welcome to yorlor university! today's topic: Maslow

Welcome to yorlor U. {YU, get it? so funny i am!!}

today we're going to address topics cross covered in nursing 101 and psych 210:

developmental psych.

Abraham Maslow was a fairly astute dude, and he had his own thoughts about how humans develop. unlike freud, who most are familiar, stages life development according to sexual needs, expression and pleasure; and unlike Erikson [god bless his sweet soul] who believed that there exist stages of struggle humans must pass through at each age group; Maslow figured there are basic human needs that apply to all people across all age groups that affect development of the community and individual. they run like a pyramid. if the first step isn't solid, you can't really get to or be successful on the second step, because the first step is compromised. not stable. needs attention. even if you've been cruising at level four, if level one breaks, you're all about level one until it's taken care of. no skipping. make sense? here's how it runs.

level one: physiological needs [fizzy-oh-logic-ull] like airway, breathing, circulation; eating, drinking, elimination [poo, for short, fire], sleeping, sex [to procure the species, not always for personal fulfillment, we'll get back to that one in a bit, slick]

level two: safety and security [from predators, from natural disasters, from torture or abuse]; also a sense of order, law, and stability.

level three: social needs of belonging and love. first comes belonging, you've got to feel like you're part of something and then you need to feel loved, be able to give love, etc. these are found in family, relationships, work groups [esp identity for some]. for some, sex for pleasure comes into play, here.

level four: self esteem. this comes from a sense of achievement, reputation, one's status on a group. you see how you would need a sense of belonging to establish your place in that group along with your reputation.

level five: self-actualization. the betterment of one's self, personal fulfillment.

so, you see, in this model, you have to not worry about the first level to focus on the second. if you can't breathe, who gives a rat's ass if you're CEO. if your house has just been ransacked by hurricane what-ever-the-meteorologist's-last-conniving-ex's-name-was, you're not really going to be focusing too hard on, or successful in your pursuit for, the next big award in your field, be it the blow-dryer stylists championship, the blue plate award from the local restaurant association, the state championship in your sport or your bar exam. see how that works?

now, let's apply that shit.

i can breathe, eat and poop [thank you, all that is holy and plastic]. level one: check.
i have a warm, dry, safe and reliable place to live, eat, sleep. i am not being sought after by the mob [that i know of], i am not in an abusive or compromising relationship [romantic, work related, or other], i was not affected first hand by the recent weather patterns [thank you, all that is cold and metallic]. level two, check.
i have recently made a change in the people i spend time with, and therefor associate myself. i have places and people amongst whom i feel a sense of belonging. in those places and people, i can give and receive appropriately acceptable forms of love and affection. level three: check.
my skill set has definitely been defined and refined, lately. people call me for specific skills and talents i possess. this has largely helped me see why it is i will never really succeed in an environment where i am doing less than i am capable, or, to put it differently, if i am not doing all that i can do and being all that i can, i'm not going to do well. i'munna get bored. and we all know how that ends. [not well.] also, i have to be careful not to accept a position that will take advantage of my skills and talents and then expect me sit down and shut up when i'm not merely saving their collective asses. i need to be recognized for the skills and talents i own and am able to use. level four: almost a solid check.

to really and truly reach and work on the next level, i need to be in a place where level four is an actual realization and not just something we all recognize and can admit to.

the job i started last week was a job i can do,

and so many aspects of that job i can do

very well,

[wait tables. there. i said it.]

but because it is not a field in which

i will ever really work to

move up the proverbial ladder

i'm not mixing with all of the peoples so well.

some of them, yes.

but some notsomuch.

well, fuck.

because that is never an impression i wanted to make

on anyone.

so, then i get this phone call...:

i had applied for a job as a physician/physical therapy assistant

the very same day i applied for the table gig

but the table gig needed to get that spot filled

a lot quicker than the PT place.

i interviewed.

i got the job.

i started.

things went alright

but let's be honest

there were never going to be sparks

or a bright and shiny

excited smile on my face

it just wasn't that kind of opportunity

the phone message:

the PT job said

"please call us, we'd like to interview you"

on the day of my first day at the other place

and of my first exam

[i got an a kim, did i tellya that?]

so i called them

and yesterday i had my interview

and they like me

they like my experience

my familiarity with what they do there

my comfort level with people.
and they want to train me.

show me things.

teach me skills.

let me work with people

who come because they need a guide

for the hike they have been handed

this go round.

