Checking In

Hello y'all!
I've gotten 3 emails and one AIM asking me why I don't blog anymore (now mind you, I'm pretty sure those 4 people are ALL of my readers, but still.). I honestly don't have much of a reason, except that I can't really think of anything to say. My life has been weird for the last several months. I moved. Got a crazy code violating landlord. Moved again. Finished the quarter at school. Started the summer quarter. Got SUPER fat. Have pledged to sell out. Was diagnosed with Celiac Disease and still think it's a mistake. And hit the $200,000.00 mark for my student loans. Don't worry. None of it is as serious as it sounds. Mostly I've been observing/learning. "Observing/learning what?", you may ask. Ah, well allow me to answer you.

*Ahem*

• Unless you are holding money in your hand, act as though is doesn't exist.
• I like the show Two and a Half Men and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
• I like Lady Gaga and I am ashamed to admit it.
• Some part of me, deeeep, deep down still believes that I TOO can be Elle Woods.
• Self-deprecation is super in. People love to say they're assholes and tell the world how unsavory of a character they are. I blame Tucker Max.
• I'm a huge asshole and not of good character.
• I used to like children. I don't anymore.
• I used to like puppies. I don't anymore.
• If someone gave me a huge chunk of money and told me I could either feed 100 orphans or get skinny people surgery, I'd get the surgery. I'd rather be a dick than fat. Sadly, I am now both.
• I think my girlfriend is the most beautiful woman in the world. Now, I know this is impossible. What would the most beautiful person in the world be doing with me? But still, it's what I think.
• I'd do pretty much anything to get rid of some of my student loans. I'd even join an armed force. Alas, they may not ask but I sure as hell will tell.
• My least favorite chore is kitty litter.
• I love Family Guy. It makes me happy(ish).
• I have some really brave and tough friends, who have a stronger will than I’ll ever have. Jesus, some of them can bounce!
• I'm lazy, spoiled, and entitled. After carefully scrutinizing my life it is clear that every problem I have is my fault. Fortunately, much of it can be corrected or salvaged, if I stop being so lazy, spoiled, and entitled.
• My family is amazing. My aunts and uncles are insanely accomplished and noble. My cousins are all so smart and talented and are sure to take over the world.
• I'm getting a new baby sibling around Christmas. That's gonna be 5. Now I can say things like, "I am the oldest of 6." Makes me sound like Matt from 7th Heaven...kinda...cause we're only 6. But still.
• Changing your name is annoying. Even 2 years later. It can do things like mess up your passport/travel plans, causing you to miss your flight, trip, and friend of 18 years wedding. neato.
• I have yet to figure out what makes a kitty litter "for multiple cats". They all seem the same to me.
• No seriously, though...why can't I be Elle Woods?
• I've noticed that life is about money. I'm not saying that money makes people happy, but all of the seemingly happy people I know have some. All of the people considering mixing their Klonopin (yes, everyone is on it) and booze until they are comatose, don't.
• I wish Buffy and Gilmore Girls were still on. Those shows made me happy.
• Being a social worker sucks. I feel like any social worker who tells you otherwise is full of shit. Now, I pretty much knew this when I was getting into it, but now I know for sure. Where the hell is my six figure salary for having such a shitty, high risk (gang bangers, addicts, rapist, and other unsavory folks) "helping profession" job?
• I think rapists should receive the same sentence as 2nd and 1st degree murderers (using the same premeditated vs. not, criteria), because they, in essence, have killed a person.
• I HATE the reverend Al Sharpton.
• Papa Joe Jackson is a monster.
• The 30s (even though this is only my 1st year in my 30s) are WAY different than the 20s. Anything past 24 is just not a good idea.
• That's pretty much all I've come up with over the last few months. None of it is groundbreaking, but it's all I've got so far.

Social Workers are people too???

They forgot to mention this part at orientation...they also left out the part where we will continue to care about people in our personal lives too...and sometimes shitty things happen to them.

“Vicarious Trauma

Strong emotions are a normal part of working with and/or knowing victims of crime. Victim assistance professionals…should expect to have their own emotions unbalanced at times. As victims unburden themselves with tales of horrific experiences, healers absorb some of the pain. In effect, they become witnesses to the traumatic experience. [Those in helping professions] may become subject to compassion fatigue, also known as burnout. In some cases, they risk an even more serious danger:

vicarious or secondary trauma...

Symptoms
Vicarious trauma is a stress reaction that may be experienced by victim assistance professionals who are exposed to disclosures of traumatic images and events by those seeking help. Helping professionals may experience long-lasting changes in how they view themselves, others, and the world.The symptoms of vicarious trauma are similar to, but usually not as severe as, those of post traumatic stress disorder, and can affect the lives and careers of even those with considerable training and experience in working with disaster and trauma survivors. They may include—
Intrusions such as flashbacks or nightmares.
Avoidance, in which the person tries to reduce exposure to the people or situations that might bring on his or her intrusive symptoms.
Hyperarousal or physical symptoms such as hypervigilance, sleeplessness, or increased startle response.

