticipating...

 (Yes, this is actually in Washington; it's called Ruby Beach)

...summer break!

Self-Care Goals

Goals for this summer (so far):

• Read a book a week - FOR PLEASURE!  Although, sometimes pleasure books can be school/psychology/therapy related (I think that's a good thing)
• Cook one new recipe a week
• Go to AT LEAST one concert
• Be active!

I'm still writing my paper - can you tell I'm now in fantasy-procrastination mode???

The procrastination the devil made

I want to retract an earlier statement.  When I said that getting an extension on a paper is "never bad news," that was a lie.  It can be extremely bad news when the paper is due a week after you've finished your last class and you want nothing more than to be using your brain to concentrate on magazines and trashy television.  Meaning: I don't want to use my brain at all.  I have a final paper due Wednesday, that I've taken MAYBE two pages of notes for, and I just can't make it happen.  


This is a different kind of procrastination than the one I spoke of a few weeks ago.  Oh, this is a monster.  This kind of procrastination is an uncontrollable, volatile force that can swallow me whole.  This procrastination taunts me with food, causing me to eat anything and everything that my pantry contains in a split second.  This procrastination is the carpel tunnel in my fingers and wrists from being on the computer for hours, even days, and still having nothing to show for it.  Ohhh, this procrastination is the worst kind of evil.  It sweeps in, unexpectedly, until I have wasted every last moment doing nothing, when I've had all the time in the world.  This procrastination stabs me straight in the heart when my classmates tell me, "I finished the paper in one sitting.  It just took a couple hours."   

It's nice to have company when I'm writing papers.

And literally, as I typed this out, Jazzy jumped off the couch.  Dadgum.  Never predictable!

I am so tired.

eth-ik pt. 2

Today was our final Ethics class; it felt like being birthed into blinding daylight from the dark, warm comfort of a womb.  So grateful, but so terrified.  Here are some quotes I am left chewing on and metabolizing:

Yesterday I met a whole man.  It is a rare experience, but always an illuminating and ennobling one.  It costs so much to be a full human being that there are very few who have the enlightenment, or the courage, to pay the price…one has to abandon altogether the search for security, and reach out to the risk of living with both arms.  One has to embrace the world like a lover, and yet demand no easy return of love.  One has to accept pain as a condition of existence.  One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing.  One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to the total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying. – Morris West

Jewish wisdom sanctions the yearning, even ennobles it, at the same time teaching that there is no meaning: only a kind of dance between meaning and ambiguity; understanding and misunderstanding; faith and doubt; essence and no-essence.  And the more joyous the dance, the richer and more holy the life.     – Irwin Kula

Doubt is a prerequisite for any meaningful journey. – Irwin Kula

Please read those.  Maybe close your eyes for ten seconds after you read each one.  They are so beautiful. 

Still working on this burden of a paper - trying to articulate my personal/professional ethic. Trying not to feel completely overwhelmed.  Trying to figure out what words, coherent words, I have to articulate my hopes, fears, dreams, ambivalence, paralysis, terror, responsibility, helplessness, naivete, childlike enthusiasm of going into this work.  

US Open Wrap-Up

First of all, my US Open wardrobe (all shirts provided by Polo, with the US Open 2011 logo in the corner):

Sunday: I had enough energy to attempt looking cute.

Hair scarf, skinny black pants, and TOMS.  I got some

weird looks on the golf course - I think I looked a little

too Seattle for their liking.

 Monday: Didn't know these shorts had gotten too big

so I was hiking them up all day because there are no 

belt loops.  Also, the navy shirt has a kelly green collar.  

 Tuesday: Hadn't washed my hair in 4 days.  I didn't have

strands left, it was just one big chunk of greasy hair.  I had the

potential to make this look cute, but I was freezing all day and

had become very fatigued at this point.  Light pink shirt

and olive colored skirt; I was worried that the skirt wasn't close

enough to my knees and that I would get in trouble on the golf course.

Wednesday: Last day on the course - can you tell?  First of

all, these pants look like culottes and I'm giving them away 

after realizing that on this trip.  The Carolina blue polo

was a highlight of my week until I put it on - not flattering; 

hence, the jacket over top.  

Thursday: sight-seeing with Blaire, Thomas, and Grandma Gornik

 Little T taking photos of Lincoln.  He was REALLY into

good ol' Abe - he kept saying that Abe should be on the 

dime instead of the penny because he's worth more than a penny.

Ha!

 Just the spot where MLK Jr. gave the "I have a dream" speech.

No big deal.

 Little T and Blaire

 Just walking

 Me, Little T, and Blaire in front of the Washington Monument.

Family photos like this seem to always look a bit awkward.

 WWII Memorial

 A little metro

 Coming out of the "bowels of the earth" as Grandma G

called it.

Loved these signs.

So that's all the photos from the week.  I already posted about my travel traumas so you can just know that I am finally home and REALLY happy about it.  The weather in Seattle is awful and I don't care.  Also, I found out that one of my final papers was pushed back a few days later than I thought - never bad news.  