[an accident, a surgery, a condition...]

and they want to work with me

is anyone else aware that Hootie crossed over into country music?

Darius Rucker.

i think he's on the radio right now....

weird.

oh, sorry, i'm tellin' a story, huh?

the MD who interviewed me said he was going to ask

his bosses

if they could be flexible with my schedule

because i have to be at class and clinical

this morning i dropped off a handwritten thank you letter

on linen paper

in a shmancity envelop

the receptionist was around the corner

i dropped it on her desk and she rounded the corner

"oh, hey! just a thank you letter

for the doctor.

enjoy your day."

she looked impressed.

...it's like i can hear my train in the distance...

sigh...

lil' bits

lord, i love my sister. [the older one, not the twin.
i love her, too, but she doesn't put up with me on the phone
like the older one does.
not yet.]
i love how she is so much like me that sometimes she wants to escort me through my "Stuff" because she's pretty damn familiar with it. we've got a lot of the same "stuff." it's gotta be the most amusing phone conversation to witness.

i'm in tears, working through a scenario when she cuts me off to redirect me, wanting me to get to the "root" right away.
"will you just shut up, already? i have to work through the fucking story to understand the point, okay? i'm new at this, dammit. just shut up and let me process! Jeeze!"

HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! oh, how i can laugh at it.

now.

sigh me.

sweet dreams, kids.

a little more of me

hey ya'll and fire,

today i had brunch with bk's little sister, who was in town on business and stayed for pleasure. did you know that we have the same initials? all three of 'em! neat, huh?

i told her how school was going and how i really have come to a humble appreciation that i am completely starting over, in a way i have only imagined but never experienced before. i used the analogy from the C.S. Lewis lenton devotional [a clean heart create in me] i've had for years, since college, that i've been reading again [when i'm in the bathroom] because it seems fitting.

he talks about turning around:

"we all want progress. but progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. and if you have taken a wrong turning, then to go forward does not get you any nearer. if you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man. we have all seen this when doing arithmetic. when i have started a sum the wrong way, the sooner i admit this and go back to start over again, the faster i shall get on. there is nothing progressive about being pigheaded and refusing to admit a mistake. and i think if you look at the present state of the world, it is pretty plain that humanity has been making some big mistakes. we are on the wrong road. and if that is so, we must go back. going back is the quickest way on."

and she said that she couldn't imagine starting over like that. because it runs in her family to just keep making turns until you right the damn thing, as i had said was my typical M.O.

i told her it was like putting down a nap sack after having hiked all over the place. i just finally figured out that i could, and should, put down all the stuff i was carrying. i've talked to a lot of people about this. so i'll meld all my stories into one from here.

it's relieving. to not have to carry all the hardship.

if i carry all the anger and bitterness from the last school then i am only angry and bitter and that taints my experiences with people here and now.

if i carry all the sadness and hardship of losing my best friend and all the work it took to make it work then i am just tired and worn and sad. my hands are not free to catch, hold and carry the things before me and yet to come.

i have to let go.

it is one thing to say "i have been here before. i might have a trick for getting over this mountain with less fatigue, less trauma, less loss."

it is another thing to carry that mountain with me as i climb it.

and so it is i begin again with a new way to look at starting over.

you can't just scrape your plate clean and walk to the back of the line.

you must give your plate over.

hand in your fork.

wipe the crumbs off your shirt and then return to the line.

trust that they will have a plate for you.

what if you really need a bowl?

then what good will it have done you to hold on to that plate?

and that plate needs cleaning.

real cleaning.

clean of the memory you associate with it.

you need a new plate.

something to start over with.

new sheet of paper.

new pen.

old book.

start over.

"how do you *know* this already?"

"just do."

"you've done this before."

