Don't You Wish Your Nails Looked Like Christmas Ornaments??

It's Just a Jump to the Left

Last night I got home from work at 4:00ish, I put on sweats, took out my contacts, put in a DVD and flopped on the couch. That is all. I. remember.

I woke up this morning, still on the couch and completely disoriented. I looked at my phone and discovered it was 8:30am. I was then hit with that "where I am? what day is it? what time was I supposed to wake up? what do I have to do today?" panic.

Then I realized...I have nothing to do today. I am working on my Christmas presents for the boys at work but that in and of itself is fairly easy. I'm making them all mix cd's. I'm so dang excited. They know about them, which kind of ruins the fun, but I wanted to make sure they would like them. I spent time over the last 3 days pulling each of them aside for half an hour and making up a list of 15 songs they would like. It was so much fun. We would listen to 30 second clips of the song online, and then I would look up the lyrics and by the time I was done with the first few boys they could tell just by the sound of the "hmm" I would make, whether or not I would approve it. I told them that just because something is radio edited doesn't mean that's it okay for them to have. For example, just because all the cuss words are gone doesn't mean all the lyrics have an appropriate meaning. For a fine example of this please examine the song Forever by Drake. I listen to that song all the time and my brain has never heard any cuss words so overall I feel like it's NBD to listen to it. However, I read the lyrics and oh my dear Lord...not appropriate.

It was so much fun spending one on one time with each of them though. I'm starting to really get to know them and it has really helped me. I feel like the people that get burnt out in this job are those that stand too far on the behavioral line vs clinical line. They're the people who look at kids misbehaving and think "they're just bad kids that need punished". I look at bad kids and think "what happened to that kid to make them act that way?" A coworker and I ran to the gas station yesterday and the lady behind the counter was sullen, grumpy and downright rude. Molly and I got back in the car and started to laugh a little, I asked Molly "If we can smile and be positive and laugh at our jobs, why can't she?? I doubt anyone spit on her today." Molly cracked up and we spent a few minutes talking about why we're here. Why we do what we do. What makes us come into work everyday?

A few days ago I was driving down the road listening to Christmas music and I almost had to pull over to cry. My car has some issues lately and I'm behind in bills so I can't really afford to drive home, let alone do it safely. I won't get to spend any Christmas time with my family. Then it hit me. I still have the option to go home. I could make it work. My family could come see me. My boys? They don't have that option. Granted some of them "deserve" to be where they are, but no child deserves a dead parent, a parent in prison, a parent addicted to drugs or an abusive parent. I just thought of my boys and I thought about how hard this time of year is for me, having lost my mom at 21, and then compared it to them. I lost my mom at 21, after an almost complete education, still having family, having adequate coping skills, resources and friends surrounding me. Some of these boys lost their parents and had none of that. They didn't know how to cope with loss, they didn't have anyone to turn to, they just became children of the streets, doing whatever mindless things they could to form some sort of family and purpose. It broke my heart. I spent some time talking to one of my supervisors about this yesterday and she praised me for seeing this all from the correct perspective. It was nice to feel validated and for someone else to feel the same way.

On Monday I worked an impromptu double, someone called off so I stayed til 10 and then went home and came back for my regular shift Tuesday at 7. In the 33 hours between 7 am Monday and 4:00pm Tuesday, I spent 24 of them with the boys. After realizing that, it kind of makes sense as to why I fell asleep at 4:30 yesterday and didn't wake up until today. I'm not going to say I wasn't exhausted. I'm not going to say that at 9:30 on Monday night I didn't have two boys say "Sarah, you're tired. I can tell. You haven't snorted in an hour, your voice is lower, and you're talking quietly". They know me. They know more about me than I've ever known about myself. They are masters of behavior and observation. It's crazy. They know how I act when I'm tired, they know how I act when I'm stressed, they have figured out that I only wear cute clothes on Mondays and Tuesdays because I see clients right after work and that I wear my hair curly on days when it's raining. They have quickly become my second family. I spend more time with them than my actual family. I can't wait to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with them. I want to remind them that they are loved and I want to make sure they have a fantastic weekend.

