What I have learned so far at work:
Two of my co-workers had children at the age of 16. Yikes. I would sooner die.
Another co-worker currently has two children at the age of 24. Additionally, her ex-boyfriend is probably going to jail soon, and her mother has moderate to severe schizophrenia. She has asked me with my "psychological" expertise to help her...sorry, I don't offer free counseling sessions, nor am I qualified to.
Doctors and nurses are very, very specific about what they want, how they want it, and at what time and manner. Very.
Medical school includes the following course in its curriculum:
Doctor Writing 101: How to Write like an Epileptic Toddler and Laugh While Everyone Struggles to Decipher It.
The beautiful scenery on the streets of Chicago and Franklin, where I work:
- Shirtless children being pulled in shopping carts (apparently substitutes for strollers)
- Six year-old children babysitting several toddlers with no parent in sight
- Homeless people “dancing” and talking to themselves
- Valet drivers crashing into buildings, confusing me and my staff to think that Minnesota just had its first earthquake (actually happened, yes)
- Obscene graffiti on 50% of the road signs
I am entering my second week of work as a receptionist for Childrens Heart Clinic in Minneapolis. While initially thrilled to end my employment drought, I foolishly thought training would be a light rain - a sprinkle, so to speak.
Think again. I walked right into monsoon season, without even so much as an umbrella (silly me). Everything seems to be rushing at me at once. I’m trying to remember and memorize a zillion little things. I feel like I’m constantly paddling upstream…for every five things I take pride in learning or memorizing, I’m bombarded with ten more things that must also be memorized.
Childrens Heart Clinic is a very busy, very respectable pediatric heart clinic – one of the best in Minnesota. It’s stressful and fast-paced. A mistake on my part is big, because we’re dealing with children with serious heart defects/disease.
Some parts of it are fun. I like wearing scrubs; however, finding scrubs that fit me is quite a dilemma. I tried some on at the mall yesterday, and yes, while it is no surprise I am “petite,” their small sizes still managed to make me feel like a midget posing in Yao Ming’s jersey. I mean, seriously, it was like you could fit three of me in it, and twelve of my boobs (so you know that it must have been big, lol)
I feel incompetent, dumb, stressed, tired.
So for all of you out there who say “Wow, I’m loving my first job, it’s so wonderful and everything is great,” you’re either living in the most primitive form of human coping – denial – or you are one very, very lucky amigo.
Yes, with time, I will probably become less stressed at my job. However, I feel like I will never know everything in this place; even the receptionist that has been there for a year asks questions to the primary receptionist a lot. I mean, if she doesn’t know it by now…how the heck am I supposed to know it?
All this work has given me little time to work on grad school applications and essays, let alone try to figure out if I even want to go to grad school, and whether I want to continue to pursue psychology or completely abandon it and go to writing/English/teaching.
Sometimes I feel like I would be happier teaching, writing, expressing my creative side. I know I wouldn't really get an outlet to do that in a health or mental health setting.
Yet, starting over seems like such a hassle...getting another degree, going back to school...I really would have to be 100% positive I want to do it.
I also have to look at the long run...a career isn't just a month, or a year...it's decades long. What job will I have the most fun in, and have the least likelihood to burn out in? What will let me be myself the most, and allow me to be creative, yet challenge me? To me, teaching is written all over those questions...I just wish I didn't have to start over...
Quarter-life crisis = not my idea of fun :(
Song of the moment:
“Stop this train.” By John Mayer.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Soulmates: Fact, Fantasy, or Fiction?
Do I believe in a soulmate?
No.
I think that’s silly, and those who do believe it suffer from a perpetual state of naïveté.
I think it’s dangerous to believe in just one person.
I mean, holy crap, that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. One person? In this entire world? Yikes.
If there is just one person, I worry:
1.) How the HELL am I supposed to find this person, this one person?
(People who have strong religious beliefs would probably answer this with, “Live your life according to God, live by his purpose, lead a good life…and love will come to you.” Many of these people often marry too early, live too optimistically, and then stay in bad marriages while feigning a smile on the outside to their neighbors in Pleasantville.)
2) What happens if he or she dies?
What, then I’m just shit out of luck – and love – for the rest of my life?
No.
No, I don’t believe in one, single soulmate.
But…
Do I believe in soulmates (plural) ?
You bet I do.
See, here’s the thing:
I can probably find love everywhere.
I could stay in Minnesota my whole life and fall in love.
I could study abroad for a year in Japan, and find love.
I could move to beaches of Cali, a ski village in Colorado, an apartment in Manhattan…
and guess what, more than likely, I will find – and fall in – love.
I could find love, marry, divorce, remarry, have my spouse die…and find love all over again, at age 75. Crazy? Not really. It happens all the time.