"yeah. yeah i have."

and that is usually all i have to say about it, anymore.

a shout out to my good classmate, here,

who tells me to keep my mouth shut.

we spoke on the phone tonight, our first exam being tomorrow.

if it weren't for her, i might not have realized i was going

the wrong way.

it is easy, when one has been travelling for so long

by one's self

not to realize when you're not doing

the right thing.

she helps keep me in line.

this week i will lug my five pound nursing book to class

anyway

and take notes while she lectures

from the book

which seems a little silly to me

but if that's what it takes

to keep my sorry ass out of trouble

then so be it.

it was so good to see bk's sis today.

when she talked i could her parts of bk in her voice

i could see bk in her facial expressions

i learned so much more about their family

we plotted and schemed about the holidays

i told her i'd like to come see her in st louis

she said she'd love to have me

oh, what bliss blossoms when we allow love to remain.

good night, ya'll.

night, fire.

short note

not feeling well. under the weather.
most folks i know feel a bit like poo, too.

got a job,
nothing too exciting.

i'll tell you more about it later.

exam on monday.
feeling okay about it, so far.

but i have clinical at the ass crack of dawn
and i need to sleep.

didn't even cook anything today.

just lots of tea.

sorry, thinking

i made veggie chili today.


soaked two full bags of dried beans last night.
one navy, one pinto.
that's a lot of frickin' beans.


so i dropped them in the crock pot before noon, added a butt load of garlic, a cinnamon stick, some cumin, some chili powder, a pinch of cayenne, a palm of pepper, a butt load of canned tomatoes (also takes care of the salt factor), a big ol' onion, and a couple green zucchinis.


it was a hit.


little cheese, some jiffy corn bread muffins and my little study night/productivity factory was full of happy campers.


i like it when people like my cooking. how could you not?


so, i'm sorry i didn't post last night.
i was stuck.

when i was a child i was in a class for kids who couldn't sit still.

ELO (extended learning opportunities)

TAG (talented and gifted)

we did puzzles, tan grams, spatial relations

research projects, higher level math and reading

it worked for me.

the first nursing program i was in, the one akin to nursing on speed?

just my style.

just my speed.

but still, i'm a bit of an ass in large classes.

80 kids in a lecture hall is distracting.

i want to chat.

i want to interact.

i want you to ask me questions.

make it personal.

engage me.

and if you're not going to engage me and you want me to keep it shut

i'm going to bring something else to quietly hold my attention.

oops.

so there were moments there, on top of all the other stuff that was going on.

but now, i'm in a class of twenty.

the room itself is maybe twice the size of my bedroom.

the teacher means well, but she's still getting used to her game.

i'm growing impatient.

bored.

restless.

i'm talking for the teacher.

i see a problem.

so tonight i asked my mom how i got into those classes when i was a kid.

did she ask about them?

was i screened?

did my teachers see my budding genius?

...i had behavioral issues in class...

[thanks for snorting there, fire]

and she had to ask about the alternatives.

go, mom.

...i'm recognizing my behavioral patterns now...

i have time.

i'm not simply tired from work.

i'm not overwhelmed with the passing of a friend

or the schedule of her care.

i don't even have a dog or a loved one to get home to.

truth be told, it was easier then.

when i had so much going on.

it consumed me.

filled the spaces.

left me just enough time to focus.

now?

i'm just bored.

and fidgety.

and restless.

and i'd rather chat.

or go over stuff on my own.

or with a classmate.

or teach the damn stuff myself

because at least then we'd be goingoveritinatimelyfashion.

sigh.

so you see how this might cause pause for reflection.

um, mom? i think i need some

coping skills.

like, quick.

i can't afford to fuck this up, again.

no, no, no.

you did everything right.

you set me up for success.

you got me into classes.

you gave me tools.

you did the right thing.

i just wasn't paying attention.

when i realized i was different from other kids,

i missed the part about getting the attention i needed.

i didn't put special and special together.

my bad.

not yours.

...and so it goes, dear internets.

and so it goes.

how was yer day?

betty cock-it, back in motion

thanks, maria, for the question.

first, you take a box of annie's no-pudge fudge brownies.

grab a bit of flavored yogurt. i happened to have trader joes organic vanilla and banana on hand.

add some fruit. fresh or frozen. the housemate happened to have some raspberries on hand.

mix.

bake for 34 minutes-ish on 350 degrees.

remove and let cool.

while you wait, mix up some delightful butter frosting, ~or~ if your housemate has no powdered sugar on hand, grab a pint of betty crocker's. our options were vanilla or fudge. we went with vanilla. scoop half out into a small bowl, large mug or glass measuring Pyrex cup. add several tablespoons of something flavorful. i used whatever you put in tiramisu, grand marnier. i have also had great success with such excellent combinations as fudge and Kahlua, fudge and chamborb, pecan maple and rum. go crazy. try everything.

p.s. i drink it, i don't read it too closely, okay?

enjoy.

