- I have a new job. Today I became an official member of the Cracker Barrell family. Yeah...there really isn't anything to say about that. I have my own brown smock and a name badge and everything. It's very glamorous and I will be filling a very important position...
- I met with a new therapist for the first time this afternoon. I don't like to talk about therapy very much because I don't want to become one of those people who can't get through a conversation without referring to something their shrink mentioned the last time they were on the couch. They're either being needy, self absorbed, or petulant, but probably all three, and those are not things I am interested in being, but I am someone who has pretty extensive experience in the area so every now and then the topic comes up. Once a month I see a therapist who specializes in eating disorders. Her name is Jane and she is literally the coolest woman in the world. She has long, gorgeous red hair and listens to Interpol and isn't going to marry her fiance until we have marriage equality in this country, which is rad, but most importantly she has a sense of humor and she doesn't take any of my bullshit. I probably have something of a girl crush on her, and in the three years since our first appointment our relationship has become a lot more like older sister and younger sister than doctor and patient. What we do at this point is mostly a friendly check in to see how things are going as far as EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified) and with life in general, but because she is so busy it was suggested that I find a regular therapist to see more regularly, a process which has proven much easier said than done. Over the last three years I've tested the waters with six different psychologists, but none of them have ever really worked out. The problem is that I've already been treated, I'm really just looking for someone to talk to. I don't really need to be fixed, I just want everything laid out so I can see it. There was the overly exuberant, way too pretty, young Dr. Lindsay (who actually referred to herself as Dr. Lindsay. Ugh.) I hated her right off the bat and only sat through two sessions before calling the whole thing off. Next I had weekly sessions for five months time with a grandmotherly woman who was frankly just too wishy-washy for my taste. A young male doctor who was too nervous to talk about body issues or sex, a woman who spoke to me like I was six years old, and an adolescent therapist who termed me "impossible to work with," and that brings us to today's victim. His name is Maury and he is about as cuddly and sweet as they come, which isn't really my type when it comes to shrinks. He is adorable, though. Mid thirties, a big, but entirely nonthreatening sort of guy with a round jolly face and a crinkly-eyed smile.He poured me some water in a mug from is Alma Mater, Boston University, and took copious notes. I only gave him the PG version of my back story because there's no use putting all of my cards on the table at this stage in the game. We talked about books, mostly, and I intimidated him with the fact that I worked my way through David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest on sheer will power when I was thirteen. He has yet to finish it after a ten year struggle and thinks Wallace could stand to be less wordy. Needless to say that comment lost him so points with me, but he really was very nice, and maybe even good at his job. It's hard to tell with the first session. I'm not sold, but he's getting another shot next week. It would be nice to be able to set a routine with someone, so I would like for this fit to work.
- I'm wearing those Miley jeans.
- And a Miley top as well. Go you, you little Wal Mart shopper.
- The 2011 planners are on sale here at Borders. Oh, such nerd joy. I can't even begin to explain how much I love new school supplies/notebook/journals. This is sort of thrilling...
- I should have left to go pick my mom up from work about ten minutes ago. Agh, gotta go!