liza bean
My goals for today are as follows:
#1. Not to succumb to my recently lowered tolerance for things not going my way. (you should have seen the hissy fit I through yesterday when my online banking account kicked me off because I tried way too many times to remember my password and failed miserably) I've been moody this week, not sure why, BUT not today!
#2. Go to Hobby Lobby.
#3. Shuffle around Hobby Lobby.
#4. Spend money I do not have at aforementioned Hobby Lobby.
#5. Go home and work on cute little decorations and games for the Allmart's baby shower.
#6. Enlist help for tomorrow with making cute little yummy things for the Allmart's baby shower.
#7. Remain cheerful for the whole day.
#8. Practice coping strategies when I go to the bank and obtain our balance.
#9. Look both ways when crossing the street after the visit to the bank.
#10. Eat. Healthy. Food.
Wow! I spent the morning preparing for a wedding for a friend of mine- Helen Katz- and got invited to join as a guest in the small gathering of family. At first, I felt completely uncomfortable because I wasn’t family or a dear friend from "back in the day" but eventually I got over that awkwardness and really felt blessed that I could be there to experience the very joyous occasion! After Helen and Bob exchanged vows, we listened to Red Grammar's "See Me Beautiful". I don't think there was a dry eye in the house. The words were so powerful, and it made me think of how I see Brent and how so very much I wish everyone I know could see him the way I see him. I think that's probably how a lot of couples feel, and perhaps that's what is so great about being in love- you really get to see the beauty of people that others may not be able to see quite so vividly. I also cried for the image I see of myself. I knew sitting there that I do not see myself as beautiful (inside or out!), and my heart ached with the hazy, dark silhouette that propped up as a self-image. There are times in my life when I feel so great about being me- I see myself as loyal, caring, giving, etc. But I'm currently in a period of self-doubt and see only my selfishness, my jealous tendencies, etc. Can you see my patterns of black and white thinking??? But the song was like a splash of cool, minty water...I began to question my views of self 'cause they are rather biased and distorted. There's definitely some truth to all my self-images, but come on Lizabeth, you're a good person! Anyways, I was really happy being there. The small gathering glowed with happiness, and Helen and Bob were so beautiful!
Well, I rolled back into town this evening and went skipping away to a meeting. Now I am home -but not after making a very quick stop at good ol' SPSHS building in order to pick up my graded project that kept me so long in the aforementioned building that I never wanted to see those creepy orange walls again. Well, the comments on that peice of work were brief which was actually a sigh of relief. Phew. My professor warned us that this project would determine the fate of our borderline grades. Talk about pressure! Apparently, I just didn't cut it. Oh well, what I did manage to do was nail an A in my swallowing class! Yahooooo, way to go Liza, wippeeee...but please, do NOT come to me with any swallowing difficulties - it will be our little secret that -gasp- I nearly labeled the trachea as the esophagus during the "pop quiz" diagram section. Thank goodness for that good ol' Adam's apple, it earned me an extra point and SAVED me from some major embarrassment. I can just hear the professor now, "How in the world do you guys expect to go treat patients if you don't even know where the trachea is located??" Well, honestly, even with my little A, I don't wanna work in a hospital. Again, I repeat, do NOT come to me with any swallowing difficulties. I might accidently mistake your vocal folds (aka. vocal cords) for some kind of spongy, mucous growth blocking your ear canal. Hehehe, take that Speech and Hearing Department. You've created a monster, mwhahaha (to be read all devilish like the way Nathan Davis says it).
