liza bean
Today was embarrassing for several reasons.
#1. It only took...ummm...about one second for my swallowing professor to interrupt my speech and tell me that I said something wrong. I won't go into the details but the rest of the speech did not go so well as a result of the added stress of having to say everything perfectly -it was quite humiliating for me. Although I was still able to get through my speech, I can quite honestly say that that was the most horrible, scarring speaking experience, and I am now developing an even bigger fear of public speaking. It remains the reason I refuse to work in a hospital. I can't handle the pressure of having to say everything exactly right in order to prove my intelligence. You know what, Ms. Swallowing Professor, I am damn smart even if I was so nervous that my brain went to mush, and I couldn't answer your questions on the spot. Why did you have to pick on me like that? After me, it was like you were done with your criticisms. Only positive comments for my peers. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for them but man, some positive comments would have helped me out as well. Perhaps it is because you saw me crying once I returned to my seat that you weren't so rough on my friends. Well, okay then, I helped everyone else out.
#2. I cried in front of some of my classmates. I just couldn't hold it in. How embarrassing! No one knows how to react to that, and I feel so DUMB now.
#3. My last teaching experience did not go well..AT ALL. Nuff said.
Please note: My swallowing teacher really isn't a meany. She's very funny and smart. But she is also a tough lady who scares the hell out of me and knows it and thinks people like me are just way too whimpy and won't make it in the real world unless she toughens us up. Sigh. Her intentions really are good, but yikes, they sure are brutal for a perfectionist like myself. I really need to learn how to handle criticism but ouch, not sure if this very public method is the best way for sensitive Liza Jan.
Which makes me think about this whole sensitivity issue. Obviously, I have low self-esteem which makes criticisms even that more difficult to deal with. Plus, I am super hard on myself. Honestly, I know that my speech was quite good in certain areas: I was organized, I sounded professional (if you skip the couple of times I accidently said millimeters instead of milliliters), I had a good speaking rate, I had good eye contact --all these things that I can do well because I know how to put on a performance. But my biggest humiliation was when she asked me to define some statistical terms -which I did to the best of my ability- but then was told that I should review those terms and should really know my stuff before I made a presentation. My frustration was because I did KNOW what each term meant. I understood the concepts! But my understanding was limited in that I did not know it well enough to teach other people what the terms meant. I had a clear understanding in my head but could not express my understanding adequately. I think that's why I never speak up in class - I can never get people to understand the extent of what I know unless I can sit there and write about it. But why does it matter so much what I know? Why is it so important that other people know that I'm bright? It probably has to do with some twenty plus years of being in an educational system that has engrained in my little mind and self-image that intelligence is equivalent to self worth. And I hear it everywhere! This attitude that educated people are better, more worthwhile to society. And it's a load of crap. It's just another form of oppression and prejudice. And somehow I've managed to buy into it.
And then there's this part of me that still feels like I'm ten. I mean, who cries in class?? So this makes me question my reaction. Why am I so embarrassed? I guess because socially it is depicted as this weakness. If you cry, you are too whimpy to handle your emotions. I think I even typed that: "I couldn't handle it". And I challenge that cultural understanding of crying. I cry because it's a good release of emotion. It actually feels better to cry then to ignore the feelings of humiliation that I have to try to ignore in order to compose myself and pretend that "I'm so cool, nothing affects me...what, you think that you can get the better of me? No way, I'm STRONG and powerful and feel no pain". We walk around sheilding ourselves from other people's emotion and battle to keep everything that we feel to ourselves. That's how we show strength -through independence. Well, darn it! I'm sorry, but very few people are truly strong enough to get through the challenges of life alone! And what is this whole thing about having to be strong anyway?? Why can't we admit that we need help? And I need help people! I need encouragement, I need someone to hand me a tissue! I need people to remind my that despite the fact that I will constantly experience failure (because that is what happens in this learning experience called life) I am still a worthwile member of this here society. Sigh. My eyes are getting droopy. And shucks, I sure am going to be embarrassed when I realize tomorrow morning how much of my inner workings I have just exposed on a very public medium. Oh my, what a confusing world...
