Babies Have It Made

We leave tomorrow morning for Denver, for Wedding #3. I've been at my brother's since Sunday night visiting him, my sister-in-law and my little niece, who's almost 8 months old. I'm having a great time, but there's something that my niece (who I have described in previous posts as sarcastic and ironic) has brought to my attention: babies have awesome sh*t.

No really, they do. All their toys do, like, a bagillion different things (yes, I just used the word bagillion and 'like' in the same sentence; your welcome valley girls). Their toys move, sing, light up, and all the while, they're teaching you something. Are you kidding me? Put my chemistry lesson in a song and have it sung to me by a dancing, multicolored, light up elephant and I dare you to bet against me in a periodic table stand-off. Usually, my homework gets pushed to the last minute because I'm distracted by something with lots of lights and sounds (read: the television) so I don't see why something even more fabulously distracting wouldn't be a brilliant idea. Heck, it works for babies...

And when did everything in the adult world become so boring? Since I've grown up, everything has a "sleek" and "modern" feel. Well maybe I don't want "sleek" or "modern", maybe I want a phone that's bulky and bright yellow with pink and purple buttons. I guarantee I wouldn't lose it near as often. An elegant chandelier? How about a vivid and vibrant airplane mobile above the dining room table? And screw the silent, stainless steel kitchen appliances, how about a little music every time the refrigerator fills my glass with ice or water, or a fluorescent green stove with blue burners? Ones that change from blue to red to yellow depending on how hot they are. You know, color coded so people like me who, for some reason, completely ignore the fact that just because the burner is off it doesn't mean it's not still hot. Safety first, I always say.

And don't even get me started on clothing. I was wondering through Gap Kids today (which is ridiculously expensive by the way, I wonder how they sleep at night) and I couldn't help wishing I was still 2 feet tall. There was a little snowsuit with footies and mittens attached to the hands and feet, (attached!) with a fuzzy hoody and a built-in face-mask/windbreaker. Why don't they make those for adults? No not snowsuits with mittens and snow boots sold separately, the all-in-one deal, like they did back in the good ol' days when I was apparently...4.

And transportation? I'm even willing to temporarily chill the eff' out about the snail's pace my jet pack is coming along if someone will just answer my question of why the hell don't I have my own stroller? If I could find an adult size one I'm sure my friends and I wouldn't mind trading off with it. How incredibly awesome would it be to get pushed around the grocery store, attempting to cause as much destruction in the cereal isle as humanly possible with absolutely no consequences because, hey, you're in a stroller, you don't know any better. And if you were somewhere that takes forever to get your shopping done (like Wallmart or Costco, where they only have four cash registers open), you could cuddle up with your super-soft blanky and stuffed zebra and take a little nap. Thirsty? Hungry? Fear not, I'm sure any kind of satisfaction is but an arm's length (or a loud warning squeal) away. There are so many pockets and useful gadgets on those things I have no idea why I ever spent my money on luggage in the first place. My suitcase doesn't even have a cup holder.

This trip so far has been eye-opening. I need to get me some cool-ass baby sh*t, except for, you know, adults or something.

 

Something Borrowed, Something Broken

Wedding #2 tonight, and the reception is still going on. So why am I blogging right now?

I mean, come on, I've been looking forward to this wedding. I traveled three hours today (on 4 hours of sleep) and all the while thoughts of drinking and dancing the night away filled my head. The mental picture of myself wearing my favorite polka dot "twirly dress" proved to be fantastic motivation to slightly break the interstate speed limit. Yet here I am, sitting in a hotel room, my "twirly dress" on a hanger, watching the World Series of Poker and sipping hotel water from a plastic cup. I barely even got to have any cake.

Well, sorry to say, my boyfriend got sick, so we had to leave early. I should be pissed, right? Oh please, not in the slightest. The truth is the wedding was beautiful, a picture perfect homage to the Montana lifestyle I love so much. Girls wore sundresses and cowboy boots and guys looked sharp in the nicest pair of jeans they owned. Dogs and little kids played in the background, and a fare of burgers, hot dogs, potato salad, corn on the cob and watermelon tasted perfect on a warm Saturday afternoon. A large tent filled with white Christmas lights cast a soft glow on tables full of beer cans as old baseball teammates told stories of when they all played together in college. I only wore my shoes for the actual ceremony itself. Not because they were uncomfortable, but because the feel of cool grass on my feet was too inviting to pass up.

So should I really even have anything to complain about? Sure some things went wrong, like the fact that I brought my camera but left it's memory card at home, but I can buy a disposable camera at a gas station tomorrow. And so what if I have a minor sunburn, since the ceremony was located in direct sunlight and my skin is one shade darker than your average albino...I'll pick up some soothing lotion when I pick up the disposable camera. It seems some sort of flu medication and a heavy dose of caffeine are going to be on the list anyway, so I wouldn't even be making an extra stop.

