A Modest Proposal

I'm walking in the parking lot of church the other day when I overhear my friend's fiance say to her, "Hey, don't punch me in my one good kidney. It's the only one I have left." Admittedly, I haven't known these new friends for long, but this statement just begs the question... "Um, excuse me, but... what's with this kidney business?"

Apparently, he had donated one of his kidneys to his uncle-- I think, or maybe it was his cousin...-- and is now, obviously, left with just the one. As it turns out, you just need the one to function. Who knew?

I told Laura that if she insisted on hitting her future husband in his one kidney, she should be ready and willing to donate one of hers if necessary. And that's when this brilliant idea came to me: along with premarital counseling, couples should be required to exchange an organ.

Oh yes, you read that right. It makes "two become one" a little more serious, doesn't it? People wouldn't be so cavalier about marriage if there was an organ exchange involved, I bet.

"Will you marry me?"

"Well, that depends. Are you willing to give me a lobe of your lung?"

"Would you settle for a skin graft or a pint of A-negative?"

If the answer's no, you should hesitate. Think it over a bit.

I mean, sure, a Dead Beat Dad can walk away from his pregnant wife, but he might not be so quick to jump ship if he's leaving a little piece of him behind. You know, other than the kid that has half his DNA... he'd be walking away from a kidney too.

Let's say a man wants to cheat on his wife (or vice versa). Paying alimony looks a little bit different when you're required to give an organ back as well. Hope you didn't need that piece of liver, buddy. The consequences of an affair are a bit more dire now, aren't they?

Just a thought. Think it over. Call up your Congressman, and let's get this going. Boom: immediate divorce rate decrease.

snooze.

It seems like every album on Facebook is devoted to the gestation period of the album's owner. From that first ultrasound hung up on the refrigerator and passed around at family gatherings to the weekly growth of So-and-So's baby bump to the 3D ultrasound and eventually climaxing in a snapshot of a newborn screaming and swaddled, it's all documented on Facebook for friends to see.

Now, I sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not. If you subject yourself to these albums, as I do, you don't have a right to complain. In fact, I hate to say it, but... I kind of love them.

It's a fascinating process to watch-- although I'm uncertain that I could post the baby bump pictures of myself; hello, you're eating for two... I'm not sure this is the perfect time for showing off the tummy-- and I'm always excited to find out the name of everyone's baby. (Side Note: Zooey Deschanel tweeted not too long ago that the younger the mother is, the more likely the name is to have a 'y' randomly placed in it: Lyndsey, Eryka, Raygyn, etc. So true, Zooey.)

Most interesting of all are the montage of pictures posted and tagged by every family member of the new mom and dad that take over my newsfeed each day. One conclusion drawn from this demonstration of documentation: that 3D ultrasound business is a bit much. I haven't seen a kid look like the 3D image yet, and that's mainly because I haven't seen a baby so far who looks like mushed orange Play-Doh. I do like to try to determine which of the parents the new baby favors, as that's my only driving reason to have a child right now.

Yes, my biological clock seems to be ticking, but not because I'm dying to nurture and raise a child. I just have some excessively self-centered urge to see what my child would look like. And sure, the whole playing-dress-up thing would be fun too. But with the advent of Facebook and other social media, I have the privilege of seeing new mommy's status updates a few days after baby's triumphant emergence into the world. Statuses that tell me Mommy hasn't slept in days and Baby won't stop crying or can't poop or won't eat or has a cold. Few people love their sleep as much or more than me, and I can tell you that each status similar to those I've mentioned cancel out adorable pictures of a grinning, sleeping infant swaddled in smocked cuteness.

My biological alarm clock may go off from time to time, but in a most self-centered season of life, I'm more than happy to reach over and blissfully slam the snooze button. This girl needs her sleep.

Oh, and well, yes... a husband/father would help too. But I have priorities, people.

...oh so pretty...

