The world needs more really smart PsyDs and many fewer really dumb PhD. I am tired of defending my education as equal to or greater than a PhD program. I am tired of not being taken at my word, based on my program. I am sick of PhD program people spouting the U of M crap, but being unable to justify it, being unwilling to consider alternatives, and lost in the sea of that’s the way Dr. So-and-so said it should be done.
Case in point: I was just talking about a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder. I was challenged on every point and with every criterion, with the rationale that some U of M Doctor of Psychology teaches that this is a bogus diagnosis and the condition does not really exist. Well then – who the f-ing hell are we locking in all of our prisons? Additionally, none of these bone-heads could remember the lecture on why ASPD is a bogus diagnosis, thus none could offer serious criticism. Thus, it became a “you can’t give that diagnosis because I was in a lecture once where the professor said he didn’t believe in ASPD.”
Smoke and mirrors people - you have been deceived!
And my education is a problem?
How do I get to lecture in front of these buffoons, for I really wish to tell them that I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice and should I ever drive anything but the finest of the world’s automobiles an insidious black hole will open in Illinois and destroy every last kernel of wheat for 1000 miles, resulting in a beer shortage!
Can you imagine the panic of all the faithful Psychology Grad students running to stock pile malted beverages?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Finals are DONE!
I'm done, I'm DONE, I'm DONE!!!!!
Finals are done.
I can't really say how the Statistics and Research final went. It was quite a bit different than the mid-term and was all essay. I found it difficult, knowing that the grading was based on the use of specific words or phrases that are integrated into concepts. The problem I have with this, is that my language use is somewhat non-traditional, and perhaps (JUST PERHAPS) over complicated (and definitely complex). This has been a problem in the past.
Of course I still can't spell!
Finals are done.
I can't really say how the Statistics and Research final went. It was quite a bit different than the mid-term and was all essay. I found it difficult, knowing that the grading was based on the use of specific words or phrases that are integrated into concepts. The problem I have with this, is that my language use is somewhat non-traditional, and perhaps (JUST PERHAPS) over complicated (and definitely complex). This has been a problem in the past.
Of course I still can't spell!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
What can you expect from a FLAKE?
I just received my first formal evaluation. It was straight meets expectations in all the check boxes, but did have a comment!!! Although somewhat illegible it had to do with regular attendance to group supervision. This is obviously wrong, as I have made every group supervision since starting. There is another student with my first name, who is frequently missing from these meetings. If I got his comment on my form, I wonder what he got on his? It also said that I have great interactions with clients and parents. So for that one a$$hole who wrote me up for something relating to interpersonal style, go jump in a lake – a lake of fire!
Things that make me (just a little) crazy - Feedback
Below are two instances of feedback on my professional work. Although I am able to deal with this, I have been exposed to so much of it over the years that I can't help but be irritated.
First feedback:
Big red writing, “You need to indicate if XXX took his/her medication on the day of testing!” which was located right next to the text “XXX and his/her parents indicated that he/she took all of his/her medications on the day of testing. It should be noted that a second medication (Adderall) for ADHD was added the previous week, and this was taken at a lower dose than perscribed as it is being tapered up to efficacy to observe for potential sideffects.”
Also given to me as feedback:
Clipped together was a copy of my report indicating that the CBCL was outstanding at the time of the report. At the top of that page was a big red note, “Where is the CBCL?” What makes this so much better is that clipped to this whole mess are the three CBCLs that were sent out!
First feedback:
Big red writing, “You need to indicate if XXX took his/her medication on the day of testing!” which was located right next to the text “XXX and his/her parents indicated that he/she took all of his/her medications on the day of testing. It should be noted that a second medication (Adderall) for ADHD was added the previous week, and this was taken at a lower dose than perscribed as it is being tapered up to efficacy to observe for potential sideffects.”
Also given to me as feedback:
Clipped together was a copy of my report indicating that the CBCL was outstanding at the time of the report. At the top of that page was a big red note, “Where is the CBCL?” What makes this so much better is that clipped to this whole mess are the three CBCLs that were sent out!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Seriously?
I have written 9 reports (at 20 pages each). I received feedback on my first three reports and made corrections to those reports. I just received feedback on the next two reports, and got the same feedback as on the first three. Well of course, because I submitted seven reports before I got the first feedback. Thus seven of the reports will have the same problems. I am wondering if I will have to have three of four meetings where I get the same feedback.
One of THOSE days
The kind of day that you find yourself, head hung, eyes closes, contemplating the un-reality of the situation, that’s where I am today.
Have you ever worked with this guy?
Here is how I want you to do this job (Step 1, Step 2, Step 3, etc.) and here is a previous one to help you understand (a template/example). Later you receive and “update” and a new example that is somewhat (or outlandishly) different. Even later, you receive yet another “update” to the process, where in this one fails to even bear a likeness to the original. So you, as a conscientious worker, ask which one you are to utilize and are told of a fourth method, which is significantly different that the previous 3. Well, you have to complete the work so you follow your directions and submit the product, you are also under a deadline to get the work completed (two weeks) and a full 13 days have been wasted on the changes in the process. This does not alter the deadline! Then after your timely submission, where in you have given up significant things in the other aspects of your life to meet this strict deadline, you receive feedback on your performance. This of course occurs more than 4 weeks after the deadline. Where in numerous comments are made about what needs to occur, and of this feedback there is an eclectic mixture of comments from all four of the sets of directions. Have you ever had one of those days?
Here is another example: I was provided a rather robust example of how to put together a summary of results for a particular test. I was sent an e-mail a set of specific verbiage. I used the suggested verbiage, but when given feedback I was told that it was insufficient and I will be sent an e-mail with a better example. Of course when the e-mail arrives it’s exactly the same as the first one. In an attempt to try and do good work, I asked about this. I was told that, I was sent the wrong e-mail and the correct one could not be located, but to just rework that bit. This was followed by a huge rambling verbal example.
So my head hangs,
It shakes in disbelief,
I feel the damage of the disorganized,
But I am happy,
As someone cares -
enough to even -
give feedback.
Have you ever worked with this guy?
Here is how I want you to do this job (Step 1, Step 2, Step 3, etc.) and here is a previous one to help you understand (a template/example). Later you receive and “update” and a new example that is somewhat (or outlandishly) different. Even later, you receive yet another “update” to the process, where in this one fails to even bear a likeness to the original. So you, as a conscientious worker, ask which one you are to utilize and are told of a fourth method, which is significantly different that the previous 3. Well, you have to complete the work so you follow your directions and submit the product, you are also under a deadline to get the work completed (two weeks) and a full 13 days have been wasted on the changes in the process. This does not alter the deadline! Then after your timely submission, where in you have given up significant things in the other aspects of your life to meet this strict deadline, you receive feedback on your performance. This of course occurs more than 4 weeks after the deadline. Where in numerous comments are made about what needs to occur, and of this feedback there is an eclectic mixture of comments from all four of the sets of directions. Have you ever had one of those days?
Here is another example: I was provided a rather robust example of how to put together a summary of results for a particular test. I was sent an e-mail a set of specific verbiage. I used the suggested verbiage, but when given feedback I was told that it was insufficient and I will be sent an e-mail with a better example. Of course when the e-mail arrives it’s exactly the same as the first one. In an attempt to try and do good work, I asked about this. I was told that, I was sent the wrong e-mail and the correct one could not be located, but to just rework that bit. This was followed by a huge rambling verbal example.
So my head hangs,
It shakes in disbelief,
I feel the damage of the disorganized,
But I am happy,
As someone cares -
enough to even -
give feedback.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
I quit!
It has come to this. I am quitting as a Treatment Foster Parent.
Perhaps we simply out-grew the agency we worked for, or perhaps the agency failed to meet its obligations, but in any event I cannot bring myself to continue a relationship with them.
In retrospect, the agency has not provided what it was obligated to do. At least from a parental support role. I take some responsibility for this, as I know I intimidated the agency staff, and I did little or nothing to dispel that. This is still not a justifiable reason to fail to support their homes or fail to work in the best interests of the children they are charged with.
To this agency I say fu*k you! You need to figure out what your job is and then do it.
To the manager of this agency - You need to understand that all of the agencies (courts, county, private care, mental health providers, schools, ect.) DO NOT work well together. They all have different priorities and that causes friction. When you stop thinking that its one big happy family and start seeing the dysfunction you will be able to problems solve. Right now all you can do is slap band-aids all over the place and they don't fix sh!t!
For the kids I have been able to care for - I am looking forward to getting my house back and if any of you wish to send cash to repair the damage to my domicile, cars, personal property or anything else you busted, you know where I am!
Perhaps we simply out-grew the agency we worked for, or perhaps the agency failed to meet its obligations, but in any event I cannot bring myself to continue a relationship with them.
In retrospect, the agency has not provided what it was obligated to do. At least from a parental support role. I take some responsibility for this, as I know I intimidated the agency staff, and I did little or nothing to dispel that. This is still not a justifiable reason to fail to support their homes or fail to work in the best interests of the children they are charged with.
To this agency I say fu*k you! You need to figure out what your job is and then do it.
To the manager of this agency - You need to understand that all of the agencies (courts, county, private care, mental health providers, schools, ect.) DO NOT work well together. They all have different priorities and that causes friction. When you stop thinking that its one big happy family and start seeing the dysfunction you will be able to problems solve. Right now all you can do is slap band-aids all over the place and they don't fix sh!t!
For the kids I have been able to care for - I am looking forward to getting my house back and if any of you wish to send cash to repair the damage to my domicile, cars, personal property or anything else you busted, you know where I am!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Systemic & Chronic Injustice
Well the powers that be have committed yet another mortal sin. El Chupacobra has been told that his decisions and actions have harsh and bad consequences. An understanding was achieved in that if he fails to complete his school, substance abstinence, legal, and social interaction goals, he would be moved from a home setting and placed into a group home.
He is a risk to himself and others.
