Little Nuggets... that turned into fairly large nuggets.

Nugget #1: As an undergrad, classes are broken up between 50-minutes Monday-Wednesday-Friday classes and 1-hour and 15-minute Tuesday-Thursday classes. I vividly remember dreading Tuesday-Thursday classes because those extra 25 minutes ticked by ever so slowly. Watching the clock was excruciating, and no matter how long I thought it had been, a full minute had never actually gone by when I allowed myself to check the time again.

Oh, how I long for the days! In grad school, classes are no shorter than 2-hours and 50-minutes... and grad school professors love to make sure we students get our money's worth. Now, if you're legs are cramping or your buns falling asleep just thinking about sitting still for that amount of time, don't fret; we get a break... Yes, we split that 3-hour class somewhere down the middle with a nice, relaxing 9-minute break. [if it's not translating via cyber space, that's sarcasm: 9 minutes in 3 hours is like a second in a lifetime]

Nugget #2: As a counselor-- my chosen profession-- it's important to be able to appreciate, if not completely understand, a client's perspective. In most respects, I think I am capable of this. With some concentration and a little extra effort, I can almost always at least catch a fleeting glimpse of someone else's point of view. After all, the very nature of counseling is learning why people think the way they think, feel what they feel, behave the way they behave. Weekly, it is impressed upon we Master's candidates that we are never to impose our values on our clients. For the most part, I think I can achieve this. There are a few points, mostly religious, where I might have to draw the line and refer before I scream, "Don't kill babies!" at a more "progressive" individual than myself, for instance. Tonight, though, I realized that I have a fairly extreme weakness that might interfere with the counseling relationship, a blind spot in my perspective-taking: introversion.

Weird, you might think. I am an extravert to the extreme. The very fact that I have a blog is evidence that I'm willing to spill my thoughts on anyone bored enough to read them. Introverts retreat when they're upset, while I surround myself with enough people to keep my thoughts at bay. Introverts cherish alone time and quiet, whereas I roll with an entourage about 15 deep. In the rare moments when I am alone, my phone is my faux-companion and it keeps me in constant contact with favorites like Anna and Erica (when I give people my number I do so with a disclaimer: ye be warned, I'm a texter). My mother, something of an introvert herself, always turns the television off when no one's watching it because the noise is unnecessary racket to her. On the contrary, I never sit in silence. Even when I'm doing homework, I have the television on something that doesn't particularly interest me or my iTunes on shuffle. My relationship with my best friend in high school was perfect and so special because we could just sit and be in the same room, never alone but never in need of entertainment. Bottom line, I don't like silence and my mortal fear is loneliness. I don't have secrets about myself; I'm a walking cliche-- "I wear my heart on my sleeve" or "I'm an open book." Whatever you want to call it. Living in this extreme, I don't get introversion. I just don't get it. I can't imagine a life in isolation or living with my guard up. Half the fun of friendship is the investment, the comfort, and I don't understand not being able to just lay at the foot of Erica's bed ranting and raving or not walking the trail at night and laying my fears and excitements out for Anna. I mean, look at me here laying out my every thought onto a website for all the world, figuratively speaking, to see. So there it is: I don't get introversion. I don't know how to deal with it. Maybe that's what the program will teach me... or maybe it's just my Achille's heel.

Nugget #3: I never thought I'd say this, but... I think I might be a runner. I'm not ready to make a commitment yet, no need to put my relationship with running on Facebook or anything... but things are getting kind of serious with me and the treadmill and I think it's safe to talk about it with my closest friends (if you care enough to read this, welcome to my friend circle). Lately Running and I have been spending some time together... usually just brief intervals, first date stuff.... taking it slow, getting to know each other. I'm just not sure I'm ready to end things with the elliptical yet, between you and I. I gave the bicycle a shot-- a little fling, if you will-- but frankly, he was a real snooze fest. So I'm just kind of playing the field for now... a little time with the elliptical, a little time with the treadmill; no harm, no foul.

