melancholy

     Well, life has been interesting for the past few days.  Work is, indeed, cutting down the number of people in the division from 33 to 24.  In doing so, they are having each shift have only two syaff instead of three.  Well, it is evident that they are not going to pick me over Louis or Andrew.  Not that my work hasn't been good, but they have both been there longer than I.  

     

     I am looking for other work.  I have left my information with Virginia College, and Monday I will be speaking to Candy Smith about all of the pertinent information for working there.  I am just afraid I will not be making half the money I am now, and the hours will be hectic.  Oh well, you have to pay bills somehow.  

     Here soon, I need to go to Panama City and tell Dad and Kathy about Marcus.  He will be coming to Paige's wedding, and I don't want his presence there to be a distraction from Paige and Lance's big day.   

     It is cold in my room.  It has been cold in my room since the beginning of winter.  I guess just the way the building is set up, it feels 10 degrees colder in here than the rest of the house, especially with the door shut.  I can deal with this, I just feel bad for the ferrets.  I try and leave the door open for it to stay warm while I'm gone, but someone keeps shutting it.  Probably because the ferrets either smell bad and I'm just used to it, or because they make too much noise.  Either way, I hope they don't get too cold.  

    I'm still working on that paper for work, not much progress on it though.  I'm just stuck in a bit of an emotional rut due to the extended limbo that work has put me in.  I go from being excited that I don't have to work there anymore, to missing the job and what it's brought me, to scared to death that I won't find anything else.  No use stressing it though, I guess.  I wish I had my gameboy, that's a good de-stressor for me, and I have lost it somewhere.  sigh.

Prayers For Bobby

     I just finished watching the Lifetime movie, "Prayers For Bobby".  It was amazing.  When my roommate, Justin, told me about it, my reply went something along the lines of: "I'll force myself through it as long as it's not the same gay story that's been told a thousand times.  The ones that perpetuate stereotypes and are full of obligatory sex scenes, poor actors that are in the movie because they are aesthetically pleasing, and leave me feeling like I am dirty for watching them.".  I am glad I sat through it.  I have never been one to take much stock in the, "share your pride" story, but for some reason I am moved to do so after watching this movie.  So, My story...

     While I mask myself with the aire of "Pride", I have never been a very proud person.  I have seen people that were full of gay pride, and I have both envied and felt shame because of them.  For some reason, for a long time, I viewed the Pride movement as just a perpetualization of the negative stereotypes surrounding the gay world.  I never understood how extravagance could illustrate the desire for normalcy.  This has all changed as I have grown more comfortable with my sexuality, but I believe a note needs to be made of previous mindsets nonetheless.  

     When I was younger, my sister and I had a Nanny who looked after us.  She, along with my biological family, made it possible for my sister and I to have a wonderful childhood.  Sure, we did--and still do to some extent--complain about some things that happened in our past, but who doesn't.  One of my earliest memories is playing barbies with Tammy's (Nanny's) daughters.  I remember Maw-Maw, (Tammy's mother) watching me play with Cammy, and I remember the feeling of shame that washed over me.  I have been told that I used to chew the feet off of my sister's Barbies, and that my favorite toy was my She-ra doll.  I have some recollection of these things, but I can not be sure they are my own, or just my subconscious piecing together what people have told me.  But I digress, back to the story at hand.  I don't know why I thought it was shameful to play with Cammy and her Barbies, but for some reason I always hid what I was doing.  I never felt comfortable playing football with the boys in the neighborhood.  I have shot a gun a few times in my life, but basically for show, never in an attempt to hunt something.  I guess, I have never shown the masculine traits that a boy from southern, rural Alabama should.  Thusly, I have always felt slightly different.  