He was also told of his options and the consequences for his choices, but of course when it comes down to brass tacks the powers that be are failing to provide for this child.
His therapists, and other mental health professionals in his life, have advocated for structure, follow-through, and consistency. Well, as far as the agencies
go, they have consistency nailed down, dead-to-rights, locked-up, tied down, and set in stone. They are nearly perfect in their consistency. Every time they put forth a consequence, a piece of structure, or a potential response to a decision they don’t EVER do it. In every other area of his life, these people have failed, and if you think that the consistency offered above is also a failure, then they are flawless in their malfunction.
It was said that his movement to another home, and not to the professionally prescribed group home, was our idea. This is just a lie. We were told that it was state law that children must receive an education and El Chupacobra’s options were limited and finite. Should he fail in his educational goal/choice he would have to be moved to a group home or military school (where expelled students are still accepted). The reality appears to be that he is just moving to another home and being enrolled in another public school. Lies are simply sauce for the goose.
I think the agency we work with is simply looking to keep a client on the books, and thus collect money for him. They are making decisions based wholly on $ at the disastrous expense of the child.
I am left just wondering:
How do these people sleep at night?
Can they be this incompetent?
Are they brain dead?
WTF?
Conclusion: systemic failure of a profession resulting in depraved actions sacrificing children on the altar of dollars.
He is a risk to himself and others.
He was also told of his options and the consequences for his choices, but of course when it comes down to brass tacks the powers that be are failing to provide for this child.
His therapists, and other mental health professionals in his life, have advocated for structure, follow-through, and consistency. Well, as far as the agencies
go, they have consistency nailed down, dead-to-rights, locked-up, tied down, and set in stone. They are nearly perfect in their consistency. Every time they put forth a consequence, a piece of structure, or a potential response to a decision they don’t EVER do it. In every other area of his life, these people have failed, and if you think that the consistency offered above is also a failure, then they are flawless in their malfunction.It was said that his movement to another home, and not to the professionally prescribed group home, was our idea. This is just a lie. We were told that it was state law that children must receive an education and El Chupacobra’s options were limited and finite. Should he fail in his educational goal/choice he would have to be moved to a group home or military school (where expelled students are still accepted). The reality appears to be that he is just moving to another home and being enrolled in another public school. Lies are simply sauce for the goose.
I think the agency we work with is simply looking to keep a client on the books, and thus collect money for him. They are making decisions based wholly on $ at the disastrous expense of the child.
I am left just wondering:
How do these people sleep at night?
Can they be this incompetent?
Are they brain dead?
WTF?
Conclusion: systemic failure of a profession resulting in depraved actions sacrificing children on the altar of dollars.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
It should be working
Registration at school is so screwed up!
A new system was rolled out to all campuses, which was to be the greatest thing since sliced bread, but what we got was a piece of crap.
It let some people register and other not. Classes filled up and everything became total chaos.
Then out comes this nasty e-mail saying that people who registered were doing something wrong (as in bad people). The system then crashed.
So two days later you could call in your registration, but no message or information went out for that!
At any rate, I have registered, but I can't get one class that I need. This means I will have to take an extra course in the summer to catch up!
That sucks!!!
A new system was rolled out to all campuses, which was to be the greatest thing since sliced bread, but what we got was a piece of crap.
It let some people register and other not. Classes filled up and everything became total chaos.
Then out comes this nasty e-mail saying that people who registered were doing something wrong (as in bad people). The system then crashed.
So two days later you could call in your registration, but no message or information went out for that!
At any rate, I have registered, but I can't get one class that I need. This means I will have to take an extra course in the summer to catch up!
That sucks!!!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Writing Assessments
I am totally unmotivated to keep writing.
I have been punching in technical corrections in the form of formatting changes for the majority of the day!
I also set up a facebook page.
I have been punching in technical corrections in the form of formatting changes for the majority of the day!
I also set up a facebook page.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Angry!!!!! - VERY Angry!!!!!
Let’s talk about my kids again. So the terrible two-some left the house about 7 o’clock on Saturday night. I was just pulling into the driveway and they were leaving. It’s a bad omen when you pull into your driveway and there is some sh!tbox student grade barely runs crap-mobile parked in the middle of the driveway taking up every possible bit of space. This thing could not have been more intrusive unless it was a tractor trailer parked in front of my mailbox and idling for days at a time (but that is a different rant).
I see that the vehicle still has its driver, so I opened the garage door and pulled partway into the drive. Hoping that the kid would see me and let me park in my own garage, but of course he sees me but has no clue what he should do. How about try pulling your thumb out of you’re a$$ and moving your sh!tbox car off my property?
I roll down my window and yell at this clueless kid that I need to get into my garage. It’s like a deer in headlights! He looks at me and then at the open garagedoor and back at me. Then he imparts words of considered brilliance, “Is El Chupacobra or your Wonderful Son here?”
“I have no idea! You have been here longer than I have, but if you move your car I can go in and check.” I said, which should never ever have to have been said!
So Mr. Brilliance hops back into this box-o-sh!t and turns over the engine, I was impressed that it even started. He pulls it out into the street and waits for me to pull in (Great Right?). So I get into the garage and he pulls up behind me. When he turns off his car it sputters and lurches about a foot forward before finally killing. I guess I am lucky to even be alive.
Well, I collect up my stuff and head into the house and the terrible twosome run out the front door and pile into the death mobile. Which is fine, but they left the dogs outside, dishes all over the house, and the bathroom a total disaster. El Chupacobra then makes FOUR return trips back into the house for things he wants. All the time leaving his shoes on and just running about.
After about 15 minutes of fevered activity, I hear…no feel…bass from the rusted crap car and it pulls away. Now keep in mind I asked both children several parenting questions:
Q: Where are you going?
A: Out
Q: When will you be back?
A: Don’t know
Q: Who are you going to be with?
A: Friends
Q: Which friends?
A: You don’t know them
Off they went.
So time marches on and they return, of course it now Sunday night at 9:30 (and there is even an extra hour in there because it was daylight savings switch). I again asked parent type questions:
Q: Where were you
A:
Q: You were gone all night, where were you?
A: Out
Q: I know that, where?
A: River Falls and Sh!t
Q: Why didn’t you call?
A:
Q: Why didn’t you call?
A:
Q: Hello! What’s up with this?
A: We were in River Falls
Q: Doing what?
A: Nothing
Q: All night?
A:
At this point I gave up trying to talk to them, as I was losing my temper. I returned to my work and then My Wonderful Son comes over and asks if the Army recruiter has email me back. I had a really snarky remark, “I haven’t checked the email, because I was too worried about where you were.”
To which My Wonderful Son replied, “I don’t really care.” and walked away. I guess that means he doesn’t care if the recruiter emails him back so I won’t worry about it.
On a more somber note, these children are addicts! They have no idea, nor the desire, of how to live life without abusing substances. The biggest problem I have with this is that I have no ability to intervene. All of my parenting efforts have ended in total disaster. Either my child destroys my house [huge holes in the dry wall, doors torn from their hinges, smashed computers, broken furniture – just to name the highlights] or we get punished for doing the right thing. The last time he went on a rage spree and was destroying the house I called 911 and the cops came, he ran and they chased him down running him down with the police cruiser. They arrested him, took pictures of the damage, and got statements. They then hauled him away because he was unwilling to comply with basic safety rules. Two days later he decides he will be a good little boy and returns. The DA won’t put him on a JIPS or prosecute because he is a special needs adoption AND we get a huge bill for his incarceration.
El Chupagobra and his disappearances have become so frequent that the local police won’t even call us back for ¾ of a day, and then they don’t even look for him. He is a complete delinquent and nobody at the county will put this kid on paper or give him any consequences. Here is a brief list of the things he has done and NEVER received any consequences for:
Smoked Dope in Public
Over Dosed on non-drossy Dramamine
Drinking alcohol on the school bus
Broken into a car
Frequent ditching from school
Repeated tobacco possession/Use in Public
Mail theft
Possession of pornographic material
Theft
Running Away
Trespassing
My faith in man is severely shaken. That is because I live with two insufferable losers (I mean rabble) and the system which we are to use to maintain our sanity/safety/self is incapable of doing their jobs.
I see that the vehicle still has its driver, so I opened the garage door and pulled partway into the drive. Hoping that the kid would see me and let me park in my own garage, but of course he sees me but has no clue what he should do. How about try pulling your thumb out of you’re a$$ and moving your sh!tbox car off my property?
I roll down my window and yell at this clueless kid that I need to get into my garage. It’s like a deer in headlights! He looks at me and then at the open garagedoor and back at me. Then he imparts words of considered brilliance, “Is El Chupacobra or your Wonderful Son here?”
“I have no idea! You have been here longer than I have, but if you move your car I can go in and check.” I said, which should never ever have to have been said!
So Mr. Brilliance hops back into this box-o-sh!t and turns over the engine, I was impressed that it even started. He pulls it out into the street and waits for me to pull in (Great Right?). So I get into the garage and he pulls up behind me. When he turns off his car it sputters and lurches about a foot forward before finally killing. I guess I am lucky to even be alive.
Well, I collect up my stuff and head into the house and the terrible twosome run out the front door and pile into the death mobile. Which is fine, but they left the dogs outside, dishes all over the house, and the bathroom a total disaster. El Chupacobra then makes FOUR return trips back into the house for things he wants. All the time leaving his shoes on and just running about.
After about 15 minutes of fevered activity, I hear…no feel…bass from the rusted crap car and it pulls away. Now keep in mind I asked both children several parenting questions:
Q: Where are you going?
A: Out
Q: When will you be back?
A: Don’t know
Q: Who are you going to be with?
A: Friends
Q: Which friends?
A: You don’t know them
Off they went.
So time marches on and they return, of course it now Sunday night at 9:30 (and there is even an extra hour in there because it was daylight savings switch). I again asked parent type questions:
Q: Where were you
A:
Q: You were gone all night, where were you?
