Random Insanity

On one of the women's dorm windows near where I work on campus the residents have posted a sign that reads "Serenades Welcomed." I wish I had thought of such an awesome thing to do when I was an undergrad. Then again, in my all girls dorm,where my window faced what used to be a courtyard but now was the roof of the cafeteria, it just wouldn't have been the same.

Multiple wings had been built onto the building over the years so that it ended up shaped like an H. Our room looked right into the rooms on the other side of the H. Not that it wasn't interesting. We came to refer to my neighbors as naked dancing girl and naked foreign exchange student girl for their penchant for fully undressing and lowering the shade only to cover their faces and then dancing or being foreign. My brother and I ate dinner together once a week and then he'd come over "to use my computer," but I know it was for the regularity that he got to see those well-endowed women provide his own personal picture show from the vantage point of my desk chair more than it was for the high speed Internet.

In other news, my mother now has a "ring back tone." Her phone now not only assaults the people around her with uninvited music, but now when you call her an inviting woman's voice says, "Please enjoy the music while your party is reached." That's exactly right I'm trying to reach a party! It's kinda hard to dance to Cookie Monster singing "C is for Cookie" though. It's a play on my maiden name, and is a bit too cute...maybe just because my mom thought of it before I did.

My husband had a doctors appointment to day for his yearly physical. I called him out on our way to dinner. "I totally know that you wore special boxer shorts today." "Yeah, I didn't want the ones that incessantly ask "please?" all over them or the ones that have a big smiley face over my crotch. The doctor would think I was sending a message to her. So I wore the rubber ducks."

Add to my to do list: Buy my husband totally typical, non-weird underwear, especially since his mother bought him the please and smiley one's and my mother bought him the rubber ducks. What is up with the moms being all up in our boxer short issues?

Yesterday we put an new collar on our younger kitty, Zuzu. Before, she had always managed to turn each collar into a suicide mission or a torture device. There's nothing like the concurrent pity and hilarity of watching a cat tear ass through the apartment with a collar stuck in her mouth like a horse's bridle. Of course, the break-away type were always off in seconds.

But, on a random impulse, I came across one of our breakaway collars and slapped it on her. She has apparently forgotten how to get the collar off, but she spent the whole freaking day yesterday skulking around the house looking for the big animal with a bell that kept following her. Her eyes stayed in a permanently alert dilated state, while she looked at us like, "Dude, do you see the animal with the bell that WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE?" Every time we would pet her, the sound of her own bell would startle her. By this time, it appears she's accepted that ringing is just a part of who she is, and she's out cold next to me on the couch accepting the ringiness of her bellness.

Back to internship essays. :)

*The way I butchered and misuse commas throughout this post frustrates me, but, MEH deal with it. Internship sites are getting all my comma editing mojo right now.

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.

Yesterday, while out on a walk, hubby and I walked by a house and heard the smoke alarm going off. We stood for a couple of minutes, as the alarm continued to go off. The windows were all open on a cool day, but no one appeared to be home. There didn't seem to be any smoke or flames. Living in the anonymity of the suburbs, we didn't know any of the neighbors, so we noted the address walked 3 blocks back home to get one of our cell phones and call 911.

But we felt all funny and weird about it. We walked back to the scene, but didn't stick around. A fire truck came, neighbors came out of the wood work and started calling the home owners, someone procured a garage door opener and let in the firemen. Soon after the firemen dispersed from the home.

What struck me was this drastic shift that has occurred in me the past 5 years that we've lived here. My rural upbringing that engendered community concern with out fear of embarrassment or shame about our concern has waned drastically. I actually had a crazy moment of thinking that the fire department might be suspicious of us as strangers just calling in something out of the ordinary. I hope that this part of me is one that isn't too hard to reclaim when I leave suburbia. I also want to challenge myself to continue to feel less weirdness about getting to know my neighbors and to feel a sense of communal ownership and concern.

Stocking Your Therapist's Stocking

The holiday season is quickly approaching. There may be a good chance that you're actually around this year because of some wonderful mental health professional. Or maybe you just want to drown the children, kick the dog, and hoard all the candy canes a little less than you used to because of some good but hard therapy. It could be that your family hates you slightly less than they used to. This is a good thing that warrants a thank you gift for the person responsible.

During this season of joy, remember the person who sat with you when you were less than joyful, who listened to your entire life story (over and over and over again), who spent his or her weekend watching that movie just because you mentioned it in session, who spent many hours writing session notes when you simply had to write a check and make your way home, and who actually turned that story about how your sister got the better Barbie doll that one Christmas into a meaningful metaphor for your life.

Below are some gifts highly reccommended for that important therapist in your life.

