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There’s just no such thing as easing into summer here. From 80-82 to 102 feels like being dropped in an oven.
You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2005.
The Management apologizes for those crabby, crabby posts made under the influence of bad-moodiness.
Regained my balance today. The second client’s appointment went without a hitch. The only mildly-annoying thing was the loss of a piece of important paperwork the office guy was holding on to for me. But I didn’t lose that, and I won’t have to find it.
I’ve been finding myself in excessively bad moods a lot this year. Previously, I’ve had fairly stable and ongoing mood states — ongoing near-depression, ongoing burnout, ongoing slow burn fury, each giving way to the next in a cycle I couldn’t break…. This seemed to be related to having to stomp down my dislike for the job I had in order to function. Once I’d ditched the job, suddenly the world felt lighter and brighter. The paying job I have now is in some ways good (like the people) and other ways icky (hate the boring repetative office work that I’ve done for 80 million years). And then, there’s this transition — moving from what I was to what I will be. Part of me still can’t believe that I’m nearly done with school, I think.
One thing about mental health — sometimes you see people who really make you count every blessing. Consider yourself one. I do.
Now that I’ve seen my first client at the new field placement, I have to wonder about my own sanity. I keep telling myself that I will find other work that has nothing to do with medi-cal. I have two weeks to figure out how to go about summarizing my experience for my advisor at school. By then, I will have additional experience to add to the description. People tell me I’ll learn a lot. Yes. Just not what they’re telling me I’m learning.
In other news, no one listens to me. Though why this should surprise me, I’m not certain. I’m having this issue where even though I write things down clearly on paper and hand them to people, somehow they don’t show up at agreed-upon times in agreed-upon places. It’s happened with a client, it’s happened at the job. This sucks.
None of the torrents I want appear to exist. I wanted Dr. Who, but I’m getting Battlestar Galactica. Should take all night but it looks like the whole season is coming down. Love the estimate - 43 days. (that’s dropping rapidly as the download gets going)
Had a hideous headache. Still have most of it, though several well-spaced doses of meds have taken the edge off. I have the feeling the weather’s about to turn abruptly 100+, since every time the weather changes my sinuses act up and I get this headache.
The library came through with Life of Pi and Time Traveler’s Wife — at least something/someone is cooperating at the moment. Between that and more episodes of Deadwood, plus BG if the download works out, I should be spending some quality time in other worlds this weekend. And swimming. It’s the Fourth on Monday — fireworks should be visible from our backyard, and I have enough tequila left for margaritas.
Had a blisteringly stupid and frustrating day. But I got home to a confirmation message on the answering machine about the DSL, so cheered up. Plugged in router to its permanent home - roommate’s PC. Ran configuring site and …
would not browse the internet. Would not connect to the “configuration server” whatever that is. Called support. Escalated up the chain of geeks to a router geek. Then roommate got home while we were configging like mad, and told me to put the router under the desk when I was done, which led to me teasing him about not being able to hang it from the ceiling or set it up in the bookcase, at which point I said it would look neat on the Christmas tree next to my winking and blinking Enterprise ornament. The tech support geek snorfled and guffawed, then somehow we got in this conversation about his cats.
To make a long story short, the DSL works now, roommate has his PC back and is happily taking over the world one civilization at a time, and I’m downloading updates, watching vids, and looking for a good radio station.
Which, somehow, makes the blehness better. Yay geeks!
conversant: The Ethics of Fan Fiction
These conversations I’m finding are all linked to links to reactions to the original. I got here from the link below, and Lee Goldberg’s journal was the other one I couldn’t remember that I’d seen before, so if you’re that interested in the wankery you can google him. Lee writes tie-in novels for “Diagnosis Murder” so I’m not real sure whether fanfiction’s really that much of a concern for him. If I ever wrote fic for Diagnosis Murder, pretty much the only audience I’m aware of would be my mom, since I’ve only ever seen an episode of it at her house. Ditto Matlock. And that Chuck Norris thing where he’s a Texas ranger, and he sings his own theme song, though singing is not really what’s happening there. Based on what I’ve seen of that show, Chuck has this condition where the muscles in his face don’t work, resulting in not-singing and not-smiling. But I don’t know that, so don’t quote me on it.
http://www.robinhobb.com/rant.html (not linked, don’t care to show up in stats)
This isn’t the first rant I’ve seen in the past couple of weeks - I ran across another, lesser-known writer who’d ranted and frothed about fanfic but can’t find that link in my history anymore.