Dear people who read my blog,
Wow, it's been a while. Since my last entry I have successfully completed that swallowing paper and have moved on to work on a presentation for that class. Some of you may be lucky enough to see the aforementioned presentation if I can -in a sneaky fashion- request your attention for a few minutes. And I finally had time to play with my friends! Thanks KT, Martha, Krazie, and Ben for shopping with this here girl...that was a lovely -although rather stormy- afternoon. I even had time to go see two, count them, two movies. Martha and Suzanne and I went to see 13 Going on 30. For once my insane desire to see all the cheesiest teen flicks out there paid off- Jennifer Garner is just adorable and that's all there is to it. Saturday night B-man and I went to see Kill Bill Volume 2. I was so proud of myself because I did NOT close my eyes once, not once! Aren't I growing up? Yeah, being 25 has its benefits. Did you hear that Krazie and Husayn, I didn't close my eyes! I write to them specifically because they witnessed how I almost fell asleep during Kill Bill Volume 1 because I was so bored from keeping my scaredy-cat eyes shut. Okay, so Volume 2 is a lot less gory but still, I think I've made improvements in my "watching a movie for what it is " skills. I also got to practice my SLP (speech language pathology) skills during the film- did anyone else notice the slight dentalization of Bill's /s/ sounds?? Hehe, what a lucky girl I am to be able to pick up stuff like that, let me tell ya. Oh, by the way, do not direct any of my classmates to this entry -- they are all stressing out and I am as calm as a pickle. Is that even a saying? Did I just make that up? Anyways, signing off. Until next time!
Liza
that's right, 17 pages and still counting. the requirement is twenty so the end is in sight, folks. (i'll try to ignore the fact that i probably still have a good ten pages to write in order to meet other requirements). as i have to write all professional and junk for my swallowing paper, i feel like going casual on my bloggy-blog. my weekend consisted of sitting here at this darn dang computer, my monday consisted of sitting here at this darn dang dilly silly computer, my tuesday has consisted of going to swallowing class, holding office hours, frustrating a student and being helpful at the same time (i'm talented that way), and skipping two classes in order to sit here at this darn dang dilly silly pooper of a computer. but i've got 17 pages..a whoo hoo, a "skit, skat, flee". two dollars if you can guess the reference... or my attempt of a reference at least. do i sound a little loopy? that's what too many days staring at a dell computer screen will do for ya. but i've got 17 pages. man, what a good day! now on to number 18....
It's very taboo in this culture to talk about religion, prayer, etc.. but as part of my honesty campaign, I can't leave out what has been immensely touching and powerful to me. The following is what helps get me through some of my lowest times:
"O God! Make my heart good and pure, freed and sanctified from all save Thy love." 'Abdu'l-Baha
And for my dear husband:
"...make him one of Thy angels whose feet walk upon this earth even as their souls are soaring through the high heavens." 'Abdu'l-Baha
I always choose to sing my prayers, because song brings joy to my heart as well...
Phew, I finally created an outline for my swallowing paper! I really wanted to jump right in and start cranking it out, but I have immense difficulty writing a paper without knowing how the whole thing is going to come together. So I've spent this lovely and rather warm Saturday afternoon enjoying the sunshine from my big bay window in the dining room/computer room while hunching over a keyboard in a rather pleasurable attempt to organize the pile of twenty some research articles that I need to incorporate in this whammer of a project. And I did it, and feel much more confident about how this paper will turn out! Yippeee....too bad I have 0/20 pages finished. On the plus side, however, I was simultaneoulsy compiling and typing out my reference list. I discovered -from this not so miniscule ordeal- that without the research of Mackay and Morgan I would not have been able to find out much about pediatric swallowing dysfunctions. So a big thanks sent to that team in Australia- rock on folks! Now, off to dinner and then back to writing...