Brain Ooze

Disclaimer: it is very likely this post will contain explicit content, ranting, raving, and general rage. Continue at your own risk. 

I. am. on. the. verge. of. coming. unglued. 

If you want the abridged version of this post it can be summed up in a few sentences. 

1) Grad school is freaking hard

2) Even harder when you're in a class that is being team taught by two professors with completely different styles of teaching and a mutual disdain towards the counseling profession (seriously) 

3) Even HARDER when you're assigned a giant project, with almost no instruction and one week to get it all done...no joke 

Let's put my anger this way. I was angry last Tuesday. I was irritated, overwhelmed and exhausted. It's now Monday and that has all shifted to flat out rage and near hatred. 

The class I'm in currently is psychological assessment. Now, as a counselor, you don't give assessments. You don't have to interpret them or score them. You're handed a nice little summation in layman's terms so that you can create a treatment plan, IEP, etc. You only ever have to know what is on the NCE to pass your test....that's it. 

This class is an 8 week class that is being taught by two professors that I actually had in undergrad. I had high hopes, as one of them is a great professor...in my eyes. This class, however, has completely ripped me to shreds. I have a 3.5 GPA in master's level courses, I'm getting a D in this course. That in and of itself is frustrating. What is more frustrating is that I do my work for this class. I read the chapters assigned that are sometimes upwards of 75 pages a week. That's not that much reading, however, we are then quizzed on that reading the following week. Have you ever begun to even think about how to condense 75 pages into a 20 point quiz? Lemme tell you. Near impossible. No matter what, if I read, if I miss a chapter, if I take notes, if I make flashcards...I NEVER guess what info will be on the quiz. I have never gotten higher than a C on one of the quizzes. 

Now, that's not that terrible, however, we were assigned an assessment project that literally means we have to give out two assessments to undergrads who are volunteering for extra credit. One assessment is over IQ and cognitive work, the other is over personality. In actuality it's 5 separate tests, that we have to administer, in the counseling lab, while recording it and THEN we have to write a report on our findings. To sum that up, I (someone who will never, ever, ever, give an assessment) am being asked to administer (in what little free time I have) 5 assessments, then score said assessments, and write a report on each finding. I am neither qualified nor motivated to do such and we received exactly no instruction on how to write these reports other than a minimally constructed rubric. Now, if that was enough to be frustrated over, I go to give the IQ assessment tonight and the professor I least enjoy, decides to sit behind the observation window and watch me give it. I sweated through the entire thing, messed up a large portion, felt completely inadequate and frustrated. I believe it was completely unfair for him to randomly observe me, as that was never discussed in class and isn't supposed to be part of the grading process. 

I'm mad about all that, but then I'm more mad because we literally got the instructions for this last week, couldn't even begin doing it until this week, and it's all due next week. I'm not sure what they were thinking but this is the most poorly structured class I've ever been in. 

As if all of that isn't bad enough, I feel like the professors genuinely look down on us because we're pursuing counseling as a profession. They've both made comments that generally suggest that they believe assessment and actual "psychology" is far superior than what our tiny counselor minds can wrap around. They've mentioned that our counseling theories are statistically non-significant and are mostly unfounded. In one class, a professor verbally abused a student in front of the entire class. We were all left shell shocked as we all just sat in horror at his attack on her. He was rattling off term after term that we didn't understand and I'm pretty sure we were all confused but she chose to speak up, asking sarcastically "could you speak English please?". He then attacked her, stating he was speaking English, and then proceeded to repeat the info he just said, slower, condescendingly and even overusing the word that initially tripped her up. When she was still confused and semi-arguing with him, he just glared at her until she said "I'll just shut up". To which he replied snidely "That would be wise". In all of my years of schooling I have never been so offended by an exchange between professor and student. The entire class was catatonic the rest of the duration and I can honestly say I don't think much learning was accomplished after that point. 

I understand this is all just a rant, and none of it can I really change or prevent from occurring. I teach my kids at work everyday that life isn't fair and things happen "to us" but that behavior doesn't happen "to us", we choose how we respond to the unfairness that is life. I hate that I'm too smart right now to react the way I'd like to. 