Nugget #4: I'm meeting with my assistantship professor tomorrow. I was originally assigned to a professor that I've had before, but I've been reassigned to someone that I'm unfamiliar with. It looks like I'll be helping him critique a professional journal that he edits. Hooray! More reading. I'm a little anxious about it, but really I just want to nail down a schedule of some sort. What a shock: I'm dying to make a plan.

Nugget #5: I think I'll go to bed now... or maybe read a bit...

Internet fail. Blog tourettes.

The Internet at my apartment complex was down all weekend. Luckily, I can check Facebook and Twitter from my phone (geez, can you imagine?!), but unfortunately there is no Blogspot app. So all these liquid thoughts that drizzle out of my fingertips into the ol' Mac Book have had nowhere to go for several days now, creating something of a traffic jam of thoughts (and now creating a weird visual of weird, swollen fingertips).

So I'm going with a default to get the blog juices flowing: a recap of my past few days.

Friday night Ashley and I had girls' night. We went downtown for Italian food and a glass of wine (felt very girls' night-ish to me, the usually non-wine drinker) and then went to support my girl Jen Aniston-- who I will whole-heartedly support in all her cinematic ventures-- in her newest chick flick The Switch. I had low expectations for the movie despite my love for Jen, but I was pleasantly surprised. The movie doesn't always flow exactly like you want it to, giving the viewer a certain element of discomfort, but the uneasiness takes the place of the predictable cheesiness in this genre of movies. Overall, I give it a 7 out of 10.

Saturday I got up early to go do a little shopping with my mom, lunch with my cousins, and general hang time with the fam. I know I haven't been away from home long, but I needed this more than I realized. I always love talking things over with my mom, whether it's reliving memories of downtown arts and crafts festivals or talking about the classes that I hate. Lunch with Mom, Matthew, Rachel, and of course Baby Mallory (who is so perfectly beautiful I just want to scream) was delicious if only because of the peach cobbler at the end. Peach cobbler is possibly my favorite dessert-- who am I kidding? I couldn't pick a favorite-- and, largely because I've watched two episodes of Say Yes to the Dress today, at the moment having it instead of wedding cake seems like a really, really good idea... now if I just had a groom... Wow. See what happens when you have a blog traffic jam? Detours. After lunch we headed to my grandmother's house... I'd like to insert a funny story from there, but truth be told I slept the afternoon away as the stories were told around me.

When I returned home to my cat and my apartment Saturday evening, I literally did homework for 5 hours. From 4:45 to 10:45- I subtract an hour for bathroom and snack breaks and a phone call to my parents- I sat on my couch and poured into my assigned reading for my Theories class. Yawn. My white knight rescue came in the form of Tyler, one of my dearest friends, picking me up around 11 to go to a friends' house; however, finding we were the oldest ones there, we abruptly went to Waffle House. Now, this is HUGE: I left my wallet in the car so I couldn't order food. Anyone that knows me well knows my love of the late-night, greasy diner. I couldn't tell you the last time I've eaten smothered and covered hashbrowns or a chocolate chip waffle outside the hours of 11 pm and 3 am. Obviously I'm a health fanatic. Catch up time with Tyler was exactly what the doctor ordered, as they say, as my homework was driving me into delirium.

Sunday morning Ashley and I visited a local church. This was my third go-around with this church, and I think I really like it. My Auburn church- have I mentioned it before?- was practical perfection and has proven a hard act to follow. This church service is contemporary, which is not my personal preference, but the pastor is pretty great. And when I flipped the bulletin open my eyes went straight to the coming Sunday night Bible studies: Breaking Free by Beth Moore. Oh Boy.

The rest of Sunday was- shocker alert- devoted to homework. This semester is the reason that my advisor has always strongly recommended I take no more than 9 hours per semester. I feel like I'm captaining a sinking ship with the amount of reading I'm assigned every week. I did allow myself to listen to the Emmy's in the background, and you can probably expect an Emmy blog soon because I found myself really drawn into the fashion... that, and Glee was ROBBED.