I might have met one or two of my soulmates already. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have. I’m almost 100% positive I have.
So, who is a soulmate?
And how many do each of us get?
It’s hard to say.
However, this is what I believe:
I believe there is a small, finite number of people you can potentially meet in this world that you connect with on all levels – sexually, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.
We date people all the time, and they may fit with us on one, two, even three of these levels. But if all levels aren’t in sync, then it’s not quite a soulmate.
Often times, we let an overabundance of one of these domains replace another domain.
For example, a man, or woman, who’s extremely attractive and sexually arousing may cause us to turn a blind eye, or ignore, the fact that we have clashing beliefs on spirituality. We might ignore the fact that he or she doesn’t carry a good, stimulating conversation and just let “the sex do the talking.”
We might find a man or woman whose intellect provides for many a stimulating conversation, and ignore the fact that we do not get butterflies when he or she kisses our lips or looks into our eyes.
You will date these people.
You might even love these people. But they are not one of your soulmates.
A soulmate fulfills all of these categories.
A soulmate is someone:
- you find very attractive, both physically and sexually
- whose sense of humor matches yours; who makes you smile and laugh
- who understands you and cares for your emotional well-being
- whose spiritual beliefs closely match yours
- who you can talk to day after day, and always come up with new, interesting, exciting things to talk about
There’s no guarantee that you will find all – or any – of your soulmates.
You might find ten of them - or you may never find one.
But they are out there.
And soulmates aren’t always the ones you end up marrying.
They might not even be available.
They might already be married.
They might be still heartbroken over a past lover.
They might even die the day before you would ever get to meet them.
But…they exist.
And as long as this planet has millions of people, with millions of personalities…
Soulmates will continue to exist.
Perhaps Dawson said it best:
(yes, Dawson from Dawson’s Creek…hey, don’t you dare snicker until you read the damn quote! :) )
Lilly: What's a soulmate?
Dawson: It's a…well, it's like a best friend, but more. It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you laugh, who makes you a better person, well, actually they don't make you a better person... you do that yourself-- because they inspire you. It's the one person who knew you, accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did, or when no one else would. And no matter what happens...you'll always love them.
No.
I think that’s silly, and those who do believe it suffer from a perpetual state of naïveté.
I think it’s dangerous to believe in just one person.
I mean, holy crap, that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. One person? In this entire world? Yikes.
If there is just one person, I worry:
1.) How the HELL am I supposed to find this person, this one person?
(People who have strong religious beliefs would probably answer this with, “Live your life according to God, live by his purpose, lead a good life…and love will come to you.” Many of these people often marry too early, live too optimistically, and then stay in bad marriages while feigning a smile on the outside to their neighbors in Pleasantville.)
2) What happens if he or she dies?
What, then I’m just shit out of luck – and love – for the rest of my life?
No.
No, I don’t believe in one, single soulmate.
But…
Do I believe in soulmates (plural) ?
You bet I do.
See, here’s the thing:
I can probably find love everywhere.
I could stay in Minnesota my whole life and fall in love.
I could study abroad for a year in Japan, and find love.
I could move to beaches of Cali, a ski village in Colorado, an apartment in Manhattan…
and guess what, more than likely, I will find – and fall in – love.
I could find love, marry, divorce, remarry, have my spouse die…and find love all over again, at age 75. Crazy? Not really. It happens all the time.
I might have met one or two of my soulmates already. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have. I’m almost 100% positive I have.
So, who is a soulmate?
And how many do each of us get?
It’s hard to say.
However, this is what I believe:
I believe there is a small, finite number of people you can potentially meet in this world that you connect with on all levels – sexually, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.
We date people all the time, and they may fit with us on one, two, even three of these levels. But if all levels aren’t in sync, then it’s not quite a soulmate.
Often times, we let an overabundance of one of these domains replace another domain.
For example, a man, or woman, who’s extremely attractive and sexually arousing may cause us to turn a blind eye, or ignore, the fact that we have clashing beliefs on spirituality. We might ignore the fact that he or she doesn’t carry a good, stimulating conversation and just let “the sex do the talking.”
We might find a man or woman whose intellect provides for many a stimulating conversation, and ignore the fact that we do not get butterflies when he or she kisses our lips or looks into our eyes.
You will date these people.
You might even love these people. But they are not one of your soulmates.
A soulmate fulfills all of these categories.
A soulmate is someone:
- you find very attractive, both physically and sexually
- whose sense of humor matches yours; who makes you smile and laugh
- who understands you and cares for your emotional well-being
- whose spiritual beliefs closely match yours
- who you can talk to day after day, and always come up with new, interesting, exciting things to talk about
There’s no guarantee that you will find all – or any – of your soulmates.
