Brief Respite

I'm sitting in the Au Bon Pain here in the vistor's lobby, decompressing after a ridiculous day and savoring my hour before I go to work here. I've been working with a exceptionally troubled, severely disturbed individual for about three weeks now...he's as troubled as anybody I've worked with. A guy hanging on for dear life. He's got a bit of everything: depression, mania, psychosis, dissociative episodes. You name it. But he wants help terribly badly and I'm very fond of him.

Spent two hours going over test results with him, which was emotional for everyone in the room. Then I went to a completely different group and processed the recent death of a group member. The group was difficult for various reasons: the death, the group, the therapists...again, you name it, it was in the room.

Then I went to supervision where I got to talk about why the day was so hard for me (this is at, yes, 12:00 p.m.). That was another tough hour. Then I ran my regularly scheduled group, which turned into a defacto PTSD group, and the guys were talking about some really raw stuff. Then I gave a completely different guy a psychological assessment, which is always an emotional and mental challenge. Then more supervision and some computer charting.

I love every split second of my new career (guess I can't really call it that for a few more years). My experience this year has been nothing short of profound. I love the work, the patients, my supervisors. All of it.

But I haven't learned how to remove myself from the dangerous, vulnerable emotional experience that sometimes accompanies the job. This is what experience is for. This is why I have to do this for a few years as a trainee. Love it. Hard. It's supposed to be hard. But hard is, you know, hard.

So I'm sitting having a veggie wrap at the lobby Au Bon Pain, looking out on a beautiful day, watching the traffic jam on the Eisenhower Expressway. Don't really want to work tonight, but my calendar and bank account suggest that this is where I need to be, so here I sit.

I'm glad I can eat a veggie wrap and watch the traffic.

2006 Spring Cleaning, 1989 Find

I used to look like this.

If you look real close, you can see the rimless glasses, gold chain, and headset microphone. And you have to look REALLY close to see these things, because you might be distracted by my tanktop, skin-tight faded jeans, and mullet.

I am here to entertain.

(I don't know this to be true, but it is highly likely that either Vinnissimo or Kevlar took these pictures, which is a scary thought on its own)

City of Blinding Lights

I'm in Vegas for two days. I'd tell you that it's a work thing, but then you'd remind me that I work for a church and that the two juxtaposed seem rather incongruous, but it's true. I'm here for a trade show.

For whatever reason, the hotel upgraded my room and I have a 17th floor view of the Strip from my rather large windows and a TV in the bathroom. All pluses, I say. The city at night is very, very bright and shiny - more shiny and less dingy than in my imagination. I've spent a few hours just looking out the window, which is an underrated pastime as far as I'm concerned. Not my kind of town, really, but how can you argue with its unique charm?

There's a casino - a big one, as far as I can tell - in my hotel/small metropolis, and I walked through it today. Not my cup of tea, but fascinating nonetheless. Loud music, no clocks, and fewer midwesterners gambling away the college fund than I'd expected. U2's "City of Blinding Lights" was playing in the casino and I just about swooned. It was just one of those moments. Hard to explain.

For those of you who know what I do for a living and are keeping score at home: 20 services in 12 days. (Up from the usual 16 over 12 days.) I'm a tired man.

Let the games begin

Pee Games

Bunch. Of. Poo.

I'm writing the world's most annoying final paper in which I argue that 'everything is subjective' using philosophical models. The argument is fine. The paper is ridiculous.

To wit, the paper contains the following two sentences, both authored by moi:

Russian Philosophy places the meaning of external objectivity within the context of an individual subjectivity, and Japanese philosophy extends the concept of personal subjectivity to the point where truth can only be found in the total absence of human thought, free of the binds of any objective restraint and resulting in pure subjectivity.

It is the paradigm of subjectivity that demands the non-directive, psychodynamic approach whereby a therapist considers the entirety of an individual experience for therapeutic consideration.

Psychobabble. Philosophibabble. Poo.

Mine.

Liars!

So there I am in Lady Foot Locker. Why? Let's just say because.

Anyway, there I am, you know, waiting, and as I am wont to do, I look into the full length mirror. Gonna check me out. How I'm lookin. What are other people seein. Am I good? Gray? Stumpy? In fashion? Out of it? Smiling or frowning? I look for these things.

So I look, and there I am, but it's not quite right. It's me, but it's definitely not me. No lie, I look like I'm at least 5'8", maybe 5'10". You all know that I am merely 5'5 1/2". Well, you may not have known the specific height, but you know I'm no 5'10". So there I am looking at a taller version of me. But something else is wrong. I'm thin. Like, the proportions are way out of whack. The whack that would normally be found in the Teo proportions are totally devoid of whack in this mirror. Indeed, not only do I look like I'm 5'8" or 5'10", but I'm a thin 5'8" or 5'10".

I ask LB, my compatriot and true patron of Lady Foot Locker, if anything seems odd. At first glance, no, she says. I say, look again. Indeed, there it is, a 5'10", thin version of Teo.

Gotta tell you, if I looked like that, then my choice of shoes is all wrong.

15 minute spring dinner

- pork cutlets, rubbed with pepper and rosemary
- fry 'em over medium heat with olive oil. Maybe 5 minutes on one side, 3 or 4 minutes on the other
- sliced apples
- throw 'em in the hot pan with the leftover olive oil
- turn up the heat and fry the hell out of 'em for about four minutes
- spinach and tomoato salad, w/ some vinagrette

spring fever
dinner
done

Holy Week!