I screamed on the way home a little. I put in the one CD I wanted to listen to and scream/sing/vent and it skipped during all four of my favorite songs. I got home and immediately wanted to run, but my elliptical is in the garage still. I actually called Manuel on the way home and warned him I was on the verge of killing someone and that I needed to be left alone when I walked in the door. I literally walked in my house, threw my keys at the table, threw my coat in the corner and went directly to the shower. I literally scrubbed my skin, seriously I think I exfoliated my bones with my "Anti-Stress Body Wash". I'm not sure if that's how that stuff is supposed to work because I was a pretty angry shower candidate. The soothing spearmint and eucalyptus, along with "Rolling in the Deep" playing on loop seemed to help a little. I'm in my pink fluffy robe, under my pink fluffy blanket, on my couch with Band of Horses blaring through my headphones and I'm feeling a little better. However, I still want to install a punching bag in my garage. 

I just keep telling myself. SEVEN. MORE. DAYS.

I Promise I Can Do This

I'm getting kind of tired of hearing something at work. It's not one single sentence...or word...it's a concept.

It's the simple idea that my coworkers are all just waiting for my burnout.

They don't mean it in a rude way. They're not saying it to irritate me. They're simply stating what they believe to be fact.

I'm still "new". I've only been here a month and a half. Eventually...I'll give up too.

You know what? They're wrong.

Tonight, I spent time with the boys. I sat in the doorways of three separate boys. I helped them look up Jordan's and ACG's on the internet. I wrote their Christmas lists for them. I told them about Adele. I educated them on Jimmy Eat World. I laughed with them. I also taught them how to move like Bernie...and then they laughed at me.

As I clocked out for the evening, one coworker praised me for spending quality time with the guys tonight. Another coworker warned me, "just wait, you'll run out of energy, you're still new".

It made me mad. I'm not going to say that I'm 100% always in a good mood but I will say one thing...I don't give up. I love a challenge. I love my job. It challenges me every. single. day. I've come into work pissed off. On Sunday I backed my car out of my garage, misjudged the distance and broke off my side mirror. In the same minute I spilled steaming hot coffee on my crotch. A moment later I spilled that same coffee on my hand. By the time I got to work I could have screamed at the next person who looked at me wrong. Instead, I walked in the door at work and was greeted by one of the boys yelling "SARAH!!!!!!!!! You're working today!" I was instantly laughing and my mood was shifted.

I honestly, seriously, literally love these boys. They are terrors. They are, at times, literally a safety risk. They wear you out. I come home from work and I am exhausted. They are, however, hilarious. When we're having a conversation about baked goods and I say how much I love chocolate cake and then one goes "I don't like chocolate...except my women" HILARIOUS. They just make my day.

So, I didn't say it then, but let me say it now. I WILL NEVER RUN OUT OF ENERGY. Even if I think about running out of energy, or I think I won't make it then I will do one of two things. I will play a David Guetta track in my head or I will just run up the stairs for a sudden burst of energy. I'll do those things, or I'll just walk up to one of the boys and beg him to talk in his "proper" voice...which consists of a British accent and no ebonics. Seriously, hilarious.

You Can't Delete the Truth

A year or more ago I deleted all the Christian music off of my computer. I mean ALL of it. Even, the pseudo-Christian Relient K and Skillet. I was PISSED at God and I wanted him as far away from me as possible. I didn't want to put my computer on shuffle and risk Chris Tomlin or Hillsong shuffling their way into my mind. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be resentful. I wanted to hang on to my bitterness and sadness. Guess what? 

It worked. 

I managed to push God as far away as I humanly could. Do you see the problem word in that sentence? I'll give you a hint...it's humanly. The hilarious thing about God is that he doesn't work on human terms, he works on God terms. I'm not sure if you fully understand that, but let me put it this way, he doesn't freaking give up! He will claw, scratch, and pry your way into your heart before you can even process it enough to build that wall back up.

I stopped listening to God. It worked for awhile. I graduated college, I took another retail job, I kept doing my thing, and I kept ignoring God, and you know what he did?? He got me fired! He turned my entire plan upside down and made me suffer. My plan was just to keep working retail to bide my time until I finished grad school and then I would do his work.

