An exercise in the other side of the tracks

Nothing profound about my journey to the literal and figurative other side of the tracks since I wrote that last post and comment yesterday... just the usual surreality. I was exhausted after work Thursday night (which, blessedly, is the end of my work week), and needed a good cry to be ready to move on. Sometimes I just get so overwhelmed, not only with my clients' stories but also just the task, proving to be exhaustive, of learning how to do all the stuff that comes along with my job that I didn't learn in school (there is, apparently, a reason that most therapists I know say they don't feel like they know how to do their job until they've been doing it 10 years... I suppose teachers and doctors, etc, would concur).

Anyhow.... some days I just need a good cry to deal with the stress. So I had one last night, and then I drove over to Goat's office holiday party. The theme was Animal House, complete with togas, slippery nipples, Dance-Dance-Revolution, karaoke, fries and fried cheese sticks that waiters were passing out on fancy silver trays. We danced until well past midnight. This morning, I drove to Beverly Hills for a doctor's appointment, and then continued along a scenic route up Santa Monica Boulevard (scenic for exploring purposes) and over the Hollywood Hills, past stores where I could probably trade my paycheck for a sweater... and I kept on going to Burbank, having lunch with a friend from my program and doing a little holiday shopping. It was a lovely day.

Oh, and yes, my doctor's office is in Beverly Hills. I picked Cedars-Sinai as my medical center because:

1. It was in my insurance group
2. I don't care much whether I live in a seedy neighborhood, but dammit, if my insurance will cover it, I'm done messing around with medical groups who only take cash, who lose your referrals, who refer you to doctors in BFE who don't speak English anytime you need a specialist, and who weigh you in the waiting room.

nothing, really

I am doing nothing right now.

And while there are days in the recent past when I did not like the doing of nothing, because it was strange and foreign, today is not one of those days. Today I like the nothing. Today I love the nothing. Today, I want to walk off into the sunset barefoot on the beach with nothing, hand in hand, knowing I'm going to get lucky later.

Of course, nothing feels so great right now because I know that in two hours I will pick up Becky D in Long Beach and we will gloriously, and with much verbosity, do nothing together for the next 24 hours. Because, really, too much nothing by yourself is no fun at all. But after a few years of always something, even though this nothing stuff is still pretty weird, and I don't expect it to last for long because I'll do what I usually do and fill time with something, anything -- right now, for today, I'm kinda digging the nothing.

Happy Saturday

You know how sometimes a project just kind of languishes around on your "to do" list for a really long time and then one day, you just wake up and decide it's finally time??

I just organized four years worth of photos on my computer.

Blink

During a recent visit to Boston, Natalie and I tried to get one good picture. Apparently, however, she's a blinker. How did I never know this before? We were pretty much 0-for-20.

Also, Hi from Vegas! We were there a few weeks ago for a wedding.

Ferdinand Ma-julie-an

I was a little explorer today! Now that I've finally gotten (most of) my stuff unpacked in my new place (or at least to the point where I can find what I need in the remaining boxes), I took a little time today to explore my new "neighborhood." Technically, where I live is pretty central to everything I do, but not really close to anything. I live in a little 3-street neighborhood tucked in between Dodger Stadium and Elysian Park. So today I just headed out on my bike and did a little 11-mile loop down the hill through Chinatown, then heading northwest on Sunset Boulevard through Echo Park and Silver Lake... then getting really lost on the way home because I forgot my map. I knew what direction to keep heading, but I ended up biking up all these big hills only to discover that the streets didn't connect and I had to bike down the other side and up another one. All in all, it was a nice day for a bike ride... I put my new panniers on the side so I didn't have to carry anything... and when I got home there was a nice big bowl of ice cream waiting for me in the freezer to reward me for all those hills. Yum.

Stipendgate 2007 -- the irony continues

No, they haven't decided to give me the money after all. I've pretty much given up on ever seeing any of it, and while I still think it's a horrible thing, my rage is subsiding, which is at least helping me move on with life. However, I did find out a tidbit of info from one of my advisers at Fuller, who sits on the board that was administering the stipends. She said that the loss of the stipends actually may be a product of the fact that the DMH got a huge amount of money from the state this year, but all that money came along with a whole new set of restrictions surrounding how/where they spend their money, and it seems that perhaps this program was not on the list of acceptable options.