Today I've- surprise!- done homework. I decided to go for a run after lunch, and it was like my body was rebelling against me. I kept thinking, 'I'll stop in two minutes.' Two minutes would come and go, but my legs just kept pumping. Stress much? My face remained flushed until about 20 minutes after I came home and showered, that intense.

If I can get through my mid-week classes, Friday I'm meeting up with dear old Mom and Dad for a much-needed trip to the beach. I can't wait to collapse onto the deck (text book in hand, mind you) and stare out into the distance. I've always given my mom a hard time for sitting on her deck for hours when we could be at a water park or playing frisbee... but for the first time in my life, I just want to sit in stillness and let the sound of the crashing waves drown out the world.

Ahhh... that's better.

Humility, Humiliation

I can almost not write this because of the tears that threaten to fall down my cheeks; it's almost not worth the risk of the inevitable explosion when tears meet keyboard... but while I am so exhausted and frustrated I might melt at any moment, the story is funny in a way that one can only find humor in a situation that doesn't happen to them (so, sure, laugh if you want) and blogging is like therapy for me... counseling for the school counselor, if you will.

Tonight's class: Multicultural Diversity in Counseling (didn't I warn you about this class?)
Tonight's first article: Cultural Competence vs. Cultural Humility

My professor has written on the board a sort of equation: client's cultural parts + [blank] + [blank] = cultural competence.
My friend and classmate Laura is brilliant. She has a clinical mind due to years working in a psychiatric office, which also blessed her with the ability to speak Psychobabble, a language I am familiar with but unable to speak fluently. Dr. H's eyes alight on Laura for Blank #1. Laura, of course, gives a brilliant, immediate answer. "Bueno! Bueno!" in the words of Dr. H (she later told Laura she had an opening in her department, if that tells you how Bueno Laura really is).

Dr. H: And blank #2? Anyone? Anyone have any thoughts? How about.... LINDSEY.
Lindsey: Um, I really don't know.
Dr. H: Guess.
Lindsey: I'm sorry. I'm just really drawing a blank.
Dr. H: We'll wait.

Thanks, Doc. Because, while my thought process was initially frustrated by your question, thinking here in pressured silence has really got my brain waves moving.

Lindsey: Um, experience?
Dr. H: Mmmkay... anyone else?

Glad we could share that moment, class. Progress was made, I'm sure, by my mortification within the first five minutes of class. Need a scapegoat, classmates? I'm your girl.

To prevent further embarrassment, I decide to speak up about something I DO know the answer to. And what a swell decision that turned out to be! I give her one answer to her question, and she says, "Good, what about another reason?" I bumble my way through a second reason, which is truly a different version of my first (read: only) reason. "Okay, what about a third reason?" Look, lady. I had one- ONE- reason. Not two, definitely not three. This is not the Dead Poets Society. You are not going to push me to some beautiful breakthrough here in the College of Education.

When Backrow Becky says, "I don't know," we poll another member of our audience. When Lindsey says, "I'm really not sure," let's just think on it, please. Let's just all stare at Lindsey until she breaks. Maybe, just maybe, she'll cry.

If I had just come to class unprepared, I'd claim my embarrassment and move on- my bad. But no. Not tonight. In preparation for this class, I spent hours and hours of time reading articles and book chapters. Literally, one article took me two hours to read. I was as prepared as I could have been, so this entire incident was nearly unbearable to me.

I thought I would throw up. I genuinely wondered if I should leave the class to vomit. During our 9-minute break (9-minute break for a 3-hour class... totally reasonable....), I considered going to the hallway for a quick cry and phone call to my mommy. But I didn't. I sweated it out. Literally. For three hours, I sat stone still in my chair and sweat bullets. When I finally got back to my car, I realized that for three hours the muscles in my back had been so tense I hadn't sat back in my chair once but sat hunched over my desk for the entire class. My mind feels tired and slow and my eyes ache, so I might as well have cried.