30 days in a row?

dear anonymous,

i will not quit. i said 30 days and i mean it.
i do not want you to think i do not want to post.
friday was sketchy.
i had a rather awesome post ready to go, and then i realized,
it might be *too much information* for the internets.

i know.

so you see what you got, instead.

would it be fair to hop on and just say "post?"

like "tag." but no "you're it."

...sounds lame.

i'd like to post photos, but i told you, the camera munched on some sand and now is a little kaput. sad, sad, sad.

and all because a silly man, i, er- an anonymous reader challenged me.
did you ever think she didn't carry out because you weren't there when she was ready?
did you ever consider you might have fallen asleep?
did you ever consider OJ simpson's robbery trial might have been starting?
[sorry, the news is on... so easily distracted tonight]

...at any rate. a beautiful woman drove me home from class tonight, so i was feeling a bit peppy. the housemate was supposed to be out galavanting, and i was fixing to join her in the public merry making, feeling froggy and all, alas, she came home right after me. so we dubbed me "betty cock-it" and i whipped up some no-pudge-fudge brownies with raspberries and vanilla frosting. ain't exactly shaking your groove thang or busting out the karaoke, but watchagonnado?

did you see tina fay on SNL? what a riot!! holy pants, oh, how i love it!! tried to link youtube earlier, but they pulled it. infringement.

how bout you give me a topic? let's try that. it works for slick.

what number are we on, anyway?

i don't know what to say.

i had a post all written out, and then i deleted it.

just one of those nights.














it's been raining most all day again.
i didn't leave the house all day.
really.

changed clothes a couple times.
cleaned some.
ate some.
laughed some.
read some.
applied to some jobs.
read some more.

never left the house.











it's nice here.




[i'd post pictures, kim, but my camera ate sand on vaca and the warranty is up, i think. that's what they told me at the camera store. i have to see if i can find it. somewhere. in a box. maybe.]

sigh.

off to bed.

clinical in the morning.

joy, joy, joy.



'gnight, ya'll.

i think i let it slip by without me...

i didn't post on 9/11. partially because i was laying on my house mate's bed drinking guiness as she found amusing things for me to laugh at, like her holloween costumes and trailers for Brothers and Sisters on the internets.

...

it's been 7 years and i still have no peace.
7 years and i still have no less than three sources of income at any one time to keep it all together.
7 years and i still look over my shoulder.
7 years and i still have to remind myself that the world is not what it used to be.
7 years and i still have to remind myself that the people who brought me through high school had no idea that this would be my reality.
7 years and i still have to remind myself that i didn't do anything wrong, to be treading water for so long and still feel like i'm getting nowhere.

7 years and i'm still scouring the want ads trying not to think about the look on the dad's face when he talks about another bank merger/lay off and that he took an interview to manage a shoe shop. he's got two kids and a mortgage. i have too much debt for someone my age and only one degree to show for it.

and somehow we manage to get up and do what needs to be done for the kids in the morning.

we will never forget.

good night all. and good luck.

my family has been keeping up to date on the buzz. from my sis. go, gloria!

Palin: wrong woman, wrong message
Sarah Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Hillary Clinton
By Gloria Steinem

Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm, who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny to win 18 million votes.
But here is even better news: It won't work.
This isn't the first time a boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It's about making life more fair for women everywhere. It's not about a piece of the existing pie; there are too many of us for that. It's about baking a new pie.
Selecting Sarah Palin, who was touted all summer by Rush Limbaugh, is no way to attract most women, including die-hard Clinton supporters. Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Clinton. Her down-home, divisive and deceptive speech did nothing to cosmeticize a Republican convention that has more than twice as many male delegates as female, a presidential candidate who is owned and operated by the right wing and a platform that opposes pretty much everything Clinton's candidacy stood for -- and that Barack Obama's still does. To vote in protest for McCain/Palin would be like saying, "Somebody stole my shoes, so I'll amputate my legs."
This is not to beat up on Palin. I defend her right to be wrong, even on issues that matter most to me. I regret that people say she can't do the job because she has children in need of care, especially if they wouldn't say the same about a father. I get no pleasure from imagining her in the spotlight on national and foreign policy issues about which she has zero background, with one month to learn to compete with Sen. Joe Biden's 37 years' experience.
Palin has been honest about what she doesn't know. When asked last month about the vice presidency, she said, "I still can't answer that question until someone answers for me: What is it exactly that the VP does every day?" When asked about Iraq, she said, "I haven't really focused much on the war in Iraq."
She was elected governor largely because the incumbent was unpopular, and she's won over Alaskans mostly by using unprecedented oil wealth to give a $1,200 rebate to every resident. Now she is being praised by McCain's campaign as a tax cutter, despite the fact that Alaska has no state income or sales tax. Perhaps McCain has opposed affirmative action for so long that he doesn't know it's about inviting more people to meet standards, not lowering them. Or perhaps McCain is following the Bush administration habit, as in the Justice Department, of putting a job candidate's views on "God, guns and gays" ahead of competence. The difference is that McCain is filling a job one 72-year-old heartbeat away from the presidency.
So let's be clear: The culprit is John McCain. He may have chosen Palin out of change-envy, or a belief that women can't tell the difference between form and content, but the main motive was to please right-wing ideologues; the same ones who nixed anyone who is now or ever has been a supporter of reproductive freedom.
If that were not the case, McCain could have chosen a woman who knows what a vice president does and who has thought about Iraq; someone like Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or Sen. Olympia Snowe of Maine. McCain could have taken a baby step away from right-wing patriarchs who determine his actions, right down to opposing the Violence Against Women Act. Palin's value to those patriarchs is clear: She opposes just about every issue that women support by a majority or plurality. She believes that creationism should be taught in public schools but disbelieves global warming; she opposes gun control but supports government control of women's wombs; she opposes stem cell research but approves "abstinence-only" programs, which increase unwanted births, sexually transmitted diseases and abortions; she tried to use taxpayers' millions for a state program to shoot wolves from the air but didn't spend enough money to fix a state school system with the lowest high-school graduation rate in the nation; she runs with a candidate who opposes the Fair Pay Act but supports $500 million in subsidies for a natural gas pipeline across Alaska; she supports drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Reserve, though even McCain has opted for the lesser evil of offshore drilling. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
I don't doubt her sincerity. As a lifetime member of the National Rifle Assn., she doesn't just support killing animals from helicopters, she does it herself. She doesn't just talk about increasing the use of fossil fuels but puts a coal-burning power plant in her own small town. She doesn't just echo McCain's pledge to criminalize abortion by overturning Roe vs. Wade, she says that if one of her daughters were impregnated by rape or incest, she should bear the child. She not only opposes reproductive freedom as a human right but implies that it dictates abortion, without saying that it also protects the right to have a child.
So far, the major new McCain supporter that Palin has attracted is James Dobson of Focus on the Family. Of course, for Dobson, "women are merely waiting for their husbands to assume leadership," so he may be voting for Palin's husband.
Being a hope-a-holic, however, I can see two long-term bipartisan gains from this contest. Republicans may learn they can't appeal to right-wing patriarchs and most women at the same time. A loss in November could cause the centrist majority of Republicans to take back their party, which was the first to support the Equal Rights Amendment and should be the last to want to invite government into the wombs of women. And American women, who suffer more because of having two full-time jobs than from any other single injustice, finally have support on a national stage from male leaders who know that women can't be equal outside the home until men are equal in it.
Barack Obama and Joe Biden are campaigning on their belief that men should be, can be and want to be at home for their children.
This could be huge.
Gloria Steinem is an author, feminist organizer and co-founder of the Women's Media Center. She supported Hillary Clinton and is now supporting Barack Obama.

scene from inside my head

she sits on a couch, focused on something. a book, her laptop, a picture, clipping coupons. something.

he stands near her. not over her. but close by.

h: you're upset.