     I vividly remember having a childhood crush on Tammy's nephew, Lee.  As I recall, around the same time, my sister did as well.  I have never made mention of this before, but I allowed Paige's puppy love to take the spotlight, out of fear of the recourse of people knowing my feelings.  Eventually, I had a little boyfriend.  I believe I was around six years old when Bubba and I started playing around.  When our parents and sisters would go off to spend time with each other, we would hide away in my closet (ironic, huh), and kiss and cuddle and play around.  Some time after all of that, I stood in front of the very religious Tammy, and asked her what it meant when a boy likes another boy.  I remember her saying, "it means you're gay, and you're going to hell".  (Recently, I have confronted Nanny with this memory and she denies it feverishly).  Having been raised in an Assembly of God church, the fear of hell was already embedded in my concept of reality.  There was a boy in our church, much older than me, that was gay,  I could tell that I identified with him from the first time I met him, but there seemed to be something about him that caused everyone to avoid him.  During the course of my childhood, this boy's mother died, and the family did not take it well.  His sexuality became the center of many discussions, and I did not want anything like that to happen with me.  So I retreated my sexuality into the recesses of my mind, praying that it would go away.

     As I puberty, the feelings of lust towards men became almost too much to bare.  I had conversations with myself, promising that I would stay with whichever gender I had sex with first, knowing good and well that I would not allow such an act to happen with another man.  Well, I was wrong.  There were a few boys here and there throughout childhood and adolescence that I fooled around with, all of whom have turned out to be straight and the vast majority of whom refuse to make mention of my existence to date.  

     I tried to hide my sexuality through church.  I began to try and fit in with the people at my sister's church.  (It was mine too, but for reasons that will soon be discussed, it never felt like "mine").  There was a group of popular boys in the youth group that I wanted desperately to be a part of, but for some reason I could never connect with them.  This was either because I would not be my true self around them, and there are few people that like being friends with a phony person, or because the dissimilarities between our concepts of "self" were not the same.  Either way, I can tie my homosexuality to it.  There were a few people I got along with while in school, but being a small Alabama town, most kids spent most of their time with their youth group.  The feelings of disconnection with my peers became too much for me to bare at one point in time, and I had serious thoughts of suicide, and, once, spent a few hours (no exaggeration) holding a knife to my wrist sitting on my bed debating the pros and cons of completing the act.  The one thing that stopped me was the realization that my sister's birthday was just a few days away, (or the next day, I've lost track of when that was exactly).  

     Thankfully, I came across a good group of friends in Jr. High and High School.  Mandy is the main one to stand out, for this part of the story.  I know that I annoyed the crap out of Mandy, and I suspect she lost a few friends because she stood by me on so many occasions, but she did stand by me nonetheless.  In high school, I forced myself to have sexual relationships with girls in a desperate attempt to hide my sexuality.  I became obsessed with being a good lover, because if there were women that enjoyed having sex with me, they would help me defend my heterosexual status.  However, after every time I slept with a girl, I became physically ill within a short time.  While a junior in high school, I moved to Mobile for boarding school.  There, I was free to express myself as I pleased, and this was a little too overwhelming for me.  There were a number of girls with whom I flirted, and a couple that I performed sexual acts with just out of the habits I had formed while in Enterprise.  If I could have sex with as many women as possible, it would cure me of being gay.  Well, while at ASMS, (the boarding school), I met a few guys who were relatively open about their sexuality.  I became enamoured with one of these boys, and his roommate developed a crush on me.  I wound up giving into temptation with the roommate one night when there was a lock-in we skipped to enjoy some jello-shooters.  Regrettably, the next morning, I could not remember the boys name.  I still feel guilty for this.  Once I came to the understanding that I would explode out of the closet were I to stay at the school, I decided it would be best for me to leave.  My mother had just gone through a divorce, and my sister had gone to college that semester, so my mother was very depressed.  It was a good decision to move home.  