For those of you Catholic, former Catholic, or Catholic-ish viewers out there, you'll get the reference. It's Holy Week, which is the week that begins on Palm Sunday and culminates and concludes on Easter Sunday. I used to be the music director for a Catholic church in Miami, and this was always the roughest week of the year. Services on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and each one was different. Now I'm a music director at a rather dramatically different sort of church and I have ten services between now and Sunday at 2pm. At least the last seven are identical to one another, which makes things easier.

Anyway, I'm going into my secret underground bunker for the next five days or so. I'll see you all on the other side of Easter.

BTW, I hope that my somewhat fatigued narration won't mute the fact that I believe wholeheartedly in what I do. I just wish it wasn't so much work sometimes. :-)

Listen

We do not have to demonize corn syrup and mayonnaise. Fructose corn and eggs are both very good fuels for the human body to consume depending on the demands. We may view at high fructose corn syrup as the 93 octane gasoline we cannot afford to put in our car. Mayonnaise is like the thicker grade motor oil. Sure sometimes they're bad especially in excess, but many times it’s good to change the octane of the fuel and viscosity of the oil. Our conditions change. Are we too stagnant or too conservative? Do we listen? We “perform” how we eat. Enjoy the good stuff and check with your doctor.

From Texaco:
Thus, a typical 5W-30 motor oil has the same approximate kinematic viscosity as a SAE 30 grade oil at 100 ° C, but it's viscosity at very low temperatures, while thicker than when hot, is much less than the 30 grade. This is achieved by formulating multigrades with a higher Viscosity Index than typical for single grades. So, while a 5W-30 oil will allow a modern car to start at temperatures as low as -30 ° C, the typical SAE 30 oil would be too thick to either crank or pump at that temperature.

Idol. Again.

I'm sorry. I am part of the throng of people who watch American Idol. I can't help myself. TiVo makes it easy and quick.

But how the hell is Bucky Covington still on that show? Seriously. How is this possible? Who is voting for this man?

Pondering Psychology

Haven't had a ponderous post in a while. So here's one...

In my world of psychology, I read articles and hear discussions about our "empty selves" and people "bereft of resources" and things like that. That stuff has a place.

One of the things that always interests me is the dichotomy between our popular culture and the professional psychologists. Kevlar may want to weigh in on this, since he is the father of Athletic Pinatas (good band name), but it intrigues me that little league baseball and soccer teams don't always keep score. Many communities don't want their kids to feel the "pain" of losing. The leagues are set up to mandate participation and shelter kids from landing in the "L" column too often.

Psychologists wince at this. While I understand the value of participation for everyone, I also understand the psychological perspective. Why are we teaching kids that they can't handle losing? Why are we sheltering them from understanding hard times, or how to deal with disappointment? No, that stuff isn't the real point of little league...the real point is to have fun. But I recall being on both very good and very bad teams, and I had good years and terrible years, and all in all I wish I were back playing little league baseball and keeping score all over again, even if I were to be losing.

Anyway, I digress. I get the point of having fun, but I don't like sheltering kids to the point where they can't handle (or don't understand) defeat or disappointment. Or that they can't cope with stress. Stuff like that.

Larger picture: Everyone's talking about how it's "too soon" to see a preview of a movie about 9/11, because they can't handle it.

How about this: You can handle it. It's important to handle it. There is a way to handle it. It might not be pleasant or easy. If we could all handle it a bit better, wouldn't that give us a bit more wisdom and serenity and intelligence as we move on through a difficult stage of our lives?

A very good professor of mine remains calm amid a lot of B.S. at my school (there is quite a bit, believe me), and he says, "I don't understand why everyone says students can't handle things. They can handle it. They are adults. People can hear hard stuff and understand it." He says this with compassion and without condescending intent.

Psychology: We can handle things.

I like that approach.

Fredo in the boat.

I can't believe this, not so much that the results of the poll are what they are, but that someone thought it was a reasonable question in the first place. The results are, of course, something to ponder.

Kudos to a friend's blog for bringing this to my attention. And if you think we update our blog infrequently, check out the post dates on his. Brilliant guy. Truly.

Simba, redux.

I forgot to mention:

We had a family vacation this past week. Great fun up in the snowy mountainous bits of southern California. And as we began our trip:

I had the iPod connected to the car stereo and the Police classic "Canary in a Coalmine" was playing loud. In my rearview mirror, the two little Pinatas were alternating between playing air drums and air guitar.

Again, it is the circle of life. (Although it was interesting to explain - or, more accurately, attempt to explain - the significance of the canary in a coalmine metaphor to the elder of the little Pinatas.)

Hope. Spring. Eternal.

The regular season of major league baseball is about to start. Personally, I am only a pedestrian fan - I enjoy catching a game at the park from time to time and will watch a few innings of a game on TV when I have a chance - but I do care enough to qualify as a "fan". Still, I recognize the difference between being someone who likes a team and someone who loves a team.

My fellow hombre Teo is a real fan. And worse yet, he is a devoted fan of a cursed team. Thus, each spring is an opportunity for hope, excitement, and the belief that this just might be the year. (The fact that the Red Sox and White Sox have both emerged triumphant from recent seasons only stokes the fires of otherwise cursed teams.)

But I'm a Padres guy. And the Padres aren't cursed, really. In fact, they probably do better than they should and we're all generally pretty happy to have a decent team and a cool ballpark. But for a true fan, now is the time to be excited - and September is the time for your team to - yet again - break your heart.

Teo is probably too wise and too experienced to approach this season with great anticipation for his beloved Cubbies. However, if he's really honest with all of us, I bet he'd admit that there's a tiny voice inside of him that tells him that if things go just right, he could be dancing with joy this October.