So, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here, and not studying. I could probably ask the same question, of myself. Except that would be silly, on account of already knowing the answer, which is: I'm full. Way.

Yesterday I logged about 10 hours of studying, which included outlining material on note cards. After refusing to acknowledge signals from my brain that it was time to stop (intrusive visions of Andy Garcia folding my laundry), my writing finger blew out. Seriously. I was writing along, when I felt this popping sensation at the base of Mr. Pointer, on my writing hand. It hurt like a mofo. Still does.

So there. That's two reasons why I'm not studying. Right now.

And in the spirit of Post-modern Existential Phenomenologicalistic Authenticity (I know, redundant.) I must share yet a third reason I'm not studying right now.

This shit done perpetrated a colossal smack down upon my sorry ass. Beat. Down. Like a yoga dog.

Here's the deal: I have a 60 hour masters degree. That's a lot of mastering. Mastering I did in three years, attending school part-time, while doing some other really scary shit, like going through a divorce and working full-time and being home as much as possible in between so I didn't lose custody of my boy.

I digress. Back to the test. See these books here? These are the study guides I am using to prepare for the test. In these two manuals is information that I accumulated (and mostly forgot)through my 60 hours of graduate school.



You know how when you're reading a text book for a class, and you train your brain to pick out the important information? How you know that not all the shit you're looking at is going to be on the test? Maybe the teacher or prof even told you what items you will be held accountable for knowing. For whatever reason, you skimmed. And it worked.

Well, there's no skimming these books. Every infinitesimal font particle contained within these little fuckers, is fair game. Tiny details that may show up at the very end of a sentence, paranthesized, are showing up, font and center, on the practice exams. The sorts of details that my brain has heretofore been trained to ignore. It's been like a daily punch in the cerebral cortex. ::that is the brain, right?::

In fairness to myself, I'm still reading the manuals and taking notes. But on the practice exams, I'm missing stuff I thought I knew, but evidently didn't. Stuff I just read, in fact.

For example, I need to know the finer details of Solution Focused Therapy. Of course, my first thought is: Shouldn't all therapies focus on, umm, solutions? Then I was up all night wondering if there is such thing as Problem Generator Therapy, and if so, will it be on the test?

Then there's the finer nuances of good ol' RET or Rational-Emotive Therapy. Which, of course, is not to be confused with the trickier elements of its poorer, distant relation treatment model, known as Irrational-Stuff-It Therapy (ISIT).

The one thing I did stash away in my pea brain is that Karen Horney and Harry Stack Sullivan are renowned Neo-Freuds. Put that in your train tunnel and smoke it.

I'm a Blob of Undifferentiated Family Ego Mass
You're not.

Okay blog people, this is taking way too long, so I'm gonna cut some corners and speed her up.

In addition to writing lame blog posts, I am also finding other ways to avoid my scholarly duties.

Pet Mashing:


::Seriously, I'm about to give this girl up for adoption. I finally figured to put out a fake text book for her to lie on, while I study. This only works, of course, if she's finished having her way with my nostrils.::

Easy Knitting:


That's another Mimi Long Scarf, that will be too short on account of not having enough yarn and is heading to the frog pond. The yarn is Classic Elite something. Silk and something. Hopefully, easy knit makes for easy rip.

Last night I cast on for this:



It's the Ocean something whatever shawl pattern, only it's going to be a scarf. The yarn is Onyx, a discontinued yarn from some yarn company in Europe. I think it's viscose and somethin'somethin'.

Taking sky pictures for Sandy:



::Am I supposed to be signed up or something for this sky thing? I am so out of it. In fact, I didn't know the Olympics were really coming. I thought it was just a internet propaganda thing perpetrated by people who like to make buttons and knit-a-long.::

And cooking a yummy Sunday dinner of Pork and Apple stew, including taking creative license with the recipe, and adding some uncalled for wine. I know, can wine ever be uncalled for? ::nod to La.::

Now, I really gotta get. Cakers is in the tub a la doting father and by 10 p.m., I need to be well-studied, in my seat, needles poised, ready to watch the continuation of Gray's Anatomy "Code Black."

::I don't think I've ever sworn as much, as loud or as vulgarly at a TV show, than I did last Sunday night. I couldn't sleep for half the night. And I can't wait to do it again, tonight. Anybody else betting that Meredith is going to do the bomb squad guy after he saves her life?::

And Mamacate, thanks for the good thoughts. The test is March 4th. 12:30 I think the games will be over by then, but the drinking will have just begun.

Sorry for the lameass posts of late. It shall continue.

Labels: That Damn Test, The Casting On Couch