1. www.knockknock.biz
The Self-Hurt Series from It has such great titles as How to Get Fat and How to Traumatize Your Children. These books contain such gem advice as:

As a controlling parent, you know what’s right. You know what your child should fear and what she should believe. You have the final say in what your child should wear every day, what friends she should have, and how much food she should put in her mouth. Because when there is not room in your universe for your child’s ideas or opinions, you save money on art supplies.

We are our successes and failures—after all what else is there?

Life is tough, and the sooner your child figures out he’s nothing special, the better.

2.
Does your therapist have cold feet? Afraid she suffers at home on cold winter mornings? Do you feel he sometimes "slips" and says things accidentally on purpose? Like that time he claims to have said, "Would you like to suck on a mint?" But you swear that's not what you heard. Well, then your therapist buddy needs some Freudian Slippers. I can personally testify that these are therapist tested and Freudian approved.



3. Maybe your therapist seems a little rusty in the therapy room after several years of practice, or he is a new therapist with that big licensing exam coming up. Maybe you just know that you know more than her. Showcase your knowledge and affinity for psychology based jokes by giving her Therapy Flashcards.










4.Sometimes the therapy relationship has boundaries that feel constrictive. Have you ever want to reach out and tickle your therapist? That concerned head nod make you want to break the tension of a deep moment? Fulfill all your unfulfilled fantasies and phantasies with this Tickle Me Freud plush doll. And have a laugh at your own expense.




5.Maybe you want to be a therapist. The thought of being in control of the therapy session, a wise old sage dressed in a sweater cardigan while fingering your beard, appeals to you. Instead of graduate school try fingering these puppets.Choose from your psychological menagerie of Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud, or Anna Freud. Couch included.




6.
When starting that new therapy practice, you may have times when you just don't know what to say to clients. For your budding psychology driven desires or to help out the favorite therapist in your treatment team, purchase Dr. Freud's Therapy Ball. It will provide 20 questions or phrases, Magic 8 Ball style, for those moments when the silence is awkward and must be filled.




7.Last, but certainly not least, if you want to tell your therapist to suck it, or if you'd like to suck your therapist, buy and share these watermelon flavored Freud Lollipops.

Why The Internet is Communal, but Rarely a Community.

I am currently in the process of helping the professor with whom I work with his book that will be published in October of 2008. This quote on community really struck me...

Years ago, I read Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book, “Life Together.” It influenced me deeply in my thoughts about what the Church can, and can’t, be.[i] Bonhoeffer points out that true Christian community is nothing like the fantasies and illusions we have of a wonderful, welcoming family. It is like that, sometimes, of course. But community is really more like a crucible. We have to live in close proximity with people that we really don’t like. Or, if we did like them in the beginning, we will discover many annoying qualities as well. The crucible of a community heats us up and holds us in so that we can’t get away. In the process, it refines us, bringing the impurities to the surface where they can be skimmed away.

Communities are necessary for spiritual purification. Even the desert fathers and mothers, many of whom lived as hermits in caves, settled in proximity to each other and created the first model for the communal life of monasteries. On our own we too easily avoid noticing where our sharp edges are. When we live in close proximity to others we are constantly bumping up against each other with those unfinished edges. It is much more difficult to hide. As the Proverbs remind us, “as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”[ii] (Proverbs 27:17, TNIV ). Any who are serious about confronting their own signature sins, then, should seek to be part of a community where this kind of sharpening can take place.

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[i] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper, 1954).
[ii] Proverbs 27:17, TNIV

A People's History of My Life

1980: I was born in a stable…ha! just kidding. I was born by traveling down a mysterious tunnel. I was one week late. My mother said this set a precedent for the rest of my life.

1984: My first tee ball game. I like pulling the hat down far over my eyes and playing catcher because I get to stand in the shade.

1985: I start school. My kindergarten teacher tells my parents, “Nicole is a great reader and writer. Most people don’t think that grammar matters at this age, but it do. It do!”

1988: On a family vacation to visit my uncle and his family, I ride 1000 miles in the back seat of a 2 door Chevy Spectrum from Tennessee to Texas with my older brother. Remarkable because I remember it being miserable.

1990: I have my first “boyfriend.” I hold his hand and think that I’m going to marry him.

1991: My awkward stage begins.

1992: I stop perming my naturally curly hair, making for a much less awkward awkward stage.

1993: I graduate from what was 9 years at my elementary school.

1994: High School begins, I am born. First goal: be kissed.

1995: I give up on straightening my curly hair.

1996: I buy a Ford Tempo, and the horn doesn’t work

1997: I stop catching on the fast pitch softball team because of continuing knee problems.

1998: I give a cheesy valedictory speech.