I never intended on fully ignoring him. In the back of my mind I still knew I was called to tend to his children. I still knew he wanted me loving the unloved, caring for the broken and mending the torn. I just wasn't ready to do it until I had finished my education. I was dilly-dallying with God's plan. Seriously?! Who did I think I was? 

I now find all of this hysterically funny. I find this funny in the way that I find falling on your face funny. It's like I was walking along, minding my own business, doing my thing and then this freaking mud puddle came out of nowhere and I just biffed it big time and now I'm on my butt in front of tons of people (that really happened when I was 16). God...is my mud puddle. 

I took the job I'm in now because it was what I wanted to do. However, it wasn't really my idea, it was God's. He just let me act like the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding and think it was my idea, so I'd be okay with it. You know what he's doing though? HE IS MESSING MY WORLD UP!

It's awesome. 

When I was 20 years old I googled summer camps in Michigan. I had just broke up with my boyfriend of 2 years and we were "working things out" and I decided I should be in Michigan to make that easier. I took a job at a Christian camp, that I knew nothing about so I could be near my ex-boyfriend. I swore to my mom that wasn't the reason, but we all knew the truth. You know what we didn't know? We didn't know that I wouldn't even see that boyfriend that summer. We didn't know that God would change my heart, heal my wounds, bring tears to my eyes and tell me his calling for me. I didn't know that God was putting me through the ringer. I just knew that a whole heck of a lot was shifting in me. I kept a journal that summer. 

When I started working at my new job my heart went back to that original calling. I knew that God put me in this position and tonight, I picked up my journal to read. I want to remember what God did in me that summer that changed my heart so much. I want a refresher course on God's love and God's plan. 

I've been looking at my wrist tattoo a lot lately. My wrist tattoo is 3 stars, a large purple one with a gold cross in the middle, and two gold stars on either side of the purple one. Under the stars, is written "Php. 4:13". That scripture verse is probably one of the most widely known besides John 3:16. 

Philippians 4:13 is "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

It's a verse that means so much to me. When Paul wrote that letter to the Philippians, he was being called by the Lord to do something he felt ill equipped to do. He didn't think he was educated enough. He didn't think he was strong enough. Then he realized, he wasn't. He didn't have anything he "needed" to do the job, but God was equipping him with it all. When I was 18 years old, I graduated from high school and I knew that God was calling me to his work. I was stricken with Paul's feelings. I knew that one day I'd be doing something that I wasn't ready or willing to do, but that God would give me strength. That's one time in my life that I can honestly say that I was right about something. 

This past week at work, I used my tattoo as a witnessing tool. I said words very similar to the paragraph I've just written to this one particular boy. I only said it to him because at this particular moment he had pulled 5 separate Bibles from his desk and told me of his aspirations to be a preacher, but that he really can't get a hold of his anger. I told him about Paul, and the Philippians, and myself. I told him that he isn't strong enough on his own, but that God puts people in our lives for a reason, and that if he wanted, I would gladly be that person for him. Yesterday at work, that same boy broke my heart. He had a terrible day yesterday and made some bad choices. I spent two and a half hours with him, listening to him, and just praying for him in my head over and over. I told him that I see great things in him, and so does God, and when the devil knows a person will one day do amazing things for God, he will come at them that much harder.  I was off of work today and I thought about him all day, still praying for him, and worrying about him, wondering if he was doing okay. 

I'm in it, right now. I am in the mission field that God called me to. Every day my heart breaks, but in a good way. I feel little fissures in my soul, I feel myself being taught my God and conditioned by the Holy Spirit to be a light to these boys. I am ridiculously fortunate that this boy welcomed me into his life and let me be a witness. I don't have that opportunity so vocally with the other boys. Instead, I will just try to witness through my actions and attitude rather than actual witnessing. 

I am putting all the Christian music back on my computer. I am going to stop ignoring God, but to welcome him back and allow him to use me again. That's the great thing about God. You don't have to become a better person to get back to him, he meets you where you are, in all your junk and your running, to pull you back out again. 

