Valentine's Day

I've never really understood how the martyrdom of a saint became a holiday where we buy all of our loved ones copious amounts of flowers, chocolates and heart-shaped antacids that say "Hug Me." But I suppose that stranger things have happened (*cough* Resurrection Sunday and the Easter bunny *cough*).

It is no secret to anyone who has known me for more than a year that I honestly have never liked Valentine's Day. Even in elementary school when we passed out little paper cards and had parties, all the holiday ever did for me was remind me that I was not the popular kid, that I didn't buy the valentines that everyone else thought were cool and that love in this world was full of nasty strings.

One could easily say that I hated Valentine's Day with a relentless passion (slightly ironic, but very truthful), but I guess everything must end eventually. Here I am on February 14, 2011, surprised and yet relieved that I can say that my hatred is gone.

Oh, I'm still very single. I'm still not popular. And I didn't buy a single gift for anyone this year. So what changed?

Pacing

Life has a funny way of slowing us down sometimes. I haven't written in a little over a month because I always told myself I didn't have the time, that I would do it later. I've had so many ideas, but they've all just culminated in vague memories of thoughts and random tidbits of epiphany saved as text message drafts in my cell phone.

So why did I decide to write at 4 a.m. on a Wednesday morning? Well, the answer is simple, yet complex. Suffice it to say that I am at present sitting in an ER waiting room with a very dear friend who has gotten sick to the point of dehydration and needed a ride to the hospital. Suffice it further to say that I wasn't going to let her come alone in an ambulance, which was her only other option at such a late hour.

So here I sit, in quite the contemplative mood as we await our turn to see a doctor who will hopefully provide answers and relief for my friend. As I wait, though, I am apt, as always, to do a bit of observation.

Not long after our arrival (at around 2 a.m. or so), I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a woman who had just entered the ER was suddenly leaving again. On first glance, I thought she worked for the hospital, as her khaki pants looked vaguely like scrubs and her coat obscured her shirt. She carried a plastic grocery bag with what appeared to be a blanket of some sort folded up in it.

The lady reappeared in the doorway just a few moments later. I thought nothing of it, dismissing the action as her having forgotten something in her car perhaps. This time, though, I decided to watch exactly where she went, hoping to confirm that she did indeed work in the hospital. To my surprise, she perched on a chair for a few seconds, then rose and walked back out into the cold.

This process was repeated about eight times before the woman approached the sign-in desk, gave the necessary information, then proceeded to sit in the same chair in which she had always perched.

Perhaps she was just nervous about asking for help. Perhaps she was really not sure if she needed help. Perhaps she was mentally impaired. Whatever the case, there she sat in the ER waiting room. I thought to myself, "I'm glad she's getting help, whatever help it might need to be."

But I guess even thoughts can come too soon. After about five minutes of waiting, the woman stood. grasped her bag tightly in her hand and plunged into the frigid February air one final time.

Between the time she left and the time we were called out of the waiting room, I didn't see her again.

What is the moral of this story? Is there even a moral here? I'll leave that for you to decide. And while you're deciding, if you think about it, say a prayer for those who need help and, for whatever reason, never receive it, be it physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually.

And to that mysterious lady in the ER, may you find the help you seek.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot..."

Did you know that the famous little ditty we sing every year at midnight New Year's Eve started as a poem in 1788? Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote the poem "Auld Lang Syne" to the tune of an old Scottish folk song, and it soon gained popularity as a New Year's song in Scotland, Britain, and eventually America. Now it is sung around the world every year. I wonder if Robert Burns had any idea the magnitude of what he was crafting...

Speaking of the old ennui, I've been doing some reflecting on 2010 and the implications of it as I try to fathom what 2011 will have in store for me.

Theories of Counseling meets Morgan Freeman

I have reached a whole new level of nerdiness on this the first day of final exams.

After a very late night of studying and eventual insanity with my roommates, I woke up this morning to finish studying for my first exam: Theories of Counseling.

Whilst I was getting ready for my day, I had a particularly poignant revelation about Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy (which means nothing to most, I'm sure, but it was a big deal to me). I was so excited about the potential of writing an essay on this topic that I was actually beaming as I walked to my exam.

Imagine my complete and total disappointment upon discovering that the essay portion would be covering either feminist or postmodern therapy. Now, don't  get me wrong, I actually have nothing against these models, and I did well on my postmodern explanation, but oh the disappointment.

Then I came to the realization at how nerdy I had truly become: I was upset because my favorite essay question wasn't on the exam. Wow. I had to suppress laughter at myself.

Since I didn't get to share my wondrous epiphany on my exam, though, would you like to hear it?

"This our hymn of grateful praise..."

I know that Thanksgiving is technically behind us now,but I feel like every day is a good day to learn the true meaning of thankfulness. Today, I've been reflecting on how that lesson can be learned and applied in my current life.

I've been thinking lately about attitudes and how they affect our interactions with those around us. More importantly, I've been reflecting on how sometimes I do not choose to have the most gracious attitude with people because of the physical pain that I've experienced of late in my own life. I sometimes translate that pain into my interpersonal relationships, which is completely unfair and altogether not Christ-like.

In order to truly explain this lesson, though, and how I am learning it, I'll need to tell the story of my current life as it pertains to this post.

There's no place like home...

Have you ever had one of those days that is going so perfectly that you can't believe how wonderful it really is?

Well, this is the story of the other shoe dropping on one of those days.

Friday, Nov. 12, was honestly a great day. I had officially finished my practicum observation hours in TESOL, worked on homework, attended a great class discussion in Spanish with our guest speaker and discovered that I had a paycheck in my mailbox, all before 2 p.m. I found myself walking back to my apartment after class wondering how the day could possibly be any better!

In hindsight, I sometimes laugh at my own optimism.

If I could turn back time...

Have you ever wanted to just turn the clock back on a portion of your life? You know, hit the rewind button and record over that mistake you made or that word you said in anger?

Sadly the closest thing to turning back time that I've ever been able to accomplish comes once a year when the world returns to normal and Daylight Savings Time ends. Ironically and perfectly enough, that time is tonight (at least in the USA, that is). I'm actually typing this in anticipation of seeing whether I need to manually reset my cell phone clock or if it will handle the change on its own (as so much technology seems to do lately...who needs humans anymore? But that's a completely different topic).