I went camping/fishing over this weekend. It was quite fun outside of me coming insanely close to falling into the river at three in the morning. I tripped over a rock. Subsequently, I spent the next ten minutes attempting to pull my flashlight back out of the water with two sticks. I would now like to sing the praises of Coleman and their ability to make a water and shock resistant LED lantern.

I’ve been sleeping well. The resulting pleasant mood has been creepy to others and a blessing to me.

Hey, as an afterthought, if anyone out there has a moment of spare time and remembers, would you mind sending a prayer up for my job hunting situation? I’m currently playing hooky from a supervisors meeting at work. I do not care. While God surely does know the depths of my soul and all the current constant yammerings in my head that I try my best to turn into prayers before yelling out curse words in regards to my job, I do not think it would be amiss to ask for a little more help on this one. Please. Before I do something that would possibly get me fired.

Laugh all you want. I’m heading down that road, back along the path to no sleep.

I actually wrote that in an email recently. I was mortified upon re-reading. I felt like I should follow it up with “LMK ASAP if it’s AOK.”

Aside from developing the typing habits of a 14 year old girl, I love my job. I get to meet people like this during an award show last night. So freaking random.

I saw a great concert on Tuesday. Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin and Port O’Brien. The latter involved the band handing out pots and pans to bang on during their final song, “I Woke Up Today.” It was the kind of song that it was perfectly acceptable to scream along with as you beat on a pan with a spoon and jump up and down. So fun.

Oh, and there’s a new video up on stroyent.com.

Cap spell hit for CC. Learn2mage.

This is a post about a lot of things.

I’m submitting two (perhaps three) applications this week - one (perhaps two) to drug rehab centers and one to the police department. Yes, the police department. I will be applying for a job fielding crisis calls and assuaging those in need with my soothing demeanor and naturally calming voice. Go ahead, it’s okay to laugh.

Speaking of my voice, I’d like to think I rock the house singing in RockBand. Tim was finally able to assemble The Gooey Kablooies (our band name - remember it, for we will be famous soon and you will be able to say ‘I knew them at their conception’) for a tour. Outside of being called a prima donna due to me being upset at an attempt to replace me because of my perfectly reasonable declaration of needing to use the bathroom, I’d like to think we got along fairly well our first time out on the road. My voice, however, was sore for the remainder of the weekend, up until today.

Speaking of this weekend, it was awesome - full of celebration and family and friends. You all should pester jane to tell you the whole story.

I had some serious things to segue into, but unfortunately, I am off to what will hopefully be one of my twilight days at work. I will save them for another time.

Off I go.

I just finished my SAT this past weekend. It makes me feel young…..er.

If summer doesn’t come soon my brain might just fall right out of my head. It could be pretty frikin glorious.

I am T minus 3 days to graduation and T minus 7 days to Russia.
I’m psyched, and also a little stressed. All the “Things I’m Going To Do As Soon As School’s Out” got shoved to the wayside while I dealt with feeling sick, sick, sick. (I’m only blaming dismarum for part of it. Others around me had been sick too.) So I’ve got a lot to do, but I’m now extremely happy about doing it (Cleaning my room? Yessss!).
PLUS my stimulus check is officially credited (albeit processing) to my checking account.
PLUS I have a lucky bamboo plant headed my way today.
PLUS I got my final A and will be able to graduate magna cum laude–not the highest honors, but I’m happy about it. Besides, I like “magna” better than “summa” anyway. And it makes me think of magma. And volcanoes.
PLUS I’ve woken up to storms for the last two nights and it makes me giddy. Midnight giddiness is great, let me tell you.
PLUS — well, I don’t know where I was going with that.

Here’s something great: so there’s this couple who comes in regularly to the restaurant, and I’ve mentioned them once or twice because I refused to wait on them for the longest time after being ridiculously offended one night. Anyway, now I wait on them again and they love me and she calls me “precious” and “dear” and we get along. So Monday night I told them I was graduating, they asked what I’d be doing afterward, and I attempted to briefly explain the organization. She said, “So, are you looking for funding for this?” I said, “Well, honestly, not until we get our official status as a 501(c)3 and tax-exempt, but after that, yes, we’ll be looking for grants and donations.” She said, “Well, let us know whenever that is because we know a lot of people who like to give and we like to give too.” I said, “HELLLL YEAH.” No, no I didn’t. But I was excited and encouraged and promised to give them contact information when I had it. Then they prayed over me. It was pretty great.

There’s probably more I could write, but, well, no, I’m done.
Peace, love, and plus plus pluses.

Today I approached the clinical director of the mental institution. I have a large amount of respect for this one particular woman; she typically embodies the life-jacket in a sea of ineptness and petty drama that is upper management. I told her I was looking for a new job and then, unexpectedly, broke down crying. She said not to worry about the sudden burst of emotion - it, oddly enough, gained me a large amount of credibility. I was offered an internship as a counselor within the next year or so, when I need to actually start that part of my career. I don’t doubt that I will accept it.

I can deal with 11 year old rape victims and 14 year old prostitutes. I can handle (however abhorrent they strike me) teenage child molesters and gang bangers. I have never cried out of pity or an inability to accept what surrounds me. No, ironically enough, the reality of leaving such an environment is what reduced me to tears.

Dammit.

So, after several weeks of feeling great health-wise and one day earlier this week of a short-lived migraine, I woke up this morning feeling awful in almost every part of my body, from my head to my neck to my throat to my stomach and then some. So I prayed, took some medicine, slept, and felt not much better. Some might say, “worse.”
Then I thought, the Bible says where two or more are gathered in Jesus’ name, there He’ll be in the midst of them. Why shouldn’t that include two or more gathered electronically? Jesus isn’t bound by time or space, and I doubt the power of His name is limited either. So I sent off a text message to four different people, asking them to pray. At least two people got it and wrote back, confirming their commitment to praying for me.

