"Only American money. Our money is made of drugs."
Well, I had my interview at the BRTC yesterday, and if things go as planned I'll be working for an organization with an obscure acronym as a title and volunteering for an organization with an obscure acronym as a title. (You win, Jessi, I suppose I DO speak Acronym after all. But not by choice!)
No, seriously, it took me awhile to get from downtown to the U district, but I found my way and didn't get lost at ALL, and then it only cost me $5 to park in an ACTUAL CONVENIENT LOCATION ON CAMPUS, which is just unnatural, and I think it went pretty well except for the fact that it was, literally, 100 degrees in the building and I'm getting a cold so, as is my wont when I'm getting a cold, I kept losing my train of thought.
Actually the other thing that clued me in to the fact that it went pretty well is that like five minutes ago I checked my e-mail and I actually got an e-mail from the person heading the project that I would be working for, and she wants to meet with me.
So this is not an IDEAL setup, because essentially what I'll be doing is transcribing sessions of Dialectical Behavior Therapy, or DBT (LOOK MORE ACRONYMS), so that other people can go through the transcriptions and determine whether or not the sessions are adherent to the protocols of DBT, and this does not really utilize my mad research skillzah to full extent. HOWEVER, the way I see it, the situation cannot hurt me, it can only help me. Apparently I'll also be eligible to audit a Psych 499 class at UW, and I'll be working for the clinic where DBT ORIGINATED, and I don't care what anybody says, that counts for something.
The downside is that it took me like an hour and a half to drive home in rush hour traffic, but at least I got to go through some very nice little neighborhoods and past a Japanese garden, because I am not so masochistic as to attempt to drive on I-5 at 5:30pm on a weekday.
In other news, which I have realized lately is a phrase I use constantly on LJ, I am still engaged in a philsophical struggle with myself: I cannot refute that, as Camus asserts, we are all condemned to die, whether now or twenty years from now, and the amount of time we have been given will never be enough (my words, not Camus'). Nonetheless, I also agree with Victor Frankl's assertion that humankind must be comprised of more than merely a biological and a psychological dimension, and that as such we are responsible for, and more than capable of, ascribing meaning to our lives.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I'm not sure why, at 27, I feel it's necessary for me to come to grips with mortality, but this doesn't change the fact that I currently feel that it's very important for me to come to terms with what it means to be mortal. (This is something that has bothered me on and off for a large chunk of my life; I remember being nine years old, lying awake in bed and trying to wrap my head around death.) This is NOT because I feel like I'm going to die soon, or that I have any PLANS to die soon, because I DON'T, but as someone who, by definition, will die SOMEDAY (and, in fact, could die tomorrow), I just want to be READY.
Which in turn begs the question of whether or not I, as the particular bundle of experiences and idiosyncracies that I am, am ever personally capable of coming to terms with death, because death is unknowable, and I'm not good with that. (I know OTHER people have come to terms with death, and I kind of envy them. How can we ever be sure that what we believe is correct? We can't, and therefore, it is currently hard for me to derive any comfort from my spiritual beliefs. I realize this is the basis of faith, but, well, now you see why I think this is something about me PERSONALLY. I would like, when I die, to know where I am going, and what will happen to me, and that is a physical impossibility. Also, I don't really know if it would make me feel any better, knowing. It depends on the outcome.)
All right, now that I've brightened your day with THAT, I am going to go take the manicotti out of the oven. (Don't worry, I haven't changed that much: it's a frozen dinner.)
No, seriously, it took me awhile to get from downtown to the U district, but I found my way and didn't get lost at ALL, and then it only cost me $5 to park in an ACTUAL CONVENIENT LOCATION ON CAMPUS, which is just unnatural, and I think it went pretty well except for the fact that it was, literally, 100 degrees in the building and I'm getting a cold so, as is my wont when I'm getting a cold, I kept losing my train of thought.
Actually the other thing that clued me in to the fact that it went pretty well is that like five minutes ago I checked my e-mail and I actually got an e-mail from the person heading the project that I would be working for, and she wants to meet with me.
So this is not an IDEAL setup, because essentially what I'll be doing is transcribing sessions of Dialectical Behavior Therapy, or DBT (LOOK MORE ACRONYMS), so that other people can go through the transcriptions and determine whether or not the sessions are adherent to the protocols of DBT, and this does not really utilize my mad research skillzah to full extent. HOWEVER, the way I see it, the situation cannot hurt me, it can only help me. Apparently I'll also be eligible to audit a Psych 499 class at UW, and I'll be working for the clinic where DBT ORIGINATED, and I don't care what anybody says, that counts for something.
The downside is that it took me like an hour and a half to drive home in rush hour traffic, but at least I got to go through some very nice little neighborhoods and past a Japanese garden, because I am not so masochistic as to attempt to drive on I-5 at 5:30pm on a weekday.
In other news, which I have realized lately is a phrase I use constantly on LJ, I am still engaged in a philsophical struggle with myself: I cannot refute that, as Camus asserts, we are all condemned to die, whether now or twenty years from now, and the amount of time we have been given will never be enough (my words, not Camus'). Nonetheless, I also agree with Victor Frankl's assertion that humankind must be comprised of more than merely a biological and a psychological dimension, and that as such we are responsible for, and more than capable of, ascribing meaning to our lives.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I'm not sure why, at 27, I feel it's necessary for me to come to grips with mortality, but this doesn't change the fact that I currently feel that it's very important for me to come to terms with what it means to be mortal. (This is something that has bothered me on and off for a large chunk of my life; I remember being nine years old, lying awake in bed and trying to wrap my head around death.) This is NOT because I feel like I'm going to die soon, or that I have any PLANS to die soon, because I DON'T, but as someone who, by definition, will die SOMEDAY (and, in fact, could die tomorrow), I just want to be READY.
Which in turn begs the question of whether or not I, as the particular bundle of experiences and idiosyncracies that I am, am ever personally capable of coming to terms with death, because death is unknowable, and I'm not good with that. (I know OTHER people have come to terms with death, and I kind of envy them. How can we ever be sure that what we believe is correct? We can't, and therefore, it is currently hard for me to derive any comfort from my spiritual beliefs. I realize this is the basis of faith, but, well, now you see why I think this is something about me PERSONALLY. I would like, when I die, to know where I am going, and what will happen to me, and that is a physical impossibility. Also, I don't really know if it would make me feel any better, knowing. It depends on the outcome.)
All right, now that I've brightened your day with THAT, I am going to go take the manicotti out of the oven. (Don't worry, I haven't changed that much: it's a frozen dinner.)