But the gist is the same — “it’s wrong, it’s wrong, and [loads of unfounded assertions and misunderstandings]!”
Robin Hobb: “Fan fiction is a good way for people to learn to be writers. If this is true, then karaoke is the path to become a singer, coloring books produce great artists, and all great chefs have a shelf of cake mixes. Fan fiction is a good way to avoid learning how to be a writer.”
Someone has a bias, here. The frothing that is the rest of the essay puts forth that Robin’s definition of ‘writer’ is ’someone who has an original idea and writes about it.’ Which by Robin’s standards would automatically populate Hollywood with imbecile fanfic writers. How many remakes are they putting in theaters this summer? How many comic book based movies have there been? Where did Jasper Fforde and Laurie King get their source material? I guess all those write-for-hire types churning out the novels for [pick a tv series] are not writers. Those weren’t their original characters, after all. Tsk. Lazy, lazy.
Some of the most original fiction I’ve read has been fanfiction — you’ve seen them. The stories that transcend the source material and become a part of your long-term memory, that transform the characters you saw on the tv screen into people and even deepen the two-dimensional experiences you have with watching reruns. Most fandoms have these gems that rise above the general rule that “99% of [genre] is crap.” Most of the ones I remember are Trek; I’ve read some astounding Farscape and wonderful Harry Potter fic that blew me away. Yes, a lot of fanfic is poorly done, but the ones that aren’t, those make the effort to find them worth it.
I’ve read “how to write” books that tell you “everything’s been done” and one that even offered up the wisdom that it held outlines of every plot there ever was, and that all that changes are the details, the flesh on the bones. Anyone with a college degree that necessitated some exposure to Shakespeare probably could tell you he was committing fanfiction — drawing on other writers’ material to create his plays.
Bad fanfiction parodies, decent fanfiction borrows, excellent fanfiction transcends —
I do wish some of the pros who waste such vitriol on fanfiction would bother to check their reality. They never even try to understand fan motivations before they tar and feather fans for daring to be so enthralled by their characters that they want more of them than the author is providing. And yes, a lot of fanfiction rewrites the original — bringing back dead characters, undoing what’s been done — the underlying statement isn’t “the writer did it wrong,” it’s “I loved what you did until this point and I can’t bear to see it all go away so soon.”
I could keep picking away at the essay, but I’m not a copyright expert, and I’m supposed to be hitting my to-do list. So I’ll let you have this handy refutation and go wash my car.
I half-heartedly nodded at the Free Katie! movement, until I saw Tom C and Katie on Oprah the other day (getting home a couple hours early is a mixed blessing).
Something about their “oh, we’re so *gush* in love!” clinginess shot me to the squick. She was all “oh, I grew up wanting to marry Tom Cruise - it pays to dream!” Which made me think of all the girls who did the same who are all at home throwing rocks at the screen and shouting “booo! booo!” like that old woman in Princess Bride when the princess is dreaming about her wedding to Prince Humperdink. I was doing that, and I’ve never even had an idle what-if thought about marrying Tom Cruise, or even being close enough to smell him — which, you know, might not be all it’s cracked up to be, cause the guy probably takes too many vitamins, and who knows if Scientologists believe in smearing chemistry in their pits.