First of all, a BIG thanks to all who wished me well on my birthday! I really appreciate your warm smiles and "Happy Birthdays" even if we were all exhausted on that particularily tiring Thursday. It's so very tempting to turn an entry in an all out whining session. I'll do my best to resist! At the same time, I need to get this all out of my system...bare with me today. Back to the honesty project: I'm blue. Patterns of this moodiness tend to coincide with the amount of stress I'm experiencing. This program is hard, folks. So difficult that I'm about ready to throw in the towel. When I get stressed I panick and scan the horizan for any escape route possible. I'm not a fighter, I'm a "flighter". Well, I'm a semi-fighter. I'm still in this program, after all. I'm still cramming for the tests, still compiling artifacts to prove that I have learned something this year, still searching for more articles to help create a reasonably thorough paper on brain injury and its affects on swallowing... But recently, after trying to get a three year old to play copycat with me and failing horribly, I began to again doubt if I chose the right profession. Then getting scolded by my swallowing professor -listen lady, if we all failed the exam then what does that say about YOUR teaching- and being lectured on the whacked out policies involved in how hospitals work and then daydreaming about working in public school systems and having to deal with administration that is moving toward treating schools like a business as well... oh dear Lord, NO THANK YOU! But then there's the whole money thing and being slapped in the face with a $150 hospital bill for five minutes with a doctor -and that's with insurance all ready kicking in... No need to lecture me on the whole self-pitying thing. I am fully aware of people who are in much worse positions in life! But I can't deny the frustrations that I'm feeling.
Okay, so how do I turn all this into "the cup's half full"? Well, the truth is, what I love about this profession is it's interest in helping in the communication process. How frustrating it must be to be continually misunderstood or to have difficulty expressing your emotions and thoughts. A lot of people with communication impairments also have difficulties in reading. I've learned so much about this world by reading the diverse views of people other than myself! oh, and the joy of reading Harry Potter-yeah, I'm one of those people... And how could I get by without the soothing power of prayers and the uplifting words of spiritual scripts? So if I can remember the nobility in this profession, then perhaps I can keep my spirits up even with all the stress and long and tiring days ahead of me...
My birth story: (as remembered by me from the storytelling of my da and ma)
I was born 25 years ago in a hospital in Lima, Ohio. My father could not make it due to something- traffic was it, or maybe he was there...it's a little fuzzy? My mother was unconscience 'cause the doctors knocked her out. And I entered the world -via metal claps squeezing my itty bitty head -into the warm hands of a complete stranger. But don't feel bad. My favorite part of this story is when my momma cried when the nurses brought me in and she saw me the very first time, and how she told my father, "I don't care what those nurses say, bring me my baby!" And so they brought my mom her little red-headed, five pounder of a baby. Did I mention that I was born 6 weeks early? Perhaps that is why I am always told I look so much younger than I really am. HMM, I hadn't though of that My claim to fame is that I did not make a peep for the first two weeks of life. That is, I did not cry. I slightly whimpered- but no baby cries from me. And then one evening, I started wailing. And I was LOUD. It actually scared my parents... Interesting to note that I am still very quiet unless provoked-- better cover your ears then. Well, off to have some fun! Join in next time for a full account of this odd ball day that was my birthday...
Brent's on a mission. It's "Convince Liza That We Should Stay Nested in Our Little Apartment at 709 W. Nevada". He's making some good progress seeing that he spent hours this evening caulking the cracks in our floors -which have been allowing tiny itsy bitsy ants to hike up in here and start partying with our dusty balls
So perhaps Brent's mission will work. As long as Mr. Landlord is over with his little tactics that happen to drive Ms. Falconer crazy...
So I woke up this morning with a call from Krazie, "Liza, I was just calling to make sure that you remembered that the time changed last night". Darn it all, this is the second time in the past two years! I always am eagerly aware of the time change in the fall -because I'm excited: we get an extra hour of sleep, studying, playing, etc. But when it comes to the spring time change, I NEVER remember. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, well actually it isn't, but I teach Sunday School classes and every year at this time someone has to call me to make sure that I show up before classes are over. I guess it shows that I'm usually very punctual because Krazie called right smack at 10:02- classes start at 10:00. Anyway, as far as anyone else was concerned - ALL was WELL. Krazie -with the help of Bahiyyih- did an awesome job leading the class and coming up with a last-minute lesson plan. But because I'm in a funk, missing those first 15 minutes of class made me wanna cry. HELP! The neural pathways in my brain always lead to this self-depricating center and I can't seem to be able to lead them astray.