Psalm 40:1-3

I waited patiently for the LORD;
   he turned to me and heard my cry.
² He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
   out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
   and gave me a firm place to stand.
³ He put a new song in my mouth,
   a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the LORD
   and put their trust in him.

Sometimes I Just Eat Chocolate Chips

Today, was not a good day at work. Some of you may think that in a job where I work with literally a dozen teenage boys with behavioral problems that a good day at work is a rarity. In all honesty, that's not the case, most days I absolutely 100% love my job. I still love my job today, I'm just mentally exhausted. As a result. I am eating a bag of chocolate chips. 

As a woman, I can also say that there are more things contributing to the consuming of the chocolate chips than a simple bad day. 

You may be wondering what constitutes a "bad day" at the academy. Well, in the first 45 minutes of my shift one of the boys walked out the back door, setting off the alarm. He then stood at the top of the stairwell holding a 2x4 in his hand for 20 minutes while I stood four feet away trying to negotiate the weapon out of his hand and trying to convince him to come back onto the program (back inside the door).

That was awesome. Later on in the evening another boy, upset at receiving a consequence, proceeded to beat the crap out of his wall in his room. His hands were scraped up and had to be bandaged and as a result, there's a huge chunk of drywall missing and the resulting hole is covered in blood. It literally looks like we shot someone against the wall in his room. 

About four hours later another boy was upset at a decision that was made so he decided to start tearing up the program. He was throwing dominoes, flipping chairs and at one point he punted a bottle of dish soap across the kitchenette. This same boy further antagonized a peer by stealing his shoe (yes, seriously) and then I got to hold back that boy from attacking the other boy. Have you ever braced your body against a kid's door so he couldn't get out of the room and strangle a peer? Well, now I can say I have. 

When I left at 10:30 (half an hour late), the soap punter was still sitting in the common area, refusing to go to his room and had only just recently set down the piece of broken drawer he'd ripped off the desk. There were 11 responding staff from other programs sitting in our ball room making sure everything was legit. 

Today was definitely one of those days where when I got to my car I wanted to scream. Instead, I almost feel like crying. It's nuts to me. After just a month there, I really love these boys. I know their backgrounds, I understand their behaviors and I just love them. Even when they're threatening to kill me (yeah, that happened tonight too), I still love them. They are struggling. They are the epitome of fighters. They don't know any other way. They've spent their entire lives fighting and now they don't even know how to stop fighting the people that want to help them, how to stop fighting their treatment, how to stop fighting their emotions. 

The boy I held back today? He breaks my heart. As one staff put it brilliantly "out of all the boys, I 'don't like' him the least". Which basically means, she likes him the most. It's really easy not to like these boys. They yell at you, throw things at you, tell you they hate you and they just generally ignore everything you say. Literally EVERYTHING with them is a battle. However, with him, you just get drawn to him. He is straight up goofy. Today he told me he doesn't like Owl City because it's "white people music"....he's definitely white. Hilarious. When he wanted to go all crazy and beat up his peer I literally had spent 15 minutes calming him down and he ended up walking away. I was blocking him from going anywhere reminding him "you're better than this, make the right decision, staff is here for you, you don't have to fight, we'll take care of you". He finally backed down.

What was his breaking point? Someone showing care and concern. I didn't yell at him and tell him to stop. I didn't grab his arms and drag him away. I just had my hand on his shoulder, reminding him that I care about him and want him to make good choices. I checked on him before I left for the night and he apologized for disappointing me. I told him that I wasn't disappointed, I was extremely proud that he backed down and made the right decision and gave him a bandaid for his hand. 

I'm not going to say these boys don't deserve consequences. I'm not going to say that I can always break up a fight by showing love. Tonight, however, it worked.

I'm exhausted. I'm wore out. My nerves are shot. My finger hurts from where it got jammed. I didn't really enjoy my shift today, but I can't wait to go back tomorrow.

The Psychologist Needs Therapy

Goodness. sakes. alive. 

Six months ago I was planning a wedding, working full time, and going to grad school and I thought I was the most stressed and mentally exhausted I'd ever been in my life. That very well could have been the truth, however, the past two weeks have been pretty taxing. 