A: Out
Q: I know that, where?
A: River Falls and Sh!t
Q: Why didn’t you call?
A:
Q: Why didn’t you call?
A:
Q: Hello! What’s up with this?
A: We were in River Falls
Q: Doing what?
A: Nothing
Q: All night?
A:
At this point I gave up trying to talk to them, as I was losing my temper. I returned to my work and then My Wonderful Son comes over and asks if the Army recruiter has email me back. I had a really snarky remark, “I haven’t checked the email, because I was too worried about where you were.”
To which My Wonderful Son replied, “I don’t really care.” and walked away. I guess that means he doesn’t care if the recruiter emails him back so I won’t worry about it.
On a more somber note, these children are addicts! They have no idea, nor the desire, of how to live life without abusing substances. The biggest problem I have with this is that I have no ability to intervene. All of my parenting efforts have ended in total disaster. Either my child destroys my house [huge holes in the dry wall, doors torn from their hinges, smashed computers, broken furniture – just to name the highlights] or we get punished for doing the right thing. The last time he went on a rage spree and was destroying the house I called 911 and the cops came, he ran and they chased him down running him down with the police cruiser. They arrested him, took pictures of the damage, and got statements. They then hauled him away because he was unwilling to comply with basic safety rules. Two days later he decides he will be a good little boy and returns. The DA won’t put him on a JIPS or prosecute because he is a special needs adoption AND we get a huge bill for his incarceration.
El Chupagobra and his disappearances have become so frequent that the local police won’t even call us back for ¾ of a day, and then they don’t even look for him. He is a complete delinquent and nobody at the county will put this kid on paper or give him any consequences. Here is a brief list of the things he has done and NEVER received any consequences for:
Smoked Dope in Public
Over Dosed on non-drossy Dramamine
Drinking alcohol on the school bus
Broken into a car
Frequent ditching from school
Repeated tobacco possession/Use in Public
Mail theft
Possession of pornographic material
Theft
Running Away
Trespassing
My faith in man is severely shaken. That is because I live with two insufferable losers (I mean rabble) and the system which we are to use to maintain our sanity/safety/self is incapable of doing their jobs.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Oh No, Not Again?
A human father has three little half-elven girls, and one of them comes up to him one day and asks, "Daddy, why am I named Rose?" to which the father replies, "Honey, when you were a baby, a rose petal fell on your forehead, so we named you Rose."
The second daughter comes up to him afterward and asks, "Daddy, why am I named Lily?" to which he replies, "Sweetie, when you were a baby, a lily petal fell on your forehead, so we named you Lily."
The third daughter comes up to him and says, "Gajfnkasj tgong odg" and the father replies, "Shut up, HillGiantRock!"
The second daughter comes up to him afterward and asks, "Daddy, why am I named Lily?" to which he replies, "Sweetie, when you were a baby, a lily petal fell on your forehead, so we named you Lily."
The third daughter comes up to him and says, "Gajfnkasj tgong odg" and the father replies, "Shut up, HillGiantRock!"
To be a therapist...
So we just did a supervision where I was the therapist - I found myself bristling at the feedback AND I don't really know why I reacted that way.
I felt like I wanted to justify my all of the feedback and thus invalidating the response.
So I divide the experience in to Cognition and Affect.
Cognition – all of the feedback was useful and could help improve or at least head off potential problems. The feedback was sound and accurate. It had great specific examples. It was both positive and negative – validating and constructive.
Affect – I had a vile reaction to the experience. I am somewhat feedback adverse, but in past noted experiences I attributed it to a lack of specificity and vague (thus hard to place) feedback. I just bristled. Perhaps I was unintentionally degrading the supervisor and thus invalidating the feedback. I did not know the person and did not understand the credibility (somewhat of a show me). I wonder if it would be different if the person was a PsyD and had a greater degree of establishment? Would I assign it more value?
An emotional response problem – the person who was providing feedback was light and airy and had this sing-song voice. She was very non-threatening, but may have sacrificed credibility ( or rather I murdered it) because of her floating ethereal way. I moved too far into the realm of affect and thus was not in (my) correct frame of mind to take feed-back.
It is going to be tough to take guidance and be supervised by someone with that sing-song style of speaking.
Plus, it is really tough (at my current level) to see myself as successful as a therapist. Thus getting negative feedback can serve to damage or contribute to problematic self-esteem. I get the feeling of “how will I ever be able to get this?” I am just trying to think of the next question and get all the information for a Dx or not miss a piece that I will need later, then to look at inserting metaphor or not using specific words. It looks daunting.
It also feels schizophrenic! I have a million thoughts being juggled and they are all screaming for attention. Here I am trying to check off the symptoms from the DSM, trying to establish rapport, trying to meet the client where there are, be empathetic, paraphrase their emotions, observe the non-verbal signs, mirror client statements, ask opened ended questions, let the client go where they need to go, validate the clients problems and emotions, ask hard questions, get all the social Hx, medical Hx, family Hx, Tx Hx, Dx Hx, Rx Hx, and like a billion other bits of information AND do it all in a way that meets the person-centered ideology.
Let alone use motivation interviewing, explain all of the legal stuff (informed consent, disclosure, etc.) and being helpful. Will the client return for a second session? Will the client commit suicide? Was something I could’da/should’da/would’da have done.
I felt like I wanted to justify my all of the feedback and thus invalidating the response.
So I divide the experience in to Cognition and Affect.
Cognition – all of the feedback was useful and could help improve or at least head off potential problems. The feedback was sound and accurate. It had great specific examples. It was both positive and negative – validating and constructive.
Affect – I had a vile reaction to the experience. I am somewhat feedback adverse, but in past noted experiences I attributed it to a lack of specificity and vague (thus hard to place) feedback. I just bristled. Perhaps I was unintentionally degrading the supervisor and thus invalidating the feedback. I did not know the person and did not understand the credibility (somewhat of a show me). I wonder if it would be different if the person was a PsyD and had a greater degree of establishment? Would I assign it more value?
An emotional response problem – the person who was providing feedback was light and airy and had this sing-song voice. She was very non-threatening, but may have sacrificed credibility ( or rather I murdered it) because of her floating ethereal way. I moved too far into the realm of affect and thus was not in (my) correct frame of mind to take feed-back.
It is going to be tough to take guidance and be supervised by someone with that sing-song style of speaking.
Plus, it is really tough (at my current level) to see myself as successful as a therapist. Thus getting negative feedback can serve to damage or contribute to problematic self-esteem. I get the feeling of “how will I ever be able to get this?” I am just trying to think of the next question and get all the information for a Dx or not miss a piece that I will need later, then to look at inserting metaphor or not using specific words. It looks daunting.
It also feels schizophrenic! I have a million thoughts being juggled and they are all screaming for attention. Here I am trying to check off the symptoms from the DSM, trying to establish rapport, trying to meet the client where there are, be empathetic, paraphrase their emotions, observe the non-verbal signs, mirror client statements, ask opened ended questions, let the client go where they need to go, validate the clients problems and emotions, ask hard questions, get all the social Hx, medical Hx, family Hx, Tx Hx, Dx Hx, Rx Hx, and like a billion other bits of information AND do it all in a way that meets the person-centered ideology.
Let alone use motivation interviewing, explain all of the legal stuff (informed consent, disclosure, etc.) and being helpful. Will the client return for a second session? Will the client commit suicide? Was something I could’da/should’da/would’da have done.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Haha first years!
I was just in the grad lounge and I was privilege to a group of first year students talking over a project and a recent test. Oh how difficult it seemed then and how easy it seems now - guess I am getting something out of all this time I spend in class.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
More Rorschach Responses
"It looks like a pink bearcat circus animal climbing a ladder to jump off into this small tub of jello."
"Thislooks like a woman wearing a diaper and sitting on a small pile of cool lightningbolts."
"This is a bugox, with its scars from battle nearly healed."
"This looks like Cthulhu, he is speaking at the debates from behind a podium and here are the wet empty skulls of Obama and McCain."
"It looks like a spirit guide that has been verbally raped. Here is its harsh emotional truma splattered on the ghostly wall. This part down here is the portal to Easter."
"This part here looks like ether or rejoycing petrol fumes."
"This looks like Elmo from 'CyberChase', except from 'South Park'"
"Gosh, I think it looks like a devil who is in pain, like when they are forced to step into a church. It looks like its happening around Chrismas."
"You know the big broiled sandwiches you get at Burger King, well it looks like the crumpled wrapper for one of those. This is a ketchup stain on the waxy paper."
"A huge pile of spoiled garden tools, like rakes."
"These cards don't have anything to do with sex, except for the last one, it looks like RU-486."
"Its a party where all the planets and stuff have come. They have beer, chips and popcorn, but I don't think they are eating any of it. You can't tell because they are behind all these party decorations."
"It looks like some slut sat on this one."
"Thislooks like a woman wearing a diaper and sitting on a small pile of cool lightningbolts."
"This is a bugox, with its scars from battle nearly healed."
"This looks like Cthulhu, he is speaking at the debates from behind a podium and here are the wet empty skulls of Obama and McCain."
"It looks like a spirit guide that has been verbally raped. Here is its harsh emotional truma splattered on the ghostly wall. This part down here is the portal to Easter."
"This part here looks like ether or rejoycing petrol fumes."
"This looks like Elmo from 'CyberChase', except from 'South Park'"
"Gosh, I think it looks like a devil who is in pain, like when they are forced to step into a church. It looks like its happening around Chrismas."
"You know the big broiled sandwiches you get at Burger King, well it looks like the crumpled wrapper for one of those. This is a ketchup stain on the waxy paper."
"A huge pile of spoiled garden tools, like rakes."
"These cards don't have anything to do with sex, except for the last one, it looks like RU-486."
"Its a party where all the planets and stuff have come. They have beer, chips and popcorn, but I don't think they are eating any of it. You can't tell because they are behind all these party decorations."
