Merry Christmas 2010

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

Love from Meryl and the cats (Spitter & Bootsie)

Era Now

I love my blog layout. It makes me think of the English Victorian era, with their elegant script and lush gardens and ornate architecture.

But let me tell you, I do not think I would make a very good Victorian maiden. I'm way too much of a loudmouth and I'm politically liberal...I'd probably be burned at the stake or imprisoned for treason had I been alive back then.

Which is why I think I'd much prefer to be a hippie. A nature- and animal-loving, free spirited nomad with long, unruly hair and a brightly-colored wardrobe. Sounds like me, doesn't it?

There's one very important element that separates the life of a Victorian maiden from that of a Hippie: having the freedom to actively advocate for important issues.

And advocacy is what social work is all about.

If you think about it, today's social workers are basically modern-day hippies; both groups are notorious for advocating a live and let live lifestyle. It's all about peace, love, and access to resources for all.

Since starting graduate school, I have met many other "modern day hippies" like myself. My professors and my classmates have inspired and encouraged me to be the best I can be.

That said, I'm going to start making a stronger effort to advocate for causes that I care about. On the top of my list are these issues (in no particular order):

1) Equal opportunities for oppressed communities (hey, that rhymed!) - aka civil rights
2) Animal cruelty prevention (including hunting "for sport." Ugh!)
3) Keeping art and music in schools
4) Increasing the availability of Expressive Arts therapies as an alternative to traditional talk therapy (especially for children and the mentally ill)
5) Preservation/conservation of natural resources, including recycling

My priorities are definitely biased...everybody's are. People advocate for the issues that are closest to their hearts. And that's okay, because everybody has different interests, different priorities.

The important thing is to be true to who you are, Victorian maidens and Hippies alike.

And for me, being a Social Worker sounds like a truly perfect fit.

The best of all worlds!

Today was a good day. It was fun!

I got to be a musician, an actress, and a social worker. The perfect combo!

Obviously I'm a social worker every day, or at least I try to think like one so I can contribute to my classes each night.

Tuesday is music day at work, and the kids always have a great time. They all wake up from nap saying "the music man is coming today!"
The last few months the kids have been working on learning the C major scale and solfege. Jason (the beloved "music man") has 8 little bells that he lets the kids play, and he goes through the whole scale with them and works on their aural recognition. The kids always have a blast, and they're learning so much!
I love music day, too, because each week is like a refresher course on stuff I haven't heard or practiced since my choir days. When I was in high school my choir teacher told me I had a "good ear," which basically means I can hear a note and sing it back correctly. What I have never been good at is identifying solfege at random. But today I did it! Jason was packing up the bells, and one of them dinged loudly. I knew right away that it was Ti. I said to the kids, "pop quiz! Who knows what note that was? I do, but I want to see who remembers."
When none of the kids answered (they are only 2 and 3, afterall!), Jason looked at me and said "Which one is it?"
"Ti," I said confidently, and grinned when he looked impressed. He asked me if I had taken music classes before or if I "just knew about music," so I told him about growing up in a musical family and taking choir all through middle and high school. It was fun, feeling like I was on the same level as a truly talented musician!

After work, I had to go to class. Today was the start of final project presentations, and I was in the first set of presenters. The assignment was a comprehensive interview and assessment of a "client." We were supposed to interview the client, identify their major presenting issues, and formulate a "treatment plan." The purpose of the assignment was to teach us how to properly assess clients and provide treatment recommendations. Talk about pressure! Eek!
I had terrible stage fright...the whole time I was presenting, I was praying that the professor wouldn't deem me an incompetent social worker and have me kicked from the program. This is where the acting comes in. I went up to the front of the room, took a deep breath, and started to talk. I talked about the client like she was my little sister, I made my professional assessment as though I really did know what was best for her. I spoke clearly, and I kept my eyes glued to my powerpoint slides so I wouldn't deviate from my talking points. I recognized the spots wehere clarification was needed before my professor asked for it, and I could tell that she was pleased. Basically, I rocked my presentation hardcore.
And the entire time, my hands were shaking and I couldn't feel my legs.
At the end of my presentation, the professor only had 2 little comments to make (the fewest of all the presenters!), and many of my classmates congratulated me on a job well done. I had fooled them all! Thank you, childhood spent performing on a stage!

Life was fun today. I definitely needed it!

And to top it all off, one of my kids at work totally cozied up to me while we were out on the playground...it was random, and I wasn't expecting it. It was definitely a Crazy Cat Lady moment, because my first thought was of Spitter. I guess I'm just super used to my kitties snuggling up to me, but not the kiddies at work. Ha ha.

Tomorrow I get to "table" at an outreach event as part of my internship...I think it's going to be fun!

Time is...money?

In today's crappy economy, both money and jobs are hard to come by.