Last night, I couldn't hold my eyes open past 8 o'clock; literally it felt like I was on drugs.  I couldn't walk straight or stand up easily; I was quite wobbly.  I went to bed and woke up around 6am.  Not ideal, but whatever.  It was so nice to sleep in my own bed in my city in my apartment with my hubby and my kitty.

Hot mess

So, I'm still at Blaire and Michael's apartment.  It's Friday night.  I was supposed to be in Seattle in a mere matter of hours.  Today was a bit traumatic.  Got to the DC airport at 2:30 because Pat's mom had an earlier flight so Blaire just brought both of us.  I thought I would be in the airport for four and half hours till my flight at 7.  No biggie. Sat at my gate for a good two hours talking on the phone to two of the best people on earth, when I realized the little screen at my gate had changed destinations - mine wasn't up there anymore.  Looked at the stupid TV's with all the flight and they had delayed my flight an hour and had also changed the gate.  They changed the gate so far that I had to go out of the terminal and back through freakin' security.  So I did that and found my new gate.  But then I realized that the delay might affect my layover - was it possible that I wouldn't make my second flight from Philly to Seattle?  I called T, already highly agitated, and he suggested I go to customer service to figure it out.  50 other customers and 45 minutes later, the young lad at customer service says, "What time do you want to fly out tomorrow?  5:45 or 7am?"  I said, "Excuse me?"  "Tomorrow.  What time?"  


Oh yea.


So I picked 5:45 because at the moment, I wanted to get to Seattle as soon as humanly possible.  I thought walking might be faster.  Now I'm regretting 5:45am, but whatever.  So he prints my new boarding passes and I say, "So is there a shuttle to a hotel or something?" "Excuse me?"  "Transportation.  Do I have a way to get to my hotel?  Is there a hotel?"  "Uh, no."  [Eyes watering].  He says, "Do you know someone here?  You can either stay with someone or stay at the airport."  "Ok."  [My voice cracks.]  


So I load my gigantic bookbag onto my shoulders for the umpteenth time that day and instead of picking up my gigantic duffle bag to put over my shoulders, all I can do is drag it.  I call Blaire's husband Michael, trying not to cry, and tell him that my flight won't be leaving till tomorrow.  He says he'll come get me.  So I drag my stupid duffle bag all the way back out of another terminal, literally on the ground, the whole entire way to baggage claim.  Oh I was so upset.  I got in the elevator, and bursted out crying.  For about 3 seconds.  Then stopped when the doors opened.  Then I plopped on a seat at baggage claim in front of one of those news kiosks and lots of magazines, and cried a lot more.  I just wanted to be home.  Then I called T and my mom.  Oh I looked so pitiful that the lady running the kiosk came up to me and asked if I needed help.  THAT pitiful.  Once I was off the phone, she dragged my stuff a couple of seats over, pointed, and said, "Sit," so the sun wouldn't be in my eyes.  I cried a little more.  She came back over and said, "Why you cry?"  "I don't want to be here!"  And she walked away.  I thought, "Oh I'm too much.  Oh what a hot mess of a 20-something year old woman - crying for absolutely no reason.  I made her walk away!"  She came back over with an apple and banana and held them out to me.  "It's ok, take it.  No problem."  Sniffling, I took them and said, "Thank you."  "Relax.  No problem."  Then, she came over with a Diet Coke and said, "You like this one?  Take it, no problem."  Bless her soul.  After dealing with some customers, she came back and handed me a receipt for Camel cigarettes and said, "If anyone ask you - show this.  No problem."  What a gem!  Giving me a fake receipt!  Finally, she came over and sat down next to me and we talked about her kids and how much she misses her home country of Ethiopia.  We talked about how to make a marriage last; she said, "No lying.  No cheating.  He take care of you, you take care of him.  He a strong man, you a strong woman."  She mentioned that she thought Maria Shriver and Hilary Clinton were strong women.  She was so CUTE!   Then, as I was leaving she said, "When you cry, I am so sad!  Be happy."  


So, I wish I were in Seattle.  But I got to talk to that sweet lady from Ethiopia and also to Blaire and Michael some more.  It will be ok.  


ThisisstreamofconsciousnessanditmaynotmakeanysenseIhavetowakeupat3:30am.

eth-ik

I've been trying to work on my final paper for Ethics while working at the Open - it's tough to concentrate in the midst of both chaos and fatigue, so I haven't accomplished much.  The prompt for the paper is to articulate my personal ethic as a practicing clinician - and as a human being.  As I'm trying to get started, I realize I don't particularly know how to answer that.  I'm not sure what Ethics means or what an ethic is.

[eth-ik] 1. the body of moral principles or values governing ordistinctive of a particular culture or group; 2. a complex of moral precepts held or rules of conduct followed by an individual

Ok.  Where to start?