You might find ten of them - or you may never find one.
But they are out there.
And soulmates aren’t always the ones you end up marrying.
They might not even be available.
They might already be married.
They might be still heartbroken over a past lover.
They might even die the day before you would ever get to meet them.
But…they exist.
And as long as this planet has millions of people, with millions of personalities…
Soulmates will continue to exist.
Perhaps Dawson said it best:
(yes, Dawson from Dawson’s Creek…hey, don’t you dare snicker until you read the damn quote! :) )
Lilly: What's a soulmate?
Dawson: It's a…well, it's like a best friend, but more. It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you laugh, who makes you a better person, well, actually they don't make you a better person... you do that yourself-- because they inspire you. It's the one person who knew you, accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did, or when no one else would. And no matter what happens...you'll always love them.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Writing as Therapy
(If you recognize this, it's because I posted it on myspace a few months ago. However, the content is still relevant, and it's more of my poetry...so yup, enjoy.)
I smile a lot in my pictures...but behind that smile, lies a darker side. A much sadder side, that most of you will never see or notice. My entire family (mom, dad, brother, various cousins/aunts) has gone to therapy and received medication for depression and/or anxiety. I definitely suffer from it, and I don't know if there is a cure...I think it's like anorexia, or an addiction...you are never fully cured, you must work at it every day. But there are things that can help. You might think, as a psychology major, I would have all the answers and miracles behind depression, but I don't. What I do know...is that therapy can come in all sorts of shades and forms. Therapy can be a night out with the girls/guys, or a night in with a good book (and a blanket/hot chocolate in hand, of course). It can be a hug from your mother, or a smile from a stranger...a laugh from a good movie, or a long, hard cry on the shoulders of a friend.
I find solace in writing...especially poetry. It speaks to me. Or rather, my heart speaks to me. See, when true, loyal friends and family are in high demand but low supply...I retreat to the darkest corners of my inner self. When thoughts in my head won't shut up and leave me alone...I lie down, surrender, and...listen. I ride the waves of my emotions, with my pen as my surfboard and my heart as my compass. Below is a representation my latest depressive wave...it was a rough one, and it isn't done yet...but I consider myself an excellent swimmer, and I'll be damned if I don't make it to shore sometime soon.
Today, I peel away this skin,
Today, I expose the pain within,
Im gonna rip my heart out, and hang it to dry,
From the clothesline draped with fading sky,
Below, in a bucket, Ill collect all my tears, and
Release the frantic flood of my fears,
Drip by drop, drop by drip
Here, my friend, come take a sip,
Drink it down, but drink it slow
Taste my hurt, and then youll know
What haunts, taunts me, in my sleep
What dark, dark dreams silently creep
Into my head, into my soul
Laughing, teasing on their tippiest of toes...
- unfinished (like most of my poems...sigh)
I smile a lot in my pictures...but behind that smile, lies a darker side. A much sadder side, that most of you will never see or notice. My entire family (mom, dad, brother, various cousins/aunts) has gone to therapy and received medication for depression and/or anxiety. I definitely suffer from it, and I don't know if there is a cure...I think it's like anorexia, or an addiction...you are never fully cured, you must work at it every day. But there are things that can help. You might think, as a psychology major, I would have all the answers and miracles behind depression, but I don't. What I do know...is that therapy can come in all sorts of shades and forms. Therapy can be a night out with the girls/guys, or a night in with a good book (and a blanket/hot chocolate in hand, of course). It can be a hug from your mother, or a smile from a stranger...a laugh from a good movie, or a long, hard cry on the shoulders of a friend.
I find solace in writing...especially poetry. It speaks to me. Or rather, my heart speaks to me. See, when true, loyal friends and family are in high demand but low supply...I retreat to the darkest corners of my inner self. When thoughts in my head won't shut up and leave me alone...I lie down, surrender, and...listen. I ride the waves of my emotions, with my pen as my surfboard and my heart as my compass. Below is a representation my latest depressive wave...it was a rough one, and it isn't done yet...but I consider myself an excellent swimmer, and I'll be damned if I don't make it to shore sometime soon.
Today, I peel away this skin,
Today, I expose the pain within,
Im gonna rip my heart out, and hang it to dry,
From the clothesline draped with fading sky,
Below, in a bucket, Ill collect all my tears, and
Release the frantic flood of my fears,
Drip by drop, drop by drip
Here, my friend, come take a sip,
Drink it down, but drink it slow
Taste my hurt, and then youll know
What haunts, taunts me, in my sleep
What dark, dark dreams silently creep
Into my head, into my soul
Laughing, teasing on their tippiest of toes...
- unfinished (like most of my poems...sigh)
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