I got to my interview 30 minutes early. I read the latest issue of People magazine. If it weren't for waiting rooms I'd never read People magazine.

I think I cleared my head a little too tidy because one of the first things I was asked by my interviewer was to explain how my program has prepared me to be with clients. He wanted names of theorists, descriptions, and I'm sure something a lot more academic than I could muster to convey. It's not that I resorted to bullshitting my answer. I think he knew what my school and program is like because he seemed to familiar with LIOS. I described how we used genograms, look at the client in respect to their families and roles in their community. Family of origin and culture of origin are major themes that have been pounded into my tiny head.

I know in the upcoming year we will learn about 5 various treatment methods, I could only think of narrative therapy, solution-focused and something referred to as MRI (which I don't know what the MRI standards for), and I talked about how at a recent module we emphasized relationship triangles as they reflect systemic interactions and are used as leverage points. (Of course this is most likely boring you if you aren't into the whole counseling/therapist shtick.)

Funny thing about these sorts of interviews is that you walk away thinking how good it went, how bad it went, and that the interviewer is too damn good at masking their impression of you so you can't guess if you'll receive good news in three weeks regarding their decision.

Three weeks of waiting. I suppose I can manage to endure 21 odd days of not knowing—living in the mystery. Meanwhile, as much as I think I'd fit in at this agency, I shall keep making inquiries with others. Tonight I shall perform that séance where I channel Murray Bowen hoping that I won't have Sigmund Freud come through instead.