I didn’t receive an instant miracle, and the past several hours have been uncomfortable, to say the least, but now I feel good. Not great, but good. Significantly better enough to be giving the credit to God (and my friends for interceding).
So then I thought, what if we started a text message group of sorts? What if people exchanged numbers with other people who’d be willing to pray for them whenever a need arose? I’m not sure if all cell phones allow you to create groups of contacts (I’m not even sure if mine can do that), but knowing that you have a handful of people you can text who will stop and say a prayer for you, whatever the need may be? That’s awesome. Seriously awesome.
This is also better than a message board or even an email that people might not see as immediately as with their cell phones.

So let’s do this, so you won’t have to post your phone numbers here on TD: if you’re interested in a cell phone prayer circle (CPPC?), email me your cell phone numbers, and I’ll compile a list and then email it back out to everyone who emailed me. Good? Okay, good.

I’m thinking we could precede the texts with CPPC to alert people that it’s a prayer request and not a random message. Please note: this is best for people with unlimited texts or at least who don’t get charged for incoming messages. Also, not all cell phones allow the same amount of characters, so it’s best to keep your requests short and sweet.

Now work calls, and because my manager friend just called to see if I have an extra chocolate to bring her, I guess I’d better stop at the store first. Sometimes my friends crack me up.

Peace, love, and Jesus’ presence in text messages.

Earlier this week I mentioned I wanted a new job. I’ve worked at the mental institution for 2+ years now. To clarify - my employers do not like it when I refer to it as a “mental institution.” It is deemed a “residential treatment center” despite the fact that the staff psychiatrist consistently labels it a “mental hospital” and the facility is psychiatric. I suppose semantics make all the difference when it comes to regulating the social stigma of the patients.

I was watching A&E late one night last week and some show called Parking Wars was on, featuring the zany interactions those employed by the Philadelphia Parking Authority have with the general populace. Featured were many employees getting cussed at (as they stoically stated “this is part of the job”), one man getting hit on by a woman to get out of her parking ticket, and a lesbian couple out on a date that was interrupted by their car getting towed (much to the amusement of the impound employee, who stated “you never know what’s gonna happen here”). As I was watching this, I was in the middle of disinfecting a bite mark on my knee that I received from an 11 year old multiple rape victim, whose base reaction to anyone remotely threatening is to immediately assault or, infinitely worse, attempt to simulate some sexual act on. Her mother has a repeat history of dating known sex offenders. I’ve spoken to her on the phone, but thankfully have never been around whenever she has come to visit. I want to bash her face in with a crowbar. No lie. This is just one example in about twenty.

On the other end of the spectrum, I’m also tired of working with conduct disorder kids. They are the future John Wayne Gacys of America. If you think I’m exaggerating, I surely am not.

I find myself somewhat close to losing control lately. I’m not unstable by any means, but I’ve hit the point that my low-simmering disgust and rage has the potential now to boil over.

I could talk about this more, and I probably will later, but for now I feel irate enough with the above. I won’t get into the politics of the place or the mammoth amount of unreasonable guidelines and expectations placed upon staff there.

What kind of facility with a full time psychiatrist isn’t a mental institution, anyway?

Last night I realized that today is my last day going to class. Thursday is my final final final. Then I’m done with school. Forever, God-willing. How excited am I, on a scale of one to eleven? I’m about a seventy-three. No hyperbole. Praise Jesus.

So anyway, any and all prayers regarding my final on Thursday are welcome. Unless, of course, they’re prayers I learn humility and don’t make my A in that class, in which case I’ll be very sad and weep, and who really wants to hear that? But I made it through our presentation (for which I made an adorable little nesting doll of Dmitry Medvedev) and the senior reading of part of a story I’d written. In both cases, I was funny and made people laugh and that always makes me happy. If only I can make my professor laugh through my final, maybe I’ll be okay.

I’m about 95% sure I have a stress fracture in my left foot. So the other 5% of me is asking if anyone knows a way to diagnose or be certain without expensive x-rays, exams, and, well, health insurance. Also, 100% of me is asking if anyone knows a better way to treat it than “rest for months.” I’m not holding my breath on that last part though. I think I’m just going to have to wait for it to heal.

I think it’s interesting that the Bible recognizes the overwhelming power and influence music has over our emotions. In First Samuel, Saul is overwhelmed with depression and “a tormenting spirit.” He gets David to play the harp for him whenever he feels down, and his depression is temporarily relieved. And then, of course, it’s David who wrote the Psalms: further encouragement for us to seek solace in the Psalms for plaguing depression and tormenting spirits. That’s pretty cool, right?
Speaking of music, I didn’t realize that the lead singer of Thousand Foot Krutch is the same lead singer of FM Static. Both fantastic bands, and I adore his voice. It makes me incredibly happy. Too bad he’s married.
That’s only partially a joke, that last part.

When I was playing with my iSight on my Mac the other day, I made a couple very short, very silly videos that had me seriously fig’ing. Ol’ dismarum confessed she almost peed from laughing so hard. I’m debating whether or not to release them to the rest of the civilized world.
Thanks to those who commented re: video posts. We’ll see how that works out.

My grandmother is in the Tech paper today. You can read about it here. More attention will be headed her way in the near future. I think she’s just beginning to realize how awesome she is. She’s starting to get excited too. She’s adorable. Fo’ real.

Now I have to do other things.
Peace, love, and seventy-three excitement points.

I think I may have the most random job. Ever.

www.stroyent.com

Three more videos to follow the two that are currently up. And don’t forget to listen to the jingle.