Risk Factors
Factors that increase the risk of vicarious trauma include—
Unexpected or repeated exposure to trauma.
The degree of empathy that a victim assistance professional or loved one feels for the victim's suffering.
Unresolved emotional issues.

Prevention and Response
It is crucial for those who work with or are personally connected to victims to find ongoing support systems for themselves, and to identify situations that may trigger unresolved emotional issues and refer such cases to a colleague. Often, simply acknowledging the effect on one that others' pain has can be one of the best coping mechanisms. The victim assistance community also may be able to provide support by using established debriefing techniques. Finally, for those who are exposed to a mass victimization, participation in a well-run critical incident stress debriefing (CISD) may be helpful.”

For the record, that last part never really happens...or let's say rarely, to be safe. Some feel it makes them weak and/or selfish to tap into that...but oddly would never feel that a friend or colleague who accessed that resource was weak or selfish. Weird.

Humble Pie

I am a social worker. Like many professions we are governed by a code of ethics and we take an oath. It’s long, so I’ll just give you the gist. It a little diddy that goes a lil’ somethin’ like this:

“…The primary mission of the social work profession is to enhance human well-being and help meet the basic human needs of all people, with particular attention to the needs and empowerment of people who are vulnerable, oppressed, and living in poverty. A historic and defining feature of social work is the profession's focus on individual well-being in a social context and the well-being of society. Fundamental to social work is attention to the environmental forces that create, contribute to, and address problems in living…”

M’kay. So that’s my job and I guess I take it seriously or whatever. They call it a “helping profession.” Oh. So I guess I help people. In theory. But what about being helped? I must say that until recently I never really thought about it. I mean, why would anyone help me? For starters, I don’t need help. Further…well I can’t really imagine who’d want to help me. I’m very…average, and have been proven to be easily dismissed and disposable by people who I was sure cared for me. Cue the violins, right? Wrong. I’m actually a very content human being who really doesn’t think about that sorta thing unless asked to do so.
I have a point, I swear.

This leads me to my story. I must preface this with saying that I am seriously embarrassed to talk about this. It’s far too sharey. But I’m working on my humility, which ties into this story, so here goes.

Those of you who know me know that I am in my final year of graduate school. I decided to take a summer course. Like many I rely on student loans to get through school and when things go wrong with them…well as I have recently learned, that can be a bad thing. Not, “oh man there’s nothing on but Two and a Half Men reruns” bad. but like, “Oh man. My period is three weeks late” bad.

I’m going to make a VERY long story short so I can get to what matters here. My school fucked up my summer loan package so badly that my loan are now four weeks late and I am told won’t be here for another 6 days. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been out of food for a while and so have my pets. We’ve actually been sharing what’s been left of my food. I’ve told a couple of close friends and was over-heard by one of my co-workers talking to my best friend from home, practically in tears. Now before this sounds like a pity-party, let’s get down to what’s really going on here.

This is not a story about my temporary poverty or my not so sharp financial aid dept. at school. So, starting about a week ago a few people found out about how bad this whole thing has gotten (for me. There are people in this world who are far worse off and it is not temporary, as my situation is. That is important to note.). And in the past week, this is what has happened:

Last week a co-worker dropped a month CTA pass on my desk and $15.00 and said in a deep Bosnian-war surviving-mom voice, “take this and don’t say a word. You will buy some food.” I peed a little. She’s scary and sounds like Dracula…and is one of the most loving humans I’ve ever met. My birthday was 2 days ago and the Saturday prior friends took me to eat and refused to let me pitch in a nickel (good. I don’t have one). On my birthday I got into work and there was a gift on my desk and a birthday note…and cookies. A different co-worker handed me money and said, “I didn’t have time to get your gift. Take this. Go buy pet food. It’s your birthday, you can’t say no.” Then my co-workers took me to lunch near my house, stuffed me and sent me home…I worked only two hrs that day. The night of my birthday my friends (one of whom is a relative of an ex and doesn’t even need to acknowledge me, let alone spoil and love me) got me pizza and cup cakes and watched my favorite dvds with me while we stared at the most perfect birthday gift ever, that they got me. Yesterday, my co-workers found another lame-ass excuse to take me to lunch despite my protests. My friend Anne sent me a birthday card with a note in it that made me feel for the 1st time in as long as I can remember that I might be worth being loved even though I fuck up so, SO much. I feel confident in saying that she is my friend and she loves me. And I don’t feel weird saying that. Yesterday my friend Donna took me to the movies and got me my favorite movie snack for a post-birthday, friend-date. Tonight my friend Kim took me for birthday drinks because she missed my birthday. But here is the kicker…I got a sudden knock on my door tonight and when I opened it there was my friend MSG and her gf with bags of groceries for me and my pets. Like, for real.