"It looks like some slut sat on this one."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
stress
There is little in my world that is more stressful than a computer crash!
Yesterday afternoon I had such an event.
Today has been nothing short of hell. I have been trying to get my puter back to a working state. It is quite a process.
I checked with some IT places who quoted me several hundred dollars for something I can do, and they did not even promis a quick turnaround time of even success with data recovery!
Now my system tried to do two updates to Windows at the same time. They fell into one another and both failed.
Then I get a message that I have to restart the computer and it may not come up again.
God please help!
Yesterday afternoon I had such an event.
Today has been nothing short of hell. I have been trying to get my puter back to a working state. It is quite a process.
I checked with some IT places who quoted me several hundred dollars for something I can do, and they did not even promis a quick turnaround time of even success with data recovery!
Now my system tried to do two updates to Windows at the same time. They fell into one another and both failed.
Then I get a message that I have to restart the computer and it may not come up again.
God please help!
Monday, September 29, 2008
These are the heavy seven.
Shit
Piss
Fuck
Cunt
CockSucker
MotherFucker
Tits
Those are the ones that'll infect your soul, curve your spine, and keep the country from winning the war.
--George Carlin
Piss
Fuck
Cunt
CockSucker
MotherFucker
Tits
Those are the ones that'll infect your soul, curve your spine, and keep the country from winning the war.
--George Carlin
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I just can’t wait...
I received a rather frantic call today. I was at work and in between clients when my cell phone rang. In picking it up I noticed that there were three missed calls. Turns out they were all from my son, and all occurred in the last 90 minutes.
I picked up the phone and was going to launch into the typical Dad stuff [you know: How was School? What time did you get home? How was your day? Did you find something to snack on? What are your plans tonight?] when I was yelled at for not picking up my phone sooner.
When he had finished the ranting and raving, I asked him what was wrong. He replied, “I have been calling you for over 2 hours. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
I replied that I was with clients and can’t take phone calls during that time unless its an emergency. In which case he needs to call the front desk and talk to the AA.
Of course, he could not remember the number for the front desk, so I naturally asked him what the emergency was.
“I can’t find El Chupacobra and I wanted to go hang out. Do you know where he is?”
I happened to know that he was working this evening, but I was more puzzled by the idea that El Chupacobra’s whereabouts was an emergency. Calling him on this he again got angry.
This then started a b!tch session about payment for a chore he preformed.
You see, this child has not held a job for months and the job he had back in May he quit saying that he “didn’t have time to work during the summer.” Before that he was unemployed for over a year and quit that job because they wanted him to work in areas of the restaurant that he was sick of doing. Needless to say he has not had very much money over the past year and a half.
About the chore – About two days ago he asked out a young woman and she said “Yas”
This is great, but it presented my wonderful son with a few problems.
1) He does not have transportation, as he failed to maintain a car that was given to him and now sits disabled in my front lawn.
2) He has no cash, as he has spent all his birthday money [from a day ago] and has no job.
3) He fails to maintain even the most basic home requirements [clean room; put dishes in dishwasher; put coat in closet or room; don’t leave dirty socks or other belongings in common areas], and wants to be paid to do something.
He planned the date for Saturday, or two days from today. To solve the transportation problem he worked out a vehicle sharing arrangement with his mother, and was granted some degree of free gas (as well). To solve the money problem, he asked to do something around the house. I offered him the chance to mow the lawn (about 1.5 hours of work) and would pay him $12. Although he wanted $30, he still agreed to do the work. He completed the chore yesterday, but was told that he would be paid in time for his date. This made the assumption that he was going to spend the $s on the date (STUPID ME)!
In today’s phone call he explained (read yelled at me) that he wanted the money now. He further explained that he wanted the money to have in his pocket, and went on to say that he didn’t need any help saving his money and I was treating him like a little kid.
Well that was wonderful and such a precious family moment.
So who here is stupid enough to think that if he had that money right now there would be even two red pennies left over by Saturday? Any guesses why he wants the money right now?
At any rate, I enjoyed my family today!
Guesses:
1) Pot
2) Green Cigarettes
3) Marijuana
4) Shwag
5) Hemp
6) Snuff
7) Dope
8) Grass
9) Weed
10) Mary Jane
11) Ganja
12) THC
13) Cannabis
14) Skunk
15) Hash
16) Dagga
17) Chronic
18) Diggy
19) Ditch weed
20) Joint
I picked up the phone and was going to launch into the typical Dad stuff [you know: How was School? What time did you get home? How was your day? Did you find something to snack on? What are your plans tonight?] when I was yelled at for not picking up my phone sooner.
When he had finished the ranting and raving, I asked him what was wrong. He replied, “I have been calling you for over 2 hours. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
I replied that I was with clients and can’t take phone calls during that time unless its an emergency. In which case he needs to call the front desk and talk to the AA.
Of course, he could not remember the number for the front desk, so I naturally asked him what the emergency was.
“I can’t find El Chupacobra and I wanted to go hang out. Do you know where he is?”
I happened to know that he was working this evening, but I was more puzzled by the idea that El Chupacobra’s whereabouts was an emergency. Calling him on this he again got angry.
This then started a b!tch session about payment for a chore he preformed.
You see, this child has not held a job for months and the job he had back in May he quit saying that he “didn’t have time to work during the summer.” Before that he was unemployed for over a year and quit that job because they wanted him to work in areas of the restaurant that he was sick of doing. Needless to say he has not had very much money over the past year and a half.
About the chore – About two days ago he asked out a young woman and she said “Yas”
This is great, but it presented my wonderful son with a few problems.
1) He does not have transportation, as he failed to maintain a car that was given to him and now sits disabled in my front lawn.
2) He has no cash, as he has spent all his birthday money [from a day ago] and has no job.
3) He fails to maintain even the most basic home requirements [clean room; put dishes in dishwasher; put coat in closet or room; don’t leave dirty socks or other belongings in common areas], and wants to be paid to do something.
He planned the date for Saturday, or two days from today. To solve the transportation problem he worked out a vehicle sharing arrangement with his mother, and was granted some degree of free gas (as well). To solve the money problem, he asked to do something around the house. I offered him the chance to mow the lawn (about 1.5 hours of work) and would pay him $12. Although he wanted $30, he still agreed to do the work. He completed the chore yesterday, but was told that he would be paid in time for his date. This made the assumption that he was going to spend the $s on the date (STUPID ME)!
In today’s phone call he explained (read yelled at me) that he wanted the money now. He further explained that he wanted the money to have in his pocket, and went on to say that he didn’t need any help saving his money and I was treating him like a little kid.
Well that was wonderful and such a precious family moment.
So who here is stupid enough to think that if he had that money right now there would be even two red pennies left over by Saturday? Any guesses why he wants the money right now?
At any rate, I enjoyed my family today!
Guesses:
1) Pot
2) Green Cigarettes
3) Marijuana
4) Shwag
5) Hemp
6) Snuff
7) Dope
8) Grass
9) Weed
10) Mary Jane
11) Ganja
12) THC
13) Cannabis
14) Skunk
15) Hash
16) Dagga
17) Chronic
18) Diggy
19) Ditch weed
20) Joint
Quotes from a Projectives Assessment Talk
There are no “always.”
From this photocopy you can almost see the two areas. They come together here.
In this one, the shape is given form with “maybe a half circle, no”
Islands have no shape.
These are the right answers…and remember this stuff is all very subjective.
From this photocopy you can almost see the two areas. They come together here.
In this one, the shape is given form with “maybe a half circle, no”
Islands have no shape.
These are the right answers…and remember this stuff is all very subjective.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Group work?
So what do you call it when everybody does the assignment and then gets together and compares answers?
Projective assessment is a course of nothing but shades of grey, but yet all of the students are scurrying about comparing answers. Admittedly this tends to foster discussion that increase the level of understanding and are generally good for the education process, but in a class where the material and the instructor is entirely subjective it seems a little foolish.
So I did not participate. I did have about 12 people (75% of the class) asking to see what my answers were.
Here is the true fly in the ointment – The assignments are graded on a curve, AND what a curve. The average score on assignments is in the low to mid 40%s. It is interesting to me that if the class (in a majority) gets together and submits the same answers AND the average class score is in the low 40% that gives a huge advantage to the student who options out of the group work. That’s Me!!!!
Projective assessment is a course of nothing but shades of grey, but yet all of the students are scurrying about comparing answers. Admittedly this tends to foster discussion that increase the level of understanding and are generally good for the education process, but in a class where the material and the instructor is entirely subjective it seems a little foolish.
So I did not participate. I did have about 12 people (75% of the class) asking to see what my answers were.
Here is the true fly in the ointment – The assignments are graded on a curve, AND what a curve. The average score on assignments is in the low to mid 40%s. It is interesting to me that if the class (in a majority) gets together and submits the same answers AND the average class score is in the low 40% that gives a huge advantage to the student who options out of the group work. That’s Me!!!!
Monday, September 15, 2008
The endless rewards of working with troubled teens.
Reward #1 – I see that a major reward in working with troubled teens (boys and girls) is the rapid and ever-present exposure to useful, productive, stimulating, and very colorful language. This is a huge benefit to being a parent of a troubled teen. “How so?” you might ask. Well fist of all, I am able to stay on the cutting edge of all the relevant slang, thus I can tune into any group of teens and understand what they are talking about. This helps to avoid the otherwise inevitable questioning one must present to just begin to understand teen-speak. Living with teens I am spared the embarrassment of having to ask, “What are you talking about?” Another great benefit is that I am well versed in the new and creative use of language. The most valuable information I have learned is that the seven words you can’t say on television, as made famous by the late great George Carlin, were invented by my teenagers. Not a single English speaking human has ever used the word f*ck or sh!t or douche-bag mother*cking a$$hole to “enliven” or add accent to speech. Additionally, the magnitude of the idea to use these words has spread so rapidly that “everyone says that.” This speaks to the truly divine roots of their ideas. Finally, the concept of these words being offensive and impolite has also been “cured” in that their widespread and wondrous use has demonstrated that any pre-conceptions adults had about these words was dead wrong. These are common parts of speech and if you find them offensive, crude, brash, degrading, dirty, or morally objectionable you are a relic stuck in the days of yore. I sleep better knowing that I am current on my language use – and the next time you have a professional meeting make sure and greet everyone in the room with a huge smile and a big f*ck you!