Katie strikes me as being younger than she is. I’m sure she wouldn’t listen to those of us who might whisper he’s been married twice, he doesn’t seem… healthy, you know, in the head, and you’re really rushing into this. Thanks to our dutiful news media, I’ve heard that her family had no idea she was becoming a Scientologist until she blabbed it on the news. Yes, Katie is young, but she won’t be for long. Welcome to the School of Having No Idea Until It’s Too Late, Katie dear. Let me know when you graduate, I’ll loan you my cap and gown so you can save money for legal fees.
Cory Doctorow put this latest work up for free download as well as publishing it deadtree style. It confused me at times, though that was likely due to my reading it online in a browser window and having to find my place when I went back to read more. Also confusing — it’s a story about brothers who were named in alphabetical order, and their names change throughout the book, though they are always referred to by names beginning with the same letter; Allan will be Allen, Alby, or any other A name, Billy will be Bernard or some other B name, and so on. So combine this with never being quite sure you’ve gone back to the same place you left off, and the flashbacks that take the reader to some experience related to what’s going on in the ‘present’ of the book, and it got a little muddled in my head. If I reread it, I’ll move it into another format so I can set bookmarks, or buy the book - though that will put acquisition off until I am gainfully employed with a book budget.
If you enjoy the sort of fantasy in which improbabilities serve to shine light on reality (a mountain and a washing machine (”she kept our clothes clean”) can have children, and some of those children are not quite as human as the others) you might like this. It’s not so much about mountains and washing machines having kids as it is being different and trying to find a place in the world, which is really largely indifferent to those who don’t fit in a particular set of preconceived boxes. Book-hoarding and WiFi networking come into the mix too. The more violent elements of the plot reminded me somewhat of something you would see in Stephen King, but Doctorow is not King, and some of the motivation and emotional underpinnings become clear by the end of the story.
Pandagon: I can’t believe I’m even going to get close to defending Ayelet Waldman
Over at Pandagon, Amanda responds to an article on Salon. This reminded me of all the ways I had to take care of things when I was married, and how the ex tended to conform to gender roles only when someone else was looking.
Once our VW had a leaking brake cylinder right before we were going out of town. I took it in, and the guy proceeded to inform me that I needed new brakes, new drums, new this, new that, all for $700. We’d just bought presents for the occasion we were journeying to — we didn’t have that money, and besides, the guy was telling me that I had the wrong parts on the car. Specifically, the metal disk the brakes rubbed against to stop the car.
VW bugs of the 60’s era were simple - there were ones with four lug nuts, and ones with five. Our car had five, the drums had five holes, therefore it had the right parts, not the wrong ones like the guy was saying. The car had worked for two years that way. I wasn’t going to buy into this for a second. I may not know everything there is to know about cars, or be able to fix them myself, but I watched my dad fix brakes on our old VW many times when I was growing up. I also knew that the car worked as well as it needed to, or at least that it would once the brake cylinder was replaced.
The guy could have told me that the drums were worn down to the point of being out of spec, which is what I suspect may have been the case. But he didn’t; he tried to railroad me into replacing the whole system. So I argued. Finally, I picked up the phone and called home.
“The guy says we need [all this stuff]. It costs $700.”
“Why are you calling me? You know more about this stuff than I do!”
“OKAY, okay, thanks.” *click* “My husband says he’ll get parts this weekend, and to just replace the cylinder.”
The guy replaced the cylinder. I drove home.
I suspect that if my husband had gone in there, they would have replaced just what he asked for. But I’m a woman, so I don’t know anything about cars.
Lying wasn’t the best thing I could have done; desparation to get my car back and get on the road pushed me to it. This was the only mechanic open at that hour and I really did need to get going, and the guy seemed so determined to shout me down — no reasoning, just insisting that he was right. I was the one trying to reason and he wouldn’t hear it. Practically speaking, how many options did I have? It felt to me more dishonest to go the other way, become the simpering crying female the guy probably would have appreciated, because that’s not who I am. The pretense of the decisive husband demanded less sacrifice than sinking any deeper into the guy’s stereotype.