I'm a sweatpants and t-shirt kind of girl. While I do love to dress up, there is little that is more comforting to me than to come home to my favorite pair of Auburn sweatpants, an oversized long-sleeved t-shirt, and my fuzzy Patagonia pullover. If I'm feeling really froggy, I'll even pull on a pair of fluffy pink socks, even though I'm more of a barefoot kind of girl. My at-home uniform makes me oddly lazy though because, honestly, what more do you want to do when bedecked in your most comfortable duds than cozy up on the couch with a few reruns of your favorite shows... or "programs" as my babysitter always called them.

Having moped around in them for half a week though, today I left them in a pile on the floor. I felt like Fancy in Reba McEntire's 90's hit as I took tedious care getting dressed to come to campus. I carefully curled my hair and blasted it with hair spray; I dabbed on my favorite lip gloss and stretched out my lashes with some serious mascara. I picked out a dress I haven't worn in too long and paired it with jewelry I wear too much, and on the way out the door I spritzed myself with perfume and threw on the highest heels I own.

No special occasion. No interview or presentation. No hot date or evening plans. Just the same old run-of-the-mill Monday: clinic hours and class.

But some days you just need to feel pretty. And most of those days are Mondays... and this Monday, I feel pretty.

A little overdressed maybe... but pretty.

Father Knows Best

It's funny how my life seems to go in themes. This week, as you might have guessed from my last post, has been a struggle. Since Wednesday, I've smiled little and laughed even less, but I have spent more time in earnest prayer than I have in a long, long time. Far too long of a time. An embarrassing amount of time. Because life's like that: in the good times, all that earnest prayer seems unnecessary... and in the bad, you find yourself pleading with the Almighty to remember you, bribing Him with inconceivable promises like, "I'll never sin again if You'll just grant me this ONE request (and maybe forget about those other 8,724,499 times we've had this conversation)."

Yesterday, I reached a breaking point of sorts. After a couple days of begging, I finally laid it out for the Lord. I rarely pray aloud, but I found myself sitting in the center of my bed and trying to stare past my ceiling. It's an oddly powerful experience to talk out loud to God, and maybe something I should do more often. With eyes closed and head bowed, I often start praying about something and find myself five minutes later just thinking up all the solutions I can to solve the problem myself. But alone with God and out loud created a uniquely intimate conversation with my Creator.

So there I am in my last ditch effort to petition my will against the Lord's, when it hit me like a ton of bricks:

I surrender.

It's so simple. At the end of the day, the Lord-- praise Him for it-- is sovereign. In fact, the Book of Daniel tells us that even when God is on the move, He's still seated firmly on His throne: "... and the Ancient of Days took his seat, his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool, his throne was fiery flames, its wheels were burning fire." Daniel 7:9 ESV

And because the Lord is sovereign always-- in the good times and the bad, in my measly little life and that of humanity at large-- I must only surrender. "The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent." Exodus 14:14 ESV

I made my case. I begged, and I pleaded... for my own way, for my own understanding... and just for peace and understanding. And that's okay because I'm allowed, commanded even, to put my requests before the Lord. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7 ESV. But last night I realized that now is the time for silence and surrender. I feel like Jacob after wrestling with God, and let me tell you-- wrestling with That Guy is exhausting. And today I just find myself in need of rest in my Savior.

This morning I woke up, and even though I wasn't all jazzed up about plastering a smile on my face and going through the meet-and-greet at church, I went because I needed time with the Lord and fellowship with other believers... And wouldn't you know the sermon was about me?

Of course I don't mean that literally, but do you ever feel a sort of Twilight Zone moment where you can't help but think, "Okay, God, you're coming in loud and clear" because the message or the worship or both are so perfectly tailored to your needs? You think maybe it's just a coincidence? I'm thinking... No. So, with heavy heart, I sat down next to my friends, crossed my arms, and went through the motions. Or that was my plan at least.

The theme of this morning's worship became clear to me in an instant:

FAITH.

One or two songs into the service, I'm still holding onto my hurt when the praise team starts playing "I Surrender All." You've got to be kidding me, right? Wrong.

All to Jesus, I surrender;

All to Him I freely give;

I will ever love and trust Him,

In His presence daily live.

I surrender all, I surrender all.

All to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.