Thank goodness for:
-the eagerness of Sebastian to tell me that, "Guess what Liza?" What? "The biggest catfish is as big as a lion" to which I responded with very wide eyes and very serious tone of voice "Are you serious?!"
-the delightfulness of Arthur to willingly help me sharpen pencils and laugh when I asked him, "Is this sharp enough?" {it wasn't} and then proceeded to poke him in the nose with the dull pencil tip
-the oh so lovingness of Maya to sit next to me and repeat several times "dandaung" until I was able to remember that that is her word for "my friend/buddy"
-the joyfullness of Georgia to laugh incredibly hard at Arthur's joke of growing flowers out of his mouth, ear,belly, nose, foot, hand and... butt {to which I responded, " I like it growing out of your nose the best"}...I meant the tip of his nose but naturally that was interpreted as nostril -whoops!
Those "potential lights of the world" help me smile, and reorient myself to some wonderful things in life: learning new things, goofiness, friends and laughter. Thank you Arthur, Georgia, Sebastian, and Maya- I love your sweet and joyous hearts!
Just doing a little experiment here. Is it my camera or my photoshop software that is failing to work properly?? What do you think? The answer is in the quality of this photo- which is my absolute favorite from the wedding. These are my boys! Can you tell that I am avoiding something today? Gee whiz, three postings in one day...
We are missing our special super duper underwater disposible camera so this is one of the few pics we have to remind us of the warmer days of our Florida trip. (It's interesting how something about the quality of this picture reminds us of being under water- what is going on with my photoshop software??) Hurry, warmer weather, hurry!
I'm turning 25 in a few days here (April 8th is my 'yearly celebration of the entry into this world'). My husband -I just love writing that bc it's still so novel- stresses out when it comes to getting me a gift. My sister Anya always compiles a wish list. Although when she does it I'm absolutely thrilled because then I know just what to get her, I hesitate to do it myself because it seems rather bold. But it's oh so fun too! So here I go with my top 10:
1. I wish for a house. Not a doll house but a real actual grown-up person house with an orange tile roof and a kitchen that would make Emeril jeolous. Not that I'm much of a cook, but I could be!
2. I wish for a puppie. A smoochie, woochie, drooling adorable yellow lab that I could name Derby or Dido or -actually- Smoochie...yeah Smoochie.
3. I wish for a job on the series Alias. I wanna be Sydney's future best friend because she needs a friend -seeing that her only girl friend turned evil. Apparently that happens frequently to friends of spies so maybe I could then play her conniving kick*** nemisis.
4. I wish for a 2004 Toyota Camry or a some type of hybrid.
5. I wish for a new bike and to live in a town with scenic bike trails. Sorry -the ones throughout campus just aren't cutting it!
6. I wish for a nice digital camera -ooh that would be fun!
7. I wish for a book that would teach me how to put on make-up. You see, I plan on becoming a Mary Kay lady but before doing so I feel that I need to enhance my facial-art skills.
8. I wish for a new wardrobe -like the one that you get if you are lucky enough to be so fashionalbly inept that you land yourself on the TLC show "What Not to Wear". I had some quality time watching that show with my dad- but shhh- he might be embarrassed if you bring that up.
9. I wish for a full body massage -like the one I received in the Outer Banks before that hurricane tore that peninsula into shreds.
10. I wish I could spell. I'm making so many spelling errors in this darn thing. Wait, scratch that. I wish spelling errors weren't such a big deal. There. Done. For me, they are not.
I was going to list 25 things but frankly, I've lost interest in thinking of unrealistic gifts and feel silly writing down realistic wishes. So there it is. Mr. Trump -if you happen to stumble upon my blog- you'll know several material things that would make this here soon-to-be 25 year old tickled pink. Alrighty then, on to a productive day of studying and grading papers. That's my biggest wish- to recieve a fellowship so that I do not have to be challenged with the huge personal test that TAing brings. I know it's good for me but I just don't wanna deal with it anymore!