Monday, September 8, 2008
My Head is a Cantaloupe!
I am quite sure that El Chupacobra and my wonderful son look at me and only see my head as a bulbous, semi-rotten, worthless cantaloupe, somehow attached to my neck. They think, even though I am in a doctoral program, that I have no ability to see, hear, smell, or THINK!
What the hell?
What the hell?
What is there in a class on the Projective Assessment?
I would expect to have the Rorschach covered in quite some detail. I would also expect to have the other common projective tests covered in a general sense. These may not be in significant detail, but perhaps in a high level overview. Based on my experience with other assessment courses I would expect one test to be stressed and the others to be mentions as peripheral. As you might guess, because it shows up here, is that this is not what walked through the door on this first class.
The class started off as normal as could be expected. There were very few new faces and the instructor had a syllabus to hand out, thus I was rather comfortable in the first few minutes of the class. That is when it all went to hell. For my first time in a doctoral level program I had an instructor read (verbatim) the syllabus. This took about two hours to read 19 pages because the narrative was intermixed with statements of how “you” will screw something up.
It was like being back in high school. I actually received instruction on how to study. “Find a quite comfortable place, where you have lots of space to place your materials.” I sh!t you not! There were about a dozen other equally essential study skills covered in the syllabus. As a graduate student I really needed this advice. I am SO angry that nobody gave me this helpful – no wait CRITICAL – piece of study skill/advice up to this point. Can you imagine how much more successful I would have been in my previous academic activates if I had had this information? Why the hell did I have to wait until I was working on my Psy.D. until I got this information? I think these are critical questions. Covering these elements took only about 30 minutes and is likely the most important take away message of the class.
I now know how to study, bring on the A+s.
The class started off as normal as could be expected. There were very few new faces and the instructor had a syllabus to hand out, thus I was rather comfortable in the first few minutes of the class. That is when it all went to hell. For my first time in a doctoral level program I had an instructor read (verbatim) the syllabus. This took about two hours to read 19 pages because the narrative was intermixed with statements of how “you” will screw something up.
It was like being back in high school. I actually received instruction on how to study. “Find a quite comfortable place, where you have lots of space to place your materials.” I sh!t you not! There were about a dozen other equally essential study skills covered in the syllabus. As a graduate student I really needed this advice. I am SO angry that nobody gave me this helpful – no wait CRITICAL – piece of study skill/advice up to this point. Can you imagine how much more successful I would have been in my previous academic activates if I had had this information? Why the hell did I have to wait until I was working on my Psy.D. until I got this information? I think these are critical questions. Covering these elements took only about 30 minutes and is likely the most important take away message of the class.
I now know how to study, bring on the A+s.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Elves are moving my forks, spoons, knives, and dishes
As I was up late last night I slept in somewhat this morning, but I thought it would be fine. I spent several hours yesterday cleaning the house and I made sure to clean up all the damage from my friends visit before turning in. Hence the house should have been in great shape.
Sure the cats may have knocked some papers and the like on the floor and I was going to have to clean the litter-boxes, but it should have been in great shape. What I arose to was a total disaster. The sink was full of dishes, not to mention glasses and bowls in the living room. There was dirty cloths on the floor and a pair of stinky socks in the recliner.
I was of course very interested in what happened as my son and El Chupacobra had gone to other houses to stay and my wife was on the other side of the state. I was alone in the house (except for the animals), but I have never seen them use dishes or wear cloths (at least without help getting dressed – which I did NOT give them). So I was more than a little bit confused.
I investigated the situation and came to the conclusion that elves, phantoms, pixies, gremlins, and all manner of fantastic creatures must have utilized my house as the most recent scene of gang initiations. They may have even made adult films. As you may know, pixies and fae creatures use plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware in their intricate initiation rituals. When a new faerie wishes to join the ranks of the Fae gang they are ritually tortured and abused with all manner of kitchen item, and these creatures are known for their deeply help religious beliefs that once a plate, glass, or fork has been touched by human food it cannot be moved again. This thus explains the multitude of dishes I discovered when I got up. I also speculate that a Fae adult video was made in my living room. This would explain the stinky nasty clothing I discovered.
Its either that or my son came home about 45 minutes before I got up and made the mess himself!
Sure the cats may have knocked some papers and the like on the floor and I was going to have to clean the litter-boxes, but it should have been in great shape. What I arose to was a total disaster. The sink was full of dishes, not to mention glasses and bowls in the living room. There was dirty cloths on the floor and a pair of stinky socks in the recliner.
I was of course very interested in what happened as my son and El Chupacobra had gone to other houses to stay and my wife was on the other side of the state. I was alone in the house (except for the animals), but I have never seen them use dishes or wear cloths (at least without help getting dressed – which I did NOT give them). So I was more than a little bit confused.
I investigated the situation and came to the conclusion that elves, phantoms, pixies, gremlins, and all manner of fantastic creatures must have utilized my house as the most recent scene of gang initiations. They may have even made adult films. As you may know, pixies and fae creatures use plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware in their intricate initiation rituals. When a new faerie wishes to join the ranks of the Fae gang they are ritually tortured and abused with all manner of kitchen item, and these creatures are known for their deeply help religious beliefs that once a plate, glass, or fork has been touched by human food it cannot be moved again. This thus explains the multitude of dishes I discovered when I got up. I also speculate that a Fae adult video was made in my living room. This would explain the stinky nasty clothing I discovered.
Its either that or my son came home about 45 minutes before I got up and made the mess himself!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
The Endless Rewards of Fatherhood
El Chupacobra is at it again. He was grounded for his antics – pierced ears, without permission & cursing out his parental figures with vim and vigor. As a consequence to his action he was grounded until the earrings came out AND then three weeks for cursing out his parents for nearly 60 minutes (we were in a car).
While grounded he found some time to cut class and go with another scum-bag of a child and smoke a bunch of weed. Then in his blazed up brilliance he returns to school and gets nabbed by the principal (who is of course looking for him for cutting class). He is all glassy eyed and messed up, and the principal is not a complete and total moron, so he is obviously stoned. I get a call from school explaining the situation and that I have to come get him. So I hop in the car and run off to school.
When I get there El Chupacobra is outside already. He walks over to the car and hops in, telling me to go as he has to go home get his work cloths and get to his McJob. As I am pulling out of the parking lot the principal come running out waving his arms and yelling. I of course stop.
The principal explains what has happened and that El Chupacobra just got up and walked out of the principal’s office right in the middle of the whole event. He explains that this child is “Not long for the school” and we leave.
Well it turns out that he forgot to tell me El Chupacobra was suspended until an expulsion hearing could be conviened.
All well and good, I went the next day and picked El Chupacobra up from school and put him in his room. Our house rules are that if you are suspended then you have to be in your bedroom for the hours school is in session. This is to prevent being suspended from being fun or even a neutral experience. Stupid stoned El Chupacobra is still grounded for his last great transgression and thinks that there will be no consequences for this. After all it happened at school so why should he have punishment at home?
Skipping ahead, he was expelled from school! This jeopardizes his placement here and creates huge head-aches for a lot of people, but that’s just our job and why should we be even the slightest bit upset? He even got angry that we are going to punish him for this as this was none of our business!
What a way to go through life! He just doesn’t get it. He cannot see how his actions impact anybody else around him! Even if her could see them, or when they are pointed out [or when his nose is rubbed in them like a puppy that soiled the rug] he chooses to just shrug it off.
We have not yet told him what his new [expulsion] consequences are going to be; although he thinks that just getting expelled is punishment enough. He is not getting a usage ticket, as the police are frustrated with all of his anti-social behaviors and referred the case up. The bad news there is that nobody at the county is going to prosecute the case, so he gets no consequences from the courts. What kind of a message are we sending this kid? ANSWER: “you can do whatever you want and the social consequences are nill.” When the channel 5 news team comes knocking on my door looking for an interview with the foster parents of the newly apprehended chainsaw killer of Minneapolis, I will have this post to point to and can sent them to talk with the DA.
In the mean time, my son decides that he is going to utilize the opportunity to f-up his relationship with his parents. We just finished punishing El Chupabobra for ear holes, when I get a call from him while at his bio-moms asking to put holes in his ears. When I tell him no he goes ballistic, cursing me out and eventually just hanging up on me.
So bio-mom (aka wonder woman – as in I wonder if she has two brain cells that aren’t totally baked) brings back my perfect little angel of a son. He storms into the house, throws his stuff and walks right back out the door.
He returns and proceeds to tell me he hates me and that I won’t let him express himself. Never mind that he has now cursed me out more than five times. So how am I stifling his expression? He then explains to me how I make him miserable and he can’t wait to turn 18, in of which on that day he is moving out. This to me is a great success story. I have successfully taken an emotionally destroyed child, who was an insidious bully, a nasty person, and generally a poor excuse for a human being and been so successful that he can and will move out into the world when he is 18! Hurray for us!
This is like the pinnacle of super parenting. Even the most well adjusted and behaved children, who turn 18, are years away from moving out. Here we are taking cellular garbage with a bad attitude and in less than 5 years having him willing to move out on his own. And the award for unreasonable goal attainment in the area of fu$ked up dirty sub-humans goes to…ME!
Well at any rate, he then tells me that he got his ears pierced..didn’t say how it happened…and that he was not taking them out. I explained that I was disappointed in his disobedience and that I want him to remove them. He is also grounded until they are removed. He promptly cursed me out for a good 10 minutes and stormed out of the house.