So, in an ironic nutshell, it seems that the DMH isn't giving out the stipends because they have so much more money this year.

Is it ironic that the Department of Mental Health is driving me crazy?

I'm having a rough week. I know that life is not fair, but I really don't like it very much when it's not fair to me.

There, I'll just say it, and then proceed with my whiny post, and you can choose to read or to politely navigate away, somewhere cheerier.

I've started my new job, and it's going well, but still filled with all the uncertainties and flailing that come along with a new job. But Monday morning, I checked my email, and there was another email from the agency which is administering the DMH stipends. Before I opened it, I was wondering how much longer the meeting (see post below) had been postponed for. But then I opened it, and the news was much, much worse. My joking prediction to Goat was right. There's no money, they wrote, and boom, poof, the stipend I was "awarded" is gone.

The stipend amounted to about 25% of the salary I'd be earning this year, and a large reason I felt comfortable accepting the job at this salary is because I was counting on the stipend money. I'm torn between wanting to just move on with life, chuck it up to a case of Life's Not Always Fair, practice some of that Christian forgiveness... and wanting to figure out if I can sue their pants off. Really, I'm sure I will arrive at an option somewhere in between, but mostly this week I just feel really kicked in the stomach. The agency administering the program had never indicated that the funding wasn't already secured and guaranteed from the DMH. How could they have promised us money that they knew wasn't there yet, without telling us that part? The kicker is that one stipulation of receiving the funds was that we find employment with a DMH agency within 90 days of graduation... so all of us wanting to be compliant with our end of the bargain had already accepted and started jobs before we found out there's no money. I don't know if I have any recourse against the agency who offered us the stipends, but I feel like I can't quite let it rest that all I got was an email of "sincere apology" that the money I was counting on didn't exist.

I also started apartment hunting this week, and realized for the first time how much LA really costs. I guess I've been extensively sheltered from the cost of living here; having lucked out on a huge apartment for really reasonable rent for the last two years. I went to go view a couple of studio apartments in my price range, and they were in neighborhoods that even I wouldn't live in (and up until now I thought I would live just about anywhere).

I know I'll be OK, but I just feel a whole mess of icky things this week... angry, self-righteous, weepy, indignant, cynical, hopeless. Honestly, I'm feeling a little despondent that I have a Master's degree and I'm worrying about affordable housing. Will I be able to live, and eat, and occasionally take a weekend trip? Yes. No problem. But even though I do, somehow, still think this will all work out just fine, and I will like (maybe even love?) my job (can you put a price on that?), I catch myself wondering, this week, if I made a poor decision.

This is when Anne Lamott comes in handy, right?

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent... except yourself.

I just received an email from the institute that is dispersing DMH funds, stating that the stipends (which were supposed to begin being sent in June) are on hold until they have a hearing in October. I forwarded the email to Goat, with a snide comment about the inadequacy of the DMH and a prediction that I'd never see the money.

Only, I didn't send it to Goat. I accidentally hit "reply" and sent it back to the institute.

Anyone know of a good recipe for crow?

Did you miss me talking about the heat?

Apparently I came back to LA, to pack up my apartment, just in time for a heat wave.

It's so hot in my bedroom that my candles are melting, without being lit.

High Sierra

I bought a sweater at Mervyn's last week. A flimsy little cotton, lightweight, stretchy zip-up thing that will be perfect for work this winter (because I live somewhere where winter temperatures occasionally dip to, say, 65 degrees), with a completely-for-looks-because-it's-totally-useless flimsy cotton hood that only covers half your head.

And what brand was this little ditty? High Sierra.

Now, I know this sweater was not designed with the high Sierra in mind, but I'm not sure why a company who makes flimsy sweaters decided to call themselves High Sierra. Even Low Sierra Day Hike would have been a stretch. Maybe City Park on a Very Dry, Windless Summer Afternoon. I have been to the high Sierra, and this sweater would do you absolutely no good at 12,000 feet, except maybe for a pillow, only then your companions would scoff at you for wasting a lot of perfectly good space and weight in your pack hauling something that only has one function, and really, nobody wants that, right?