You know the rest, I bet. So again, queue up the Twilight Zone music.

The sermon was on believing. Specifically, how your belief in Christ changes your life, brings you from darkness into light. My girl Beth Moore puts it perfectly when she asks, "Are you a believer, or are you currently believing in Christ?" Because there's a difference, friend. This week I have felt like the apostles crying out, "Increase our faith!" (Luke 17:5) and the father in Mark 9, "I believe; help my unbelief!" (v. 24).

This week I have been covered in prayer. At times I have felt so divinely peaceful that I knew for a fact that I was being held up by the power of my brothers and sisters in Christ praying for me. For that I am so very thankful. I'm thankful too for this opportunity from my Lord to walk out on faith, to learn once again that He is all that is faithful and consistent in this world.

I would like to tell you that I've let go, that I'll be fine with whatever happens. But that wouldn't be true. Ultimately, I know that I will be MORE than fine with whatever situation the Lord provides because, as I mentioned, He is sovereign. I am, however, still praying for my happy ending... I'm just trying to be a little less bossy about it and a jolly bit more open-minded. After all, Father Knows Best.

"For I know the plan I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come to pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with your whole heart, I will be found by you, declares the LORD..."

Jeremiah 29:11-13

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding,

In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths."

Proverbs 3:5

"Yet this is no cause for shame, for I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day."

2 Timothy 1:12

Need a favor.

I find myself in need of prayer this morning, friends. Not worry; just prayer. So if you have a moment, it would be kind of awesome and most appreciated.

Many thanks.

Tuesday Thoughts.

You probably haven't even noticed, but...

Holy cow, this weather is AMAZING.

I mean, WOWZA, Weather, you're knocking my socks off. I can tell you've been paying attention to our little chats, and I respect you for that. And it looks like we've got a solid ten-day forecast of awesome-ness. High five, Weather. Way to rock it out.

I mean, I'm leaving the heavy jacket at home, pulling out the flats and cardigans, and tossing on my shades before I leave the house. I'm driving with my windows down and I'm thinking about queuing up some Jack Johnson on the iPod for an extra summery flair. I'm brainstorming my spring wardrobe and planning out what I have in storage at Mom and Dad's that can take the place of my bulky, soon-to-be-packed-up sweaters.

Okay, maybe I'm jumping the gun a bit. I realize that we've got to get through March too, and there are potential cold snaps and whatnot.... But I've got a whole new faith in Weather. Weather and that delightful creature, Puxatony Phil.

So, in other news, here are my Tuesday thoughts on what's exciting in my life.

Boyfriend brought me cupcakes from GiGi's last night. Oh. My. Gosh. That sweet man stood in line for an hour and a half to get them, but I've gotta say: worth it. We ate the red velvet one right away-- anything red velvet in my vicinity is DOA-- but I've still got chocolate, birthday cake, and something I think he called "Miss Princess" waiting for me at home.

My blessing, my curse: While these sugary confections (and flowers, to boot) made me want to squeal-- more like Miss Piggy than Miss Princess-- they are sabotaging my "Get Fit" efforts. And here's the new motivation I mentioned yesterday: on March 10, Chasley and I will be jet-setting to South America! We're spending spring break with mi prima Emilia (for anyone who doesn't habla the espanol, we're spending SB2011 with my cousin Emily) in Chile! While Chasley and my blonde hair ensures that we'll be a hit with the natives, Chile's got some pretty rockin' beaches that I would love to hit with a bikini bod a la my girl Jen Aniston. Cupcakes, you are my last detour into Candy Land. This ish is about to get real.

Thursday night I'm having Girls' Night with my friend Laura and a few other chickies. So, about that last trip to Candy Land... It looks like as long as I'm a resident here, I'm going to have to apply for a visa to live in the gym for a bit.

I just talked to Annie the Ginger about our next reunion, and it's looking pretty stinkin' good. I can always count on Annie for a good plan: she was the mastermind behind KB's extraordinary bachelorette weekend in Hotlanta. So it's looking like perhaps our next reunion will be in the form of seeing The Civil Wars play in Waverly and a Saturday at Six Flags the last weekend of March. I'm not sure what I'm most excited about: I love live music, I love amusement parks, and I love weekends with my girls. Maybe it's the weather or maybe it's the planning, but I'm feeling a little giddy just typing it all out.

