Archives For Facebook

Writing comments to my own posts on Facebook is one of the ways that I stay sane. Thanks for being privy once again to the meanderings of my mind, as I seemingly trace my routes from graduate school, back to junior college, and more, with the point being that once anything seemed to start becoming reality in my life, every event has some sort of event horizon, after which I find myself saying, “It all happened so fast.”

My muse:

age fram

My FB Comments:

Choice Theory: “But still, 14 is all that you can be”…. said to me from Dr. Palmatier, as he echoed the words of his beloved colleague, Glasser (this intervention really put some wayward teen in their place, at one point).

I got straight A’s my first semester at USF (MA Counseling), and he still kicked about ten of us out of the program. He was a most strange former marine + all around whackadoo. I challenged him to an exception re: value of behavior modification over choice theory with autistic adults.

Immediately after stating we would never find an exception to choice theory in the classroom, he had to admit that I found one.

Oh, well. I bounced right into the MSW program the next semester, as they were a semester behind. That’s another scandal: “It would be unethical for me to consider your application at this time. However, if you can get all of your paperwork here in ten days, you are in”). We fired HIM after the first year of three.

Then on to a second post, that I started, myself, because my comments were being truncated from the above post:

The first warning signs that I might be getting into something unethical in graduate school, was my strangely worded pre-acceptance letter… They were a semester behind, and I had missed the application date by about a month:

“It would be unethical for me to consider your application at this time. However, if you can get all of your paperwork here in ten days…”). Lots of hustle, but a piece of cake.

We fired HIM after the first year of three.

It’s how I ended up with the Donna of professors… she was an amazingly intelligent, gifted, and beautiful African-American woman… she became the coordinator.

She kept it real. Such as, if you find yourself thinking about how hot your client is, you need to do the right thing and tell them what is going on, refer them out, and discuss it in your marriage, if need be. Or not. I said she was intelligent. lol

She was the first person who pointed out to me that it’s not just white people afraid of “black crime”… everybody who lives in their own ‘hood lives with this fear. She informed us of white privilege in a big way.

White privilege was an answer on an essay, and I illustrated her point by failing to mention it…. also from her: “the minority culture knows more about the dominant culture than the dominant culture knows about itself.”

I unplugged a bit after that one… step 1 away from day to day reality…

The meaning of “white privilege” is part of the fabric of my character. Assimilating this new, obvious truth, was helped along a bit by being able to relate to being part of a minority culture, knowing more about a dominant one: Gay in straight – ville (There is Guerneville, and there is Straightville).

You may not be gay, and you may not be bi, but if you live in Guerneville, your neighbor is likely to be gay, or bi. So, learn how to say no, nicely. And, get used to walking in on some surprising situations. Unlike most of the world, if you are at a party it will not be assumed that you are straight.

Visit during the summer to maximize your effort to get laid vs. getting laid plan.

“You got laid at Lazy Bear weekend? How so easy” … “Uh, I showed up at a BBQ, looking scruffy … the rest was just so fast…”

Put that on a memorial: He said, “The rest was always just too fast”

It started with a look, and the rest is too fast… It started with an ache in my esophagus, and the rest just went so fast…

First I was at the junior college, but the rest went so fast…

There was like 30 minutes of waiting for that shit to work, then the rest went so fast…

I understood these things when I was a child. It feels like a repeat. I just had no idea things would happen so fucking fast!

Were I religious, I could change that last sentence for lent: “I just had no idea things would happen. So, fucking fast!

Advertisements