I'm starting with Annie Rogers, who writes in A Shining Affliction:

What has been wounded in a relationship must be, after all, healed in a relationship.

That's my launching pad.  That's my diving board.  I'm not sure where to go from there, but I know that her words are ones that I will stand on forever.  This is my work both as a professional and as a human being.  Now, onto this paper...(yea, right).

Is it time?

Only one more day of waking up at 4:30am.  Did you know that 4:30am Eastern time is 1:30am West Coast time?  Well, it is.  And that's what time I've been waking up.  Did you know that's early?  Well, it is.  


I have lofty plans of staying up until midnight tomorrow, the first night that I don't have to get up early the next morning.  That way, I will go to bed at 9:00 West Coast time and hopefully can get myself back on track for when I fly back to Seattle to head into finals.  I say lofty because I'll want to go to bed as soon as we leave this golf course.  


The championship officially starts Thursday - Monday through Wednesday are practice days - and I don't know who to root for.  I really have nothing to go by other than the caddies.  So, maybe I'll cheer for Brian Locke because his caddie was extra nice and I know it's the first Open for both Brian and his caddie, Mitchel.  Mitchel was REALLY excited to be here.  I'm also interested to see what happens with Adam Scott, who picked up Tiger's former caddie, Steve Williams.  That has been an interesting little tidbit of drama since Tiger has pulled out of his first Open championship in his professional career.  But, hey, Steve's gotta get paid.  


So do I.  And as much as I love talking to all of these new and interesting people, I'm a little tired of small talk.  I'm just tired.  And small talk takes a lot of energy to maintain.  


[Whine.]

With all due respect to the game

In honor of the US Open, here are some of the best outfits I could find via the world wide web.

Well done, good sirs.  I hope fashion served you well in your careers.

Culture of culture

It's amazing how culture can suck you in.  First full day at the US Open, and I have already caught myself believing it's the most important thing in the world.  I feel somewhat ashamed when I admit that I don't play or watch golf; the response is typically utter bewilderment.  This is truly a culture - its own little microcosm of a universe inside the world.  Eat, sleep, breathe, live, relate, die, work US Open.


While I sit here and read case studies for my Ethics class and take an online class for HIV/AIDS and Communicable Diseases.  


And every time someone has asked what I do, and I tell them I'm studying Counseling-Psychology, they immediately ask if I'm analyzing them.


Ok!

Make it happen, please.

Found here.

Natalie - this post and photo exist entirely for you.  I saw this dresser and had to share!  I'll buy it from you if you make it.

"For Meg, Leaving Home"

Lights on everywhere, except where I am sitting

Writing this first letter since you left,

Knowing that what I write, I will not send –

That one comes later, full of cheerful news;

This is the one I have to write to me.

Once you were all promise, flower in the bud,

Sitting like Buddha on your yellow rug,

Catching the sun’s motes with your fingers,

Your thoughts mysterious, wordless; and I felt

Nothing could come between you and the light.

But now I know first child has more to break

Than barriers of blood and bone; the soul’s old pain,

The dark confusions of the blood, remain;

And all that karmic legacy broods still

Over the sunrise of your going forth.

Today I cleared your room of those old treasures

You could not bear to put away yourself:

Flotsam of empty bottles, unburned candles,

Paper flowers faded from the sun,

Buckles, yellow stockings, birthday cards;

And when I had finished the room stood stripped of your presence

Except for one orange flower and a Van Gogh print;

I felt like a nurse with an antiseptic bottle

Tidying up after death, removing all traces,

Putting what’s left behind in boxes;

And my throat was thick with the things I could never say,

Or even if I had, you could not have listened to;

And you are sent out on that same exhausting journey

Through wrong choices, false love.  Yet for love’s sake

I hurl you into the universe, and pray.

- Netta Gillespie

Came across this poem this morning and thought it was beautiful.

Summer

I'm pretty sure my favorite day of the whole year is the day that I get to move out my winter clothes and move in my summer clothes.  I did that this morning after tending to my slightly burnt shoulders and loved every second.  


Here's to sunglasses, freckles, being outside at night without a jacket, tan lines, Arnold Palmer's, exposed arms/toes/legs, the sound of flip flops flapping, and having a reason to paint my toenails.  I love summer.

In my PJ's on the couch, sipping on my cup of coffee, and being warmed not by blankets, but by the sun shining so brightly through my windows that I need sunglasses.


That's a good morning.

Image found here.

All I need is one of each of these: a porch and a porch swing - er, bed.

choosing to believe it.

P.S. Happy June!

I've been testing out a new approach to paper writing.  This really proves how far I'm testing.  Since I usually take a painstakingly significant amount of time to write papers, I've tried waking up the morning they're due and writing them before class.  Some may call this procrastination.  I'm calling it efficiency.  Some may even believe that my writing this blog post while I should be working on the paper that's due in two and a half hours would be crazy.  I call it experimentation.  


I have to get it done, right?  


An hour an a half: GO!