     Back in Enterprise, I made good friends with a married couple, Byron and Shelby.  I spent most of time at their house my Junior and Senior year.  In August of my Junior year(2002), I came out to Shelby while were sitting in my truck in front of Lowe's.  I made a big deal about getting away with her.  She was admittedly Bi and I figured she, if anyone, would understand.  When I told her, I admitted to being Bi, (just to test the waters to see what people's response would be).  She took it as no big thing.  We went back to her house, and she convinced me to tell Byron.  I opened to door, leaned in, and told Byron I was "bi".  He replied, "well, did you know I'm trisexual.   I'll try anything sexual.".  I appreciate the humor, and nothing was ever different among us.  Later, my friend Jerrid turned 19, 20, something like that.  He was kicked out of his house when he was 18.  He had overly conservative parents that sheltered him from the real world and believed that "when you're 18, you're out of the house".  He had a party, and i told my friend Mandy.  She told me not to turn into one of the flamers, (something like that), and she'd be fine.  Well, that night, there was a boy I had a huge crush on.  Mandy and Shelby could tell I liked him, and helped me spend as much time with him as possible.  We played a card game, boys versus girls, where the team with the losing hand had to do something increasingly sexual.  I think he and I got to where we kissed, but nothing more.  

     Senior year, that same boy and I became secret lovers.  He was in one of my classes and we became increasingly comfortable with each other, and spent time together outside of school.  He would always complain about his girlfriend, and would fantasize openly about cheating on her.  One weekend, she was out of town, visiting some college she was interested in, and he and I were hanging out.  We were searching through out phones for girls we could sleep with, and we had made a pact that we would only have sex that night if the other guy got to as well.  It turned out we could not both find a girl, and I said, "the only way we can both have sex tonight is if we have sex together".  I had a huge crush on him, but said it not meaning anything by it.  He replied with, "you want to...?", and that started a four or five month relationship where he would come over to my house, we'd fool around, he would complain about his girlfriend, and then he'd leave to go have sex with her.  An interesting and non-therapeutic relationship, but I was a senior in high-school, don't judge me.  Later that year, during senior prom, Mandy and I went.  I gayed it up by designing and making her dress.  We matched in pink and white outfits.  We only stayed at the prom for one song, then off to Shelby and Byron's.  That summer, I got accepted to Troy, which was where my sister went to college.  I decided I should be the one to tell her anything she would hear about me, so before the year started, I sat her down and said, "Paige, you know how boys are blue and girls are pink, well, I like navy blue more than I do purple.".  She was ok with this, I don't remember her exact response, but she didn't make a big deal out of it, which I appreciated.  I also came out to good friend of mine, Chris White.  He had moved away for a little while and then come back.  He proceeded to change how he viewed me, belittle me on various occasions, out me publicly, bully/beat me, and have his mother adorn me with holy oil and hold candle light vigils for my soul.  There were a couple of more boys, one of whom vanished off the face of the earth.  I still wonder whatever happened to Bo.

     I moved off to college, and was still fighting whether I wanted to be openly gay.  My first year of college, I had three main groups.  My dorm friends in the international dorm, my friends at the honor's cottage, and the fraternity I was rushing to please a friend from high school.  I eventually quit the frat, because I knew I was about to come out and I didn't want that stigma around the boys.  I spent a lot of time with the Honor's cottage people. and dated a girl there, Jessica.  I spent most of my time there because there was a gay couple living there, and everyone there had a lot of gay friends.  Jessica realized I was gay, and helped me break up with her.  I hurt her a lot, and I am sorry for doing so.  My friends at the dorm, (affectionately referred to as the FPC or front porch crew) were the best friends I've had in my life.  But to stay on track for this story, I will pass-up the opportunity to rave about Casey, Bethany, Margo, Remon, Salma, and even Gloria.  There was Tori, Hayley, Grant, Turgay, and a dozen others, but that is another post entirely.  There was also Steven.  Casey introduced me to Steven, and on the first night, he and I stayed up until the sun came up just talking.  He was a Church of Christ boy, and not open AT ALL!!!  Well, things being as they are, he and I started messing around, slept together, and kinda started dating.  But again, it was secretive, and he made me swear never to tell anyone.  I could not handle that, I was lying to all of my friends, (who could tell anyway).  One night, after had slept together, he looked over at me and said he couldn't be in a relationship with a guy anymore.  I was devastated, and what was worse, I could not tell my friends about why I was crying on their shoulders because I had promised hm no one would ever find out.  By this time, I had come out to everyone.  It was relatively easy, since most of them didn't know me before hand, and i felt comfortable around the broad range of personalities I spent my time with.