Anyhooo.... speaking of the high Sierra, I'm heading there tomorrow morning! And, in an extremely condensed version of the last week of my life which I will expand upon later, I accepted a job starting in September, so I can head off to the woods without the weight of having no idea what the future brings. I'll be stationed in Bridgeport and backpacking in Yosemite until the end of August!

penciled in

Does it make me a bad person, that one (of many) reasons I'm happy this week is because after a month or so of no schedule, I have a day-timer now, and it has things written in it?

911: The Irony Continues

This would be funny if it weren't so... well, I'm OK, so it is kind of funny by now.

Through absolutely positively no fault of my own (that's my disclaimer in case the insurance companies are scouring the internet for information) I was in an accident on the freeway last night. Someone in a lane traveling at 10 mph decided to change lanes abruptly into the lane where I was traveling at 50 mph, and, well, you do the math. So, armed with all my new information about the state of LA emergency services, what did I do? I didn't call 911, because I knew I'd be on hold. So I called 411 and asked to be connected with the highway patrol office. They connected me to an office that was closed. So I called 911 to reach CHP, where I was, predictably, on hold for 5 minutes before I gave up, because my car was still driveable and the other car was leaving anyway and it no longer made sense for me to be sitting on the side of the road on hold when I could go somewhere much safer and more comfortable and be on hold later.

Anyhow, today, I looked up the CHP number on their website, so that I could call them directly (instead of calling 911) and make a report. So, I called the local number of their Los Angeles office... and what do I hear?

"You have reached 911..." which was then promptly replaced by a human voice waiting to handle my emergency, now that I was sitting around in my apartment drinking iced tea and totally not having an emergency of any sort.

So, the new moral of the story, which makes me feel ever-so-slightly better, is that it's still kind of OK to have an emergency in LA, as long as it's during business hours.

Wii love boxing!

A few other pics from my travels are up at the photo blog...

Update

So, I turned in my keys at my internship site yesterday, after a couple long days of dotting I's and crossing T's in all my charts. Leaving that place came with too many goodbyes that I wasn't ready to say. Today I throw in some laundry, pack up, run some errands, and hop on a plane for a few weeks of much-anticipated vacation. Tonight to Boston, a few days with Natalie, then Goat flies in and we drive up to New Hampshire for a week at Squam Lake with his family. Then, hop a plane straight to Seattle and head to eastern Washington for a week at a lake with my family and a few extra days in Seattle (partially enjoying Seattle, partially avoiding July in Pasadena). The current plan is that I'll be in the Yosemite backcountry for a good chunk of August, guiding for Sierra Treks, and then when September rolls around, I'll find a job and a new place to live - not sure exactly where yet but for now the requirements are that it reduces the 30-mile commute to Goat. So, September is the new horizon I can see to, but beyond which I cannot see. And for now I'm OK with that. (I fully expect the angst to ratchet up in the fall, but in the meantime I'm planning on enjoying some vacation).

Here are some photos from graduation...

Security Guard

So we have this security guard at work... at least, I think that is his job title, and he does wear a uniform that makes him look like one. And while I can't say I've ever felt unsafe at work, at least not during the daytime, it is on the outskirts of a sketchy area and right next door to an adult clinic that serves the chronically/severely mentally ill. So I would at least like the security guard to sort of look like he's ready to deal with an incident, should one arise. To start with, he's about 5'6" and maybe weighs a buck ten. But aside from that, theoretically, I don't think he should be sitting on the bench outside all afternoon with his shoes and socks off, picking between his toes. I mean, I just think it would take a while to get them back on if he needed to chase someone or something.

