- By Tired McBitchiness.
- I like working at the hospital here with Baboo, but it's a temporary (3-year) gig. They don't hire counselors, they hire social workers to work with people and do therapy. So now I'm in social work school.
It is with no small amount of bitterness that this fall I'll be taking the first of two required classes in human behavior. Thank goodness, after two master's degrees in human behavior and research, a license as a mental health counselor, and 9 years of teaching, I'll get to finally learn human behavior. Oh, and ETHICS.
- I'm not getting any more degrees after this. I mean it.
- So far, I've taken 4 classes in Social Work School. In one, nearly half of those introducing themselves said they wanted to "work with children," (Awwww. I know.) another nearly half said they wanted to be therapists, but didn't know what a theoretical orientation was.
I said I wanted to work in psychiatry. There was a puzzled silence, and a woman whispered to me, "you know who you'll be working with, right?"
and I said, um, psychiatric patients? and she said nodded. Very seriously.
I said, Who do you imagine you'll be doing therapy with? and she looked startled. Is it just me or do people pick vocations without actually knowing what they are?
- This fall, I'll be taking 4 classes, working full time, and Ironman Training. THAT should be interesting. Be very nice to Sweet Baboo. He will have a crazy wife to deal with this fall.
- I'm starting to feel like one of those cakes that is just never set. You keep peeking in the oven, sticking in toothpicks, and finally you just give up in disgust and throw the whole thing out because it just won't ever set up. That's me, and my life, and my career path.
- Mini-baboo has written me twice and called me once from Boot Camp. He's doing well.
- Before 9 am no less than two guys show up to empty the trash can in my office, and that's it for the day. The result is that on Monday morning there is some smelly lunch trash that has been sitting all weekend. I offer this not as one of life's tragedies, just one of those little annoyances that pop up from time to time.
- Tuesday, I got "casted" for orthotics for my bike shoes. Perhaps soon, my years of numb toes will be over. I've learned the hard way this year and it should all be hard, but never really PAINFUL; if it is, there's something wrong, and I need to speak up.
- I hate the twice weekly bicycle commute. But I like what it's doing for me. Between last week and this week the average pace over the total 44 miles for the day has gone up by over a mile per hour. It includes a long, 6-mile extended climb that goes from 5000 feet to 6000 feet. oh, and ice cream. It always includes ice cream. Because, you know, the carbs. And stuff. Ice cream by the way works very well with a Gatorade chaser.
The upside for Baboo, who of course is going WAY slower than he would normally, is that he can tell me all about his day, all the way up the hill, because he can talk while doing this ride. (I can't).
- My face is not tanning evenly. It's kinda starting to look like an antique map of the world.
- I am keeping to a training regimen for the first time ever, mostly because I am accountable. Before, I had my own little life, and Baboo had his, and he would come home, Hey, did you do your training today? And I was all, tra-la-laaaa, Nope, I didn't feel like it. And then he would work me hard on the weekends, which was better than nothing...but now, we commute together, so if he goes to the gym, *I* go to the gym, and what the hell, I might as well swim while I'm there, right? So I'm actually following a decent training plan.
- Because of the training, I'm exhausted. Every afternoon I lay down in my office for 15 minutes and take a nap. It's allowed, if somewhat unorthodox. Afterwards, I feel totally better.
- I miss my brassy, tacky blond hair. But I'm starting to like this, too. It's more carmel-colored, with blond streaks.
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