In all honesty, I don't mind being in the hotel room now, because I already experienced my favorite part of the wedding: watching the ceremony while holding hands with my boyfriend. It's as if the vows being recited are released into the air, then swirl about and settle upon those who also share in their meaning. Feeling him squeeze my hand and kiss my forehead as two people promise to devote their lives to each other seems to not only acknowledge our own devotion, but strengthen it as well. For a moment, we are in our own world, appreciating the rare level of happiness that can only be reached when one of us is in the company of the other. We're fortunate, and we know it.

So the rest of the wedding festivities, as callous as it may seem, are really quite irrelevant. Whether our time together is spent on a dance floor or spent in a hotel room, I'm grateful for it either way. Anything extra is really just icing on the cake. Delicious red velvet cake, I might add, and I look forward to more later in the week. But if not? No loss, I'll just make some when I get home. Besides, I really don't watch enough poker anyway.

 

Three Weddings And A Baby

It's roadtrip time again!

Because of my boyfriend's insane schedule (he's a baseball coach for the university during the school year, then coach's legion during the summer) we have about 3 weeks before September to see some friends and family. So we're cramming it all into 8 days.

One wedding in Bozeman, Montana last night, another this evening in Belgrade, Montana, travel to Ogden, Utah to see my brother, his wife and my niece for 3 days, then Denver, Colorado for another wedding, then back to good ol' Billings, Montana for a little recuperation.

I'm always excited to see what goes wrong on a roadtrip, for some reason I always think that's part of the fun. And weddings are just awesome so...yeah let's get this party started.

Here Goes Nothing...

Hello there, and welcome to what I'm sure will be the most personal post I think I may ever write. Go ahead, take a seat, stay awhile.

As you know, I'm in a bit of a dilemma at the moment. I'm torn between a career I've been going to school for and taking a leap of faith to pursue a few careers I've always been interested in, but have never had the balls to go for them.

I'm 6 credits and another internship away from finishing my Master's in Counseling. I've decided to take the remaining 6 credits this fall, and postpone the internship. That way I'm finished with all my coursework (which qualifies me for counselor positions) and any counseling job I decide to apply for in the future counts as the internship. That's the logical part.

Now for the crazy part...

I spent all day yesterday really putting some thought into what I want to do for a living, and why I chose to pursue counseling in the first place. It wasn't until a text conversation with a friend (who would be a fantastic counselor, btw) really put everything into perspective. "When was the first time you were really jealous of what someone else was doing for a living?"

What a great question! Jealousy is one of the most primal of emotions as well as one of the most powerful. If you're jealous of something, there's usually a very basic want or need that is not being fulfilled in your life. And why a person is jealous, can say loads about them.

Think about it, what are you jealous of? Are you jealous of your friend who is happily married and pregnant? I doubt it's because you're in love with her husband or think her growing belly looks sexy, it's more likely because you want to start a family of your own. What about your friend who has a new car and big house? Are you really jealous of all their toys, or the stability and freedom their income provides? The reason for a person's jealousy hits the core of what that person wants out of life.

So I thought about it. Career wise, when was the first time I was ever jealous of someone's career, and why? It took me under 4 seconds. When I was younger (I must have been 16?) I saw the movie Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. As a promotion for the movie, there was a bit on TV about how they filmed the action scenes. There was one in particular, where Ms. Jolie was swinging from the ceiling on a serious of ribbon-like ropes. In that second I thought to myself, "I want to do that."

Do what? Fly from ceilings and fight bad guys? No, not quite. Although that would also be a terrific experience, I'm not even sure how to make a resume for that sort of thing. No, no, no, I wanted to act.

I wanted to be a part of a story that moved people. I wanted the responsibility of having to learn something different for every job, to throw myself into a character other than me. I wanted the opportunity to be in different situations with different needs and different people. Something that was always changing. Something that revolved a story, whether real or not. I don't care about the long hours, the low income or the lack of stability. Hell the lack of stability is kind of a draw actually.

Did I join the drama team in high school? No. I was an athlete, and for me a sports scholarship was the only way out of my family situation. I put all my time and effort into softball, just trying to find a way out of that town. Drama, speech and debate, band, all of it was pushed to the side. And it stayed there.

And here's the kicker. Once you create an identify for yourself (whether it's accurate or not), changing that identity becomes quite taxing. Your entire social circle is based on how you portray yourself. For example, in high school I wore sweats and no makeup. When I went to college my freshman year I was the same way. I didn't even know how to wear makeup, much less heels or a dress. People knew me as the "tomboy". All of my friends were tomboys. That was my identity.

But then I started wearing dresses and heels. Not because I was pressured by other people, but because I had always wanted to, I just didn't know how. And it was embarrassing at first. I didn't know how to walk in heels, it felt awkward to wear makeup, and I thought people were judging me in dresses. But secretly I loved it. It was the first time I felt could express who I was by what I wore. I loved how all of a sudden I became a woman instead of a guy with boobs. I had a sense of style. Sure I still love my sweats and still wear no makeup the vast majority of the time (I'm still the same girl), but I now I have another component of my identity. And I love it.