Done... "ish"

Well, I have survived, and graduated, and celebrated, and all that jazz! I'll post pics this weekend. Graduation itself was on the long, boring side (it took an hour and 45 minutes to read all the names during the ceremony) but we survived. I only cried a couple of times (so far), not from being sad, just from the emotional upheaval of going that hard/fast/strong for so long and then being done. Actually, I'm kind of weaning myself a bit... I finish off with my clients and mountains of charts in the next two weeks, but at least there's no class or papers to deal with, so when I leave the office, my time is my own. Strangely, yesterday I was at work for 11 hours but when I was driving home, I felt like I was getting off early (don't feel sad for me or anything, I was only working for about 6-7 of those hours, the rest was wandering around the office in between appointments trying to figure out what needed to be done and hanging out with the other interns). The funny thing is, after having my parents staying here for a week, and all the busyness of graduation and guests and being with people every waking moment for the past 3 weeks, all I could think about during the day was going home, by myself, and staring at the ceiling for a few hours. Then, of course, driving home, I got this weird, unsettled, lonely feeling at knowing I was going to be all by myself with nothing to do for a few hours.

Don't worry, I got over it. But it was strange while it lasted.

Of the keeping in of the proverbial loop

Just to keep you posted...

Classes are done. Three papers to go. One apartment to clean. Two parents to collect from the airport. Four grad events to go to. One party to throw. And.... (drumroll please...)

Three hundred hours. 305, to be precise, as of today. I got my hours done last Tuesday so I will, officially, legally, without-even-having-to-fudge be done and graduated as of Saturday (assuming those three papers get done), even if all the rest of my clients for the month of June get lost, or forget, or have family emergencies.

separated at birth?

Match the name to the face:

a) Jason Lee from My Name is Earl
b) Goat's most recent facial hair configuration
c) the next door neighbor from Office Space

Goat is about to cut his hair and shave his beard... we had some fun with the "before" shots.

911 is a joke

Number of times I got a busy signal when I called 911 from the freeway the other day to report a car nearly engulfed in flames on the side of the road (no, not my car): 6

Number of minutes I sat on hold waiting for an operator after I got through: 4

Note to self, don't have an emergency in LA, unless it's not really an emergency...

Happy Bike to Work Week!!

Zoinks, I am falling behind!! Bike-to-work-week is already here. Hope it's not too late for y'all to join in. For those who don't remember, refresh your memory here and here. It's time for another leave-your-car-at-home challenge, same rules apply:

1. Bike (or walk, or carpool, or take public transportation) to work (or school, the grocery store, on a date) one day this week. Basically, replace a car trip with some other form of exercise or CO2-reducing locomotion. If you already bike to work, find another car trip to replace... you can always bike more!
   
2. Wear a helmet and follow local traffic laws, of course.
   
3. Send me a picture!!
4. Tell me how many miles you biked/walked/etc that you would have otherwise been in your car.
5. Did I mention send a picture of yourself on your spiffy bike/bus/two feet?
   
6. I will make a donation, based on total car miles reduced, to Wild Hope, the non-profit backpacking organization I guide for that spends the off-season lobbying for wilderness protection and leading trips designed to expose politicians to the wilderness their legislation has the potential to preserve.
   

Your bike doesn't have to be nice. It doesn't have to be pretty. It just has to have two wheels (and at least one working brake). Although, it's helpful if the tire's not full of earwigs, like the one Bronwyn and I fixed up a couple years ago. There are LOTS of websites out there designed to make this easier... so go ahead and google "bike to work week" along with the city you live in for info about events and incentives. Or go to a bike shop. Or call me. I'll help you.

Make me proud. Oh, and send me a picture!

Civic Doody

Argh. I had jury duty last week. And while, on some level, I have an appreciation for our judicial system, I really just didn't have that kind of time. I ended up having to cancel or reschedule six clients at the last minute, and was stressed about losing hours toward graduation, and really wanted to get dismissed from the jury. But before that could happen, you arrive at 8am and spend two hours getting "oriented" before they give all 50 of you an hour to drive five miles to another courthouse, the one where the actual cases are happening... and then they spend a while seating you in the courtroom and then, gosh, it's lunchtime so you have to wait around another hour and a half before jury selection actually begins.

