Top Eight Ways to Know.... Grad Student Edition

Top eight ways to know you're a graduate student:

1. Your eyes don't work as well when they're not starting at a computer screen.
2. You don't ever leave home without at least one book...just in case you have time to study somewhere.
3. You spend a ridiculous amount of time on the phone with classmates debating about endless possibilities for assignments, only to decide you really have no idea.
4. Your scrapbook should probably contain words like "literature review," "hypotheses," "theory," and "clinical implications."
5. You work late into the night, and at some point, you think about going to bed then decide against it because an extra hour of sleep isn't really going to make that much of a difference anyways.
6. You actually decide to get excited about writing a thesis.
7. You decide you need smaller handwriting to fit everything into the boxes on your planner.
8. Your daily mantra consists of "I chose to do more school, I chose to do more school..."

 I promise, I really do love graduate school!  :)

Staring at a Car Crash

We've all had that experience. You're driving along, taking a sip of a drink or singing along to the radio or talking to your best friend. You're on the interstate, and traffic is light. That's a cause for celebration enough as it is. Suddenly, traffic screeches to a halt. I don't know about you, but that certainly fills me with at least a mild sense of irritation. As you become re-acquainted with your brake pedal, you think "there had better be a reason for all this traffic..." Sometimes there isn't. It's just an inexplainable feat of nature that cars like to stop on the highway for no apparent reason. Usually, though, there's an explanation.

Today, I was reminded of that reason. I was on my way home, wondering why traffic seemed to stop so suddenly. Luckily, I was one of the first cars in the slowdown, so I quickly assessed the situation and realized why cars on both sides of the highway were slowed down to almost 20. On the opposite side, about five cars were pulled over to the shoulder. Several people were running down the side of the road, and others were standing next to their cars making phone calls. One truck had a shattered windshield and a door that was crushed into its core. I thought to myself, "Wow, this must have been a really bad accident to involve so many cars." Then, I was confused because none of the other cars seemed damaged. Suddenly, a realization burst into my head. All these people weren't in the accident themselves; they had stopped to help someone who was trapped in the car.

What a sobering thought. Immediately, it filled me with warmth that a stranger, a modern day Good Samaritan, would stop to help someone in trouble. With all the stories of pain and anguish we're pummeled with each day, it's hard to remember that our world is still filled with such good. What kindness, what love, and what selflessness it must take to get out of your car on a 102-degree day in Texas to help someone in trouble. I consider myself a "nice" person, and I'm almost always willing to lend a helping hand, but I think I'd be stretching it if I said that I would jump out of my car to help someone. Wow.

Then, another thought rocked my brain. It seems to be the obligatory question I find myself asking whenever I witness an accident scene: What if that was me? Would I even be aware of all the people desperate to help me? Would I myself be desperate and fight to live, or would I be tired of pain and let myself slip away? Who would notice if I was gone? How long would my family mourn? What sort of legacy would I leave? In ten years, would my friends remember that I had once walked this earth? What would I miss the most?

You see, people that die in immediate accidents don't even have the luxury of a diagnosis where the doctor says, "You have six months to live." There is no time to mend broken relationships, visit dream destinations, or enjoy a long-awaited book. The end can be long and drawn out and filled with pain, but it can also be immediate, shocking, and irreversible. All endings have the potential to be tragic. Even if I am meant to end in a terrible accident, I don't want to be a tragic story of someone who lived their life for "If only..."

I have so many plans for my life, and yes: I make lists. I know that I won't mark off everything on my to-do list, and I know that I won't accomplish every goal I set. In my mind, I can have a happy ending without all that. At the end of the day, I count it as a happy ending if I smiled even once and if I told (and showed) at least one person that I love them. If I can do those two things, I consider the day to be just what it is: a beautiful piece of life. And that's good enough for me.

Stay safe, friends.

