Pan’s Labyrinth can be summed up as this: death, mystical creatures, nightmares.I think as I left the theater I said “mostly death, some magic”.

The theater was silent when the movie ended. Not sniffling like some love story. Not sighs of relief like a horror movie. Silent.

It’s a good movie but…I really wish my roommate would get home. *sniffle*

And my check engine light is on again! WTF? I called my mom and told her to threaten to cut the mechanic if he doesn’t fix my car right!

Holidays, I’m officially done with you! I attended my work holiday party this weekend. It was at a popular, overcrowded club. I was sick and couldn’t drink and generally feeling socially awkward. After a few hours I wanted to bail and go somewhere fun but drunk coworkers wouldn’t pick a bar and everyone ended up going home.

I wore the same shoes I wore on New Years and I fell again. I’m done with you too, shoes.

So instead of a “what I learned this year”, how about “my favorite things I got this year”

- a graduate degree (why don’t I have a picture of my diploma?)

-a Build-a-Bear.

- a new job (even though I bitch about it constantly)

- TMX Elmo!

-an air conditioner for my room. Mmm..not melting in the summer.

- FluffyBadBad
He’s awesome and will bite you!

- an assortment of naughty toys. My favorite has “Be Gentle” inscribed on it.

Ok, and how about “what I predict to be my favorite things in 2007″?

-a LSW license

-a better job

- a car that’s really mine and not the bank’s

-my own apartment

-a better relationship with my motorcycle(s). Better than falling on my leg.

-kickboxing skills

-a hella mad tattoo that will cover my back

-Or super sexy corset piercings/microdermals (not even sure if what I want is possible)

-my new size 5 ass (hahaha)

-my new understanding that stability has nothing to do with a house, children, marriage or income.

I saw a great play this week, Blue/Orange. A friend, knowing my field of interest, recommended it to me. Three characters, a young white psychiatrist, old white psychiatrist and a young, black inpatient client. Three characters and none of them are right. People may not think of psychiatry, psychology, social work (helping fields) as competitive as the business world but everyone wants to be recognized no matter what field they are in. Some people go to further lengths than others to be recognized. Sometimes patients suffer because of this.

The older psychiatrist teases the young psychiatrist for being in love with the ICD-10 (similar to the DSM-IV). I think I’ve wrote before about my brief love affair with the DSM-IV. My capstone paper in grad school was written in the style of describing a relationship and break up with the DSM-IV.

The patient’s role had a lot of truth behind it. Young, black, no support system, chronic mental illness. Not going to improve in long term inpatient facility, not going to take his meds in the real world. And a doctor wants to pin the schizophrenic label on him.

It was a good play to get me thinking, get me missing actual clinical practice. Get me studying?

A few friends sent me this article:

Behind the black hair dye and white make-up goths are simply art lovers, who aspire to middle-class values, says a new study. Is that right?

As a grown up goth kid, I love something positive being said about the goth kids. Dammit, the goth kids were the smart ones! Dumb kids don’t read poetry and use the word sanguine. And yes, you have to be at least middle class to be goth. Velvet corsets and knee boots are expensive!

So that combination-smart and at least middle class is probably a bigger indicator of success rather than what music you listen to. Oh you silly research!

I still don’t have any grand year end/new beginning things to say. I don’t make resolutions. I have small goals and I think that’s the way to go. No one keeps big new year goals. By March they can’t even remember what they said while sipping mimosas on New Year’s Day.

This month I have to:

Not kill the loud girl that sits next to me at work.

Study for LSW exam.

Go back to the gym on a regular basis.

Start eating real people food again.

I’ve done all of these things before. It’s just a matter of getting myself together all at once and making a lunge forward instead of spinning in circles with my helmet on.

My New Years was kind of a mess and it was kind of my fault. I’m uncoordinated and hurt my hand, drank too much and got sick. But I did it in style, with my nice sparkly dress and borrowed diamonds. Class and grace. That’s all me.