I don't want to give the wrong impression: I'm really not some huge cry baby. I am not easily moved to tears; in fact, I'm often the only dry eye in the house at an emotional event. But I don't handle embarrassment well, especially when I don't have the opportunity to laugh it off. This class is extremely intense-- there is no laughing, ever. Cultural issues are no laughing matter, and don't you forget it.

So tonight I'm heavy-hearted. Tonight I'm wondering if this is worth it. Tonight visions of Europe dance through my head, and I'm wondering if I can't just put this whole grad school thing on hold. Can I go through 15 more weeks of three-hour torture sessions only to run home and sob in my bubble bath? I am so mentally exhausted from all the reading and in-class scrambling that I can't think... I don't want to watch TV, I don't want to read, I don't want to check Facebook (can you see the seriousness of the situation yet?). I just want to stare. And ponder. And maybe cry.

Theories

Since classes officially started Wednesday, tonight was my first night in my Tuesday night class: Theories of Counseling.

My Tuesday and Thursday classes are both taught by my advisor, and I just have to share for a moment about this saint of a woman. Dr. B is, first and foremost, an Auburn alum (oh, I totally signed my first Bama account e-mail with a War Eagle!), so immediately we're two peas in an enemy territory pod. She's tall and waif-like, and she talks with her hand constantly so I can't help but notice that her fingers are long and thin and I imagine them to be cool and dry to the touch (weird that I think about these things? Probably). She's very pale with dark eyes and hair and a long, thin nose. (It's important to me to describe her because I imagine I'll write about her class, and I want you to be able to picture it).

This Earth angel GETS it. That's the best way I know how to put it. She's genuine and passionate about her career path, but she's no nonsense. She doesn't believe in fluff assignments and busy work... everything we discuss or participate in has a valid purpose. She keeps us in class no longer than we need to be there, and she's blended the class to be online in parts because she understands that grad students don't eat-sleep-and-breathe to be grad students. One of my classmates is a working school counselor, wife, and mother of a fifth grader. On a Wednesday night, she needs to be home by 8 to help her son with his pre-algebra, not sitting in class having a discussion for the sake of discussion.

Please don't think I'm looking for the easy way out; I'm not. I appreciate the learning process, and I am very aware of when something is vital to my education. If you can promise me that we will be learning crucial information from 6 o'clock to 9 o'clock, I will sit for three hours and soak it up. But if we're just taking turns sharing stories and trying to tie them into our subject matter, I'll pass, thanks.

Dr. B is also working on a proposal for a study abroad semester for our program for the May-mester. She's headed to Vienna in September to nail down the details, but it looks like in May I'll have the opportunity to visit Freud's home in Zurich (and, duh, the chocolate factory), the concentration camp where Frankel was kept, the Freud museum in London, and other psychotherapy theorist museums in Paris and elsewhere. This may or may not work out, but you know me-- if there's any way I can justify a trip overseas, I'm all in.

And before I wrap it up, I have to toot my own little horn for a moment: today I got a phone call informing me that I've been awarded an assistantship with the University. Instead of spending my semester with my Little Monsters as a sub in the local school system, I'll be a graduate research assistant to one of my professors (her specialties are sex therapy and play therapy, so this is sure to be an adventure). I'll spend 20 hours a week doing research with her and working in the counseling lab, where I'll answer the phone and schedule appointments for practicum students. The perks of the assistantships are half tuition paid (yay for Mom and Dad!) and a monthly stipend (yay for Lindsey!). I'll truly miss my adventures in subbing, but I can't pass up this opportunity. One, it wouldn't be fair to my parents; and two, it's invaluable for my resume... you never know when I might want to pursue a doctorate.

So I'm signing off tonight excited about the semester-- hope this feeling lasts.

Euro Trip

I don't know where to start this off because I'm so excited about it.

In May, I crossed the Big Pond to visit family friends in Sweden. A month or two before I left, the idea of ministry in Sweden wiggled its way into my mind and took hold of my heart. For weeks, I prayed that the Lord would shed light on this desire, and while I was in Sweden my eyes were opened to so much.