Among other news, I have returned from a very nice trip up north in the sweet little suburban town of Batavia. Okay, Batavia's not really sweet, it's suburbia. A place where a lady actually got annoyed at me when I tried to hold a door open for her and her baby. Whoops. But that's not the point, my home -aaah yes, where the heart is- is sweet. (As long as you ignore the fat chocolate lab that barks when she has an itch, and the stench of the bloated schoodle who is so old that he now falls asleep in his own pee. I know it's gross but don't you dare say anything mean 'cause I love him, and I'm very loyal to my pets- only family members can complain!) Anyway, back to the sweetness! We went to see my little brother Matthew's 4th grade musical and OH MY GOODNESS was he adorable. He had to sing a song as part of the a Greek chorus, and he needed to sing while pouting and putting on a "this is so annoying" face. By far, he had the best facial expressions, but to be fair -and to prove I am not completely just biased - some other kids had some really smooth dance moves. I cried, my stomach hurt --oh the laughter was good.
The purpose of my visit was actually to fix up the house for my dad. Brent, Husayn, and I all worked together painting the porch. Ever since the year I spent painting window after window at Green Acre I've hated painting. It's so hard for these "not the artist" hands to have to hold a paint brush ever so precisely. Why tape was never option, I'll never know! Huh, why didn't my supervisor let us use tape? Anyone? Hummph. Anyway, by the middle of our porch project I actually began to enjoy myself and gained a little confidence. So much so that I managed to paint our side steps all by myself. Bravo! Can't say I was a good sport, however; I did manage several attempts at self-deprication: "Brent! {whimper, whimper} I'm so bad at this, could you PLEASE {with a pouty face} finish this for me??" Well, he wasn't having it: "Liza, the steps look great! You're doing fine, you don't need me to finish it!" At which I grumbled to myself "darn it, why do you have to be so darn supportive!" But I finished, and except where the cat decided to take a climb up the stairs, I have to say -it looked pretty darn good. Why does paint look so crappy wet anyway? Tricky little substance.
Whoa! It's gotten late. Well, later gators!
And a shout-out to Georgia -who I don't believe has quite gotten to the point where she's reading blogs but I'm sure her mom or dad will relay the message- You feel better sweetie pie! The weather's warm and it would be fun to go swimming or spray each other with the hose -have you discovered the fun of being sprayed by the hose? You feel better and I'll show you :) Or we could just fly a kite...you know, whatever you fancy.
It's just an odd-ball experience to feel sad when nothing is wrong. I woke up this morning and could just sense it. The overshadowing fuzziness that takes over my mood, that pit in the stomach feeling, the actual aching of the heart... and man, that heavy weight in the air. The morning was bearable -I'm always my best when surrounded by the energy of little ones- but even this morning there was a moment when I wanted to grab the knitted blacket, throw it around my head, and hide in the kitchen cupboards until...ummm, like 2030 or something. But the moment passed and we made it outside and the children played together nicely and I enjoyed watching them make friends with the neighborhood kids.
Then off to home. I thought, ooh a nice warm shower and food!, that'll do the trick.
It didn't.
But then, enter Brent. As I hid my tired self away from the world, amidst the quilted comfort of a fluffy soft blanket, he stroked my hair and whispered in my ear, "...Liza...pray...just try to pray". And so I silently did, and my head got lighter, and my heart stopped aching, and I drifted off to sleep.
And I wish I could say, I woke up cheery and bright. Sigh. I was, however, able to cry. And tears felt good compared to the emptiness of the afternoon.
Thankfully, this evening Suzanne took me for a walk'n'talk, and Katie and Martha entertained me with a movie. Tomorrow will be better because typically these moods don't last long enough to drive me into bed indefinetely.
Maya Baker: on being adorable
Georgia and Devyn Baker: on being cutie-pa-tooties
So the obvious: I am so excited about becoming an auntie! Last night I was thinking about the big change for Suzanne and Husayn, and I actually got a little apprehensive for them. Not that I'm worried about them as parents- I am actually so excited about them becoming parents because I know they are going to be awesome. I think I was feeling what they are feeling - excited but oh my goodness how could they not be a little nervous! Isn't that funny - I actually had nervous butterfly feelings! What a weird combination of excitement and nervousness.