Here's something I'm not excited about on this Tuesday afternoon (buzz kill...): some of the other GA's open the windows in our office during their shift. On a day like today, I can totally support that; however, at some point the window-opening has allowed creatures into our office. And by creatures, I mean wasps. They're hanging out in the light fixture above me-- buzzing about and making me glance up compulsively-- and walking up and down the window panes. Now, I'm not terrified of wasps (I'm looking at you, Lauren), but I don't exactly want to snuggle up with them either. So hey, wasps, it's a beautiful day outside. Why don't you guys head out and enjoy it for all of us? If you'll kindly step-- er, fly-- away from the window, I would be glad to slide it open and provide an escape route for you.

**As I turned to look out the window after typing that, a wasp came zooming at my head. This is like an Alfred Hitchcock movie. While I'm flattered to nab the Grace Kelly role, I'd really rather just be the unstung GA today, thanks.

Weekend Update

Friday night kicked off the Marcum Family Funfest Version 2.0 here in Tuscaloosa.

Mom arrived in the afternoon and was followed shortly by Anna-Kate, Rachel, Mallory, and Aunt Deb. We female Marcums headed to one of my favorite dining establishments-- Cypress Inn-- before cheering on the Tigers (well, except for proud Aunt Deb in her stubborn crimson) against Alabama's formidable gymnastics team.

Auburn lost. No shock there, but it was still fun to watch-- and it's always fun to wear orange and blue here on campus.

Post-gymnastics, we headed to Yogurt Mountain, along with all the other gymnastics supporters apparently. Rachel had the misfortune of getting "Original Tart." Sounds like normal yogurt, right? Wrong. So very, very wrong. Expecting plain vanilla, Rachel scooped a spoonful of frozen, curdled buttermilk into her unsuspecting mouth. They weren't kidding about 'Tart.'

Saturday we were joined by the rest of the Marcum clan for a pizza lunch and UA Men's Basketball. We all crammed into my apartment for lunch with lots of old stories and some new. Macy had a little "accident" (she's still not ready to talk about it), and Anna-Kate managed to sustain an injury when a frame fell off the wall and onto her foot (and STILL no one has asked me if my frame is in any way harmed-- it's not, just so you know). But other than those little oopsies, I'd say Family Day 2011 was a success.

Oh, and... to the satisfaction of most of my family, Alabama beat Ole Miss. Yippee.

I should mention too that the family met the new boyfriend Saturday.

Oh yeah, you read that right: boyfriend.

I know, it's weird. Sometimes I say it out loud just to hear it, "Uncle Mark, this is my, um, boyfriend..." and "Hey Al, let me call you back when the boy...friend leaves."

Here's the best part: by the grace of God, I have found an Auburn man right smack dab in the center of enemy territory. Booyah. And he opens the door for me and prays before we eat and tells me I'm pretty and takes out the trash for me... He hasn't changed the oil in my car yet, but we haven't exactly reached 3,000 miles. So yeah... I'm a happy kid on this Valentine's Day.

(Oh, hey Jon, is it cool if I talk about you on my blog? Welcome to my world, dear.)

Sunday, I met friends at church. On the way in, I ran into other friends. And for a few minutes at the beginning of the service I couldn't help but think... Whoa, friends in the parking lot, friends waiting inside... is it possible that I've plugged in here?

After church, I lunched with friends and came home for my Sunday afternoon nap, a much-needed gym sesh (more on my latest inspiration later!), and homework. And then leftover pizza and the Grammy's with the boyfriend (whoa.).

So... it was a really great weekend with my really great family. And on this Valentine's Day, I'm a really happy girl.

Boom. Roasted.

I love when the Lord shows up and shows off.

I finished up Psalms a few weeks ago and decided to take a stroll through the New Testament via the Gospel of Matthew. Round about the twelfth chapter, Jesus is doing his thing, casting out demons and such...

