Your Voice

You called tonight.
I saw the Louisiana area code on the 'missed calls' section of my phone and did a double take. No one else would be calling me from there.
My first thought was, ohmygosh, he's hurt or something horrible has happened! Go me, the eternal catastrophizer. I anxiously listened to my voice mails, and my stomach got knottier as I deleted each message prior to yours. Then I heard you speak.
I love the sound of your voice.
You said you had gotten a cell phone, which made me laugh b/c you have eschewed cell phones for so long. You said "call me." So I did.
It was wonderful.
I love to hear your laugh, love to hear the teasing in your voice, love your professional "Quality Hotel," which sounds like you're speaking Spanish. ;-) I love it when you tease and joke with me. I laid on my bed and listened to the babble of your voice mingling with other people speaking as you did your job. Only you would do your job and carry on an hour and 15 minute long conversation at the same time. ;-)
I'm so glad you called me today, and am secretly delighted that you called me on the First day you got a phone, not weeks and weeks after.
I think I will interpret that just as I like!
And now I will lay down to sweet dreams of you.
Goodnight!

Random Thoughts and Observations from a Thanksgiving At Home

1.) Honey is a Sweet Doggy.

2.) My brother, age 11, is, like, practically an adolescent. He has a peach-fuzz mustache! What the hell is going on?

3.) Sometimes there's just no point in trying to explain The Profession (i.e., psychology), espescially if people have already made up their mind as to what they think before you ever open your mouth.

4.) My aunt has a vulgar brother (whom we never talk about) that randomly showed up at Thanksgiving and said "whore" and "asshole" in front of the children, while talking about the mafia and showing off his knowledge of Texas history. Personally, I think he liked my breasts a bit too much.

5.) My mother is the most Indecisive Woman in the history of mankind. She painted hte dining room Three Times before deciding the third color was actually ok. I think my dad is going to kill her. After all, we're getting the house remodeled and she still hasn't decided on Tile or Wood for the family room. I shudder to think.

6.) I showed my Prowess as a shopper by finding a Gorgeous blue-and-white Ralph Lauren bedspread for $50. (The ugly cheap ones at Wal-mart cost $50 too and look like crap). I am very proud, and my mother is in awe. She hates to shop.

7.) I hate, Hate, HATE the game Risk. At least when playing it with my family. I swear to you, our familiy dynamics play out like nobody's business in that game. Mama and Daddy battle cruelly against each other, with plenty of stabbing comments along the way, while Michael tries despearately to form alliances with my father, who wants nothing to do with it becuase his only desire is to win (and beat my mother). In the end, Michael (with his mustache) ends up sobbing, my parents end up yelling at each other, and I end up Mad.

8). Does my father actually hear me when I tell him important things while I'm crying? I tend to think not, that he's just staring in horror as I gasp for breath and try to speak calmly, with tears falling down my face. I'm not sure how to remedy this situation, except to hope that maybe he really does hear more than it would appear.

9.) My mother is determined to send me to a dermatologist. Clearly, my skin is not good enough for her.

10.) Even worse than getting your period while away from home without one's preferred feminine products is when non-preferred feminine products leak, allowing blood to get all over one's new Christmas panties. Very sad.

Hope your Thanksgiving was a good one!
(Maybe someday I'll get around to posting the Juicy Details of my assertive and confronting holiday. I know you're on the edge of your seat. ;-))

Tidbits

Random tidbits about me and my life:

1. I have a wrinkle forming between my eybrows at the base of my left eyebrow. It scares me every time I look at it, becuase it makes me look like the brooding person I am. Everytime I see it, I try to smooth my forehead and pretend it's not there.

2. I lit a candle at church today for the first time in my life. It was a good experience.

3. Capote is a really, Really depressing movie. It's pretty good, and very interesting, but don't go see it unless you really, Really want to be depressed.

4. The house toilet is broken, and so, while it's currently 'ghetto rigged' to flush, it could break again at any moment, leaving us toilet-less. Our landlord promised to fix it by this morning, but, what a surprise, he hasn't.

5. My room is actually clean.

6. I have fallen in love with Boba (bubble) tea. MMmmmm, so good!

7. 80-90% of people with schizophrenia are nicotine dependent.

8. My roommate does not do her dishes. Currently, there is a soggy crust and a slimy piece of half-eaten lunchmeat sitting in the sink, which have slid from her still-unwashed dishes. I think the plate is from Wednesday or Thursday.