The perhaps not-so-obvious: When I think about having children I feel like I'll never be ready. Parenthood slaps you in the face with all the flaws you are trying to mask from the world. I'm lousy at giving out praise because my darn standard is so high. I can't bring children into this world who are going to grow up thinking they aren't good enough just because momma is a frick'n perfectionistic lunatic. It's one thing if you teach your kids your own bad habits or flaws (like a bad temper) but I don't want my kids to feel lousy about themselves. And I can't seem to kick this whole low self-esteem thing! So, no kids for me for a long while.
Back to the more obvious: Luckily, no aunt in my life has scarred me so I think I'm safe with Amia. I just get to sit back and enjoy her cuteness. I can't wait to just to stare at her. Although I love holding babies, I love the fact that I find immense joy just watching a child explore his or her world without needing to hold them. So yippee, I just get to watch her be loved and giggle and coo and experience life with her wonderfully balanced momma and papa.
Well, I want you to know that I've been silent on my bloggy blog for two reasons:
#1. Since around 4:00 pm on Wednesday I have been in the Speech and Hearing Science building. I took an exam from 7:00 to 9:00 pm, graded exams from 9:00 pm until midnight and then worked on a paper from midnight until 4:00 pm Thursday. Right here, in this computer lab, in a building that reminds of Three's Company, surrounded by broken junk computers and old speechy equipment. I even got a little feverish. But now I have officially written a 25+ pg paper in less than 15 hours. Can't say pages 10 -25 were any good, and I know for a fact that my three pages were a sorry excuse of an "essay" but oh dear Lord! It's over...
#2. From 4:00 until now I've been studying for an exam that I finished an hour ago and have been wrapping up the paper trails of being a TA. And once again, oh dear Lord! It's over...
I just said goodbye to my buddy Michelle who is graduating and out of here. Well, I am OUT of this here building. I refuse to come back!! .....for a week anyway
Oh my gosh! I survived my first year of grad school, well, sorta, does summer count as part of the first year?? Naw.
Well, I'll be SEEING you all very soon :)
I'm finished!
Dear little itty bitty ants,
As much as I have enjoyed your attempts to drive my "cool as a cucumber" husband batty, you've gone a little too far. I admit, you gave him quite the challenge; something he got a big kick out of, but now dear friends, go, walk out the door, just turn around now, cause you're not welcome anymore. Yes, you are cute, in that "oh my goodness how can such an annoying creature be so little" sort of way but I've gotten a little tired of finding you and your friends partying in my coffee cup. And those times that you think it's hilarious to double dare the gullible ones in your group to crawl up my arm --well, I just wish you'd stop being so mean! You know what I do...so stop edging 'em on, I hate being the one to squash the fun, if you know what I mean. Perhaps we could compromise here, I'll give you the area behind the tv, you leave my coffee table be; I'll even give you the window sills! yeah, yeah, and I promise that bugs that come in from the gapes in the screens won't bother you one bit . How about that? Deal? Good. Also, you owe us about $515 in rent, you are housing your whole family, afterall. So pay up!
warm regards,
Liza Falconer
Aaaaah. Last night I was doubled over with stomach pain and was having a little difficulty breathing. There's this little part of my tummy that hurts when ever I get really worried about something and last night it flaired up. Then I started freaking out -hence the breathing difficulty. And why was I so worried? Well, today I was responsible for providing reading therapy for a woman who had a stroke a couple of years ago. Although I prepared myself by researching techniques and therapy suggestions and by practicing on Brent, I knew my limitations were great and I was TERRIFIED. About once a week last semester I was responsible for the language therapy for five children which gave me a lot of practice giving therapy and not knowing what the heck I was doing -besides what textbooks could tell me - so why in the world was the thought of providing a thirty minute therapy session giving me an anxiety attack? I mean, I have had practice, people, of remaining calm and thinking on my feet when my therapy techniques turned out to be pretty crappy or didn't really work for that particular client. So what would be so horrible if that happened again?