'And all the people were amazed, and said, "Can this be the Son of David?" But when the Pharisees heard it they said, "It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this man casts out demons."'

Like we often do when we see someone who's living better than we are, the Pharisees refused to accept Jesus's goodness. Like when I see someone diligent and unswerving in their faith and I roll my eyes and think, "Ugh, holier-than-thou..." Those kind of glimpses of reality are convicting and uncomfortable, so we (I) make excuses about how they must be too good to be true.

This is when it gets good.

'Knowing their thoughts, he said to them, "Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand. And if Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then will his kingdom stand?... "'

Jesus basically blindsides the Pharisees by responding to their cynical thoughts... and then calls them out on their idiocy. Why would Satan cast out Satan, dummies? You really thought that one through, didn't you?

I like to think the crowd around them looked a lot like a crowd of high schoolers around a rising fight, "Oooooooh! He burnt you!"... "What's that I smell? Smells like bacon: BURNT bacon!"-- High schoolers are, of course, known for their clever comebacks.

So, in the words of Michael Scott: Boom. Roasted. He burnt your bacon, Pharisees. You just don't mess with the Lord of Lords.

Sunday prayer

I love a good church hymn. Something about "Vict'ry in Jesus" takes me back to holidays at my great-grandmother's house: all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered around the ill-tuned, century-old piano and belting out any hymn in Grandma's age-worn hymnal.

While these memories are precious to me, it's so easy for me to get caught up in the feeling the hymns give me. Or whether or not I'm flat or sharp, or if I'm singing louder than the rest of the crowd around me at church. It becomes a performance instead of an act of worship.

Today at church the worship service included one of my favorite hymns-- a hymn that my dad sang at my best friend's wedding. For a moment, I was lost in the memory. But something drew me back in: in the age of technology we live in, you no longer have to hold a hymnal. The words are broadcast on a big screen at the front of the sanctuary, which is probably irritating to the true musicians in the room who might like to see the music clefs. So there on the big screen were the words, and for the first time in a long time, I really paid attention to what I was singing. In fact, I stopped singing. I just let the words of this beautiful, ancient hymn-- circa 8th century-- wash over me. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't have to fight off tears.

So this Sunday, this hymn is my prayer, not my performance:

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

Rookie of the Year

I've got a good thing going here at work.

For the majority of the day, I creep on Facebook, shoot my mom an email or two, and bang out a few blogs. Sometimes I even catch last night's episode of House on Hulu or plan my imaginary wedding to my imaginary groom. Point being: I've got some time on my hands here. At least, I usually do. Just when my eyes are crossing and my neck is cramping from overexposure to the Mac Book, here comes a professor.

I love love love the professors in my department. They are the most stereotypical academic all-stars you can imagine: ill-fitting clothes they've been wearing since 1994, lightly tussled hair from frustrating time spent doing research, and totally incapable of having light-hearted conversation. Dr. H asks me how I'm doing, and I say I'm a little tired. Cue lecture on the dangers of professional burn-out. Real talk: I'm just tired from watching reruns of Frasier into the wee hours of the morning. Dr. S breezes through with a look on his face like he's got rotten eggs in his pocket and I have the poor judgment to make that terrible joke, "Turn that frown upside down, Dr. S!" As I watch him snap out of his trance and refocus on me I hear my mind screaming, "Abort! Abort!" But it's too late, we're now engaged in awkward small-talk as he tries to explain to me that he's just working on a lot of things right now and didn't hear me talking to him and, "What were you saying, dear?" Oh, me? Nothing, it wasn't a big deal. Really. I was just joking around... I, um, er... Have good one, Dr. S.

So I get really excited when the professors bring me work.

"Linds, are you busy?"

Um, yes, as a matter of fact I was in the middle of checking out my Facebook friend's neighbor's sister's wedding album, but how can I help you? Retype your research article because you forgot to save it to a digital format? No biggie. I'll have it to you by lunch. You need me to label a thousand catalog envelopes? Sure, The Biggest Loser can wait.

