For the record...

...I think comprehensive exams are a huge and pointless waste of time. Seriously, if the department chair wants to know that I know what I'm doing, he should ask me. Rather than make me answer stupid questions like "What does the United States Constitution have to say about the importance of public education in a representative form of government based on democratic principles?" (huh? and, nothing), or "Briefly explain validity in the context of the Stanford-Binet: Fifth Edition" (who even effing cares). I can look these things up if I ever really need to know them. Ask me a real question, like what to do with a kid who gets written up once a week for rudeness, talking back to teachers, and "grabbing the principal's bottom" (that's a direct quote). At least those answers would be much more entertaining for the grader.

Totally Worth It.

So, I was trying to think of something witty to post, seeing as I haven't written anything in a while (not that anyone actually cares, but whatever)...and then I came across something that made me completely change what I wanted to write. This article is in today's newspaper. Why is that important, you ask? Well, I'm about to tell you.

Since January of 2007, I have been a volunteer with the Advocacy Center for Crime Victims and Children as a Crisis Intervention Advocate. Advocates carry a cell phone and answer the 24-hour crisis hotline, and also go to one of the two area hospitals whenever they register a survivor of sexual assault. We stay with the survivor during the police interview, physical forensic exam, and while they get medication in the ER. Much of my work with the ACCVC has involved having hour-long conversations at 3am with a regular caller who likes me because I remind her of her daughter, referring another regular to the sex offender hotline at least three times each weekend, and spending lots of late nights/early mornings in the ER. It's hard work, very emotionally draining....but it can also be very, very rewarding. Which is why I linked to that article.

I was in the ER with the little girl in the article for 6 hours on a Sunday morning, from 1am until 7am. I remember that her mom was so upset that she brought all 3 of her kids without shoes on, and the little one wasn't wearing a shirt (two amazing ER nurses found them shoes and a shirt, bought the boys breakfast, and gave them toys to play with while they waited). The police officer working the case was wonderful. While we were waiting for the exam to begin, we heard on the police radio that the perpetrator had been arrested. That very rarely happens, and the little girl and I got to check the "arrest made" box on my ACCVC paperwork. We even drew a smiley face next to it.

What also stands out about that case is that, unlike most of the child abusers we deal with, this one didn't try to hide what he did. He did something to her physically that was outwardly visible...something she no doubt would have to explain to curious classmates for a while. The fact that he marked her like that made me SO EFFING MAD. Many of the advocates do what we do because we've "been there", and this case hit very close to home for me. That, combined with how he marked her pretty little face, made me want to hunt down the @#!%^&^ myself.

In my opinion, 20 years is NOT enough for what happened to that little girl, or any little girl (or boy/woman/man), for that matter. But I find comfort in the fact that, for the next 20 years, that sweet girl can finally sleep at night. We're not technically allowed to check up on our clients, but the last I heard, she's thriving. I hope that one day, she'll be able to look him in the eyes and show him how what he did DIDN'T ruin her life, but made her a stronger, more resilient woman.

Um, ew.

This morning, when I walked into the office, there was a bloody squirrel tail and some little squirrel feet hanging out in the yard by the walkway. Not sure where the rest of Mr. Squirrel ended up, but I have a suspicious feeling about the German Shepherd next door. Anyway, it was gross. Apparently we squealed and carried on about it enough that a maintenance man just came into the yard, threw a half-amused, half annoyed glance at the front door, and chunked the squirrel parts into a trash bag. With his bare hands. I kind of want to find him a rabies shot.

I think I need a clone. And new tires.

I have decided that tomorrow, I may just lose my mind. Between the hours of 8:00 am and 2:00 pm, I have to give 1 autism assessment, 3 teacher interviews, 1 transfer ARD meeting (which is going to add another counseling kid to my caseload), and 3 counseling sessions, plus schedule a parent interview (with a very pregnant mother whose due date was five minutes ago and could possibly go into labor in my office...wouldn't that be fun?) with an interpreter and coordinate 2 more parent meetings. And scream like a crazy person and pull out my hair. Granted, I kind of forgot to get the 2 parent info sheets, and I did wait until the last two weeks for the teacher interviews. Anyway. This is precisely the reason I am SO ready to graduate and be a real school psychologist in ONE district, rather than splitting my time between two.

In other news, I am thisclose to writing a letter of complaint to the Toyota dealership in Waco. I find letter writing very therapeutic....I've written letters to George W. Bush (about the idocracy that is the No Child Left Behind act), the editor of the Waco Tribune Herald (about his apparent need to comment on every letter in the Letters to the Editor section), and various other people/organizations that have frustrated me at some point in my life. The thing is, I never send them. I write the letters, get it out of my system, and move on with my life. So, if I were to send a letter to the Toyota people, it might go a little something like this.

Dear Toyota service department,
This afternoon, I brought my car in for an oil change and a tire rotation. When I went to the cashier's window to pay, she noticed that the amount seemed off, and after reading the teeny tiny print on the invoice, noticed that you didn't rotate my tires. Apparently, they're completely worn down and need to be replaced. The cashier seemed a little shocked when I told her that nobody said anything to me about the tires. If she hadn't read that part of the invoice, I wouldn't have known, and since I drive over 80 miles on country roads to work and back every day, that could have been BAD NEWS. I'm not very happy with the quality of your customer service, since you kind of forgot to tell me that MY TIRES ARE COMPLETELY BALD AND I COULD DIE IF I KEEP DRIVING ON THEM. I'd like you to know that I'm purchasing tires from another company, and I might start getting oil changes there. On a lighter note, I was very pleased to wait only 55 minutes today, rather than the usual hour and half typically required for an oil change at your dealership.
Have a great day!


Whew. I feel better now. Thanks for letting me vent. ;-)

Here goes nothing.

So, I've decided to give in to peer pressure and try this whole blogging thing. I had a xanga a while back (does anybody even know about xanga anymore?), but I'm a slacker and didn't keep up with it. So, I decided to give blogger a shot. I think maybe 2 people might end up reading this, and I have no idea what I'm doing (because I'm technologically incompetent), but it looked like fun. So, here goes.





I figure, at some point, the 2 people who might read this blog will probably wonder where my crazy blog title comes from (or not, but I'm going to tell you anyway). First, I must introduce you to my boyfriend. He's cute, funny, precocious, and knows how to show a girl a good time. We go on fun dates to the museum, zoo, HEB, and the donut shop, and he even offered to drive once (I politely declined, seeing as his feet wouldn't touch the pedals). This is HD.Yes, those would be underpants around his neck. He's starting a new fashion trend, can't you tell? HD belongs to a good friend of mine who lets me borrow him once a week-ish. A few weeks ago, we had just pulled into the donut shop parking lot, when he said, "Wiener (long story, I'll tell it later), I wonder what clouds taste like". After I got over the fact that a 3-year-old asked such a philosophical question, he and I decided that clouds probably taste like cotton candy, or maybe popcorn. Then we went inside and he ate a huge powdered sugar donut.

I chose his sweet ponderance as a blog title because it's random, kind of like my thoughts/comments/life. Also, I firmly believe that if everyone spent more time thinking about things like the flavor of clouds, we'd be a lot happier and whole lot nicer to everyone else. Think about it.