Well, naturally, it happened again. Of course the woman did not respond the way I expected her to, of course I forgot to say things that I meant to say, of course I failed to take good data and so forth. And of course my therapy skills were not up to par,and naturally, I heard all about it from the professor. But to tell you the truth, I am trying really hard NOT to be hard on myself. I'm trying hard not to feel humiliated by the critiques I recieved. The way I have determined to do this in the future is by setting my own personal goals for each therapy session. For example, my unverbalized goals for this session were to #1. know the techniques that I was using and why, #2. to come across as professional (e.g. less nervous laughter), #3. to provide clear instructions, and #4. to provide encouragement that did not come across as fake or inappropriate. I think I succeeded, for the most part, on all of those goals. My professor's major criticism was that I did not make the therapy session collaborative; rather it appeared to her that I was just testing the client and providing very little actual therapy. Yeah, ouch. But that's okay. I was doing my best, I wasn't just relying on my gut -which yes, I had to do at some points - but was able to think about what I had learned about reading and therapy and was trying to apply it. Of course I could have done better but considering the fact that I had never provided therapy for adults and I had never had experience with reading therapy, I did just fine. I feel like my performance was a good basis to build off of. For those reasons, I am able to think about the experience in a positive light. Which yippee, gold star for Liza!
I feel surrounded by negativity -perhaps due to the fact that I am constantly in the Speech and Hearing Science building. I remember fondly the initial orientation into the program. The excitement, the new faces, the friendly faculty. And then it began...
Our class is known around the department as the "depressed class", and recently one professor kindly informed us that "no wonder all the supervisors and professors complain about you guys, you are so unprofessional! You better not expect to be receiving any letters of recommendation from us come next spring!!" OUCH. It feels as though the people who are there to help us learn expect us all to fail. And we are all trying so hard to do our best, honestly, honestly!! Thank goodness the semester is almost over, I can't breath in that building...I need a break...
I have one professor, though, man is she great! She's so encouraging and you can tell that she wants us all to succeed and that she believes in us. She is perhaps one of the best professors I've had because she does push me to learn and challenge my assumptions but she does it in a way that never makes me feel dumb. She never criticizes, and if as a class we do not do well she always makes sure to explain that this is a learning experience and of course we didn't do things perfectly -we are LEARNING! So thanks Dr. Johnson, without you I'm not sure I could have stayed in this program...
My professors are always cramming "evidence-based practice" into my overstuffed brain, and I really want to raise my hand and ask about the efficacy and effectiveness of their teaching methods. How effective is it to tell a class that "I have never had a class do so poorly!" How effective is it to yell at your students and tell them that all the professors and supervisors think that they are hopeless?
A commentor on Husayn's blog mentioned the interesting relationship between anger and pain. I feel so angry right now but deep down I'm just really hurt. I'm hurt that our professors and supersivors don't see us as a bright individuals with wonderful potential. I'm hurt that our pain and frustration is being written off as " a class of lazy, unprofessional whiners". And this hurt makes me so ANGRY!!
P.S. I wish I could end this on a more pleasant note but as this is what I consider an online journal I feel I have the right to utter and complete honesty and no "oh life is grand" ya de ya da. Momma, I promise I'll try to think more positively but right now, I just gotta vent.
I told Brent today, "Your wife is amazing!". After laughing and nicely poking fun of my boldness, he agreed. Within 24 hours I have managed to do about 10 loads of laundry (our washer has been broken for 2 weeks), dust and sweep and tidy up our bedroom and living room, clean out the yucky fridge without gagging (I won't even gross you with how long that has been needed), dye my hair (although apparently Tahitian Honey is my natural hair color 'cause my hair is still the same shade), and have graded 11 papers. Aaah, feels good. Plus, Brent tackled our nasty stack o' dishes. Can you tell that neither of us has mastered some rather important domestic duties?? Well, we're getting there...slowly but surely we'll become one happily clean and organized domestic machine. Until then, it just takes some moments of miraculous amazement :)