He came back 30 minutes later and demanded that I empty the garage so he could utilize his punching bag. Although he was acting like vile scum and demanding things, I did feel that utilization of his heavy bag would be a great thing. So I moved the car.
Not two minutes later, with bruised and bloody knuckles (don’t worry he is fine) he came back in and cursed me out again. Then he asked me if he could go live with wonder woman for the rest of the summer. So here I am, wanting to tell him that she is about the worst person in the world for him and that even the slightest exposure to her bull crap degrades his life, but I have to be resistant to lambasting her. “I don’t think that is a good idea.” was my best response, and that when he was just there he scarred his body against my express instructions.
Then it was twenty more minutes of his rants and curses.
1) He wants to look good, so he needs to have his ears pierced. I am f-ing up his look.
2) He needs to express himself and expressing himself makes him happy.
3) For the last year I have been making him miserable
4) My wonderful and lovely wife and I are just controlling a$$holes, who are hassling him about the earrings for no other reason than to be in control.
5) We are stifling him. He has no freedom.
Let’s remember that “He has no FREEDOM!” [Insert a good Mel Gibson’s Braveheart here].
1) He had a free car, which he refused to maintain so it broke and is essentially dead.
2) He has not had to have a job, as he concentrated on his schooling. Let’s remember that he failed 2 classes and is now NOT on track to graduate.
3) He has a midnight curfew.
4) We don’t limit who he associates with, even though his “friends” are selling liquor in school, trading hardcore porn, and getting expelled.
Oh to be 16 again
So the dear and wonderful child is back and screaming at me again for not letting him do whatever he wants. He is trying to negotiate now. He wants to go stay at his bio-moms.
…That went ever so well…
My son was just arrested.
1) Disorderly Conduct
2) Destruction of property
3) Resisting arrest
So do I have to give back the award for parenting?
While grounded he found some time to cut class and go with another scum-bag of a child and smoke a bunch of weed. Then in his blazed up brilliance he returns to school and gets nabbed by the principal (who is of course looking for him for cutting class). He is all glassy eyed and messed up, and the principal is not a complete and total moron, so he is obviously stoned. I get a call from school explaining the situation and that I have to come get him. So I hop in the car and run off to school.
When I get there El Chupacobra is outside already. He walks over to the car and hops in, telling me to go as he has to go home get his work cloths and get to his McJob. As I am pulling out of the parking lot the principal come running out waving his arms and yelling. I of course stop.
The principal explains what has happened and that El Chupacobra just got up and walked out of the principal’s office right in the middle of the whole event. He explains that this child is “Not long for the school” and we leave.
Well it turns out that he forgot to tell me El Chupacobra was suspended until an expulsion hearing could be conviened.
All well and good, I went the next day and picked El Chupacobra up from school and put him in his room. Our house rules are that if you are suspended then you have to be in your bedroom for the hours school is in session. This is to prevent being suspended from being fun or even a neutral experience. Stupid stoned El Chupacobra is still grounded for his last great transgression and thinks that there will be no consequences for this. After all it happened at school so why should he have punishment at home?
Skipping ahead, he was expelled from school! This jeopardizes his placement here and creates huge head-aches for a lot of people, but that’s just our job and why should we be even the slightest bit upset? He even got angry that we are going to punish him for this as this was none of our business!
What a way to go through life! He just doesn’t get it. He cannot see how his actions impact anybody else around him! Even if her could see them, or when they are pointed out [or when his nose is rubbed in them like a puppy that soiled the rug] he chooses to just shrug it off.
We have not yet told him what his new [expulsion] consequences are going to be; although he thinks that just getting expelled is punishment enough. He is not getting a usage ticket, as the police are frustrated with all of his anti-social behaviors and referred the case up. The bad news there is that nobody at the county is going to prosecute the case, so he gets no consequences from the courts. What kind of a message are we sending this kid? ANSWER: “you can do whatever you want and the social consequences are nill.” When the channel 5 news team comes knocking on my door looking for an interview with the foster parents of the newly apprehended chainsaw killer of Minneapolis, I will have this post to point to and can sent them to talk with the DA.
In the mean time, my son decides that he is going to utilize the opportunity to f-up his relationship with his parents. We just finished punishing El Chupabobra for ear holes, when I get a call from him while at his bio-moms asking to put holes in his ears. When I tell him no he goes ballistic, cursing me out and eventually just hanging up on me.
So bio-mom (aka wonder woman – as in I wonder if she has two brain cells that aren’t totally baked) brings back my perfect little angel of a son. He storms into the house, throws his stuff and walks right back out the door.
He returns and proceeds to tell me he hates me and that I won’t let him express himself. Never mind that he has now cursed me out more than five times. So how am I stifling his expression? He then explains to me how I make him miserable and he can’t wait to turn 18, in of which on that day he is moving out. This to me is a great success story. I have successfully taken an emotionally destroyed child, who was an insidious bully, a nasty person, and generally a poor excuse for a human being and been so successful that he can and will move out into the world when he is 18! Hurray for us!
This is like the pinnacle of super parenting. Even the most well adjusted and behaved children, who turn 18, are years away from moving out. Here we are taking cellular garbage with a bad attitude and in less than 5 years having him willing to move out on his own. And the award for unreasonable goal attainment in the area of fu$ked up dirty sub-humans goes to…ME!
Well at any rate, he then tells me that he got his ears pierced..didn’t say how it happened…and that he was not taking them out. I explained that I was disappointed in his disobedience and that I want him to remove them. He is also grounded until they are removed. He promptly cursed me out for a good 10 minutes and stormed out of the house.
He came back 30 minutes later and demanded that I empty the garage so he could utilize his punching bag. Although he was acting like vile scum and demanding things, I did feel that utilization of his heavy bag would be a great thing. So I moved the car.
Not two minutes later, with bruised and bloody knuckles (don’t worry he is fine) he came back in and cursed me out again. Then he asked me if he could go live with wonder woman for the rest of the summer. So here I am, wanting to tell him that she is about the worst person in the world for him and that even the slightest exposure to her bull crap degrades his life, but I have to be resistant to lambasting her. “I don’t think that is a good idea.” was my best response, and that when he was just there he scarred his body against my express instructions.
Then it was twenty more minutes of his rants and curses.
1) He wants to look good, so he needs to have his ears pierced. I am f-ing up his look.
2) He needs to express himself and expressing himself makes him happy.
3) For the last year I have been making him miserable
4) My wonderful and lovely wife and I are just controlling a$$holes, who are hassling him about the earrings for no other reason than to be in control.
5) We are stifling him. He has no freedom.
Let’s remember that “He has no FREEDOM!” [Insert a good Mel Gibson’s Braveheart here].
1) He had a free car, which he refused to maintain so it broke and is essentially dead.
2) He has not had to have a job, as he concentrated on his schooling. Let’s remember that he failed 2 classes and is now NOT on track to graduate.
3) He has a midnight curfew.
4) We don’t limit who he associates with, even though his “friends” are selling liquor in school, trading hardcore porn, and getting expelled.
Oh to be 16 again
So the dear and wonderful child is back and screaming at me again for not letting him do whatever he wants. He is trying to negotiate now. He wants to go stay at his bio-moms.
…That went ever so well…
My son was just arrested.
1) Disorderly Conduct
2) Destruction of property
3) Resisting arrest
So do I have to give back the award for parenting?
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thinking errors
Dad - vacuum the living room
El Chupacobra - Y?
Dad - people vacuum to remove dirt from their living space
El Chupacobra - I don't live there
Dad - then I don't want to see you watching my TV, ever
El Chupacobra - that's not living
Dad - good then it won't be a hardship
El Chupacobra - Muh.
El Chupacobra - Y?
Dad - people vacuum to remove dirt from their living space
El Chupacobra - I don't live there
Dad - then I don't want to see you watching my TV, ever
El Chupacobra - that's not living
Dad - good then it won't be a hardship
El Chupacobra - Muh.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
So we’re board – Oh I know, lets burn ourselves with red hot coals.
Once again I am back here trying to figure out WTF is going on with my son. He had a weekend “Home” except I only say him for about 20 minutes when he changed clothes on Sunday afternoon. He took off after school on Friday and was going to hang out with a few of his friends. He hung out with some friends on Friday night. He returned on Saturday to get $7 to go to the drive-in and then disappeared. I didn’t see him again until Sunday afternoon when he changed cloths and went right back out again.
Again this is not really a problem. He was “checking in” and told some good stories about where he was going to be. Accept that it was a total lie – but once again I am getting ahead of myself.
Sunday night came around and he called and said he was in another town and asked to stay the night. He had a ride to school in the morning. OK, I am lazy and don’t want to get dressed and drive around for hours trying to find him and pick him up. He is so “directionally challenged” that he could not give a Titan directions on how to get out of a paper bag. So I acquiesced to his request and was planning to go to be.
The door opens and he comes rolling in. He says hi, but goes directly to his room, even when I directly asked him to come down and talk for a minute. This is a huge indicator that he was under the influence. Which I pretty much assumed when he called about staying the night [Sunday], but began to doubt when he came home.
Well this is the same night that El Chupacobra ended up hanging from his heals by a cable attached to my roof. Needless to say my wonderful loving wife and I were already a little busy. So in waltz my son. I wanted to talk to him and thought the story about Mr. Chupacobra would be a great thing to impart. He didn’t want to talk he disappeared into his room and closed the door. OK so he was on a weekend long bender!
Not but 10 minute passed and my beautiful wife and I are discussing the probability that my son is drunk or high or whatever and he comes back down to the living room to talk about the hanged man, but here he is in just his boxer shorts. Mouse out of the house – you know what I mean!
Well, we concluded that he was pretty messed up. He adamantly denied taking anything that would impair his judgment and stormed off to bed. He does make a nice show of being insulted when he is accused of something. He is generally SO guilty that its funny, but the act tends to make you doubt yourself. So off to bed he went and the evening finally quieted down.