9. Same roomate has left two notes by the sink, reminding us to do our dishes Right After we use them.

10. I'm really nervous about going home at Thanksgiving. Things do not bode well with the parents/grandmother. I'm scared.

And I leave in less than two days. Meeep!

Temptation and Redemption

Cinnamon rolls sit on the counter. A Family-Pak, half eaten, for the rest of us to share. They call to me, mock me, even as I sit here, two rooms and a hall-way away. It's even worse in the kitchen. Every time I walk past, they tug on my sleeve.
. . . Must Resist . . .

So far, I'm holding. (And now my blog is stuck in italics, but hopefully maybe it won't show up that way on the post.)
Anyway, the week from Hell is officially over. This morning, I slept till noon. (Yes, I know, I get Friday's off. Before you get too jealous, you must know I spend most of them testing and/or slaving away on Measurement & Assessment.) I'm feeling well rested now, altho not quite ready to face the mountain of homework I have to do, a stats test on Tuesday being most frightening.
Now, some thoughts on my spiritual life, courtesy of St. Ignatius of Loyola and Dr. Steve Porter. It's been some crazy times around here lately, as far as my spiritual life is concerned. I have realized, among other things, that I don't know where I end, and my mother begins, and more importantly, where my mother ends, and God begins. As in, when I think of God, I really think of my mother, projected onto Him. Which, I must tell you, is not a pretty picture. So, basically, I don't know God very well, I don't reallly have much of a relationship with Him, I more have a 'relationship' with a deified version of my mother. Yipes! (Go therapy!)
All this to say my feelings towards God have not been the most warm and fuzzy of late. But, you know what?, for the first time I feel like I'm really being Real. And that feels really good.
Anyway, in theology class on Monday, I had two minor revelations: First, Dr. Porter was giving us the down-and-dirty paraphrase of St. Ignatius' view on the spiritual life, the long and the short of it being (at least for me) that just because you're not feeling all joyful and happy about going to church, or reading your Bible, or whatever, does not mean that God's not working in your life. On the contrary, you may be in a period of Desolation, in which God is working like nobody's business, but He's working in and through your desolation. And that's ok. And you don't have to beat yourself up for not feeling lots of consolation-feelings. (And I know this is probably a butchering of St. Ignatius. Please understand that I'm simply saying what was helpful for me at this time, and not trying to give a full study of his spirituality.)
Secondly, we were talking in class about the meditations we had just done on a psalm, and Dr. POrter was asking us about our attitudes towards the Bible right now, etc. He was going on and on and then he looked at me and said, "Now, if you're really struggling right now, and when you read the Bible, all you see is the pain and hurt inflicted by others in the name of God, maybe this just isn't your time. [FairMaid], maybe you shouldn't be reading the Bible just right now, becuase it sounds to me from what you've said that you're upbringing makes it really hard to See God in the Scriptures just right now. And that is, after all, the point."
So there you go kids. We're taking a little breather. Because, after writing my meditation notes and seeing the word HATE carved into the paper and underlined many times, I'm thinking he's probably right. If all I can see is my mother when I read God's Word, what's the point??? It only makes me madder, only makes me Hate God and my mother more.
So, for the moment, we're taking a deep breathe, going to church often (I don't feel so much hate there), and working in therapy like nobody's business.
Isn't Thanksgiving going to be fun!?!? ;-)

It's Over

The week from Hell is over. The wretched paper is turned in. It took seven hours, start to finish, all in one sitting. Boyfriend would be proud, it's just his style. ;-)
Now I'm exhausted. As in, I'm not sure I can make it to CSI. And if you can't stay awake until CSI? It's a Very sad day.

The Banana Republic Princess

Yeah, so, I know, I said I wasn't going to post. But this is just a quickie, submitted during an unexpected window of time. So there! ;-)
I was supposed to have a testing client today at four, but they canceled at the last minute, leaving me with an unexpected two hours of freedom. I should, of course, be writing the huge paper (which I haven't Started) that's due on Thursday. Instead? I went shopping.
Oh yes, boys and girls, I was That productive. There's nothing quite like spending money you don't have. And yet . . . I had a great time. I went into an expensive store I dont' usually shop at, and luxuriously browesed through hundreds of soft, beautiful sweaters, smart, tailored pants, and gorgeous silk evening-wear. I was in Heaven. Why do I like looking at beautiful things so much???? Is it just purely covetousness that leads me to run my fingers across gorgeously fitted satin? Is it pure sin? A part of me really doesn't think so. I mean, yes, I know I take things too far sometimes (often). Being in such stores always makes me wish I was the wife of Mr. Darcy so I could just buy everything I see, and I know I'm not good at being ok with being 'poor.' (I am So not poor, by the way. Well, I am, I'm in grad school, but I have a place to live, and enough to eat. I'm just in debt up to my eyeballs. ;-)) I know I place too much emphasis on having fine things and taking them for granted.
And yet, on the other hand, I can't honestly say I think it's wrong to enjoy a well-made garmet, something truly fine. I don't think it's wrong to feel like a princess as I try on a beautiful lacy blouse, which I could only (barely) afford because it was on deep discount. Is this a bad thing? Sometimes I think yes, sometimes I think no, most of the time I just have no idea.