It's the same problem with my career. The real reason I went into counseling? Honestly? Because I was comfortable with it. I was comfortable with people telling me horrific stories of their childhood because I had been there myself. I had empathy for them. I worked at a psych hospital because it's what I was comfortable with. I've been dealing with irrational and violent people my entire life; getting paid for it just seemed like second nature.

So what am I getting at? This: I feel I'm in a career that I started because I was comfortable in it. It came naturally to me, so I kept along that path. I asked myself this, what dream counselor position am I jealous of?

Hmm.......

None. A nutritional counselor would be pretty cool, but it's not what I want to do. It's what I feel I'd be good at. What about a forensic psychologist? Sure that would be interesting and challenging, but it's not what I want to do. As you can see by this recent post, even before I started having troubles in my job I knew I had made the wrong decision. I mean who writes that when they've supposedly finally reached their career goals?

I think my hobbies and my career interests were switched a long time ago. I wanted to major in music or art, but was told those were hobbies. I was interested in psychology and nutrition, and was told those were "career options." I was 18, listening to people "who knew best". So I did what I thought I was supposed to do.

Well folks I'm not 18 anymore. I'm 26, and I'm done making excuses. I'm taking an acting class this fall (along with my 6 credits) just to see if I like it. Maybe I'll hate it, and then I can cross that off my list. But maybe I'll love it...and then who know? Don't worry, I'm not filling my head with anything, I just want to make sure I cover all my bases before I lock myself into anything.

I'm excited. And by excited I mean terrified...but also excited.

Have you ever taken a leap of faith? How did it turn out?

Feeling Better, But Still A Bit Rambly

Well after the news I received on Friday, my boyfriend and some of his friends took me out to cheer me up. Four guys' idea of softening the blow of losing my job came out as golf, beer, and a combination of chicken wings and jalapeno poppers. I'd say it worked. Tomorrow is Monday, and there's no feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I'm already excited to sleep in, go to the gym and get some errands done. My motivation for the week has been refilled. Funny, my training in mental health has equipped me with the ability to recognize the symptoms of depression and anxiety, yet when I was clearly displaying them myself (loss of sleep, loss of interest in daily hobbies/activities, change in appetite, feelings of sadness/guilt) I didn't recognize them. Glad I'm out of that mess.

Having said that, I feel like I'm in a strange situation. I'll give you the rundown, but mostly for my own purposes of trying to keep everything straight in my head rather than explain it to the world. So feel free to skip this next paragraph if you're really only in this to leave a quick copy and paste comment at the bottom. It's okay, I won't judge you. I've done it before too.

In short, I have 23 credits left to be able to finish both my Master's degree and the requirements that qualify me to obtain my LAC. Of those credits, 12 of them are internship. I am still registered to complete an internship at the same place I was just hired at, but was told they typically give intern positions to people they want to hire in the future so...well I think I know how that's going to turn out. Meaning I have nowhere set up for an internship. In order to finish my Master's I only have 6 more credits...but that's still a couple thousand dollars.

I also still have my old job pulling night shifts at the psych hospital (I never officially quit when I got hired), but it's per diem. They haven't needed me in the last 2 months, but since I had the ice cream truck I wasn't complaining. Now that school's about to start in 2 weeks, I'm getting nervous. If they don't need me to work, I don't work. No hours mean no money, and no money means no school. I'm done with student loans, remember?

So it's crossed my mind to take a semester off. I know what you're thinking. No - wait - hang on - just - let me finish. I know what happens to people who take semesters off. They never finish. They move...or join the military...or get pregnant. You never hear from them again. Well don't worry, I'm not going to be one of them (famous last words, right?). But the thought of possibly working 8 hours every two weeks combined with the fact that our roommate moved out last month has made me rethink how I should spend what little money I do have saved.

With one exception.

See during the three weeks I had a job, one of the (awesome) counselors I met gave me a little bit of advice. He said, "In this business, you have to find something on the side to throw yourself into. Otherwise, you spend every day working with mentally ill drug addicts, and you begin to think everyone in this town is either crazy or on something." Well said. Plus it made me realize this: I have nothing that I throw myself into anymore. It's school and work. That's it.

So I took his advice to heart. I thought about everything that I used to enjoy doing. I came up with a million different things; writing, taking pictures, cooking, playing sports, writing music, painting, singing, dancing - and the list goes on. So many things, and I do none of them (save writing, I guess blogging falls into that category). But I decided to narrow it down a little by asking what all these things have in common, and I think it's this: they all involve doing something creative and new, and something that typically scares me.

Writing music, painting, dancing; these are all forms of self expression put into the world for others to collect as their own, and then turn and twist to fit their own purpose. People aren't judging the song I just played for them, they're judging a piece of my soul I've made vulnerable through the music they've just heard. Sometimes they don't connect with it, and that can hurt a little, but sometimes they do, and that moment can never be duplicated. Maybe that's why I originally went into counseling...to connect with people.

So it's all pretty up in the air right now. Basically I just want to find a small time job that has absolutely nothing to do with counseling. Something simple that can pay some bills and get my mind off things. I'll see what I end up doing this fall. And besides that, I want to try something new. Something creative that scares me. Any suggestions?