In fact, I have seen job advertisements for full-time positions that are "volunteer only," aka unpaid. When I first came across such a posting, I almost felt offended. I thought, who is going to work full-time for no pay? Nobody can afford to do that these days!

But then I tried thinking like a social worker might (gotta put that tuition money to good use!).
My thought process changed to: perhaps the company cannot afford anymore paid positions, but still desperately needs the help. I'll bet the company feared that everyone would have the same reaction I initially had, but took that chance anyway.

But, amazingly enough, I know people (ok, one person. Maybe two) who have taken jobs as full-time volunteers, "for the experience" (of the position, not working for free).

At first I was amazed by the decision, even somewhat baffled.

Then I felt guilty for feeling that way. I don't volunteer at all, and I use my insanely busy schedule as an excuse.

But here's the thing. In some ways, being "too busy" to volunteer is a valid reason. And here's why:

Lots of places have started requiring a volunteering time commitment. Every application I have looked at (because I really do want to volunteer, when I can!) said things like "Must be willing to commit to a four-hour shift once or twice a week" or "Must be available to volunteer for 6 months minimum" or just provided a list of specific daily time-slots for people to fill.

Such stipulations cause huge issues for people like me, who just don't have enough free time to promise 8 hours of volunteer time a week, or don't have a clue what their life will look like 6 months from now, or have a schedule that can't accomodate the specific hours requested. What ever happened to saying "I have a free hour today, I think I'll go help sort food boxes."

In my opinion, restricting a person's ability to make their own time commitment makes volunteering seem more like a chore than an altruistic act. And nobody likes doing chores...so what's going to happen to volunteering?

And what if I want to volunteer with more than one place? I have a wide variety of interests...maybe I'd like to pick up some litter in the park, then walk a couple dogs at an animal shelter, then read to a group of kids during story time at the library.

But if each of those places requires a 4-hour shift every Saturday morning for at least 6 months...there's no way can I pull that off (and get through graduate school). How am I supposed to pick between helping the environment, animals, and children? (Oh, and getting my homework done).

I get overwhelmed just thinking about it, then end up not volunteering anywhere. And that doesn't help anybody.

I know that there is extensive training involved with becoming a volunteer, and that without the training, productivity would turn into chaos. And for corporations that rely on volunteer efforts, it is crucial that the volunteers be "on board" with the company long enough to make an impact.

As my mom said to me when I brought up the issue: "That's why most volunteers are older, or retired." They're the ones who have that kind of time.

I get all that. But I still don't think it's fair to people my age who are committed to helping now.


I suppose I could do "short term" volunteer opportunities, I think those usually only last a day...fundraiser events maybe? I'll have to look into that.

I'm exhausted.

Whooosh!

That, my friends, was the sound of the last two months flying by.

If you've been wondering why I've disappeared, allow me to lay it all out for you:

Three days of the week (Tu, W, Th) I’m out of the house from 9am till 9pm. Count 'em folks, thats 12 hours. A day.

Monday and Friday I’m only gone for 9 hours, which actually helps the week go by relatively quickly.

Let's breakdown those hours, shall we?

In one week, I have:

16 hours at my internship
15 hours at work (still at Montessori)
12 hours spent in class (4 classes)
4 hrs of driving time

47 hours.

That's a full-time job.

So I'm sure at this point, you're all saying "well, at least you have your weekends!"...


...Not quite.

On the weekends I'm in my house all stinkin' day, doing all the homework I was too tired to do during the week.

And get this.

All my professors said to expect "about 3 hours of homework a week" per class.

So tack an extra 12 hours of homework time, and suddenly my hours have catapulted from 47 to nearly 60.

However.

Just about all my assignments are research papers.

So you have to take into consideration the hours of required reading, the research, the outlining, and the time spent perfecting the APA formatting and citations...and that's all in addition to actually writing the darn thing!

So yeah, 12 hours of homework a week is actually a gross understatement.

And the number of hours added to my 60 hour week are too depressing to calculate. Here's an anecdotal example instead:

On nights when I do work on homework after coming home from my internship/work/classes, there have been occassions when I am still awake at 5am (which I like to call "working overtime." You have to have a sense of humor in these situations, haha).

The resulting measly 3 hours of sleep I end up getting that night sabbotage my ability to function the following day, which snowballs into a weekend sitting around like a zombie and not working on the other bazillion hours of homework Ihave.

The above scenario has been my life. On repeat. For the last 9 weeks.

And there are still 7 weeks to go before Christmas break.


What have I gotten my self into????

Oh yeah, graduate school.

And please do not tell me to quit my job. The ASU School of Social Work tried that tactic already, because my insanely full schedule is so difficult to work with.

But I had to take out a lot of loans to pay tuition and other expenses, so that extra little bit of money each month is helping me offset the impact of the payments (with interest) I will have to start making after I graduate in a year and a half. It also allows me to have some semblance of a social life, on the rare weekend when I'm not sitting, half-conscious, with books and papers spread out over the table and cramped fingers from turning pages and typing endless word documents.