This Week = Suck

Just so you know, this is the week from Hell.
Today I had a time-consuming "Meditation" due for Theology, tomorrow TWO Measurement & Assesment Write-ups of my two live clients, and on Thursday the Psychopathology Literature Review that I have not started. I am Screwed.
Due to this unfortunate circumstance, I will probably not be posting again until, like, Thursday. I know you are all (my, like, three whole readers) vastly dissapointed. However, rest assured that I will be back by Thursday or Friday, and will then post a long-awaited review of P&P, thoughts on St. Ignatius and my spiritual life, and why I do not have to read the Bible (right now): specific, personal instructions from my Theology teacher. I know you can't wait. ;-)
In the mean time, I will be checking everyone else's blogs and trying to come to a decent understanding of Dissociative Fugue.
Wish me luck!

Grace

So, I know I said I would review P&P, and I will. But right now, I just have little comment to make about my evening. This evening, I went to visit a fellow psych grad-student. We made brownies and watched a movie. It was nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, but I haven't felt so comfy in a while. Which is espescially ironic, becuase in many ways, this girl is Nothing like me. She lives alone, has almost no family, and advocates same-sex marriage. She is far more liberal than myself and has only been to church once since moving to California four months ago. In some ways her world has been a lot harsher than mine, in other ways our stories are very similar. But probably more than anyone else that I've met here in California, in fact more than almost anyone else I've ever known, with the exception of Boyfriend and a few others, tonight she offered me grace. I told about my life and she didn't judge or try to 'fix' my world. She just listened in compassionate silence, letting me tell my own story instead of framing it the way she wanted to see it. That kind of acceptance is rare in this world, and seems even more rare in Christian circles. We must always judge, always fix, always urge onward, instead of letting the other just sit and experience the pain.
I don't know if this girl and I will ever become really close friends, but I do know I have found a Minister of Grace, however unlikely. I now have an ally, oddly enough, although she is someone with whom I disagree with on many things. How odd, that I should have such a friend, and yet, I think, how good for me! Maybe I am growing?

Bewitched

So, contrary to the post below, I rather liked the movie.
First, may I just say I committed my very first act of social defiance and snuck into a sold-out movie. I paid for it with a nervous stomach, tho, clenching everytime a person in a movie-theater polo shirt would come by, until I was swept away by . . . I don't even know what.
Perhaps I was just in the mood, perhaps I just wanted desperately to hope, but right now I am a giddy little girl, sitting here, with bubbles of happiness welling up. When I first walked out of the movie theater, I could not stop hiccupping and gasping with happiness, as tho I was Lizzy Bennet, not some poor grad student, fat and alone. For those few moments, and even now, I was a girl whose every wish had come true, who was too happy to bear her own happiness.
I could give a review of the movie, and I probably will yet, I have lots to say about it. But right now, I think I'll just float away on my cloud of delight, and not worry about weary analysis. When Mr. Darcy says, "You have bewitched me, body and soul," there is really nothing left to say, only to feel my chest heave at the thought. That was not the best part, tho. The best part was at the very end, when the Darcys are now at Pemberley, and Mr. Darcy is teasing Lizzy, asking her what pet names he should call her. He finally asks her if he should call her "Mrs. Darcy" when he is cross, and she says, oh no, "Only when you are completely, incandescentely happy."
I couldnt' agree more. To be called "Mrs. _________" would be better than anything else, espescially as you husband whispers it to you, kissing you with each repetition, kissing you until you float away into another realm entirely.

