>So, most of you probably know that I have started work on a Masters Degree in Counseling at the University of North Texas. I had my Theories class tonight, which, by the way, is taught by the Chairperson of the Department AND the co-author of the textbook. Intimidating, perhaps? But, I persevere. We had this ridiculously difficult quiz tonight that was so difficult that I only got 4 of 11 questions correct, and half the class did far worse than I did. Thank goodness for the Bell curve. With that, at least I passed. Terribly discouraging. And as I was lamenting that fact, the doctoral student sitting in front of me reassured me, saying that I would have a greater knowledge of Theories than anyone else in any other professor’s class and that I should not get discouraged. He said that my professor was without a doubt the most difficult in the department. Fab. So, I tried to feel better. What really bummed me out was that I really enjoyed all the basic tenets of the theory we were being quizzed about — Adlerian counseling. It’s very much about the individual and personal responsibility and having a vested community interest. Tricky questions. Anyhoo, at the end of class, we had to do this experiential activity where we paired up, and one person was the counselor and the other the client. And as the client, I had to come up with six to ten very specific early recollections, as in before the age of six years old. And I had to talk about how I felt in those situations. And then this fellow, my “counselor,” who, incidentally, is the doctoral student, sums it up by saying, “So, I’m seeing here that the common thread is that you often felt like you were all alone, that your parents placed you in the care of someone else. And sometimes, bad things happened. I wonder, if based on that information, it would be safe to say that you are hardly ever taken by surprise, and you are a guarded person.?”

Um, yeah. Of course, he also wondered if I planned everything out, but I really don’t. I explained that I might read ahead about something I am going to do — I might not be taken by surprise, but I am not a big planner. Just a preparer. There is a difference. I can count on my left hand the number of times someone has actually, truly surprised me, and I will have fingers left over. For my 30th birthday, my friend Cyndi, along with some other family and friends, delivered to my home this precious little antique pink dressing table that I had admired in her presence weeks before, very casually. And she made a mental note and rallied the troops to go in together to buy it and give it to me for my big 3-0. That was great. A boyfriend once surprised me with a gift of a mirror that I had admired on an afternoon walk. Of course, he did that sort of thing several times, and it made me feel very strange, so I stopped openly admiring things. My friend Karen surprised me with a cute little James Avery charm, a motorcycle, and a lovely note about how our friendship was very much like that of Che Guevara and his pal in the film The Motorcycle Diaries. My new boyfriend, Chris, surprised me with a lovely little gift the first time we met — dark chocolate, a little duck for my keyring and a Borders gift card. He had surreptitiously read my blog and learned that those things were of special interest to me. So kind. Those are great surprises. The kind that let you know people are paying attention. And they are honoring your spirit. Oh, and my Dad surprised me with tickets to see Shaun Cassidy in concert back in the 70’s. Do I have to count that? Now, it’s on my permanent record. Okay, maybe they number on my left and right hand. But surprising me is difficult to do. I think too much. I have too active an imagination. I truly believe there are more surprises out there for me, though. And I am excited about them.