People who polarize and then demonize opposing views on any issue scare me. If you disagree with them about something, you become the enemy, and they don’t hear you any more even if you’re talking about something so mundane as car repairs. The disagreement doesn’t even have to be about politics or religion or feminism — conflict resolution styles carry over. The polarizers of the world demand that we who try to reason and debate must capitulate, and that’s resolution they can tolerate, and woe to you if you won’t buy into their worldview.
…goes to Coworker, the marketing guy, who suggested that I become … a computer geek to support myself. Like, I could train up a few folks in my spare time and have an army of support geeks at my beck and call. I could be the uber-geek, teaching the Unwashed Masses o’ Business People how to use their contact management software. That was so brilliant I thought of it myself four years ago, got a certification, realized what living hell I was in for, and researched other opportunities, to wind up in grad school.
Yes, I’m horrifically good at figuring out how to use software and troubleshoot. No, I really don’t want to do that no matter how much money I could make. Because it’s all about connections in the business world, and I don’t have any, nor do I have the patience to show someone how to attach a file to an email ten times a day (flashbacks to a prior supervisor ensue).
His brilliance was so overwhelming, I got a headache. Need to sleep now.
Pay 11.50/month for dialup…
Pay 14.95/month and $70 startup/router cost for DSL.
Hmmmmmm.
[edit: ordered DSL. 
]
Found a form I’d been looking for while surfing college website. But, I was at work. And I was looking for a phone number to figure out why I hadn’t been notified about loans yet, not the form to accept offered loans.
Logged in this morning to find that the student loans are ready and waiting - all they need is an acceptance form from me, and the wheels will turn, and checks will go out.
I’ve googled and re-googled and checked every page at the financial aid website. No form.
grrrrr. fumes helplessly in the general direction of campus
The Secret History - Donna Tartt. This was one of my ’surprise’ packages, and while I am dismayed at the behavior of the clicky-finger and my short term memory, I’m glad it showed up. Yards better than “The Little Friend”, which failed to hold my interest and had an ending that made me throw the book on the floor. Secret History is “Dead Poet’s Society” minus the charismatic professor influencing the boys to good ends. Oh, there’s a charismatic professor — but he spends most of his time in the background. The struggle to belong, the youthful experimentation, the terrible results — I won’t spoil it much in saying that no one in this is your typical high moral ground character. The narrator is as deeply flawed as any insecure kid with social inadequacies can be, down to lying to the professor he works for to get fun money. I read this in two days flat. Couldn’t stop reading. The “what happens next?” was too much for me.
“To Say Nothing of the Dog” by Connie Willis. Yeah. It’s funny, and answers questions like “what’s a bishop’s bird stump?” and “how many more things could go wrong?” Comic, full of twists and turns, engagements, elopement, a dramatic mother not unlike Lwaxana (only not as annoying, more amusing), and a couple of enchanting animals along for the ride. I have this penchant for time travel and this was fun to unravel. Though I figured out who Mr. C was waaaay before anyone in the book, still, twas an amusing and entertaining ride.
“When Nietzche Wept” is probably going back to the library. The Marty Stu-ness of it is such that I can’t make it past the second chapter. Glad I didn’t buy it.
It’s what Batman movies should have been all along. Forget your overblown villains with technicolor costumes. Forget the batbutts and batboobs and batplastic. I could ignore that the microwave device only vaporized water and did not cause the melting and sparking and painful death that a real one would have, because the rest of the movie was what it should have been.
I am totally Gary Oldman’s fangirl.
Christian Bale did it right. Kudos to him for showing the other bats how it’s done.
*hugs Alfred*
Jennifer Government: NationStates
Sing it with me: “Ev-ry-bo-dy wants to rule the world…”
Roommate: Hello
Me: Hey - where are you?
RM: … San Mateo? A freeway.
Me: There’s a tsunami warning scrolling across the bottom of the tv show I’m watching. BC to Mexico.