P&P

Ummmm, so, News flash! Pride and freaking Prejudice COMES OUT TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How did I miss this?? How did I miss the fact that my favorite novel Of All Time is making its big screen debut TONIGHT???
Ok, yes, I realize this last statement is slightly debatable. But the two BBC versions were only shown on TV and video - completely marvelous as they are - and, well, the 1940 Greer Garson one totally doesn't count. A.) The story is completely messed up, Lady Catherine actually Likes Lizzy in this version, and B.) Do you know the film was actually made as a WWII propaganda film to make people sympathetic towards England? - Watch it, and you'll totally see what I mean. C.) The Scarlett O'Hara dresses - wrong country, wrong decade.)
I suppose I had forgotten about the film because, to be perfectly honest, I'm a little leery of this new version. I mean, first of all, I love, Love, LOVE the second BBC version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, that's pretty near perfection as far as I'm concerned. The mini-series length makes it possible to really do justice to Jane's writing and dialogue, the costumes are great, and the acting is superb. (And did I mention Colin Firth is, umm, very nice looking? ;-)) So, basically, I don't think any other version could really measure up. Secondly, ummm, Kiera (sp?) Knightly. Need I say more? I really, really don't like her in general, but, even worse, I know she's going to make Lizzy into some w(b)itchy femi-nazi who is nothing like the intelligent, courageous character Jane Austen created. And I love Lizzy. So tampering with her I know will make me sad.
Nevertheless, I must go. I can't not support Jane. And, well, I'll be back to tell you whether or not the film is worthy of her name.

Sappy Stuff about Dogs (or, as Y would call it, The Cheese)

A small miracle has just occurred on campus. There was actually a dog! A real dog! And I got to pet her! Yay!
Ok, so, you must understand my great devotion to dogs, particularly my own babies, to understand the horrors of my deprivation. I got my first dog when I was seven. Maggie, or Pup, as we called her, was a Christmas present, the sweetest present I ever got. I still remember her clumsy puppy-ways as she bounded across the kitchen to see us. She was Beautiful, and oh-so-prescious. When my little brother came along when I was eleven (yeah, I know, more on that later), Pup became the best little Mother-Doggy you've ever seen! We have this Adorable picture of her, up on her hind legs, leaning over, looking into the bassinet to see the baby who, as far as she was concerned, was most definitely Hers. She was the sweetest and most patient of mothers, letting LittleBrother tug her ears, her tail, 'pet' her by slapping her on the head, tolerating all his little baby ways with sweetness, always glad to see him. Very, Extremely, Sadly she died when I was a freshman in high school of a rare, genetic gall-bladder disease.
I got my second dog the summer before my junior year in high school. That was a Hard summer, and I was so glad, when I got back from a church youth-group trip, to see a dancing little puppy in our kitchen. I had to read Tess of the D'Urbervilles that summer, Wretched Book, but Honey would curl up in my lap and dream sweet puppy-dreams while I sat cross-legged in front of the dishwasher. My sweet puppy still remembers every time I come home, still the dancing little girl she was when she was a baby. That's the great thing about dogs, they never hide their affections. On the contrary, they're always happy to show you just how much they love you.
In other words, while petting a Real Dog is not quite the same as kissing my girls, it brings me back to all the sweet times I've had with my darling puppy-girls.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

So, I was coming back from didactic therapy today, trying, as usual, to beat the traffic and use as little gas as possible. Consequently, I was going the 'creative' route and thus was barreling down an unknown freeway, looking desperately for something familiar. Then, Behold!, the Interstate North, towards Los Angeles! I had almost completely merged before I realized, Holy Crap!, I live in Los Angeles! (Ok, so, not in Los Angeles, but you know what I mean.) Wow, ummm, some things have changed a lot, I guess without them compmletely 'registering.' (Ok, so it totally doesn't help that I actually live in the Anonymous Suburban Wasteland which could be ANYWHERE. - In fact, the houses all look so alike, that after three months here, I STILL MISS THE DRIVEWAY OF MY OWN HOUSE.) So, here's some new fun facts about me, for those (one ;-)) of you who would know any different:

1. New favorite drink at Starbucks: Grande Iced Percent-Milk Caramel Macchiato - Divine! With two shots of esspresso, it's a great way to start the day!
2. I have said the F-word, aloud. More than once.
3. I have developed a taste for cilantro.
4. I have taken to crossing myself like a Fiend. (Holy water is a favorite, too.)
5. I am now in credit card debt.
6. Apparently, I am now more of an optimist! ;-)

On the other hand, the more things change, the more they stay the same:

1. I still love doggies!!!, of whom Honey, my sweet puppy, is the Queen Bealge.*
2. The Propel addiction continues unabated.
3. Ditto on JA (Jane Austen), altho I wouldn't call her an addiction; Jane is a lifestyle.
4. I still shop too much.
5. I still play my mother's manipulative games. (But I really think I'm getting better!)
6. My heart still leaps in my chest when I get an e-mail from Late Boyfriend.