s: i reserve that right.

h: you're upset at me.

s: [pause, looks up blankly] it's quite possible i'm upset at me.

h: [pause, wrinkled brow] why would you be be upset with you?

s: [goes back to what she was doing] that isn't exactly your jurisdiction, now, is it?

h: what are yo-

s: [looking up] good night.

h: [assumes look of defeat. walks away.]

s: [returns to whatever she was doing.]

there isn't much to say about today.

whereas yesterday i felt relief and the ability to rest, today i felt heavy, and screwed, and back at the drawing board, again. i got a planner. i applied for a couple of jobs on line. i took a walk. i took a nap. i went to teach some kids i haven't seen in a couple of years. that felt good.

i came home. i saw my new house mate [we get along quite well]. i played my guitar.

i feel like a round peg looking at a bunch of square holes.

what else can you do?

what else is there to be done?

maybe tomorrow i'll have the energy to come see you at your place. you might wanna take the undies down from the shower curtain. i look for that kind of thing.

it's raining here in baltimore...

a chilly monday morning. at first i could only hear the wet of the tires on the pavement outside my window, then i opened the blinds. a perfect crisp fall rainy day. i think i'll stay inside a bit longer.

applying for hospital CNA jobs online then i'll call them all this afternoon and tomorrow. tomorrow i'll go pick up my stuff from the office. joy, joy, joy. i wrote a pleasant letter wishing them all peace. i apologized for flipping when they told me it was over. i guess i'm not so easy to break up with, afterall.

i wanted to tell you about taking BK's ashes to the lake. from an email to a friend who couldn't be there:

Saturday (aug 23rd) was perfect. The perfect beach day. The perfect conditions for the task at hand. And your words were the perfect thing to recite.

We rented a fishing boat from a kind gentleman named Bill who took us out near New Buffalo [i think] but sped us up to the Cottage Beach in no time. He took great care and was clearly moved by the set of us. He had never partaken in such a journey and his love and kindness will long be remembered.

We made it out to the beach and BK's mom, BK's sis, BK's husband and I stood on the front of the boat to wave to BK's grandma, who decided to stay at the cottage, too emotional to make the journey, I was told. No telling if she saw us or someone else, but the thought always counts.

We then went back to the back of the boat to be with BK's dad, as his walking cast kept him from walking the slim edge to the front of the boat with us. Dad used his engineer skills and a flat head screwdriver [i kid you not] to pry the beautiful gold brushed box open. BK's remains were double bagged and tied with a medallion, which I believe her husband took.

I prepared the bag while Mom read a touching piece. We then decided how to go about the task and Dad, Mom, Husband and I stood at the tail of the boat, Momma, Poppa and I scooping ashes out of the bag and into the water as Husband held them. I read your poem then. It was most fitting as her ashes floated gently down in the waters. Husband then poured the rest into the water, followed by one of the bags, oops! Sis then dropped in handfuls of oak leaves she had picked from the cottage that morning and we followed with dried rose petals Grandma had kept from BK's service. The petals and leaves remained on the water's surface, trailing behind the boat.

As we pulled away, ready to motor back to harbor, a large orange butterfly came out of nowhere to dip in front of us. A healing sign from BK herself that all was well.

Apparently, Grandpa [who passed in July] makes his appearances as a large black butterfly. He swept through a large open field at his service between his remains and the family.

Grandma told us, very tearfully, that she was followed up the path from the beach by a large black butterfly when she returned to the cottage.

Sunday I was resting on the deck, worshipping the sun, when a pair of small, white butterflies came to perch on my herbs. "Huh. Twins. Really?" i asked them. They remained for some time, still as can be, as if to tell me they knew i knew ... may the communication never end. [no, i am not pregnant. i just really want twins.]

We returned to the cottage at a slow rate, Mom, Sis, Husband and I basking in the sun on the front of the boat while Dad kept the Captain and his daughter company. We all shared our stories. In the end, the Captain refused payment, blessed to have been a part of the journey. Moved by the witness of BK's life in each of us. Such a gentle, kind man.