I mean, really, it's like they expect me to assist them at their every beck and call... What's that? "Assist" is actually IN my job description? Fine, if you insist.

Truly, though, I have the best job imaginable and my professors and faculty are nerdy in the most adorable way possible, like Violet on Saved by the Bell (come on, guys... you remember Tori Spelling's brief time as Screech's love interest).

I especially like that the non-Counselor Ed. professors that come in and out of my office, though. They just call me 'Rookie.' I'm the newest GA, the low man on the totem pole, and I appreciate their honesty when they say, "Look, Rookie, I'm not going to remember your name." That's fine, Non-Descript Professor, I will wear this Rookie badge with pride. I've always been a huge fan of nicknames.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to work... which means I'm either going to tool around on the Internet or start a professor's project in the form of grunt work. Either way, I'll be smiling about my good fortune.

Quit playin' games with my heart.

Oh, good morning, Sunshine. I've been waiting for you.

Seriously, it's like I've been waiting by my phone for you to call after our first date. We had that really great Saturday together, and I really thought we hit it off. I laughed at all your jokes and even showed a little more skin than usual. I was really warming up to you, and I know you felt it too. Lately, though, I've felt you freezing me out, and I want to know what I did to deserve this icy treatment.

So when I rolled over this morning and saw you glowing outside my window this morning, my heart began to race as I thought you'd come back for me. Like a knight in shining armor... only a big, burning ball of fiery heat in shining, blistering armor. Little did I know it was just a tease, a cruel, celestial trick. I ran out of my apartment hoping to be wrapped up in your warm embrace, only to be met by freezing gusts of wind: your cold shoulder.

What? You think you can sit up there in your ivory tower, all cold and aloof, while I pine to be sun-kissed? I've got news for you, buddy: I don't need you. That's right: heating blankets, tanning beds, jackets, gloves... I can find warmth and glow elsewhere. Don't go thinking you're so doggone irreplaceable, Sunshine!

Look, Sunshine, I got carried away. I lost my temper, and I'm sorry. I really think we can work this out; we've got a good thing going, you and I, and I don't want to see your light fade out of my life. And I don't want to hash this out over a blog. Why don't you come on down here? Let's get together and work this out. There's some serious heat between us, and you can't deny that. We've had our time apart, and I can honestly say that your absence has made my heart grow fonder. So no more game-playing, no more withholding, no more icy stares from across the horizon. Just me and you, Sunshine, basking in love and warmth from now until forever.

xoxo- Linds

whoa.

I love a little g-chat from time to time-- Gmail, I'm still not over your snooping, but I do appreciate your instant messaging feature-- and I've spent the last little bit chatting it up with one of the bests. He happened to be online at the same time as me, so off we went into full-blown catch up mode.

Par for the course, one of the usual questions asked was: so, Linds, when do you graduate?

May 2012 seems like an eternity from now, but when I started laying it out on g-chat, my mind nearly exploded. My class schedule is brutal this semester-- unlike last semester though, it's not because the work load is going to kill me-- because of the extracurricular requirements (counseling sessions, case notes, etc) and my GA hours, but I kind of like it this way because I feel productive at the end of the day. This summer, though, will be a totally different ballgame.

I'm taking two classes this summer: group therapy and stats. I know that statistics is offered online in a minimester, but I don't love numbers so much so I'm not sure that I won't opt to take it in a classroom... although, the thought of the walk to class in the Tuscaloosa heat may change my mind. I'm not sure how group therapy is taught, but I think it's a safe bet that it's an in-class course (I also know that I'm required to attend an actual group therapy of my choice, like AA...).

After this semester and last, I'm having a hard time feeling like those two classes will be overwhelming, if not exactly thrilling. And in the fall-- this is where it gets exciting-- I have one class. Just one.

It's required that I take this course before I start my internship-- as in, I can't do both at once, which would be entirely too ideal for the university to allow-- so I'll be splitting time between a mini-internship at a middle school and doing counseling in a free clinic. This does mean that I have to drive to Tuscaloosa once a week, but the gas money and the hassle are considerably less to deal with than renting an apartment and paying bills for class one night a week.