I didn’t ask a single one of these people to help me. I didn’t expect any of them to care that I felt frustrated and fearful. They just…helped me. I spend a lot of time thinking about who doesn’t love me and I risk missing the people who do. I don’t really think this was that good of a story, but it’s a true story. People helped me b/c they wanted to and because maybe some people think I matter. I didn’t know that. I hope I deserve it. So that’s my story about humble pie. Maybe it was more for me than it was for you. And yes. I cried when I wrote this. Maybe I’m getting old. I’m not sure what I think, but I do know that I’m catching myself in the middle of almost knowing something. I’ll let you know when I figure out what that is. Maybe it’s just a matter of trying to maintain whomever it is that those people think I am that compelled them to want to make me feel safe. Ok. I’m out of thoughts now. I’m going to bed. Wait. One more. I don’t remember the last time I told someone I loved them who’s not a baby or an animal. I…yeah. That’s all I got so far.

**POINT OF INTEREST: I was not drunk when I wrote this.

Everything I Ever Needed To Know I Learned From Buffy

After nearly 10 years of higher education and well over $100,000.00 in student loans it suddenly occurred to me. What a waste! EVERYTHING I EVER NEEDED TO KNOW I LEARNED FROM BUFFY.

For starters,
“Seize the moment. Cause’ tomorrow you might be dead.”

“What is your childhood trauma?” is the most direct way to attempt to understand a person’s psyche.

Even if you’re like, 400 years old a naughty school-girl outfit can knock off MORE than a few years.
*note to self: buy naughty school-girl outfit. Wear it.

Don’t hangout in cemeteries. What possible good thing could ever come from that?

First dates should be scheduled during daylight hours…in direct sunlight. Second dates should be scheduled during a full moon.

Right or wrong, a symbol matters more than the thing it has come to represent. Meaning, I’m over the whole Jesus debate. Who cares as long as his symbol can keep things from killing me?

Punch first. Ask questions later.

We should attempt to work out a more appropriate retribution/restitution plan for the Native Americans our forefathers brutalized when settling this here “land of the free.” It’d be in everyone’s best interest. Really.

You were right. High school was a really weird experience.

Red heads CAN be sexy…if you give them a corset and leather pants.

Stay away from frat guys.

Eve did NOT bite the apple. There was no apple. And probably no Eve. So “those guys” can stop using that as an excuse as to why women are weak and cannot be trusted to properly handle temptation, and should therefore not be put in positions of leadership and power. It’s official. You made it up. Put that in your goofy hat and bullet-proof golf cart and smoke it!

Faith isn’t ALWAYS a great thing to have. In fact, in can result in death/near-death.

Other people’s sisters seem to be…unnatural occurrences too.

“Angel” isn’t really THAT gay of a name.

F***ing the wrong person can steal your soul and make you do some REALLY f***ed up things. Avoid it if you can.

I want a leather trench coat. PETA can suck it.

If you need to get a seriously difficult/important job done (i.e. saving the world), assign it to a woman. Men are “watchers.”

There is at least one lezzie in every Scooby gang. Right Velma?

If you need time to think, take off your classes and clean them. It’ll come to you.

Don’t pick on the nerd in high school. They’ll probably end up being way cooler than you’ll ever be, and even if they’re not cooler they might end up with the means to destroy you with the flick of their wrist.
*note to self: Damn it! Why wasn’t this series out when I was in high school?!

You were right. Your freshman year college roommate was NOT normal.

Other people’s moms are cooler than mine.

Other people’s moms are WAAAAAY worse than mine.

Don’t take candy from strangers.

Now this we all already knew but, College = let’s find out if I’m a lezzie.

Never buy a home without at least one spare bedroom. You might get a whole lot of house guests at once and you’ll want to be prepared. Otherwise things can get a little tense.

Pirate patches don’t work for everyone.

Everyone should really stop kissing Southern California’s ass. It’s not really that great/safe of a place to be…and not just because of earth quakes and LiLo still having her driver’s license.

Hair dye and/or an English accent can turn a dork into a sexy, bad-ass mo-fo.
*note to self: Get hair dye and/or an English accent.
*note to self: Call Brita.

People who play with dolls are crazy.

One extremely pissed off lezzie with exceptional intelligence can cause a lot—like A LOT of damage.
*note to self: Do what Fannie says. Don’t ask questions. Further; protect her girlfriend at all cost.

Don’t invite strangers into your home. Make sure you pass that on to all of your family members.

Men can get kinda chubby and still be considered cute and adorable and charming and all that stuff. Women are supposed to get skinnier as time goes on.
Note to self: That sucks.

You were right. Your high school principal WAS evil.

Your mom doesn’t get it. That’s ok.

Don’t drink too much. It could make you act…stupid.

If a dead guy starts asking you to do him favors, don’t. I’m guessing he has some sort of ulterior motive.

And most importantly…watch out for the pretty, innocent looking blonde. She’ll kill you.

Well, that’s about it. Quite honestly, I can’t think of anything else I’d need to get by. Wish I knew that $100,000.00 ago!