So there you go. Me, different, but still the same.

*(Btw, ok, I totally thought peeps in California would be of the taking-annoying-yappy-dogs-inappropriate-places-in-kitchsy-bags variety, a la Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. On the contrary, I'm hard pressed to find a doggy outside of Starbucks of a Sunday morning! And forget dogs on campus - I haven't seen a single one!)

Phone Calls

Today was a bit of a rough day.
I talked to my dad today about how I'm not coming home for the summer. There was a numb silence on the other end of the line. He had nothing to say. Neither did I. Deep down, we both know, it means I'd rather be somewhere else than home. And that hurts. I know it hurts, but I can't spend another summer there. I can't lie to them, and myself, and go back home, to hurt and be miserable. I just won't do it. But it hurts like hell for both of us to know that home is that awful. So we just sat in silence.
The plan is that Roommate will fly out to L.A. in May, after the end of the semester. Together, we will drive my car, full of my crap, from L.A. to Dallas. (Roadtrip!) There we will fulfill our duties as Bridesmaids/Acting Maids of Honor and see Semi-Estranged friend married. Then we will drive back to Louisiana and room together there, for one last summer of Us. Bliss!
All the more blissful because of the (not unexpected) news I received in another call I made today. Friend Michael revealed his definite intentions to marry Roommate, and, please don't misunderstand!, I am sooooo happy for them!!!!!!!! (This declaration has not actually taken place, mind you.) I know they will be so happy together, and I am so happy that they will make each other so happy. But now, of course, I must give up my girl forever. And this is as it should be. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
Thus I must spend the summer with her.
Thus (and for many other reasons) I must not go home.
Thus I will make my father feel abandoned and unloved.

Don't even get me started on the conversation I had with my mother today! ;-)

The Godfather: The Obsession

So here's the thing: I'm not exactly an organized-crime kinda girl. I'm not really into prostitution rings or brutal slayings. But when Vito Coreleone is head of The Family, I want to be a part of it too!
I'm trying to decide what is so appealing about the mafia. Part of it, of course, is that Al Pacino = Hot. No questions asked, kids, that is one fine looking man. And when he looks at Apolonia (the Sicilian girl) and his eyes about burn right through her . . . ahem, well, this is soon going to become fodder for a trashy romance novel. I suppose part of the appeal is the power, which is both a good and a bad thing. Of course I would love to be in a situation in which, if I needed something, the Godfather would get it done for me. (In undergrad I felt a bit like the wife of a mafia don; Late Boyfriend was definitely a Big Man on Campus. I remember one time, I was going to do some cooking, and I mentioned to Late Boyfriend that I needed some vinegar. Practically before I reached my apartment, there was a bottle of vinegar on my doorstep, and another offer came by a few minutes later. It was great.) But there's really so much more to it than that. I think what is most appealing is the power that comes with their sense of family and community, which most people don't really have nowadays. I come from a very small family, with one brother and two cousins. Those are all the kids. If I need help with something, need to find a job, need someone with a special skill, I definitely don't go to someone in my family. No one there could help, or would help me if I asked. If I did something reprehensible, most of my family would drop me like a hot potato, not because they are Bad People, but, on the contrary, because they are so dedicated to doing what is right that they have no problem abandoning a relation who does what is wrong. For the Corleones, loyalty to the Family is paramount, and once you come within it's embrace, you 'belong' forever.
(And, of course, it helps that there are so many phallic symbols, mixed with all that power imagery . . . mmmmm, yes please . . . ;-))
So, basically, sign me up.

Because Blogroll won't work. (Grrr.)

So, I can't get Blogroll to work. V. peeving. I've signed up at Blogroll site, have a password, the whole nine yards. I've fussed with my own settings to see if perhaps I need to 'turn something on' on my own blog so that it can work. No luck. Anyone have any ideas?
Anyway, in lieu of having a real Blogroll, I've deicded to bring you two of my favorite blogs, the only two I check religiously. (And I really don't feel like giving the didactic therapy update yet. We're getting there.)
Mel: www.melodee128.blogspot.com Mel tells it like it is, and is funny and profound to boot. I love to hear about her kids, her husband, and her childhood, the stuff of life. (She also has great movie reviews. ;-))
Y: www.joyunexpected.com Y is just plain hillarious. Her kids are fabulous, too, and so much fun to hear about! I really identify with Y's struggles, but most of all, I love the way she's not afraid to laugh at herself. If you need a laugh, Y is your girl.
Enjoy!