And then, in the spring-- more excitement-- I'll start my internship. Sure, it's technically a class, but this is the part of the program that I've been waiting for, the part that feels like real life. My internship hours are split between a high school and elementary school, so that between fall and spring I will have experience at all levels. Guidance lessons, individual counseling, program development-- oh my!

As of May 2012, I'll be a grown-up. A bona-fide, master's level grown up. Possibly an unemployeed, homeless grown-up... but a well-educated one at least. It will only have taken me 3.5 years at Auburn and 2.5 years at Alabama to decide I'm finally eligible to grow up. And let's be honest, by May 2012, a doctorate will be looking like a mighty fine alternative to growing up... I have a weird, unhealthy addiction to schoolin'.

But whoa-- there's a light at the end of my tunnel, and it's getting brighter as we speak. Right now it's just a delightful, warm glow... on the brink of adulthood, it may turn into a blinding, glaring light... but at the moment, I'm excited about this whole grown-up, that's-Miss Hays-to-you-young-man thing.

New thought: if I had a doctorate, I'd be Dr. Hays, right? Follow my logic people: if I have a master's degree, shouldn't I be Master Hays? or maybe Mistress Hays? Good morning, students, I'm your new counselor... Mistress Hays.

Turning the page, there's been a new development in my g-chat: making plans for Mardi Gras. I've never been, and I'm thinking Mardi Gras 2011 with the bests sounds pretty promising.

Good things are happening, people. Good, good things.

Sunday afternoon rant.

Truth: I should be studying and doing serious homework. My life is out of control right now as I lack any type of self-discipline: my hours of sleep are practically the opposite of the norm, I haven't been to the gym in over a week (see previous statement), and I have yet to crack down on the very serious homework looming ahead of me this week... in the form of:

-25 articles in an annotated bibliography

-time line of historical events in counseling

-development of school counseling mission statement

-development of school counseling advisory council

-development of school counseling program website

-Ch. 1-3 of Program Development

-Ch. 1-4 of Family Counseling

-Create family genogram

-Read articles and write article summaries & case conceptualization for Prac I

-SOAP notes for first four initial counseling sessions

-Class journals for past two weeks

All of this is due by Wednesday; the majority is due tomorrow. But am I in a frenzy of productivity right now? Nope. Aside from wasting time blogging it out-- however, typing out the 'To Do' list is actually rather helpful-- I am entrenched in a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon.

My emotions are mixed: I don't know if I hate these glitz queens or admire them. They range from the most obnoxious, spoiled brats known to the South to some of the most impressive, well-spoken children I've ever seen. Meanwhile, the mothers-- and sometimes dads-- bring on a whole other level of emotion. These people are out of their minds-- out of their ever-lovin' minds. Some of them are clearly living vicariously through their pageant queen daughters, while others allow their little divas to walk over them. Exhibit A: McKenzie, 6 years old: "No, absolutely not. I'm not doing that. Take it off. I'm sorry, that's enough. Take it off!" That probably doesn't do it justice unless you picture McKenzie as a miniature Delta Burke with a debutante drawl and a sassy hand waving in the air.

TLC, you win again. You always do.

lesson learned.

It's a pretty common rule of thumb to avoid grocery shopping while hungry. You might be surprised to learn, though, that shopping while thirsty is just as dangerous.

As soon as I got in my car yesterday I wished I had brought a bottle of water on my trip to Target. Once thinking of my fantasy bottle of water, I started down a slippery slope of all things I would like to drink at that moment, and this is what I made it home with:

-Diet Peach Snapple (thanks, Lauren)

-Diet Dr. Pepper

-Ovaltine

-Sparkling water

-Grape juice

-Milk

Luckily, I did manage to make it home with a few edible items, but mostly it's looking like a liquid diet for me...

More uncool things on a Tuesday afternoon.

Obviously my mood has not been elevated. Pity... but the rain is falling even harder now. What's a girl to do but sulk?

So sulk I shall.

