Today I woke up to a text message from my older sister. She rode the elevator with Senator McCain this morning. She then sends me an e-mail describing her awkward senate encounter. I wasn't sure which was funnier: the thick-aired elevator interaction, or the hilarity of Sarah seeing McCain and Hillary Clinton at her job, while I see Pamela Anderson at mine.
Wait...It just occurred to me that this sounds bad. DISCLAIMER: I am not a porn star. I work in Malibu, and Pam Anderson lives there, which is why I often seer her---just to clear that up.
Let me tell you about my most recent interactions with my funny clients. Last week, I was trying to help my 7th grade client understand fermentation. She didn't get it. We went over this over and over again. Finally, I came up with an analogy.
"Have you ever watched Paris Hilton's 'My new BFF'?"
She loves this show.
"Well, fermentation is like Paris Hilton. No oxygen is used, so Fermentation says to oxygen, 'Sorry, you're not cool enough to be my bff. TTYL!' While this is going on, energy is released. So just think about how Paris Hilton parties all the time, because she has so much energy. And what does Paris like to do the most? She likes to drink! So, during the whole fermentation process, alcohol is created. Got it?"
I am confident that my client is totally going to make an A. Now, a re quiz. I ask her what happens during the fermentation process.
"Um...fermentation gives off energy...And Paris likes to party!"
This confirms why I hated teaching and decided to pursue counseling. You can make analogies in the mental health field that you can apply to life and you aren't punished by a bad grade. The day that my client totally missed my point was the same day that I stepped in a pile of dog dookie. I walked around for half of my day wondering what that terrible sour stench was. I have extreme OCD when it comes to personal hygiene (i.e, I don't kiss boys who don't floss), so I knew that this aroma wasn't coming from me. Until I found it on my shoe.
On Monday, I was working with my third grade client. She was eating those long skinny pretzels that look like cigarettes. I started arranging some of my therapy tools for her, so I was distracted for about ten seconds. I look up and see that she has licked her pretzels and stuck them to her forehead in the shape of a "V." I ask her,
"Why do you have those pretzels on your forehead, honey?"
"I have angry eyebrows!"
Sheer genius. I love kids who think outside the bun...er..box. I would love to say that I am annoyed with all Malibu kids, but I'm not. I get irritated when I'm at Malibu High and I see kids walking around the library with their sunglasses on. I only get irritated because it doesn't make any sense to me, but I guess this is a double standard; because I most definitely bought some outrageous "booots widdda fuuuuur" a few weeks ago, and have been wearing them in the 72 degree weather. There is no difference between wearing sunglasses indoors and wearing snow boots at the beach. Anyway, I love these kids.
I do not, however, love some of the people I deal with at school. I am constantly having to adapt to the weird social norms. The other night, we had a sub come and teach our class, and she asked what time we get out of class. We get out at 9:45 PM. So of course, I tell her we get out at 9. She then says in a very sarcastic, loud, yankee way,
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw, how cuuuuuute."
Ah, the awful Sarah Palin pitch. I can't handle it. Let's discuss something.
1. This woman sunk down to my level of immaturity. This makes me realize that she has an external locus of control, which means that I can get under her skin. Score!
2. Why the EFF would you ask your class what time they get out when you know for damn sure what time you are supposed to get out? Idiot.
3. She was wearing spring apparel in November. Everyone knows you don't wear pastels in November. Also, she was definitely an autumn, so she shouldn't even own pastel clothing. Trash.
4. She went on and on about being a divorcee, single mother, had to put herself through school, blah, blah, blah. Wow, you have it so tough, lady. Maybe we can all pitch in and buy you a Porsche because your life is so freaking hard.
I hear enough sob stories on first dates. I am completely immune to feeling bad for people who clearly do NOT have problems talk like they have problems. We all need a shoulder to cry on, but shoot, there's a time and a place for all of that.
Maybe I'm dealing with my own issues of transference. I once sent an e-mail forward to my ex boyfriend's mom that included these pictures of fat men doing hilarious things. Dancing around, falling off of boats, etc. It was hysterical. I sent it to a bunch of people. The title of the e-mail was "Why women don't get married," or something to that effect. I never thought twice about it. This woman proceeds to call her son and ask all of these questions about why I would send an e-mail about why women don't get married, and why I am even dating him if I am not planning on getting married, and bla, bla, bla. Then she sends me an e-mail, in all caps, (misspellings included) that says,
"I GUESS YOUR NEVER GETTING MARRIED THAN."
What? I read this with sarcastic connotations. Who knows? She might have meant it literally. Anyway, I get really effing irritated when people use extremely sarcastic language. I can handle a little bit here and there, but only if it's carried off in a sanguine, Will Ferrel type of way. If it's presented like, "hey, I'm a pissed off and insecure person, and my passive-aggressive use of sarcasm is really just masking my anger," I just get annoyed. I guess it is what it is. The point is, I almost jumped out of my chair and slapped that substitute woman in her fat face. But I didn't.
I've started picking up on a lot of anger from people that I've gone out with (sorry for ending a sentence with a preposition). As soon as I tell them that I'm pursuing a career in psychotherapy, they unload all of this stuff on me. Maybe this is a good sign? The other day I talked to this guy about how he used to fight people in high school. Then I started noticing these anger patterns in his life. We all have them. It's interesting to see how we manifest them, though. They never go away. They just get shifted around. Good thing old home girl substitute teacher didn't say anything else to me. I might have had to threaten to shank her. Never underestimate the hood-rat-ness of a former Memphian.
I had a beach bonfire this past Saturday. It was awesome. Something about being cold at the beach is magical. That wonderful November smell and huddling around a beach fire with friends. I love L.A. I went to a high school in Redondo Beach the other day to help my teacher friend decorate her classroom. Disney was there with their camera crew filming a TV show. Something incredibly cool and weird is always going on in L.A., and I have become addicted.
I have about 30 things to do for homework, so I better get back to bid-nass. More ramblings later. Peace up, A-town down.
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