An MS in psychology

No, not me. I’m skeptical of all those therapists whose main function is to build self-esteem and guarantee affirmation for whatever whacked out rationales people have for the crazy things they do in their lives.


Meanwhile, I had a great time at the d-vite. Dhara knows cool people. There was the guy with the unique hairstyle who seemed insistent on separating a countertop from the wall (and tried to warn me off being too critical of therapists. “You know everyone here is going to be a therapist?” Don’t they know everything is social co-construction?!! Aw shucks, I still like ’em. 🙂 Jake (not a psychologist) even told me it was ok to get myself in trouble. I definitely like that (since skirting the edge of “being-in-trouble” – tends to be my usual mode of operation). 😉
Besides the usual grad school kvetching, I learned that Romanian is closer to Latin than Italian (due to declension), that packs of dogs used to roam the streets of Bucharest (taking folk out, periodically), people in Communication “do literary analysis on people,’ some people in the social sciences really can get internships, and not everyone thinks blogging is intuitive. Really? I get the criticism – what is it about the mundane details of my small life that is really all that interesting to anyone else? (Good question.) 😉
The most entertaining part of the evening were the confessions about how we all knew each other. “Parties.” And not just any parties, by the way. “Lava’s Parties.” Where is that sexy hunk of a guy, anyway? Ah, traveling. Out of town. Not available. Isn’t that the way it goes?
Amanda made awesome food. Chocolate, chocolate-covered strawberries, chocolate, chocolate-covered pretzels, chocolate, raspberry “pie”, chocolate, blueberry “pie,” chocolate. There were several cheeses and crackers too. (The coolest people were invited early, btw, and the rest of us – ahem – later, for the leftovers?!??!!!) Surveillance cameras tracked who chose chocolate-covered strawberries over chocolate-and-peanut-butter-covered pretzels. (Data collection for a future dissertation?) Watch for those follow-up surveys . . .

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