Everybody in there wanted to get off the jury. The guy on my right was reading The Communist Manifesto and the guy on my left was sighing loudly every 10 seconds and obnoxiously proclaiming (over and over and over again) how he knows all the cops in Glendale. There was a woman on the panel who almost started crying while stating she could never convict someone because she was the mother of an adolescent (huh?), and a cinematographer who insisted (also many times) that he didn't think he could be fair because he had worked on a bunch of cop shows and movies (the best part of the day was when the judge leaned over and asked him if he knew the difference between TV and real life).

Anyhow, since it was a criminal trial, the prosecutor ended up (two hours later) kicking off everyone who had ever had a non-sunny-and-wonderful interaction with law enforcement, and for once in my life I was thankful that I was in that category. I said my brother had been arrested 15 years ago for something when he was a teenager and that I didn't think he had been treated fairly, and boom I was gone.

If it hadn't been such stressful timing (I couldn't postpone because there was no better time to reschedule for in the near future), it would have been a more enjoyable adventure. At the very least, it was entertaining to watch a room full of relatively normal, sane adults attempt to look earnest while trying to fly their freak-flags high enough to get sent home.

Mmmm chicken

So I'm thinking of changing the name of this blog from "Running with Scissors" to "Wobbling Slowly with Scissors, and Stopping Occasionally to Sit Down and Take a Nap." Because that is more accurate. And "wobbling with scissors" is sort-of what I feel like as a therapist some days now, just trying to poke and prod a little bit without drawing too much blood.

Anyhow, I kept meaning to write about Lent this year but never got around to it. I gave up meat for Lent, and Goat joined me. So when Passover came along and he gave up all wheat/flour/leavened things, I joined him as well. Which meant we had a week of meat-less, wheat-less overlap. Let's just say I ate lots of fruit and cottage cheese. Originally, I was disappointed with having given up meat for lent. The truth is, it's way too easy to substitute, especially here in California. So, while I was intending to sacrifice something, to deprive myself, to give myself pause to be more conscious of suffering and mortality, instead it was more just like a pesky little detail. No chicken? OK, I'll have the rice-and-bean burrito. No hamburger? How about a veggie burger. Over the course of 40 days, there were really only a few times I even felt a pinch.

But the last week, the week without meat or wheat (have you ever thought about how much stuff has wheat/flour in it, unless you're allergic?), that has been a stretch. I've never had to be so conscious of what I put in my mouth, or so intentional about rearranging my diet. The first couple of days weren't bad, because there were two seders, which left me so full that I didn't even want to eat the rest of the day (and if the food didn't fill you up, the four cups of wine helped you forget). The second couple of days were OK, because I'd stocked up on fruit and Goat's mom had loaded me up with several months worth of unleavened bread products and chocolate-covered matzo bread. But by this weekend, it was starting to get old. Plus, we road-tripped to Arizona and spent the weekend eating out with some of Goat's friends from Boston. Road-tripping without license to snack freely!? And it kills to go out to a restaurant and know that someone else is going to do all the cooking, and you can only have a salad. Happily, Easter arrived mid-weekend and gave us back our carnivorous ways... but by now (Passover ends Tuesday night), I'd give my right arm for a bowl of cereal in the morning.

So somewhere in here, I'm trying to distill the lessons I've learned. They're not particularly profound. But I wouldn't have traded the last seven weeks. First, it's made me consider going permanently veggie, because I've had the inkling that I wanted to for a while, and this showed me that I could. Second, I suppose it reminded me more about what I hope to get from Lent, which actually ends up being a lot of what I find in Passover (see point #3). Third, I love seders. There's something about the Haggadah, and what it stands for, the focus on God's providence and faithfulness, that makes me want to cry every time. I have no idea whether it is as striking to Goat, or to other Jewish people who may have been forced to sit through the prayers and songs for 30 years, but it moves me, even before I start on the wine. Fourth, even if you know that you can never really understand how someone else experiences something like Lent or Passover, there's a lot to be said for solidarity. I know Goat's reasons for observing Lent were different from mine, and I know my reasons for observing Passover were different from his, but I think it meant a lot to both of us that the other chose to do it, voluntarily, outside of the influence of obligation.

