Identity Crisis

The staff room coffee pot is like a looming presence that I have resisted for several weeks, and have at last accepted as part of my morning routine. Yes. I think I am addicted. This is creating havoc with my prolonged tea drinking routine. I have to cut back on the caffeinated tea in order to make room for my newly formed coffee drinking habit. This is creating tension between my tea self, and my emerging coffee self.

My mother is arriving for a little visit in approximately 14 hours. I am pretty excited. I am trying to scheme my way out of practicum tomorrow afternoon to hang out with her. Maybe if I bring doughnuts to dunk in the infamous staff room coffee.

Funny story as told to me by roommate Kate:
Kate was walking down good ol' Westminister Ave, when she saw some kids riding by on their bikes, yelling and swearing, and dropping the f-bomb as many times as physically possible. A gigantic man in a trench coat who was walking behind Kate boomed, "hey, stop that swearing or wash your mouth out with organic soap." Sigh, it reminds me of dear Nelson, except there was an absence of the sweet scent of marijuana lingering in the air.

Continuing thoughts

I am not exactly sure why, but I took advantage of this beautiful day off to start a new blog...Here it is.

I also wrote 2 papers, and made perogies, and cleaned the microwave, and mopped, and bought a closet organizer so I don't have to stuff my clean underwear into the bottom of my laundry basket. I need another day off to recover from my extreme productivity.

I also discovered that I can become remarkably introverted. Today I had this weird feeling of the whole world sort of fading away, and seeming remarkably unimportant. All that seemed to matter, was this urge to find the quietest, less populated area possible. I tried to fight this urge, because it frustrates me. I want to be people-friendly all the time. Such a silly self-centered self.

I like this band, and not just because they are Scottish, like another good band I know.

Today is Monday, and I am NOT at work.

It is a day of rest today. An extra lil' holiday to be taken from practicum and business. However, it is not a holiday that constitutes the resting from papers that still need to be handed in. Blech.

Today we are making homemade perogies. I am learning about the ways of the Mennonite folk.

It is so windy this morning, that each gust past my bedroom window makes it rattle. It is rather comforting to be on the inside.

I have just received my sister's completed thesis via email in all its glorificus. It is entitled: Rethinking “Nature in General”: Wendell Berry, The Land Institute and a Relational View of Nature.

I know I am impressed all ready. The longer the title, the more intense the paper. My papers have very short titles. Like "Log #4"...but they are VERY intense.

I haven't read her thesis yet...but I have observed from my initial glance that it looks pretty amazing. Constructive, logical, AND beautifully written.

I am mentally and researchly preparing for my two therapeutic groups that I will be conducting for my practicum in June/July. The topic is: Reminiscence...

Anticipated Summer Pastimes:
1. Go to the library and read books that are unrelated to aging and dementia
2. Go to the park and read aforesaid books.
3. Gardening!! I currently have 3 pots of herbs, and 2 pots of tomatoes, and I am waiting until it gets a little warmer to do the outside planting.
4. Drink tea and homemade lemonade
5. Learn how to become an effective communicator.

Today I am thinking about oceans and evergreen forests and home. Riding the ferry. Hearing the fog horn. Watching the mist. Feeling the water spray. Smelling the distinct oceany air. Inhaling the earth. Touching rough bark. Standing in a quiet place. Accepting the stillness. Being in a place of familiarity.

It has been a hard week.

I am learning things about communication, and my utter finite being.

Time for some (indoor) gardening. The weather is not really cooperating with my planting schedule.

"I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me."
Patrick Watson

Does your own soul need comforting?

Mine does...here is my favorite poet yet again reminding her reader of the everyday joys that can supersede the tough stuff.


Such Singing in the Wild Branches by Mary Oliver

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves -
then I saw him clutching the limb
in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still
and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness -
and that's when it happened,
when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree -
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,
and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward
like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing -
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed
not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky - all, all of them
were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last
for more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,
is that, once you've been there,
you're there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?
Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then - open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

Dear Mom,

When the world is dark and scary, you remind me about the red tulip that comes up behind the compost pile.

And I realize,

That there is hope...
In spring.
In life.
In the midst of discouragement.

I hope that you know,

How much...

How very much...

I love you.

I wish I could give you real ones.










PLUS:
I wish I could make you some rooibos tea.
And bake you some apple crisp.
And go on a spring walk. And hang out.
Cause really I just miss you a lot.

oh golly

Heavy sigh.

And breathe.

I accidentally screwed up one of my practicum papers, and so I am yet again testing out my skills of writing a paper at the eleventh hour. ha ha.

Booo school. Minimum wage has never looked so good to me.