RM: Yeah, I heard that on the radio, but they’re saying ‘get off the beaches’ not ‘run for Nevada.’”
Me: Okay, just thought you should know, before you crawl into bed at the Super 8.
RM: I’m not staying at a Super 8 - work’s paying for it.
Me: Well, I hope so. Anyhow, hope the hotel’s ritzy enough that your bed doubles as an emergency life raft!
RM: ….
Me: Don’t forget to put the oxygen mask on first before you try to help anyone else.
RM: You’re not drinking my wine, are you?
Me: No.
RM: Didn’t think so. You’d sound saner.
If you’re like me you probably saw the previews and said “eh.” But it’s worth a rental.
Why? Oh, lessee…. Cate Blanchett may not look like Kate Hepburn, but she sounded like her. Alec Baldwin’s pudgy self made a fairly good bigwig, Alan Alda made a good senator, and Brent Spiner showed up too. There were others who had us pointing at the screen going “it’s him! it’s her!” without the ability to articulate just who it was. Gwen Stefani was one of them.
There was a lot of good acting in this one. Even Leo DiCaprio did well. Rent it for the cameos, the love of Teh Hepburn, and the wonder of a millionnaire investing his all in things he believed in.
Dang, I was cranky yesterday! I’m sorry - between the financial aid office and allergies, I seem to have developed an evil twin.
What’s up with the allergies? Yeah, well, the weather went from beautiful cool breezes and 80 degrees to “let’s make breakfast on the sidewalk” overnight. I walked out of a nice air conditioned office this afternoon and felt like someone walloped me in the face with Tatooine.
Time to stock up on the non-drowsy meds. I’ll go to the drugstore after the sun goes down and I’m sure my shoes won’t melt on the way to the car.
Fixed the financial aid crisis by filing the requisite piece of paper. To my suggestion of having the software be smart about this sort of thing: “It won’t do that. Our OLD software would do anything we wanted, but the chancellor wanted all the CSU’s on the same system, so we switched, and (sigh)….” And then I watched the nice lady go through a binder several times to look up what she needed to know to fix my problem. Two strikes for the chancellor’s office. Heck, pick one of the geeks over in the IT department and make it his senior project to fix all this fidgety crap that’s not working!
But, problem solved, after hiking across campus in the 95 degree weather. V. sweaty and cranky now. Will think about student loan consolidation later… which, if you are in the US and have not-consolidated student loans, even if you are still in school? You need to consolidate before July 1 to lock in the current low interest rate. Rates are going to soar. I’m pulling out of deferred status early to consolidate, then going back in. Hopefully I’ll be able to roll fall’s loans in with them.
Another book I don’t remember ordering! In the mail! whacks clicky finger with a mallet
In other news… when surfing over to yahoo to view the day’s fave comic strips, I was confronted by a photo of Michael Jackson, looking like he’d just got back from shoplifting new sunglasses and lipstick, fresh from the ladies’ department at Macy’s. Guess he wanted to look purty for his ‘not guilty’ finding. Now maybe they’ll GET HIM OUT OF THE NEWS???
Pffff. How sad that we can’t seem to think about anything but runaway pedophiliac hasbeen superstar Scientologist idiots. Katie can free her own self. It’s her business what she does with her life, even if it’s wasting time with shiny narcissists who think “all you need is vitamins.”
Why yes, my bitterness about Do It Yourself U has spread thickly over my glasses. Yes, I think I’ll move away from the internet now. Maybe I’ll… read this book! Yeah!
If this university ever calls me to ask for alumni donations, I’m going to hang up on them.
I have apparently exceeded the approved allotment of units for a graduate program, so far as financial aid is concerned. I’m supposed to go file for an extension.