I am currently in my second of three years of graduate school. This year I still attend class on Tuesday nights from 6pm-10pm, in addition to meeting Monday evenings for group supervision and another evening for individual supervision and also seeing clients. If I thought I was tired last year, I was really mistaken. THIS is tired. 

I really don't want this to be a complaining post, because I'm not unhappy, I am just tired. Mentally exhausted. I'm sure every one of us feels this way on a frequent basis. In fact, I am praying for my friends in retail right now because I know they're about to feel it more and more. However, there has just been something about this week. I treated myself tonight. I got myself something for dinner that I haven't eaten in over a year. It's something I used to eat every few weeks in college with my roomies. It is....

 

Niro's Gyros-Double Gyro Plate *nom nom nom*

It really did cheer me up though. This week, Monday-Friday from 8:30-5:00, I have to take part in a state mandated training. The training predominately focuses on sex offenders and every topic related to them. I'm not sure if you've ever spent an entire day in an auditorium listening to perpetrator apologies, sexual check-ins (where they list all their offenses), and statistics on offenders, but it really does something to you mentally. 

On top of listening to that all day, Monday night I had to go to supervision, Tuesday night I had a midterm and 2 hours of lecture and tonight I had  a client to counsel. That gyro plate was the difference between me and screaming me. Notice there are no fries in the picture. That's because I ate them in the car on the way home. Niro's fries are amazing. They're steak fries and they are as big around as my fingers, and trust me, I have CHUBBY fingers. 

I love my job. I really, really do. I also love school most days. I know that the light at the end of this tunnel is not that far away. The thing I'm trying to remember right now is "Viva Villa!"

As cliche as it may be, the reason I titled my blog as such, was really more of a challenge than anything. I don't want to just "bide my time" or wait until the next big thing in my life. A lot of brides, especially newlyweds, can almost encounter a quasi-post-partum depression from wedding planning and the hoopla around getting married. 

I didn't want to just fall into this routine of complacency. I know that right now isn't technically the most exciting time of my life, however, I get to choose whether to weather it or triumph through it. I don't want to just live...I want to LIVE. 

When I come home exhausted, I literally fight everything within myself not to go to sleep or be a complete bum. I remind myself to do something I love so that I can live everyday. It's so easy to get sucked into a routine. It happened A LOT when I was working retail. I'd go through the motions of Monday-Wednesday because I knew Thursday was my day off and that would be a "fun day". I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to spend everyday waiting for the next day, I want to live everyday as if it's the "fun day". Today...was not very fun. However, I got a gyro and I played my guitar and I wrote a blog. It wasn't just a Wednesday. Tomorrow? I'm going to training, I'm coming home and arranging a medley on my guitar that I was quasi-arranging during training today *shhhhh* 

Friday? I get to hang out with at least four of the people in this photo

and I get to have a slumber party, and I get to see Dot Dot Dot.

I would like to challenge all of you to continue LIVING. You may not be in the perfect job right now. You may not be in the best financial standing. You may have had the worst week in the world. I just beg you, choose to live. It's so much more rewarding. 

P.S. Aren't my friends awesome??

My Psychoses Are Annoying Each Other

One could probably argue that procrastination isn't actually a psychosis, however, I'm pretty sure everyone could agree that OCD is. My psychoses are a learned trait, perhaps even a genetic predisposition. My mother was the epitome of a procrastinator, my father was the epitome of a control freak. I...am a control freak with a terrible procrastination problem. 

I won't even lie to you all at this point. At the age of 14 I was diagnosed and suggested a wonderful medication regimen for anxiety and depression, as well as given the grand diagnosis of obsessive compulsive tendencies. Yay! 

I gracefully refused all medication and instead took up the counseling approach. (Gee, I wonder where I developed my strong stance against psychotropic medication and for the importance of counseling)

 Luckily (?) for me my OCD is incredibly diminished. Now my compulsions are relatively common things that aren't intrusive to most of my everyday routines. My habits of not letting any food touch and eating out of separate bowls really just means more dishes for me. I've learned not to complain about the direction of the toilet paper but rather to just change it and move forward. 