That said, I did cook up a yummy chicken breast tonight. And about 24 hours from now I will be eating cold cereal for dinner. Mmmmm granola....!

Hot fashionistas

And on a not-whiny note... here are a couple of pictures from a few weeks ago: my cohort went rollerskating in 80s outfits. At the top are my friends Jessica and Freya. Apparently I like to open my mouth in photos...

Volcano

It is Friday night of my supposed "spring break." I didn't take time off from my practicum because I've been worried about getting enough client hours to graduate, but I think maybe that was a bad idea. I worked four long days this week, and in the few spaces that I did have to "relax," I was too tired, and when I did have the energy to call someone, my few Pasadena friends (all from my all-consuming program, of course) were either out of town, working, or busy with something and didn't have space for me. So I made it through the week, but don't feel any better. And finally tonight, I arrived at the point where my exhaustion gave way, and the floodgates broke, and I had my week-seven, PMSing, exhaustion-induced breakdown four weeks late. And it feels like shit. But on the plus-side, instead of just a vast, impenetrable wall of tiredness and desire to not think about anything, I am at least in a place where the breakdown is forcing me to identify what it is that is "wrong," or hard, or just to be able to put words to what is going on.

All week I had been feeling like I needed a good cry, but the trigger ended up being my last client of the week, 6pm Friday: an adolescent who is really, completely, all-consumingly angry. With me.

I have done all my homework. I KNOW that she is projecting onto me how she feels about her mother. I KNOW it's what we the "the business" like to call TRANSFERENCE. But it feels horrible. I feel like a bad therapist, like I should have known how to avoid it, like I pushed her too hard, like I should have figured out a way to be a safe adult instead of another authoritarian figure. I also have to acknowledge my own crap though, in this instance, and admit that I am really really really afraid of people being angry with me. It pushes all of my people-pleasing buttons. I totally got defensive and snapped at her in session. Then when she was gone I went into the intern room and cried (luckily, of course, there is nowhere better to be when you are having a crying moment than in an office full of therapists), because I felt like I had failed her as a therapist.

Anyhow, I know my little stress-shedding crying jag was only about 20% related to this, and 80% just related to being so. crazy. tired. right now. I slept 22 hours in the last two days and could probably sleep another 12 tonight. The strange thing is, I feel like I can actually handle the schedule better when I'm in the middle of a quarter and hardly have time to breathe, because there's enough adrenaline pumping, enough deadlines looming, and not enough time to think about how much I'm working. All of a sudden, this week, I have a few hours off and for the first time in a while I have the space to realize all I do is work and go to school. I had time off, and Goat is on his way to Boston for the weekend, and the few people I know are out of town... and I feel like all I have is this big giant... space... that reminds me that I work so much that I don't have a life. I hardly even play Ultimate anymore. I hardly bike, don't knit, don't hike, don't climb, don't run, don't go out for beers at the end of the day... the only people I know in Pasadena are in my program, which means we're all too busy and tired to actually just hang out with each other.

Which brings me to my last Thing That I'm Frustrated About, which is that somewhere in the trade-off of finding a job that I love (99% of the time, when my clients are not angry with me), it requires a lot of emotional energy, and I have not yet figured out how to guard against that, and I feel like I have lost the energy to be available to the friends I do have. To return phone calls and emails, to really listen and be present, to send birthday gifts on time (OK, so I never really sent them on time), to initiate fun activities, to be hospitable, to create spaces for community to happen. I have energy for school and Goat. Other than that, at the end of the day all I'm good for is a little anti-social boggle online, or if I'm doing well, a little online Scrabble date with Goat (I know, we're nerds. What's it to you?).

So, sigh, that's the volcano that needed to blow a little tonight and spew some lava (and snot). I know I'll feel better tomorrow. I just bought new cleats, and they have polka-dots on them, and I am going to play Ultimate in my new polka-dot cleats tomorrow.

Interesting things that other people come up with

I used to like to write. I used to like to spend time crafting words, and hemming and hawing over just the right phrase, to turn a passing thought into social commentary. Somewhere in me, buried deep beneath the grad school layer, I think maybe that is still there, and if I am lucky it will live to write again. For now, even during spring break, I got nothin'.