     The day after my 19th birthday, Steven took me to a gay club in Montgomery.  He wanted to ask me back, but I met Erik.  I could write a series of books on Erik.  We were together for just over 2.5 years, and during that time we broke up probably 9 times.  But I loved him.  The summer after he and I started dating, Steven needed a place to live during the summer, and Erik let him move in.  Well, when  I was finished working at the boyscout camp I was running, and was effectively told not to reapply because I was gay, I moved in with the two of them.  We had a great time, and Steven met Christopher at the club.  Christopher's roommate was Justin, and Justin eventually moved in with Erik when the lease on he and Christopher's apartment was up.  The school year started back, and everything was right with the world.

     I decided I would tell my mother I was gay.  I had tried a hundred times, and one day, while she was on the computer, I started to go into my speech.  My shakey voice had to be an indication of how nervous I was, so my mother interrupted me, and said, "Paul, have you ever seen (insert the name of some movie I still can't remember)?  Well, during the movie, there is a scene where there is a man standing on a bridge yelling, 'SIGNS, there are signs'.  Well Paul, that's how it is with you.  There are signs."  We then sat in silence for a little while, and changed the subject.  As college progressed, Erik and I got closer.  In July before my senior year of college, I asked Erik to marry me.  He took five days to think about it, during which time I was going insane.  Finally, I confronted him about it, and he rejected my proposal.  We broke up, and he started dating the 17 year old that I was suspicious about him having an affair with.  Erik has since moved out of state and he and the boy are no longer dating.  My last understand was that the boy was dating Steven's old boyfriend, Christopher.  

     After Erik and I broke up, I became very promiscuous.  I tried to have conquest over as many boys as it took to get Erik's face out of my head while I was having sex.  It wasn't working.  Then, fate intervened and I met Marcus.  He and I hit it off immediately.  After we talked on the phone for 10 hours one night without pausing, I was in love.  I am still dating Marcus, have been for close to 10 months now.  He lives in the apartment complex next to mine.  Coincidence, I assure you.  We are happy, and are not moving nearly as fast as I have in previous relationships.  I am living with Steven and Justin, and am relatively happy with where I am in life, but there is room for improvement.

     I have told my father I am gay.  It was right before he had heart surgery, and he told me he didn't care I was still his son.  the phrase every gay boy wants to hear.  However, he was heavily medicated at the time, and has forgotten.  I am working up the courage to tell him again.  I have gotten a good reaction from him before, but his wife has told me how she feels, and I don't want to make her uncomfortable around me.  I am, however, planning on taking Marcus to Paige's wedding, and thusly have to come out to everyone and let them be comfortable with the idea before the wedding, as to not draw attention onto us and away from Paige and Lance on their big day.

     So that's my story, or what I could fit in somewhat coherent fashion onto this post before fingers felt as though they would fall off.  I'm sure there have been things that were omitted.  I have memories bombarding each other in my head while trying to write this.  

     I have lost friends, and made friends.  I had family abandon me, and have abandoned family in an attempt to not have them abandon me.  I've been beaten, been loved, been forgotten, and become unforgettable.  I've received and caused heart-ache.  And there is still so much more to come, but I would not change a thing if I had the chance.  

Lethargy

     Well, I started off my "weekend" with good intentions.  I had every meaning in the world to write that paper for work.  It should come as no surprise, then, that i have not done very much for it.  I've done a decent amount of the research, but I have yet to put any of it into the proper format.