A Loss of Innocence

Picture a world like this: Families eat meals in front of the television, and drive through dinners between soccer games and ballet practice are the norm. Six year-olds have iPods, and many ten year-olds have their own cell phones. Texting becomes more popular than actually talking to friends in person, and twelve year olds aspire to be tattoo artists. It's either too hot or too cold to play outside, and children would prefer to play a video game, anyways. Reading is boring, and math isn't necessary. College is seen as a waste of time, and some children have seen more R-rated movies than adults. Half of children spend time living in a one-parent household, and eight year-olds know what a threesome is.

Sound like some sort of classic literary dystopia? Nope. Welcome to modern day America.

To be fair, that description above doesn't fit every family, and it doesn't fit every community. As a teacher, it's heartbreaking how many families that does apply to, and it's disconcerting to think about the future of America's children. "A loss of innocence" comes to mind, and at times, I wonder if some children ever even had a chance to be innocent?

It seems like madness, and it's all too easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of confusion and blame. One simple question is repeatedly raised: Who is to blame for this mess?? Is it parents, who are overly stressed and overworked and exhausted? Is it teachers, who don't have adequate training and are expected to supervise and teach excessive numbers of children? Is it school counselors, who are assigned more students than they can possibly manage? What about pastors of churches, who don't serve as adequate role models? Is it celebrities, who set bad examples? Is it politicians, who ignore education initiatives and cut funding in valuable programs?

The answer is probably yes, all the above. I grew up with the mantra, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." No one can "fix" the issue, and no one can "save" a family or a child at risk. Small steps are all we can do, but what an impact small steps can make in a world that just needs some sunshine. Make an investment in a child today, and commit to filling them with hope, one day at a time.

Top Five Ways to Know....

Top five ways to know you're frugal:

1. You alternate between A/C and just the fan in the car to get better gas mileage - I swear it works!.
2. You think it's ridiculous to pay $1 for Sonic Happy Hour when you can pay less than that for a 2 liter of soda at the grocery store.  
3. You decide between buying generic or name brand vegetables by the fact that generic saves you 7 cents.
4. You do homework with the ceiling fan lights off and just a desk lamp because it probably saves more electricity.
5. You keep the house thermostat at 80 and freeze in places where it's kept at under 78.   

Cost of living is high and getting higher...but that's all I'll rant about for now. Can anyone relate to this? Or even top it?  Someday, I'll find a way to be less frugal when I'm rolling in the big bucks as a therapist! Actually, I can't even type that with a straight face :)

No Other Way

I have this song. This song calms me when I'm troubled and when my heart has grown weary. Sometimes, it's my only source of solace on the days when I'm painfully reminded that I don't have all the answers. This song fills a void in me, and it quiets my thoughts so I can sleep. The melody is so achingly beautiful, and it makes me want to smile and cry at the same time. If my soul had a sound, it would be this song. This song wraps up all the pieces of my thoughts and makes them okay. This song reminds me that words can fall short sometimes, and sometimes, there's no other way than the hard way.

The Journey of All Journeys

Dear friends, I must like you an awful lot. Why, you ask? It's simple. When I asked for suggestions about what to write my next post about, you provided me with a variety of...eclectic....topics to choose from. Rather than pick just one topic that jumped out at me, I've taken on the immense task of incorporating all suggested topics into a short story. This is certainly a genre that I have not ventured into for quite some time, so please pardon the amateurism. Nevertheless, I hope it makes the corners of your mouth crinkle into a small smile :) Happy Friday!

Once upon a time, there were three little mice: Lottie, Jeannie, and Sammy. Now, these were no ordinary mice. These mice were superstars in the world of rodents, for they had set out on an incredible journey. They had been best friends since they were in elementary school in Dallas, TX, and they had bonded over their mutual love of roast beef sandwiches. They were, in fact, known for their habit of concocting rather elaborate schemes to skip class and sneak into the school cafeteria. They would hide behind the lunch counter, nibbling on bits of roast beef and telling of their dreams of greatness. In their P.E. class, they had all realized that they had an unusual talent for the sport of soccer.