WHY? I am in a university program that all and sundry can tell is 60 units long. WHY doesn’t the fancy schmancy university software reflect that yes, my program, in which I am enrolled and advanced to candidacy and blahblahgoing to graduate-cakes, is 60 friggin’ units and not 47, which is the point at which financial aid yanks up the tent and goes home? WHY should I have to fill out paperwork that no one told me I needed to fill out to continue getting financial aid? If I hadn’t had this icky feeling that I get every semester that something’s going wrong and called out of the blue just to check, I would never have known — until it was too late to do anything but drop out. And hey, the gal acted all SURPRISED that I was worried! Uh huh. I hear the stories. I’m not the only one.
The chancellor’s office screwed up my schedule and made it impossible for me to graduate in December as planned and still work for money in Fall semester. The financial aid office wants to cut me off. I get the feeling they don’t want anyone to know how to get through any program without idiotic SNAFU’s like this, because this is the sort of thing that makes a three year program into a five year program — you miss one of their lame deadlines for papers you didn’t know existed, and you stay in school another year by missing a class or three since you couldn’t afford it. More money for them, more headache for you.
I have little to no sympathy for the university system here anymore. All their boo-hooing just irritates me now, because they seem to suddenly turn deaf whenever students have problems that could potentially screw up their lives. “Oh, well, that’s your problem.” Yeah, it is. You’ll hear about it the first time you hit me up for a hundred bucks, asshats. I’m keeping my money as my fees for babysitting your idiot bureaucracy until I got out of school with my sanity intact.
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Happy birthday, liz!
I appear to have ordered books. One arrived yesterday and I had no knowledge that I had ordered it, until I wracked my brains for a bit and vaguely remembered checking prices for used copies of The Secret History. Hereafter, I shall write down any behaviors of the clicky finger - I shall become a fingropologist, studying and keeping notes in a safe place, hopefully preserving my sanity when a package arrives and I can’t recall why.
So far, the summer reading list stands at:
The Life of Pi (checked out of library atm, will be picked up later)
When Nietzche Wept (a novel written by a psychiatrist - so far an obvious Mary Sue and therefore amusing)
Negotiating With the Dead - Margaret Atwood
Bluebeard’s Egg - Margaret Atwood (short stories)
A Winter’s Tale - Halpern
To Say Nothing of the Dog - Willis (also checked out of library)
The Time Traveler’s Wife - also checked out.
I was just informed late yesterday afternoon that I should start at the clinic whenever I like, doing those trainee hours - I have an appointment next Friday to talk to my new supervisor (trainees have three or four supervisors at any given time; one from the university, a clinical supervisor, an overall site supervisor, and sometimes an office manager). So I think I’ll leave the list as is for now. There were other books I checked out but those are professional development sorts of books and probably of little interest to anyone reading here.
Everyone’s probably already seen this list of Ten Most Harmful Books of the 19th and 20th Centuries.
I ran across yet another link to it in a friendsfriends list, and what with the tiny font and the color of the link, I thought it was “Ten Most Harmless Books.” Which made me think about that — can you list some most harmless books? What would that be like — books that have no influence over people that read them - that engender no emotion or thought in response?
Have you ever read a book that fit that description? Other than things like cookbooks.(Although I could make a case that I get hungry reading them, and that could be dangerous….) Books that were obviously meant to mean something, that made you say ‘eh.’
I’ll have to think about this for a while. I know there are books I’ve read that left me cold - I just don’t remember them right off the bat. You remember the ones that make you go “EW” and the ones that are “WOW” but the ‘eh’ takes work to recall.
From my bedroom window, you can see the ladder Santa used to getto the chimney.
He looked like Santa, anyway - with a beanie hat. He said he was going to
put a gutter around the chimney so water would run off instead of down into
the wall.
Yesterday, Temporary Office Boss expressed a desire to hire me outright so he could pay me more than the measly bits the agency gives me. While that has a certain appeal, I told him it’s not worth it to him — he’d have to hand the agency a couple thou for their matchmaking trouble to buy me. And I’m only there til some undefined day in Fall semester (pssst…. probably the day I get my student loan check) and so that would be as unwise an investment as Drunken Salesman was.