     It seems to be the weekend of reconnections.  I spent some time with Sarah, from work.  She and I used to hang out some, but we had lost touch for a month or so.  I went to her new place nad hung out with her and her dogs.  It started off kinda awkward, but ended well.  Marcus and I went out to eat, and He tried to teach me how to drive a stick.  He did this by showing me videos online.  I love that he took the time and put in the effort to show me something he is interested in.  Sadly, I fell asleep halfway through his explainations.  I feel slightly bad about that.  I did, however, make strides in coping with my codependency.  He asked me what I wanted to do, (where to eat, was i staying, etc.), and instead of my default response of repeating the question to him, I made decisive statements.  i was proud of myself.  

     I came home this moring wanting to do a lot, but instead got my laundry done and played video games all day.  I did speak with Erik online some.  he's doing well, from what I can tell.   Other than that, not much to report.  I go into work tomorrow morning and will stay a few more hours than necessary.  I'll be sitting in on treatment team and discussing what I'm researching and what not.

Not much more to report.  A relaxing couple of days with nothing accomplished at all.

The Mindless Ramblings of a Paranoid Children's Counselor

     I spent the vast majority of my time at work yesterday essentially "ignoring" my responsibilities.  Months ago, Nathan, (the therapist), said he was going to place a notebook containing all of the clients' treatment plans in the upstairs staff office.  Well, during Friday's meeting, I made mention of how that was never done.  So, come Saturday there was a nice little notebook full of information on the clients.  Since I am still having trouble understanding how essentially babysitting can be considered therapy, I decided to dedicate my Saturday to researching the treatment plans for each of the clients.  I thought, "hey, this will take a couple of hours, max, and then I'll have something important to contribute when I go to treatment team meeting on Tuesday".  Well, I was wrong.  It was very labor intensive trying to decipher all of the rigmarole that is associated with each client.  

 

     So I decided that I am going to spend my free time these next couple of days working on a paper concerning the matter.  this serves a variety of functions.  First, I have not written a paper in a very long time, and I miss it a little.  I sat down to start and could not remember important jargon necessary for the task at hand.  Second, when and if I have to reinterview for my job, I will have a detailed list of what we do and how it effects each of the clients.  And third, when and if I am offered an interview for a graduate program, it will be nice to show that I have done research outside of the confines of the colligate setting.

     So I begin my task...a little later.  Right now I am playing with Pete and Squishy.  I was upset with them earlier today.  I woke up around 9 and came into my room (I slept on the couch) to play with them, and wouldn't you know it they were out of food.  Well, being the concerned pet owner that I am, I--in my half concious, still waking up, mindframe--drove to the pet store to get them some more food.  This isn't a big deal, but I was tired and had planned on not leaving the confines of my apartment all day.  They are cute and worth it though.  Even if Pete won't stop trying to dig his way under my closet door, and even if Squishy just urinated on my yoga mat.  Insert a sigh here, along with a brief pause to clean the mess.

     Pete is potty trained and will use his litter area when the occasion arises, Squishy, (who is much older and thus past the training years), believes the world is her toilet.  I love them though.  It was one of the best decisions I've made in a while to get them.  I know I don't have all of the time needed to dedicate to them, but the time I do have is made so mush more enjoyable by just watching them scamper about.

     Warm fuzzies aside, I should begin work on my research.  I am trying to present the various diagnoses for the children, on a scale showing the most frequently presented diagnosis sliding to once in a blue moon occurance.  I will discuss the suggested theraputic interventions for each diagnosis, and compare that suggestion with the way the staff at Glenwood interacts with each child.  I have not yet determined what the scale will be to determine success in the program.  I guess that understanding means I have work to do.