Over the years, Lottie, Jeannie, and Sammy began to spend less of their time sneaking roast beef sandwiches and more time practicing their soccer skills. They were recruited by university teams, and they ultimately joined the USA Women's National Team. Their fans went wild at their games, watching them streak across the field as if they were sparks of lightning. They seemed unstoppable, and they found all eyes upon them during the 2011 Women's World Cup. They were elated when they realized that the tournament would be held in their hometown of Dallas. The three little mice were sure this was a good sign.

On the morning of the big game against Brazil, Lottie, Jeannie, and Sammy piled into Lottie's little mousemobile. The game was scheduled to begin at 11 am, and they left Lottie's house at 7 am. Surely, they thought, this will give us enough time. They pulled out onto the interstate, their hearts light and their thoughts focused. Suddenly, the traffic screeched to a halt. "Not to worry," Lottie reassured her dear friends. "We have plenty of time, and we left early." Jeannie and Sammy didn't worry, and they continued to chatter about the upcoming game. After about ten minutes and 0.1 miles, Lottie felt a lump tighten in her throat. On the side of the road, there was the most ominous looking sign she had ever seen. She read aloud, "Travel time to I-635 from this point: 4.5 hours." The three little mice gasped, and their hearts began to pound in their chests. Sammy whimpered, "Now we'll never make it on-time! What are we going to do??"

Jeannie tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "Hey guys, how many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb?" Lottie and Sammy looked at her warily. "None. The light bulb has to change itself!" Jeannie, the littlest mouse, cracked up, but Lottie and Sammy didn't seem to find it funny.

Lottie decided that if she was going to think of a plan to get them out of this mess, she was going to need a snack. She took a peanut butter sandwich out of her backpack and took a gigantic bite. By the time the peanut butter touched her tongue, she had already spit it out. "This is NOT my natural peanut butter!!!! I cannot eat this hydrogenated excuse for food! Who switched my sandwich??" Jeannie looked sheepish, and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I was hungry..." Sammy reminded everyone to just take a deep breath and remember that they were teammates and friends. They would get through this together.

Eventually, Lottie found a way to detour around the mounds of traffic, and they made it to the game with two hours to spare. They dominated Brazil, and they found themselves national heroes, once again. They were adored by their fans, and they were even invited to lead an expedition into outer space. In space, they discovered a brand new kind of flea powder that was made from moon rocks, and they made sure to bring plenty of natural peanut butter sandwiches to feed Lottie’s addiction. After spending a few years on the moon, they decided they missed Earth, and maybe even the Dallas traffic. They began their journey home, and they lived happily ever after.

The Potential Problem

Friends, "potential" is a funny word. Funny how, you may ask? Think about the word. Potential. It just rolls off your tongue, and it sounds smooth. But how do we know what "potential" means? My guess is, it's a smooth sounding word with a rather rough meaning.

I grew up going to private schools, so I heard the word "potential" a lot. I have a mom who told me I was blessed with so much "potential" and that I should find something to do to put all that "potential" to use. I had teachers who told me I had so many "potential" options, and I got to the point where I picked a "potential" option to showcase my "potential," and I didn't look back. This word became so ingrained in my self, I've realized I spend an inordinate amount of time patiently trying to teach 6 year-olds what the word means. Potential.  

In some cases, potential is easy to measure. We can measure how many trophies we win, how many journal articles we publish, how many children we have, how many miles we run, and how many countries we visit. Especially if you're scientifically-minded, you can probably measure (or at least try to measure) everything in God's great creation, and you just might reach your potential goal. But how do you know when you're done? How do you know when you've fully developed your potential? How do you know when you've accomplished all you can potentially accomplish?  

This has been bothering me for the better part of the afternoon. There's some magnificent thought lurking in the shadows of my consciousness, and I can't quite draw it out of hiding. Maybe it's the fact that "reaching your potential" implies that you know exactly what you're capable of. I would argue that you don't know what you're capable of until you actually do it. You don't know how fast you can run until you surpass your previous record. You don't know how much hate you're capable of until you surprise even yourself. You don't know how much love you're capable of until you exceed the greatest amount of love you thought you could ever have.

And so, my solution is to keep on striving to reach that unknown constant: potential. You never know what you're capable of until you actually do it, so never give up.