Luckily, however, other people do! So mosy on over and read all about the current dissent in Washington, finally acknowledging the paralyzing hiccups of No Child Left Behind. (I'm assuming you're OK with me stealing the link, Bronwyn...)

whine whine whine

This is a complainer post just to tell the world how tired I am today, because somehow I think that will make me feel better. I mean, there are these people doing some sort of long-term Try-Never-To-Complain-Again project, to make the world safe from whining, but I happen to think a little whining now and then, to get it out so you can move on, keeps the world turning 'round.

First, I remembered today as I was pulling up to work that construction began on our building today. That means our parking lot is full of construction vehicles, so we have to park a half-mile away at Macy's and take a shuttle. Then I had to make it through a break-less day including four hours of supervision, two hours of training, and a two-hour intake with jackhammers running 20 feet away, shaking the whole building and ensuring that everyone had to yell to be heard. Then I had to get back to my car and go tutor a 12-year-old who likes to pretend that I'm the meanest person in the world for suggesting that if he actually showed his work he might starting getting more than 34% on his math tests. Now I'm back at my apartment, where it is a balmy 85 degrees inside, and try to stay awake long enough to write two papers tonight which I really. don't. want. to. write.

It is finals week and I am already counting down the minutes until Friday. I'll re-appear then from a happier, more-well-rested place! In the meantime, here is my adorable goddaughter, who I got to hang with (along with her mother, my friend Jessica, whom I have known since we were big-banged, huge-glasses-wearing nerdy new kids in the 5th grade) for too little time in Seattle last weekend.

Three things...

... that made the news closer to the top of the hour than anything having to do with anything important going on in the world:

-the judge crying at the hearing to determine the paternity of Anna Nicole's baby (which is now contested by no less than three men)

-Britney (by the way, did we mention she shaved her head?) back in rehab... again (3rd time this week...)

-rain.

Yes, RAIN. Actually, verbatim, "cold drizzle," made the news tonight above any headlines about wars, politics, education, or nuclear armament. They had cameras on the streets of downtown LA interviewing people with umbrellas and a guy in a t-shirt (it's still February, remember?) who was shocked he may have needed a jacket today.

OK, enough of that. You all know how I love television news.

The other Anna Nicole Show

Was it just a really slow news day yesterday? Is that why all the stations spent a full fifteen minutes at the top of the news hour talking about the death of Anna Nicole Smith, as if she was an ex-president? Or was that just here in LA?

procrastination elation

Julie does not want to write a six page paper about her family dynamics going back three generations tonight. Julie has better things to do with her time, including:

• search for jobs that she cannot apply for until late 2007
• make lists of things to do to stave off depression when school ends and she has to start making decisions about her own life again
• discern which of the things going through her head she should bring up with The Boy, preferably in the middle of the night while he is trying to fall asleep, and which things to just keep in her pretty little head
• get a jump on planning that next trip to South America (after discovering, in above-mentioned job search, a number of $5000 sign-on bonuses for Spanish-speaking therapists)
• blog about procrastinating
• figure out why Jack Bauer has no trouble placing cell phone calls in the aftermath of a nuclear bomb blast in LA

Off to watch 24...

Mean girlfriend

I'm a mean girlfriend. I made Goat go on a rollercoaster with me at Universal Studios. He is not a fan. But I got a good picture!

irony

I have been unable to do pretty much any physical activity for a while. Sure I would sneak a few points of ultimate here and there, but eventually that caused me so much pain that I resigned myself to doing nothing more than walking. I finished a round of physical therapy and on Friday was finally cleared to start biking again. Woo hoo!

Woke up this morning and was cooking breakfast when Goat looked outside and said, "hey, where's your road bike?"

Somebody stole it while it was locked up on my second floor balcony. The funny thing (well, not funny, just ironic) is that it had been unlocked for months on the balcony until a friend of mine had her $1200 road bike stolen from her third floor balcony 10 days ago, so I came home and locked mine up.