Job Security

     Well yesterday was an interesting one.  I got to work and was called into the main therapist's office by our boss for an impromptu meeting,  Apparently the employees aren't the only ones in the dark.  We spent the better part of an hour discussing all of the "what if's" relating to the upcoming downsizing.  There should be more information to be had come Wednesday's mandatory staff meeting.  That will be fun.  According to the information given by Mrs. Shannon yesterday, all employees, (including her and Nathan, the therapist), will have to reapply and re interview for their jobs.  This is all legalese; when we reapply and re interview, if we are not "hired" for our own jobs, then we do not get unemployment, because we put in an application for a different position.  In applying for a different position, we have essentially quit our old one, and quiting a job does not get unemployment.  It keeps being said that "there will be jobs within the organization for anyone that wants them".  This, however, means we will be "babysitting" the autistic kids.  Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for anyone that can work with the autistic clients, but I took this job to get me ready for counseling therapy, and I do not have the patience nor the drive to work with the autistic population.  Perhaps, if I am not allowed to keep my own job, there will be some clerical or administrative position I can stay with.  The whole "wanting to go back to school thing" seems to be almost detrimental to me staying, as well.  It may seem like I will not be with the company for long, and why keep someone for six months when there is someone who wants to stay for six years.

     There are going to be changes in the house as well.  From the information given to me, one of our clients, a ten year old that most people--other than me--are not fond of will be moving to the younger boys' house next week, and we will be getting a 16 year old.  That action will be entertaining, since I have come be use to working with younger children, and I am not sure I will be able to earn the respect of the older clients.  I say this only because there is a 12 year old who pictures me not as an authority figure, but as a peer with whom he must create negativity in an effort to create a negative attention seeking circumstance for the older staff.  Last night, he threatened to kill me twice.  I am not upset or worried about it, he simply was showing his displeasure with the circumstances surrounding a situation.  He has been through so much in his life, and his only way of dealing with events that displease him is to place himself back into detrimental situations.  I can't yet tell if he is showing transference by considering me a father figure who is expected to deliver unjust punishment, or a peer with whom he can cause turmoil in the household dynamic.  

     On a lighter not, I'm playing with Pete and Squishy, my ferrets.  Pete is a boy and looks like most people would picture a ferret, and Squishy is a silver foot girl and is much smaller than Pete.  They are adorable, but slightly destructive.  Whenever I am not paying them direct attention, they seem to want to destroy my room, especially the carpet under my closet door.  I have been trying to use a squirt bottle to train them not to dig, but it doesn't really seem to be working.  Squirting only seems to put their actions on hold, and causes Squishy to do a "war dance".  It's cute.  

     I believe I'm going to try and convince Chris to come over and help me redecorate my room to better accommodate my new little friends.  I used to have a lot of my decorations adorning my floor, but after Squishy urinated on my record player, (thank goodness it was closed), I moved most things onto shelves.  I placed my Japanese shrine where my record player was, and Squishy LOVED that, she has climbed into it a few times and looked at me, as if to say, "What?  I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just being cute.".  

    Today being Saturday, I will be working a twelve hour shift.  I do and I don't like Saturdays at work.  They are great because the boys are allowed to be boys, they are not treated like clients to the extent they are during the week.  They are allowed to play video games until their eyes bleed, and usually go outside to play some sort of sport.  (Thank the gods it's raining, I don't feel like playing football today).  However, I love the therapy part of the job.  The conventional therapy part that is.  I enjoy leading group therapy, even though it is much more scary than one would think; and I like to do the individual counseling with the clients as the schedule directs.  It's nice to see the "click" clients get when they have come to understand a feeling that once confused, and thus, frightened them.

     Well, it is drawing closer and closer to the time I need to leave for work, and I have yet to get in the shower.  I overslept at Marcus's last night, so I got home about thirty minutes later than I wanted to.  I plan on staying at work a little later than usual tonight, just to hang out with Jenny before she transfers programs.  I hate to see her go, she is one of the only people I am comfortable being myself around.  This may be because the kids are asleep most of the time that she is at work.  Nevertheless, Glenwood beckons, and I must oblige.