I can hardly express my love for this country. It's beautiful-- from the natural beauty of the lakes and countryside to the awe-inspiring architecture-- and the people are equally as beautiful, inside and out. Every Swede I met welcomed me with a huge, bright smile and asked me question after question about my life and country. Immediately, I was charmed by their happy lifestyles and carefree demeanors. I mean, really-- there was a noticeable lack of sadness or ill moods. It's comparable to old Southern hospitality, but with a Scandinavian twist.

My heart was burdened, though, that the other, far more noteworthy absence was the lack of church. The total lack of ministry. As a country, the religion is Lutheran. In downtown Stockholm, there are many ancient churches. Most Swedes were baptized as part of their christening and would likely label themselves "spiritual," but there are no youth groups. There are no church fellowships or small group meetings. There are no Disciple Now weekends, no Vacation Bible Schools. And these are a people that absolutely love to love, and my heart breaks that they might know the Author of Love.

A couple of weeks ago, I met two of my sorority sisters for dinner. As we talked about how our lives had changed since we last met, we seemed to all be heading the same way with our thoughts: there's got to be more to life, there's got to be a higher calling, there's got to be a way God can use me. And as we continued down this path, the resounding theme was this: Europe. Europe needs God as much as Africa and South America and Honduras and all the other third world country. Don't get me wrong: I am absolutely not belittling the needs of those countries. But Europe is completely overlooked because there civilized, and the bottom line is they may not need clean water, but they need Jesus.

I don't know that I believe in coincidences, and it seemed to weird that we were praying about the exact same thing not to wonder if this wasn't some sort of calling. I wish I knew the answers; I don't. I don't know how to be a missionary; I don't know where to even start... But I know this, even a conversation with your waitress at the sidewalk cafe can plant a seed. Right now we're researching existing ministries and praying about just seeing what doors God opens for us, even if it's just working in a shop and sharing the Word with a co-worker or starting a weekly Bible study with new friends.

Maybe it'll happen and maybe it won't, I'm not sure. Like I said, we're just praying that our hearts' desires be lined up with His will and that the right doors be opened and shut where He sees fit. I still have a year left in grad school, but a solid year of prayer is probably about right for this kind of decision.

Very, very exciting stuff, folks.

What's the opposite of writer's block?

Writer's overload?

Usually I go on blogger's hiatus because I can't think of anything noteworthy; lately, though, it's the opposite. Lately I've been avoiding my little blog because I have too many things to write about. I've taken to making notes on my phone when something strikes me. But when I think about logging on and hammering it out, I get overwhelmed with the organization of all my thoughts.

I'm a planner. Have I mentioned that? You might find it shocking (sarcasm) that I plan out my blogs. Not that I have some sort of blog agenda (that's a lie, I kind of do...), but I think about every blog before I type it out. I'm no English major, and I'll probably never have anything published, but I fancy myself a writer simply because I have a genuine love of words. It's an art form to me, using the perfect phrases and descriptions to get your point across. Every blog starts in my head as a jumble of phrases, adjectives, puns... all rolling around in my mind, arranging and rearranging themselves. I get my best ideas as I'm falling asleep, so usually by the time I actually get to the ol' blog my little thoughts aren't quite so lyrical as I had previously found them.

I would have loved to have been an English major. I love literature: I can get lost in the romance and wit of Shakespeare, and Mark Twain elicits a grin from me that probably makes those around me think I'm nuts (sometimes I rock back and forth a little bit just for kicks). I try to fit in a classic in between trendy books (hello, Sookie Stackhouse), and I'd just as soon buy books as groceries. But to be an English major... that would've taken the joy out of it. I love the classroom discussions, but you've never seen someone stress like me with an English writing assignment. When forced to write on a given topic, I lock up. I e-mail my dad, the English teacher, a thousand times a day. I poll friends for ideas. I stare at blank Word documents for hours. In sum, I panic.

Something like a blog... just pouring out my pointless thoughts onto a tiny screen... that's when the antithesis of writer's block hits me. And here's something else that just hit me: obviously I have too many pointless thoughts.