We headed out to pick up Grandma and gloss through some photos before heading to the Roadside Cafe for a very tastey dinner. We hugged and kissed in the parking lot, Grandma growing very tearful when it came to me. I looked her straight in the eye and said "I'll see you. Christmas. Done deal." Mom gave me the nod of approval. I'll likely grab the train this fall when the Jewish Day School where I work is closed for holidays to hang out with Mom and Dad. Why not? It's nice to have a home so close.

Sis and I exchanged numbers. She and her Fiance are coming up to spend the weekend at the cottage. She just had her 27th birthday on the 18th. It was a rough day. I want to make sure I do something thoughtful for her next couple birthdays. It's going to be rough to surpass BK's age...

well. wasn't expecting that, were ya?

i'm grateful to have had the words to read as we carried out BK's final wishes.

There was a peace and a true sense of both closure and letting go. Like now that my hands are empty, I can really be truly ready to let be filled with the next blessing life has to offer me.

so neat.

i'm sorry you couldn't be there.

the poem i read:

Weep you no more, sad fountains,

what needs you flow so fast?

Look how the snowy mountains,

heaven’s sun doth gently waste.

But my sun’s heavenly eyes,

view not your weeping.

That now lies sleeping,

softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling.

A rest that peace begets.

Doth not the sun rise smiling,

when ever at evening he sets?

Rest you then, rest sad eyes.

Melt not in weeping.

While she lies sleeping, softly,

softly, now softly lies sleeping.

-John Dowland

momma said, there'd be days like this

i got canned.

on a sunday, no less.

that's what you get for working for a Jewish organization.

it was coming. i didn't want to see it. i wanted to believe that they wanted it to work out, as well. alas, they were hiring someone right under me. ~~ouch~~ i'm such a trusting soul, sometimes.

to be honest, i just didn't want to find another sinking ice berg when the one i was standing on was working just fine, thank you. ~or~ [the other analogy i really have come to like] it was like trying to wear the wrong shoe, or the wrong sized shoe, definitely something too small, not too large, not room for growth, not room for hope, no room to wiggle the toes. small. awkward. painful, at times. confining. and i thought my painfully awkwardly large ass comfortable self would be okay sitting like that for as long as it took for them to need me to be all i could be.

~blargh~

in a phone call, no less.

but i have at least five leads for jobs tomorrow. so there is that to look forward to.

and the fact that i just don't have the dread of going into that situation in the morning.

i am sad that they couldn't be more honest earlier. that they couldn't say "we know you're stressed about your school starting, then having to move, then our school starting, but... well... it's just that, we want to have someone who fits sit there."

i can respect that.

but this. this was cowardly. and cruel. and very retarded.

noone needs to be treated this way. really.

what are they going to say to the people who liked me?

sigh.

okay, it is late and i am once again tired. so i am going to roll over and not likely will i need this strong cup of chamomile i just started brewing at my side. not likely this evening.

...heh, shalom.

30 days has september... so where the hell have i been!

take it easy on me.

i'm back.

and this time i'm not even pirating the internets!

i've parted ways with the old house mate. the building we were renting from sold to a new owner who was keen on getting us out, so he paid to have us moved. she was ready to be on her own and i was fine as pie with that idea. i've got a new house mate. she's a ball of energy. i hope she doesn't take it personally that i'm not going to join her for her social outings. just don't want to establish that as normative, i guess.

i lost most of the garden and the set up here is such that only those that can really fly on auto pilot remain. nothing that needs me to come talk to it on any sort of regular basis. no tomatoes. [although, boy oh boy, did they go gang busters until this whole moving thing hit the roof!]

i had a job for a bit, but it looks like that's cashing out, so it's off to reinvent the wheel in that arena, as well. can't live with 'em....

i just want things to well long enough for me to feel good about them.

class is going splendidly. holy poo, do i feel so much better about this RN program. that one-year BSN program had us running around like headless chickens. really. so much stuff we didn't need to know, yet. so much stuff they could have focused on.... tsk tsk tsk. we didn't learn how to be a nurse in that program, we learned all about nursing, but not how to actually be one. .... does that make any sense at all?

at any rate, i was up before 5 am this morning for clinical, which went great, as i have mentioned. so now i am pooped to the max.

so many stories, which you will all hear. i've promised some anonymous wahoo 30 days in a row. .... joy.

much love,
yors