No one is too intelligent for conformity

     I've decided to join the blogosphere.  I believe I had a small blog once upon a time, but it has since vanished into the vast wonderland that is cyberspace.  In announcing my decision to my friend and roommate, Steven, I defended the action with the phrase, "no one is too intelligent for conformity".  I said it off-handedly, and without any regard to how it fit the rest of my life; however, looking back, I think this phrase is a wonderful way to start off this whole "blogging" thing.

     It has come to attention, since joining the real world, that the world itself strives to pull its members to mediocrity and conformity.  Life needs to fit into these perfect, little, preconceived notions of what is right and wrong.  Titles, positions, and status are all reinforcements of this concept.  I'm not saying this is a good or a bad thing, I'm just stating an observation.   In the previous years of my life, I was the person rattling the cage bars, making sure those like-minded persons with whom I associated and I were heard.  Protests against the established order, petitions, committees, ahh the good old days.  (I hate that I've become one of those people that pines for"the good old days").  

     Nevertheless, my new career has me stressing the need for conformity among my clients.  I loath that I have to do this, but I understand the necessity.  You have to understand the rules before you are able to make short-cuts around them, and the boys I work with do not understand the finer points and nuances of society.  It is still upsetting that I am not allowed to be myself while at work.  Hiding myself has even spilled over into my everyday life.  I have come to notice that I, like so many others, spend many of my days the same way: wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep, repeat.  After a little while this forms a rut with only far off dreams to look forward to.  I am not sure I want to live my life yearning for the next vacation.  

     All of the aforementioned mental incongruencies have led me to understand that I need to continue my education.  I want nothing more than to earn my doctorate.  I have applied to Auburn University for a PhD in counseling psychology.  Lord knows I would love to be accepted into that program, and I am not giving up hope, but it is a far reach, so I am applying to a few Masters level programs.  Either way, I will be back in the collegiate setting soon.  I want to study identity formation in the individual.  I believe that the way an event is viewed by the individual it is happening too is more important that the actual reality of the event.  

     Our identities are made up of the sum of our parts, for lack of a better phrase.  I do not yet understand, and may never, why a certain instance in life can have such great influence, but none-the-less, any event can change the way in which we view ourselves.  Once this view is changed, it can be difficult to understand how we can fit into the schema we had once formed.  It goes back to those "perfect, little, preconceived notions of what is right and wrong...[the] titles, positions, and status..." I mentioned earlier.  When an event happens that moves us out of our preconceived notion of where we stand in life, then the transition can cause internal strife, leading to a need for an external outlet with which to understand one's feelings.  

     I'm sure all of this sounds like gibberish to everyone else.  That's why, or at least one of the reasons why, I want to return to school.  I want to understand this process more clearly and be able to describe what I believe in a more coherent fashion to those around me.  Understanding what's going on with myself or someone else is almost useless if I cannot describe the process in a coherent fashion.  This job has taught me that.  

     I got out of college and thought that I would be moving into just a larger world of intellectuals who sit around coffee, listening to good music, and debating the finer points of life and the mysteries there within.  This, sadly, was not the case.  Don't get me wrong, I have had some meaningful conversations with people about politics and religion as of late, but the vast majority of the past nine months of my life have been spent trying to drum out the sound of football stats being quoted and cheers for "talented athletes" being shouted at ear-piercing volumes.  I learned quickly that there is a big difference between understanding the basic foundations of a field and putting the use in the real world.  I cannot talk about cognative behavioral therapy, the finer points of Yallom (I can never spell his name right), or politically motivated terrorist activities by using the jargon I have come to incorporate into my everyday language.  Hell, I believe that the harded word I use on a day to day basis at work is "complied".  I have to cut down my "pretentioius" language to fit into the notions of conformity placed on life by those around me.  

     Well, I have far passed rambling, and should end this entry.  Who knows if I will return to this blog.  I would like to, it's been theraputic to just have a free flow of thoughts, but time always seems to get away from you.  A final note, "We live in a moment of histoty where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the present only when it is already disappearing (R.D. Laing)".