So Monday just after noon, we get a call from the school. This is nearly ritual as my son is constantly calling to come home and dodge school. If it’s not for a pooping break it’s because he is going to throw up. If it’s not for health reasons he can dream up ten million other stupid accuses. This call was very interesting.
He told me that he had a burn on his arm and it didn’t look too good. I asked for more information and was told this story: “On Saturday night [you remember he got money to go to the drive-in] he was at a bon-fire and SOMEHOW he got stabbed with a poker stick from the fire.”
I asked, “So you have a burn and a puncture wound?”
“Yes, and it does not look good.” he said.
I then asked, “Well tell me about it.” I was asking about the wound, but he thought I wanted to know about the accident [all in due time].
“Some kid was screwing around and I got stabbed with the fire poking stick. It was just an acedent.”
“Oh, I meant tell me about the burn-wound.”
“Its really nasty. Its black in the center of both burns and pretty deep. I tried to wash it out but it looks bad.” He told me with this ‘it happens to everybody’ kind of tone. And of course he wanted to come home.
At this point I was trying hard not to both chew his ass out or laugh mine off. Here he has been running around for 48 hours with a “blackened” burn and puncture wound, and only now does it come up. He never even mentioned a wound till this point. I figured that either he was so smashed that only now is it starting to hurt OR he was just using it to get to come home. Turns out it was all of the first and none of the later.
Well I am at class and my loving and wonderful wife, who is a nurse, get to see the wound. She immediately puts him in the car and takes him to urgent care. When she let me know what the plan was I was a little freaked. At any rate the doctor says that both burns are close to 3rd degree in the center, but because he has feeling throughout most of the wound they will call it a 2nd degree burn. He is given cleaning and maintenance instructions and sent home.
So life goes on. My son goes off to school today and wouldn’t you know it he calls just a little after noon and says that the burn is turning green and a red line is going up his arm. We are to rush over and take him straight to the doctor. Again, dad the hard-ass, says sit in your classes and we will deal with it later.
The truth is he has missed so many days of school this year that we are in danger of being called to court to account for his absences. I am not in the slightest sympathetic to his “just after noon” calls to get out of school.
I am now back at school. I had to take El Chupacobra to work so I came straight here and was going to study. On the way I called the house three times to try and talk with my son. He finally calls me at 4:45 and asks where I am and why I am not at home to take him to the doctor. Again, how problematic can these wounds be [as there are indeed two distinct burns/punctures] that he spends 1 ¾ hours after school doing God know what before he wants to go to the doctor?
I told him we will look at it tonight and he could go into the doctor tomorrow.
I further asked him to explain how it happened. I got very vague answers about an accident with someone swinging a stick. Interestingly enough I ran into the host of this little bon-fire and he has exactly the same burn. I mean to say that he has it in exactly the same spot and it’s the same shape. To me this says it was self inflicted!!!!!!! You decide.
Well I asked him how it happened to the host and he screamed at me it was an accident and hung up the phone. When I asked the host about it he told me he didn’t remember anything. His memory was really bad and he had no idea what happened.
BULL SHIT – SIX FEET DEEP – BULL SHIT!
How blazed do you have to be in self-inflict a pair of nasty burns?
This is why I am always so crazy!
Again this is not really a problem. He was “checking in” and told some good stories about where he was going to be. Accept that it was a total lie – but once again I am getting ahead of myself.
Sunday night came around and he called and said he was in another town and asked to stay the night. He had a ride to school in the morning. OK, I am lazy and don’t want to get dressed and drive around for hours trying to find him and pick him up. He is so “directionally challenged” that he could not give a Titan directions on how to get out of a paper bag. So I acquiesced to his request and was planning to go to be.
The door opens and he comes rolling in. He says hi, but goes directly to his room, even when I directly asked him to come down and talk for a minute. This is a huge indicator that he was under the influence. Which I pretty much assumed when he called about staying the night [Sunday], but began to doubt when he came home.
Well this is the same night that El Chupacobra ended up hanging from his heals by a cable attached to my roof. Needless to say my wonderful loving wife and I were already a little busy. So in waltz my son. I wanted to talk to him and thought the story about Mr. Chupacobra would be a great thing to impart. He didn’t want to talk he disappeared into his room and closed the door. OK so he was on a weekend long bender!
Not but 10 minute passed and my beautiful wife and I are discussing the probability that my son is drunk or high or whatever and he comes back down to the living room to talk about the hanged man, but here he is in just his boxer shorts. Mouse out of the house – you know what I mean!
Well, we concluded that he was pretty messed up. He adamantly denied taking anything that would impair his judgment and stormed off to bed. He does make a nice show of being insulted when he is accused of something. He is generally SO guilty that its funny, but the act tends to make you doubt yourself. So off to bed he went and the evening finally quieted down.
So Monday just after noon, we get a call from the school. This is nearly ritual as my son is constantly calling to come home and dodge school. If it’s not for a pooping break it’s because he is going to throw up. If it’s not for health reasons he can dream up ten million other stupid accuses. This call was very interesting.
He told me that he had a burn on his arm and it didn’t look too good. I asked for more information and was told this story: “On Saturday night [you remember he got money to go to the drive-in] he was at a bon-fire and SOMEHOW he got stabbed with a poker stick from the fire.”
I asked, “So you have a burn and a puncture wound?”
“Yes, and it does not look good.” he said.
I then asked, “Well tell me about it.” I was asking about the wound, but he thought I wanted to know about the accident [all in due time].
“Some kid was screwing around and I got stabbed with the fire poking stick. It was just an acedent.”
“Oh, I meant tell me about the burn-wound.”
“Its really nasty. Its black in the center of both burns and pretty deep. I tried to wash it out but it looks bad.” He told me with this ‘it happens to everybody’ kind of tone. And of course he wanted to come home.
At this point I was trying hard not to both chew his ass out or laugh mine off. Here he has been running around for 48 hours with a “blackened” burn and puncture wound, and only now does it come up. He never even mentioned a wound till this point. I figured that either he was so smashed that only now is it starting to hurt OR he was just using it to get to come home. Turns out it was all of the first and none of the later.
Well I am at class and my loving and wonderful wife, who is a nurse, get to see the wound. She immediately puts him in the car and takes him to urgent care. When she let me know what the plan was I was a little freaked. At any rate the doctor says that both burns are close to 3rd degree in the center, but because he has feeling throughout most of the wound they will call it a 2nd degree burn. He is given cleaning and maintenance instructions and sent home.
So life goes on. My son goes off to school today and wouldn’t you know it he calls just a little after noon and says that the burn is turning green and a red line is going up his arm. We are to rush over and take him straight to the doctor. Again, dad the hard-ass, says sit in your classes and we will deal with it later.
The truth is he has missed so many days of school this year that we are in danger of being called to court to account for his absences. I am not in the slightest sympathetic to his “just after noon” calls to get out of school.
I am now back at school. I had to take El Chupacobra to work so I came straight here and was going to study. On the way I called the house three times to try and talk with my son. He finally calls me at 4:45 and asks where I am and why I am not at home to take him to the doctor. Again, how problematic can these wounds be [as there are indeed two distinct burns/punctures] that he spends 1 ¾ hours after school doing God know what before he wants to go to the doctor?
I told him we will look at it tonight and he could go into the doctor tomorrow.
I further asked him to explain how it happened. I got very vague answers about an accident with someone swinging a stick. Interestingly enough I ran into the host of this little bon-fire and he has exactly the same burn. I mean to say that he has it in exactly the same spot and it’s the same shape. To me this says it was self inflicted!!!!!!! You decide.
Well I asked him how it happened to the host and he screamed at me it was an accident and hung up the phone. When I asked the host about it he told me he didn’t remember anything. His memory was really bad and he had no idea what happened.
BULL SHIT – SIX FEET DEEP – BULL SHIT!
How blazed do you have to be in self-inflict a pair of nasty burns?
This is why I am always so crazy!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The evil that some children do!
The devil child (aka El Chupacabra) as struck again. Last week Mr. Chupacabra asked a bunch of questions about ear piercing. He wanted to know if you could use any earrings and why there were special ones at the mall-places for new holes, and what to do for care of the hole. My wonderful wife and I answered him and of course asked him about his intentions to disfigure his body. He told us that he was going to have a friend pierce his ears. We bluntly told him that this was not permitted in the house and should he come home with extra holes in his head, he would be required to remove the earrings.
As you may have guessed by now, he went ahead and had a friend spick a needle in each earlobe.
He has the “cutes” little pieces of wire plunged into the holes. He came home all puffed up that his chest was literally sticking out. I made him aware that I was disappointed in his conduct and he was required to remove the earrings. He, of course, refused.So he is grounded until they come out. Which is going to be a while, but I am getting ahead of myself in the story. In our attempts to discuss the problem Mr. Chupacabra has made the whole situation about having earrings, rather than about his direct disobedience. He will not acknowledge that he has done anything wrong and continuously refocuses the issue of his trouble back on holes in his head, rather than doing what he was told not to do.
Of course if he were to accept the idea that he did something wrong then the parents would be on the side of righteous justice and he would be the villain, so this can never happen.
His argument is that it is his body and he should be allowed to do anything he wants. He even tries to wrap himself in the US constitution and say he has a right to do this. I continually redirect the discussion [aka stupid fucking argument] back to his disobedience. The reality of the holes in his head are that I don’t very much care for them, but don’t really care. What I do care about is that his actions are violating our family rules.
Not so long ago, another member of the family went out and had his ears pierced. I did in fact tell him I would like him to remove them. It took about 3 days, but they were gone. This has a giant deal to do with the fact that he could not keep them clean and they got infected and started to hurt, but hey if God wants to help me in these battles I am going to accept his help.
At any rate, El Chupacabra when we first told him he was grounded until the earrings were removed started to do all of his classical manipulations. He was going to take them out when he wanted to do something, and put them back in as he walked out the door. This is a perfect example of his interpretation of the world. Utilize the letter of the law to defeat the spirit of the law.