What I didn’t tell him was that I like having the agency as a buffer zone. We all have to sign contracts that limit my (and the agency’s) responsibilities. I can’t have a key or alarm code. I can’t run errands (no air conditioning in car + central valley summer = not enthused about errands). Plus, if I do manage to futz something up, or if the Dell I’ve been using blows up all on its own and they blame me, eh, I’m reasonably assured the agency will have other stuff for me to do.
This fall I will make no money but I will be working full time in my chosen field. Graduation is assured at some point; I have completed my comp exam, I have all the units scheduled for fall that I need to finish - it’s just a matter of getting hours, and I can put in a form if I don’t get them by mid-December. I’m also crazy in that I intend to take Yet Another Exam in October, for which I will have to drive to SF or LA and then pay $250, but it’s the selfsame exam used in like 35+ other states in the union as their licensing exam, and if I do it before graduation I will be able to credit all the hours I do here toward licensure elsewhere and not repeat them. Plus, LPC licensure is on the horizon here in sunny Cal, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have that extra acronym on the business card. It’s a twofer deal with the program I’m in — there are three, maybe four, CACREP accredited counseling programs in the state; because I am in one of them, I can add in this extra set of initials with no effort and minimal expense. So I will.
I don’t know if you wonder what all these letters stand for, or if I’ve explained any of this, so here’s the scoop. I’m studying to be a marriage and family therapist (MFT). California has no LPC (licensed professional counselor) licensure so MFTs by default become generalists, where in other states, MFTs work exclusively with families — it’s a matter of scope of practice as defined by state law. LPCs work with individuals, MFTs work with families and couples. We are the bottom rung of the clinical side of mental health; we can do therapy, like psychologists or psychiatrists, but we don’t make as much money. So MFTs see all the clients who work on their relationships, psychiatrists get all the ones who need medication, psychologists do individual, group, family or couple therapy depending on specialty and preference and whatever the client needs — there’s overlap too, as anyone who wants to be in school that much can get degrees in psychology and MFT, and as there’s no specific undergrad for it a lot of psychology majors end up in MFT. Many of my instructors have a psychology degree of some sort as well as MFT.
So, to sum up, I’m getting a 60 unit MS in MFT (there are less stringent 48 unit programs but those aren’t CACREP certified). I’m taking another licensing exam (the NCE) which is not nearly so clinically oriented as the MFT licensing exam, but it will give me an extra certification, which isn’t a bad thing. And as I do the 3000 hours of internship after graduation, I’ll be thinking about where I want to live, because it will then be possible to have a goal of living in Montana in ten years.
In the meantime, I’ll be working hard without pay, but a few months of that seems a paltry price for freedom and a better living wage doing something I’ve wanted to do, instead of peeling labels out of a laserjet for some guy who reads the WSJ while I write letters for him.
Edge: YOU CAN’T BE A SWEET CUCUMBER IN A VINEGAR BARREL
One of the worst things about Abu Ghraib is that we have totally lost any sense of moral superiority that America ever had. Those pictures will be with the world for decades to come. We can say that we’re bringing freedom and democracy to the world, but when people look at the pictures they say, “Yeah, and what else are you bringing?”
I’m almost done with Jonathon Strange & Mr Norrell, so I’m contemplating a library trip. So I’m asking a favor.
Post a comment suggesting good books - ones that rocked your world, shook you up, squeezed the emotions out of you and left you on the floor in a little puddle. Or, ones that took you on a grand adventure to the ends of the earth, or the galaxy.
I’ll be here re-reading an old favorite or two in the meantime.
I am quite agog that I hadn’t discovered the wonders of Quicksilver before now. Just the basic functions blow me away - a few keystrokes and anything’s executable. And there’s plenty of tweaking potential.
hugs Powerbook
43 Folders: Hack your way out of writer’s block
I’ve done some of these, but I’ll try some of them I haven’t thought of.
I like 43 Folders in general. Great site for anyone for whom productivity is a struggle.