You probably won't hear from me for another two months...so until then, I say goodnight.

Stop monkey-ing around

The other day I was talking with my dear friend Kelly, and she mentioned something about not always enjoying talking to grown-ups.

I responded with, "we are grown-ups, darlin'."

Kelly's retort was a Golden Truth: "Well, it sure doesn't feel like it."

From there we launched into a conversation about my impending "quarter-of-a-century life crisis" birthday. My 25th. Which is in September.

Kelly and I have been friends for 13 years. We were mischievous, dorky sixth graders together...and when we hang out nowadays it's hard not to forget that we're that much older. Because we don't feel all that much wiser.

Weary, sure. But wise?

You tell me:

I didn't think so, haha.

Kelly has a fancy-pants job at a nice hotel. I'm about to start graduate school so I can add a few fancy-pants letters to the end of my professional job title.

In sixth grade Kelly and I frequently ditched class in the afternoon in favor of doing flips off the monkey bars or mentoring the K-1-2 kids a few corridors down. I worked hard on my homework, but I played harder.

These days I'm working so hard to keep up with everything, I have hardly any time to play at all. I know that any "monkey" business in the MSW program will get me "terminated" from the program (as they say over there).

I know what you're going to say: "it's all part of being a grown-up."

Ok, fine. So then when am I going to start feeling like this grown up I have supposedly become?

Tell me, those of you who have been doing this "grown up" thing longer than I have...did you feel this way when you were my age? Do you still feel this way?

Do we ever really "grow up," or do we just learn to exhibit "business hours behavior" until the bell rings (or the clock chimes) and "happy hour" begins?

Ugh. It's tiring, trying to to navigate my way through the Land of Being a Grown-Up. I don't feel remotely ready to be making this journey. But here I am. Here we all are, or must eventually be.

One of the hardest adjustments I've had to make since arriving in the Land of Being a Grown-Up is convincing my night-owl personality to spend a decent amount of time in the distant Land of Nod.
Recently my dad and I discussed this unpromising proposition:

Dad: "So no sleeping in tomorrow?" (referring to the fact that this is the week I've had to start being downtown by 8am)
Me: "No, I don't think I'll be sleeping in for-"
Dad: "The rest of your life?"
Me: "-the rest of my life. Yeah."

I guess the only bell I can look forward to hearing for the next 40 years is the one on my alarm clock!

No more monkey bars for these girls!:

A Hairy Situation

When I was about 7 years old, I gave myself a haircut.

Well, technically, I just gave myself bangs. Really choppy ones.

Really, really short choppy ones. Using a pair of blunt craft scissors, I slashed them into what I thought would be a really nifty "angular cut."

Immediately afterward, I realized the truth: I looked awful.

I was more afraid of getting in trouble with my parents than I was about getting ridiculed at school.

I tried to hide my evidence by keeping my left hand clamped tightly to my forehead. I'm right-handed, so I figured I better keep that hand free to go about my business like nothing was amiss.

Have you ever tried to slice an apple one handed?

Yeah. Don't.

My mom noticed my odd behavior right away and asked me what was wrong.

I told her I wasn't feeling well and that my head hurt.

You may recall that my parents are lawyers. They are trained to persecute liars.

You may also remember that I'm a pitiful liar.

So my ridiculous gaffe was discovered within 5 minutes of the perpetration.
I honestly don't remember what happened after that, except that by my next school picture my bangs were slightly grown out. I've never cut them since.

Until now. Today I decided that nearly 20 years is a long enough time for my bangs to be in exile.

But this time I let a professional make the cut.

I've actually known Alaina for quite some time; she did "Sweeney Todd" with my dad back in our theater days. I haven't seen her in ages, so it was really fun to catch up and re-bond over our mutual love of long hair!

I left the house looking like this:

**My "no makeup, boring hair, dull-and-sad-face" pose**

And look at me now!!

**My "full makeup, awesome haircut, bright-and-happy face" pose**

I feel so stylish! Alaina did a "bang" up job!

To explain my poses:

I always make fun of those "improved appearance" infomercials (acne medicines, face lifts, etc).

They are so staged, and I can't help but feel somewhat insulted that the producers of those commercials think people don't notice the stylistic changes between the Before and After photos.

The "Before" photos always feature boring hair, unsmiling faces, and dingy clothes.

The "after" photos are clearly taken under glaring lights and pounds of makeup and hair product. Not to mention the extreme color-saturation and photoshopping. Of course the "After" photos are going to look better...smiling faces are always more attractive!

The set up is so obvious, and it drives me crazy!

Anyway, I love my long bangs!

Thank you, Alaina, for making me feel like an infomercial "After" photo...even if it was just for a personal photo shoot before I went to work!