THIS IS THE BIGGEST REASON I DISLIKE THIS PERSON!
So the argument continued to escalate and he hurled insults and nastys all over. My sweet and lovely wife was a bi*ch. I was a jerk. We were being stupid, and we were stupid. Again he fails to see that it’s not the earrings but rather his going against our express and ultimately clear directions and rules. I can’t tell you how many times I drove the conversation back to the point about disobedience.
El Chupacabraha has a huge problem with any sort of authority. He bucks and bristles anytime someone his any type of power over him. He hates his teachers, especially the principal and his guidance counselor, as they have huge ability to affect his life. He hates us as we have the house and money and such that he likes.
On another note all together, he finally admitted that he does not want to continue to live in our house because of the nice house, loving environment, safe realm, or any of the other things that all the literature says he should like about living here. Nope! He wants to stay because he likes his friends and school situation.
Academically he is being somewhat successful. This semester is the first semester he is failing anything. He is failing his English class because he refused to do a speech. He flat out did not want to do the research, work-up, and presentation and would rather try to find another way to avoid doing it, even if it means having to take summer classes. Once again we see the oppositional defiant nature of El Chupacabra.
I am left with a waiting game of wills and weakness. He IS grounded until he takes the earrings out [for good] plus he is grounded for his sustained verbal abuse to my lovely wife. I want to bring this issue up with his therapist and discuss the level f response. My wonderful wife wanted to ground him for an additional month, because she is a relentless target for his abuse. I think this is an excellent starting place for his therapy!
Now all I have to do is put up with his crap until his ears get infected or until he decides he wants to be able to go places. I still have phone privileges, his possessions, and such to use to punish further bad behaviors, but Lord willing I won’t have to battle this devil on that level.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Campfire and the Internet
Tonight I find myself sitting on my deck. This is not such an unusual thing as I love to be out her during the warmer months. This spring has been pretty cool and my arrival to the deck is somewhat delayed, but now that I am here – Oh God is it nice!
I have, on many an occasion, brought my computer or portable DVD player to the deck, where I can surf the web, watch a movie, or even do homework. This is a very nice way to be! Recently we purchased a deck fireplace. You have all seen them at Wal-Mart of wherever. They are like a round bubble of fireplace and have a little chimney on top. Mine is screen all round with a cast-iron base. It even has a grill in it if you want to roast hotdogs or char some lobster tails.
I picked it up after showing it to my wife (who fell in love with it). It was a perfectly warm and absolutely wonderful day when we picked it up, but by the time we got home and got it assembled it was just too late to light it up. So it sat on the deck for four days – mocking me with its potential warmth and mesmerizing fire light. Night after terrible night it was either raining or I had night class or the likes. I was tortured by a 73 pound big fat cast iron pot.
Well the torture has ended. I finished my obligations for the night and lit the thing up. Now with computer in hand I am sitting on my deck with internet and enjoying a perfect fire. LIFE IS GOOD!
It is going to get even better. I have herb grilled chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes and dressing waiting for me and my exalted wife will soon be joining me. With the dogs fed the whole house is quiet. I can hear the highway in the distance, but it is really more background noise than anything else.
Of course sitting here thinking makes me remember all the homework I have to do and all of the professional work I have to do, but a fire helps you say “Oh f*ck it.” Cuz there is always too much work and never enough time and you really have to take care of yourself!
I think if there is anything that results in the demise of a psychologist (or any helping professional) it failure to look after your own needs. Here we are working to make everybody else’s life better that we forget to improve our own. It is frighteningly insidious in that respect. All of our time and energy goes to others, which is not a bad thing, but we fail to put in the time required to nourish out own happiness.
It happens for me in the dumbest things. I do pretty well with knowing when my school work is getting to me. I am doing a pretty good job at not letting the professional crap get to me either, but I tend to focus on doing those things (and the housework). The reality is that there is never enough time to do everything, so it’s not any single thing, but the work as a whole that gets to me, plus I don’t tend to even notice until I am really unhappy and stressed. Hence here I am sitting by the fire with my computer and a nice meal, just telling the complete mess of work to “F” off.
I have, on many an occasion, brought my computer or portable DVD player to the deck, where I can surf the web, watch a movie, or even do homework. This is a very nice way to be! Recently we purchased a deck fireplace. You have all seen them at Wal-Mart of wherever. They are like a round bubble of fireplace and have a little chimney on top. Mine is screen all round with a cast-iron base. It even has a grill in it if you want to roast hotdogs or char some lobster tails.
I picked it up after showing it to my wife (who fell in love with it). It was a perfectly warm and absolutely wonderful day when we picked it up, but by the time we got home and got it assembled it was just too late to light it up. So it sat on the deck for four days – mocking me with its potential warmth and mesmerizing fire light. Night after terrible night it was either raining or I had night class or the likes. I was tortured by a 73 pound big fat cast iron pot.
Well the torture has ended. I finished my obligations for the night and lit the thing up. Now with computer in hand I am sitting on my deck with internet and enjoying a perfect fire. LIFE IS GOOD!
It is going to get even better. I have herb grilled chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes and dressing waiting for me and my exalted wife will soon be joining me. With the dogs fed the whole house is quiet. I can hear the highway in the distance, but it is really more background noise than anything else.
Of course sitting here thinking makes me remember all the homework I have to do and all of the professional work I have to do, but a fire helps you say “Oh f*ck it.” Cuz there is always too much work and never enough time and you really have to take care of yourself!
I think if there is anything that results in the demise of a psychologist (or any helping professional) it failure to look after your own needs. Here we are working to make everybody else’s life better that we forget to improve our own. It is frighteningly insidious in that respect. All of our time and energy goes to others, which is not a bad thing, but we fail to put in the time required to nourish out own happiness.
It happens for me in the dumbest things. I do pretty well with knowing when my school work is getting to me. I am doing a pretty good job at not letting the professional crap get to me either, but I tend to focus on doing those things (and the housework). The reality is that there is never enough time to do everything, so it’s not any single thing, but the work as a whole that gets to me, plus I don’t tend to even notice until I am really unhappy and stressed. Hence here I am sitting by the fire with my computer and a nice meal, just telling the complete mess of work to “F” off.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Universe Has Conspired Against Me
I only wanted a bottle of pop, Diet Mountain Dew to be specific. You see coffee is kind of off the menu because I can’t use the cream I was using and I don’t yet have a good replacement.
I wanted to stop at McDonalds and get a pair of those little McGriddle sandwiches, but I know how bad those are AND McDs does not have Diet Mt. Dew. So I figured I would get a little breakfast and a pop at work. Plus I get to start the work clock just that much earlier.
SO I get to work, but have a line of people needing to talk to me. By the time I clear the queue it is about 8:50 and the breakfast place closes at 9.
Perfect, I will just make it! NOPE
Urgent GI issues force a pit stop.
Now I am late!
The grill is down so I have to have a vending machine breakfast. Fine, pretzels for breakfast, but at least I can get my Diet Dew.
This would be great except – in all three of their soda coolers – NO DIET DEW!
Well now I am a man on a mission. I went back up to my cube and stopped at the pop machine. NO DEW!
Next I went to the vending machine in the lobby – NO DIET DEW!
OK there are 6+ floors in this building and each floor has at least two soda machines. I went up a floor, because there are fewer people there and thus the pop machines get less use?!?
You guessed it – NO “F”ing Diet DEW
Off to that lobby – no dew
Down two floors – well one machine doesn’t even offer Pepsi – damb it!
Down another floor – I found Diet Mountain Dew!!!!!
I don’t have enough change left because I got the pretzels!
The Universe Hates Diet Mountain Dew!
All the way down to the breakfast store for change of $20 then back up to the vending machine and I was ready to get my Diet Dew. When I pressed the button and started the inner working of this crazy machine a going – the bottle of pop came shooting out and flew about 6 feet across the room.
This would be bad enough, but it rolled under a set of tables and back against a wall. It might have been running for its life, knowing how much I wanted this pop at this time, but I think it was just supernal gravity distortions.
There I am, in my jacket and tie, on my hands and knees crawling under a bunch of tables to get my soda.
The Universe Hates Me!
I wanted to stop at McDonalds and get a pair of those little McGriddle sandwiches, but I know how bad those are AND McDs does not have Diet Mt. Dew. So I figured I would get a little breakfast and a pop at work. Plus I get to start the work clock just that much earlier.
SO I get to work, but have a line of people needing to talk to me. By the time I clear the queue it is about 8:50 and the breakfast place closes at 9.
Perfect, I will just make it! NOPE
Urgent GI issues force a pit stop.
Now I am late!
The grill is down so I have to have a vending machine breakfast. Fine, pretzels for breakfast, but at least I can get my Diet Dew.
This would be great except – in all three of their soda coolers – NO DIET DEW!
Well now I am a man on a mission. I went back up to my cube and stopped at the pop machine. NO DEW!
Next I went to the vending machine in the lobby – NO DIET DEW!
OK there are 6+ floors in this building and each floor has at least two soda machines. I went up a floor, because there are fewer people there and thus the pop machines get less use?!?
You guessed it – NO “F”ing Diet DEW
Off to that lobby – no dew
Down two floors – well one machine doesn’t even offer Pepsi – damb it!
Down another floor – I found Diet Mountain Dew!!!!!
I don’t have enough change left because I got the pretzels!
The Universe Hates Diet Mountain Dew!
All the way down to the breakfast store for change of $20 then back up to the vending machine and I was ready to get my Diet Dew. When I pressed the button and started the inner working of this crazy machine a going – the bottle of pop came shooting out and flew about 6 feet across the room.
This would be bad enough, but it rolled under a set of tables and back against a wall. It might have been running for its life, knowing how much I wanted this pop at this time, but I think it was just supernal gravity distortions.
There I am, in my jacket and tie, on my hands and knees crawling under a bunch of tables to get my soda.
The Universe Hates Me!
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