So this week I have a blog agenda: travel plans, DNow (spoiler alert: it was AWESOME), FBC Pickers, and probably another class review or two. So tune in, it's going to be a big week for those of us here at hayslin.blogspot.com.

PS- much to my chagrin, this blog did not turn out at all as planned. I really just wanted an intro before I started my DNow post, but here I am... talking about how much I love to... talk.

Round 2: ding, ding, ding

Tonight I went to my second class of the semester: Processes of Counseling. My advisor teaches this class, and she already has one thing in her favor: AUBURN GRAD. You have no idea how exciting it is to say "War Eagle!" to a professor around here. Unlike my Wednesday night class, this should be a pretty low-stress environment. We do a lot of work online then meet and chat in class once a week. Outside of that, I have to teach three hour-long guidance lessons at local schools and spend at least seven hours shadowing a school counselor in a local school. I don't mind public speaking, really... that is, if I need to stand up and make an announcement, I can do it. But I am always sure to butcher anything I've rehearsed in advance. Instead of teaching the lesson, I get lost in my thoughts wondering if I'm saying things in the right order or if I've left something out. I make weird jokes followed by nervous laughter, I check my notes constantly. Off the cuff, though, I'm cool as a cucumber. Weird, isn't it? When I gave my maid of honor speech at Lauren's wedding, I didn't write anything down. I just went with it. If I had prepared a speech, I think I would've ruined the entire moment...

Okay, getting off topic.

I accomplished a pretty good bit today-- which is a feat for me because living alone makes watching reruns on the couch all day very, very tempting. I went to the city board of education for a substitute teaching application, I bought all my textbooks (I'm sure I wouldn't have used that $450 anyway...), went to the gym, rearranged all my pictures and frames, hung my diploma and cork board... And I rewarded myself with a SMALL milkshake from Chic-Fil-A (don't you judge me: I had a salad and Diet Mountain Dew for dinner). Sure, I feel like the blood pulsing through my veins is syrupy with all the sugar I just doused my system with... but it was totally worth it.

Other things happening in my life:

Tomorrow I'm going home to lead the sixth and seventh grade girls in Disciple Now, and I am PUMPED. I have been praying for this and for these girls for WEEKS, and I cannot wait to see the Lord move this weekend. We're talking about getting into the Word and knowing the Word and living the Word. This week I read an interview with Kristin Chenoweth, whom I adore, about "being a Christian and loving the gays" (their headline, not mine). When confronted with the Bible's absolute truth she quoted her grandmother saying, "You have to treat the Bible like you treat your fish: you eat the meat that feeds you good, but you don't choke on the bones." In other words, eat up the parts of the Bible that are self-satisfying and beautiful to read, but ignore the parts that call for conviction or sacrifice. Wrong-o, friends. I encourage whoever might read this to be in prayer for my girls, myself, the other leaders, and other students involved this weekend. Oh! And the church members that are volunteering their houses!

Yesterday I did Jillian Michaels' (you may know her from The Biggest Loser) 30-Day Shred DVD. If you're like me, you may kind scoff at work out DVDs. My mother did Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies when I was little, and I've laughed my way through Carmen Electra's Stripperobics in college. Let me testify: The 30-day Shred is NO JOKE. The first time I did it two years ago, I literally hobbled the next day. Yesterday I did it for the first time in nearly a year, and this morning I knew before I turned my alarm clock off that I would be in a similar state as two years ago. I haven't hobbled, except on staircases (whoa!), but every movement is a concentrated, painful effort. I get super bored on the elliptical or treadmill, so instead of taking the day off and inevitably getting out of the workout pace, I'm starting to throw a DVD in once or twice a week. It's only 20 minutes, but I sweat as much as when I run 3 miles and I'm a thousand times more sore the next day (which means it's working, right?).

In other news, my cat is the love of my life and I think I might move to Europe after grad school... but those are posts for later this week.

G'night! xoxo.