The point of this post was never to really discuss my various issues but I suppose it is somewhat important. Why? Well, for the last three weeks there has been a pile of stuff in the corner of my living room. We got married on a Friday in my hometown, drove back to our house on Saturday, and left for our honeymoon on Sunday. We got back home the following Saturday, I spent Sunday trying not to die of the sickness that had hit me like a Mack truck, and I started my new job on Monday. 

For the past three weeks I have been working virtually nonstop. On top of that, I've had this disgusting cough/loss of voice since we got back from California (I'm thinking it was getting on the plane in the Bay at 94 degrees and getting off at Chicago at 48 degrees). Needless to say, the pile of gifts that we made in the corner...has been sitting there for three weeks. 

I look at it everyday. It's like this black cloud of doom. I know I have to put it away, I know it's annoying me, but I'd rather just sit down and relax. The last three weeks have been kind of stressful. Starting a new job, during which the first week my body was still on PST so I was basically waking up at 4am, was a little rough. Also, being sick and then the added bonus that my job requires me to be incredibly vigilant so I had a hard time sleeping the first week because I was so on edge. 

Anyway...I said all this to really say that "I did it!" I came home from work today at 3:30, took a little nap, watched this week's episodes of Glee, New Girl and The Big Bang Theory and then got to work. It took me a little over an hour to unpack everything and to decide where it went. Here are the four things I was really excited to unpack:

top: owl prep bowls from my Aunt Chris, left: an amazing cutlery set (that rotates) from my Dad and his girlfriend Ami, center: a CUPCAKE Scentsy from my matron of honor Addi and her hubby, right: a freaking OWL bamboo from my friend Alex and her husband Bobby, along with my friends Sam and Betsy

I totally love all four of these things. Why? Well, the owl prep bowls are pretty obvious (also if you look closely there's a matching towel in the background). I love owls and I love baking. Also, if need be, I can eat separate foods from each bowl :) The knives? Oh my goodness, Manuel and I constantly complain about never having good knives and never finding the kitchen scissors. Who doesn't love organized kitchen supplies?? I do. I tell you, I really, really, do. The cupcake Scentsy? Anyone that knows me knows that I'm obsessed with smelling good, having my car smell good and having my house smell good. I also...freaking love cupcakes. Guess what scent I put in? FRIED ICE CREAM! Yep, that's what my kitchen smells like...right...now! The owl bamboo? Well there's the obvious owl thing and then there's the whole bamboo thing. You know what's great about bamboo? It's really hard to kill. My college roommate had one that lived in our kitchen. Do you know how much light is in an apartment kitchen? Do you know how much water a bamboo plant gets over a month long Christmas break? Not much. That thing lived though. In fact, I bet it's still alive today, because I definitely packed that thing into her car during graduation week. 

Awesome. I'm like a real adult. I am in charge of living things both animal and plant and they're all still alive. 

Hi, I'm Mrs. Villafuerte

This is me on an average day

I'm 23 years old. Newly married. Dichotomous blend of extrovert and introvert. The Rainman of movie, music, and television trivia. Pursuer of delicious coffee. Pasta enthusiast. Lover of all things interesting. Sunglasses connoisseur.

Allow me to introduce you to my family. First off, this is my husband, Manuel. He's half Mexican. He thinks I'm swell, the feeling is mutual. We're a little stranger than your average married couple. 

We live in a rented farmhouse just outside of the town he grew up in, slightly outside of the town I went to college in. I frequently lament to coworkers and friends that I'm "trapped" here, as I would much rather be living in my hometown or any other town in the continental United States. Yeah, that's how much I absolutely love it here. As much as I absolutely detest this town and its tiny excuse for the nearest "city", I will continue to live here. Why? I still have 18 months of graduate school and I just started a job that I happen to love. Before I bombard you with my job duties I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my children,  the only version of children I ever plan on having (until I eventually get a dog). These are my feline friends.

