List - o - randomness

OK, here is what I am thinking today. It's mostly neurotic, which is what happens when I spend too much time alone.

* I love my classes. I love studying something that I am actually going to use someday, instead of just filling my brain with esoteric ideas that are fun to talk about but don't really ever translate into real life.

* I am afraid of studying something useful, because it means that I will actually have to use it, which involves being evaluated (I can handle taking tests, but videotaping myself practicing therapy makes me want to pee my pants, which I do not really want on tape). It's one thing to be found incompetent in something I don't care about (like filing, or decorating Pete's office). It is an entirely different thing to risk being found incompetent at something I actually care about doing well. I spent the last two years gleefully churning through jobs, because those "failures" (which they were not) didn't mean anything. If I fail here, if I'm a royal bomb of suckage in the therapy arena, then I will have failed at something I actually wanted, which is an entirely different scenario, of which I am petrified. It's been so long since I felt competent at anything that I'm afraid to get my hopes up.

* When exactly did I become a person who assumes I am going to fail at anything that matters?

* I really like hummus.

* Anne Lamott says she mainly only prays two prayers: "Help me help me help me" and "Thank you thank you thank you." I am using them heavily this week, with the occasional addition of, "and ten degrees cooler would be nice."

* I think there are many Christians who could stand to have their definition of "worship" expanded beyond "singing in church."

* Thank you thank you thank you God for surprise conversations with neighbors who turn out to be really cool, just when you really need a good conversation to pull your day out of the trash.

* I will be less cynical tomorrow

I hate it when that happens.

So, last week, there's a guy in my apartment building who intrigues me. Tall, from Seattle, likes backpacking... I mean, I don't have a "list" when it comes down to it, but he had a few things that register on my radar. I hadn't run into him, though, and of course was too chicken to find an excuse to knock on their door. On Tuesday, I was walking home with Nate and Carrie, and Nate disappeared into the bookstore to see if a friend he wanted to introduce me to was there. Sans Nate, I mentioned this boy to Carrie, while lamenting that all the guys at Fuller are either married or dating small blond girls who wear cute shoes (did I come to BYU by mistake or something?). I turn around as Nate comes out, and lo and behold guess who he's trailing behind him? The apt. #6 hottie.

I, of course, manage to lose half my brain cells and eke out a conversation that includes the occasional two-syllable word. We're talking about hiking! His trip to Seattle last week! His cool shoes! We're connecting!

Then he mentions that his trip to Seattle was to help his fiancee move down to LA. Sigh. My brain returns, I finish out the conversation (without asking about his girlfriend's size and haircolor, to confirm my suspicions), and I observe Carrie over my shoulder, trying to stifle a giggle while offering me a sypmathy glance as she puts two and two together and realizes this is who I was talking about.

I figure, if nothing else, dating while getting my MFT should at least keep all my commitment/fear of rejection issues close to the surface as good fodder for my own therapy....

Super Grover

So here are a couple shots of my climbing buddy Grover. It's a little hard to tell in the Barney Lake shot, but he's about 5 inches tall and I made him a swiss seat out of a red shoelace, just like mine (only not the shoelace part). Just add one of those little keychain 'biners, and voila! Grover was ready for a little mountain action. He did the whole Inoculum route through Hoover and Yosemite with us, climbed a 5.7, and summited Tower Peak (12K feet). What can I say, the little guy gets around... I was quite surprised to see him in Hollywood a couple weeks later, a little furrier, a little taller, and demanding money from me to have his photo taken.

Welcome to LA

So here I am in LA. Eleven years after I was dying to go to UCLA (but wasn't willing to pay out-of-state tuition), I finally arrive in SoCal, at Fuller (only to pay private school tuition, go figure). I keep wondering what I would have been like now if I'd come here at the tender age of 18, rather than the slightly-less-tender-and-more-jaded age of 29. Which parts of personality are latent, like paint-by-numbers artwork that's just waiting for the brush to apply water and reveal what's been there all the time? Or is it more like watercolor, an original artwork formed bit-by-bit, unknown before it exists? Would I have been shaped differently, having been here over the last defining decade? For example, would I actually enjoy spending time at the beach? Would I wear cuter shoes and more makeup? Would I think honking my horn was a reasonable action to take toward another human being? Would I recycle less?

I'm surprised at how often, during orientation week, we allowed the answer to the question "where are you from?" to define us and pave the way for our future friendships. If I only had 30 seconds to make a first impression, I quickly put forth my Seattle/Berkeley roots to speak for me, for the things I couldn't elaborate on in the not-unlike-speed-dating environment: interests, political leanings, climate preference, driving habits, outdoor proclivities, theological stance, music preferences, beer selection.... Some people are racist, but I am discovering how much of a self-righteous geographist I am. I made a mental note of the northwesterners (call these people soon), SoCal natives (dismiss the cute, perky ones), the midwesterners (Illinois and Michigan make the cut, Iowa not so much) and the nebulous Philadelphians (could go either way... not enough geographical baggage to pin down just yet).

Anyhow, here I am. Still in awe of the palm trees lining my street, the fact that it occasionally gets above 75 degrees and I should buy a second pair of shorts, and the ads for liposuction constantly droning on both English and Spanish radio stations. I've hunted down local Ultimate games and the nearest REI. I found the entrance to the secret parking lot at Trader Joe's. I now own a coffee grinder.

Bring it on.

Now THAT'S Weird.

You Are 10% Weird

You're totally, completely normal. And that's pretty darn weird!

How Weird Are You?

Harumph, I do not agree... they asked stupid questions. I like to think I'm way weirder than that.