One of my high school teachers used to use phrases like, "You know what really sticks in my craw?" and "It just really ices my grommet." Now, I don't know what those things are, so I just sounded them out for spelling purposes. But here's what really ices my grommet:

Google is reading my email. Oh, and yours too.

It's not okay. (Hear that, Google?! I bet you're reading this right now, aren't you, you slimy sneak?) And don't act like you're not. It's just too much of a coincidence that I should write my friend Matt an email about Egypt on Sunday and by Tuesday the advertisements on my Gmail site are offering cruises on the Nile. I talk to my mom about Israel, and suddenly Google suggests I take a luxury tour of Petra. I join Wade's Pick 'Em league, and you suspect I'm interested in ESPN's latest updates on the safety of Larry Bird's job. Well, I'm not, so bug off!

Cut that crap out, Google. You are like a crazed ex-girlfriend rifling through my stuff, like an out of control mom reading my diary. So stop it, or else. I bet Yahoo! wouldn't read my email... I have options, Google. Don't you forget it.

thoughts & things

Tammy

10:47 pm.

12:13 am.

4:55 am.

6:36 am.

All times that my upstairs neighbor-- who I'm calling Tammy, as in 'Tammy Takes Tuscaloosa'-- has woken me up with her... um, "doings." Not cool, Tammy. Not. Cool. I'm a bit claustrophobic-- my greatest fear in life is being without oxygen-- and when the ceiling starts creaking, images of the walls crushing in around me dance through my head. And last night, I was going to do my quiet time around bed time, sometime between 10:47 and 12:13, but it just feels a bit dirty what with all the "love" going on upstairs. So again, Tammy: Not Cool. Infinitely Uncool.

Withdrawals

Last week I found myself in Big Lots. I wanted to apologize to Big Lots for underestimating it for years now after I found so many steals, but now I'm cursing Big Lots. Why the abrupt change in attitude? Big Lots-- my blessing, my curse-- through a delightful little treat called Nutella in my path. Little did I know when I threw the jar of hazelnut goodness into my basket that it was an agent of sabotage. I thought to myself, "Self, this will be delightful on toast in the morning." (It was, in fact, delicious on toast) But silly me: when I peeled the aluminum foil off the jar, I decided to give it a taste test. And that moment-- I may never forget it-- is when I discovered how wonderful Nutella truly is, even in it's most simple state. From there, I couldn't help myself. Nutella by the spoonful, Nutella on toast... I even ate Nutella on a Tostito chip. Yes, a new low. I polished off that jar of chocolate gold in just three days. Three. Days. Unacceptable.

When I was in high school, I wasn't allowed to have boys in my room because my mom said it was unnecessary temptation. I just rolled my eyes at the time-- invasion of privacy, teen angst, yada yada-- but I have to say I'm grateful now. Similarly, I will not be bringing Nutella back into my apartment unchaperoned. My lust for chocolate is undoubtedly harder to bridle than a teenager's raging hormones.

These days, I lay on the couch and try not to nibble on my pillows. I get the shakes and fight the urge to hit Dairy Queen for a fudgy fix. I'm liable to snap at any moment, and I'm expecting the hallucinations to set in at any moment.

And I mean, really, what's one teensy, tiny Hershey Kiss in the long run... just one small bite, just to make me feel better... I can stop when I want to, right?

Rain, Rain, Go Away

This weekend, the weather was beautiful. I went to the Summit with Alice, and we walked around and enjoyed the sunshine and low-70s weather. Today, after a cruel glance at spring, the sky is blanketed with steel grey clouds and the rain is falling steadily.

Now, I could see the silver lining. Precious little makes me as happy as a solid nap, and this weather is perfect for snuggling up with Macy (if and only if Macy is in the mood for snuggling... Cats live on their own terms) and having a nap. Sadly, though, I'm at work today. So I must maintain consciousness, regardless of the rhythmic rainfall.

And speaking of that rainfall, Lindsey left her umbrella in the car like the genius that she is. So, yeah, the day's looking good... what with my lack of sleep, need for chocolate, and drenched evening looming ahead of me.

I should've titled this blog 'Bah Humbug'.