Top: the sissies, Left: Florence, Right: The Machine

When I named them I had not even met them yet. They are both rescues from a local shelter so they came with a few interesting characteristics. Florence? She lived under my refrigerator for the first two months. Mac? She made my beige couch her home and she's never left since. If she's not on my couch, or on me who is on the couch, then she is sleeping in my office chair. Florence? Who even knows where she is. She appears, disappears, destroys things, reappears, etc.
 

Anyway, back to my job. I was working in retail management for roughly the last year and a half. Can I just say that even though I worked retail for 4 years, I am probably the last person that should ever be working in retail. I am far too cynical, sarcastic and just plain rude to be doing anything in the lines of "customer service". Most of the time I was good, I could utilize my filters and self control, but when the occasional eye roll slips out it usually doesn't bode well for...well....any situation. 

Long story short, eventually someone picked up on the fact that I am not suited for retail and invited me to no longer work in such. My father told me it was for the best, he's convinced I'm way too smart for retail. Unfortunately for me, I think it's the kind of intelligence that allows you to snap back with witty remarks a little too easily, thus presenting you jobless. Alas, it turns out when you have two degrees and your heart is pure (or you have networking connections and interview skillz), you can get a job doing something that you're actually qualified for and happen to enjoy. 

I, for the past three-ish (threesh) weeks, have been working as a counselor at a residential facility for adolescent boys with behavioral, psychiatric, sexual disorders, etc. And? I love, love, love it. It balances the two parts of my personality that tend to cause me a lot of headaches.
I love structure. I like knowing where to be, when to be there, for how long, with what supplies, in what capacity and so forth. I like knowing what my day holds. However, I also love spontaneity. As much as I will plan an entire day out, I can still turn around and drop all plans because there's a Law and Order:Special Victims Unit marathon on TV. Yeah, I did that in college once the day before a midterm. My job allows me to please both of my personalities. Everyday is planned, structured and the exact same (for the most part), however, everyday is different. The boys' attitudes change, situations change, staff rotate, dynamics change, and it all mixes together to make for my new catchphrase, "never a dull day at the academy". 

My boys are hilarious. They say the most ridiculous things. Things you absolutely can NOT laugh at, which is so freaking hard when all you want to do is laugh. Instead, you hold your breath, walk away and regain composure. You have to keep it together when one of your residents is confused during the reading of Harry Potter and asks you if the golden snitch tells on people, because that's the only capacity he's known the word "snitch" in. You have to be comforting and understanding when your tiniest resident asks, while watching Captain America, if they could possibly have the "pumping up" procedure performed on them. You have to be as kind as possible when replying "Oh buddy, I don't think they've perfected that procedure yet." 

It's amazing. I feel like I have an awesome opportunity ahead of me and I actually look forward to going to work. How many people can still say that in this economy? 

The Return to the Blogosphere

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have returned. 

After nearly two years away from Blogger I have been pulled back in by the requests of friends. I vowed to return after the wedding hoopla and after I got settled into my graduate work, and not being one to break promises, here I am! 

In redesigning my blog, titling it, gathering a theme, etc., I managed to maintain some concepts from my tumblr and integrate some new ideas as well. I lucked out big time and got the same url as tumblr. *grins* I decided to embrace my ongoing quest to live and integrate it to my new last name. As for the tagline? I'm sure those of you who know me, which I can only assume is everyone reading this, you've probably already figured out the references. 

I'm excited to get back into blogging. It is definitely therapeutic for me and it allows me to connect to my fellow bloggers Katherine  and Abby. I have a few goals for this blog, mainly: 

1. As an outlet for my creativity 

2. An adventure in newlywedhood (not even a word) and world traveling 

3. A how-to on living and laughing (things I happen to be quite good at) 

4. An experiment, work in progress, happy place 

I'd love to eventually become someone who has this thrilling blog that people I don't know have interest in for some reason. Only time will tell, but as for me, Imma be me. 

I'd appreciate it if you kept me accountable. If I'm missing for awhile hit me up on Facebook or Twitter and tell me to get my butt back into blogging. 

Tomorrow will be official post #1 where I reintroduce myself, my current job, my life, and maybe share some pics! I'll tell you what. It's going to be saweeeeeeeeeet!