I love...

You can always tell when I am writing papers, because I tend to post more blogs.

Procrastination at its most blatant.

The smokey smell of my incense is making me sleepy, and my pillow looks so soft and cuddly...

Any good wake-up tactics?

I love this blog: The Pioneer Woman. She is a middle child like myself.

I love warm breezes.

I love Fridays...the ones without papers.

I love my plants.

I love getting mail...even if it is from student loans.

I love being able to walk home for lunch.

I love listening to elderly people share stories...even the painful ones.

I love Ben Gibbard's voice.

I love having 6 roommates.

I love knowing that I am going home in 2 weeks.

I love talking to my sister about childhood memories.

I love getting up early, even when I don't want to.

I love changing my clothes when I get home from work into comfy clothes.

I love how the rain storm killed my garden.

Note: There may have been a hint of sarcasm in that last one. Stupid drainage pipe.

My own pretend folk fest

This weekend is the big deal Winnipeg Folk Fest...and I am unable to go for a myriad of silly reasons that really should have no significance in light of such a momentous occasion.

Here are the bands that I especially would have liked to see:

Great Lake Swimmers
Iron and Wine
Hey Rosetta!
Josh Ritter
Patrick Watson
Punch Brothers featuring Chris Thile
Joe Pug
Dala
Okkervil River
Amelia Curran
Mirah
Oh, and Fred Penner for old times sake.

I am writing my lovely research paper and listening to some tunes on my laptop, and pretending that folk fest is actually occurring in my bedroom.

It's rockin' tonight, baby!!

Check out the playlist to your right, and join me on this lil' adventure if you are also unable to attend folk fest.

Ok, I'll Try...

"Don’t get bogged down by the rules and regulations that contain you. Find ways to get beyond them and create your own destiny. Don’t be limited by mundane responsibilities in carrying out a job. Look for a job that can give you an expansive view, one which you can bring to it your skills, your strengths, and recognize that everyone has their own limitations and their own disabilities. …that there are no limits to success. And don’t get contained by the term “social work.” Don’t get limited by what the field is today, but move it to the vision of the world tomorrow. Dream about the future to make people’s lives better and then go out and do it...."

The place for social workers on the net.

tired

Twas a dark and stormy night.
The air was cool, the wind was strong, and the clouds cast an eerie glow.
The street lights were buzzing and flickering.
And Jennie was walking the streets of Wolseley.
When suddenly, out of nowhere, a raindrop spattered against her cheek.
And she turned around and went home.
Too tired for an adventure in the rain tonight.


It is Sunday evening and there is nothing I would like better than to curl up in my lil' bed with a cup of hot tea and a good book.

I hate papers. They destroy all that is good.

Dr. D

Today is Father's day, and I would like to commemorate my daddy through this post for his utter diligence and devotion to his family.

Good job dad.
I would have made you a cake if I were a few miles closer.

Some facts that I would like to share about my dad:

-my dad makes the best coffee in the world, by roasting his own beans, and experimenting with beans from different countries...look out starbucks.

-my dad is the hardest working person ever. Even on his days off, he is busy. I am feeling guilty just thinking about it.

-my dad is a very well read person. And he likes to learn about things, like facebook and guitars and beer.

-my dad has this weird obsession with strawberries and rhubarb.

-my dad is definitely an oldest child.

-my dad used to ride motorcycles until he had kids.

-my dad has the most hilarious humour and I probably appreciate his terrible puns more than I should.

-my dad likes candles.

-my dad talks to my cat when he thinks no one else can hear him.

-my dad would play baseball with me and tell me encouraging things.

-my dad prays for me everyday.

Random Spring Photos

The Return of the Cat

I love cats. Much to the chagrin of my father and my sister, and probably a lot of other people, I adore the sweet, fuzzy little creatures. But there is something about cats that I severely detest....their tendency to use freshly tilled dirt as their bathroom of choice. Today The Cat has once again used my lil' garden as his litterbox, successfully dug up a section of my snapdragon seeds, and left proud, wee footsteps to mark his trail.

This means war.

I have an unfortunate case of the stomach flu. I forgot how much I hate throwing up. So now that you have a visual picture of me standing over the toilet retching, I will show you how I am spending my time between episodes (and, no it does not include writing my paper...)

Watch this :)



Every time I see Julia lying on the floor I giggle, because I can just imagine my a certain member of my family doing the exact same thing. ha ha ha!!! I am deeply amused.

I also made up a little ditty about having the flu. It is sung to the child's tune of "We're Going to the Zoo".

I have got the stomach flu, flu, flu,
Oh, How about you, you, you,
You could have it too, too, too,
So wash your hands, do, do, do.

(IMPORTANT NOTE: Janna, make sure you wash your hands, because I am pretty sure I breathed on you last night.)

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.

Brown is a very nice colour.

I want my life to be one of love. I want to love people. I want to take them outside in the garden and carry them armfuls of flowers. I want to hold their hands and tell them I think they are beautiful. I want to accept their words and recognize their hurt. I want to be with them in the midst of their pain and sorrow.

I don't want to develop group therapies and conduct MMST's. Is social work truly a means to the end that I desire?

Simplicity
Emily Dickinson

How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn't care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.

After my first full week of practicum, and spending my days with delightful senior citizens, I cannot help but be thankful for my freedom. Fleeting and uncertain though they may be, I am grateful for the provision of weekends.

I have gained many insights through this first week:

1. I have the ability to strike fear in the hearts of poor elderly people who suffer from paranoia. This is a new experience for me, and is both frustrating and intoxicating. Don't worry, I will use my power wisely...

2. I am both energized and exhausted through social interactions. I come home feeling exhausticized.

3. Patience is a virtue that I need. It is easy to forget the sadness, pain, dementia, and exhaustion that can impact one's cognitive awareness.

4. People need meaning and purpose to feel like they have worth and value and self-esteem. Discovering and reminiscing about stories is extremely therapeutic for everyone, I think; hence the need for the therapeutic group I am developing on reminiscence.

5. The aging process is beautiful and painful and slow and fast. I think I forget about the deep needs that people have at all stages of life.

6. Relationships and community are VITAL for a healthy, happy life.

7. I want to be cremated. I think. And possibly tossed into the ocean. Or used as fertilizer for some pretty flowers. Much cheaper.

8. Simple gestures, touch, words, even the inclusion of one's presence can provide joy.

9. Musical activities are the most populated social activities among the elderly. I think this speaks to the reality that music is an important element of the soul that needs opportunity to be expressed and enjoyed.

10. Do I want to work with elderly in the future? Possibly. I wouldn't want to deny anyone the opportunity to kick me out of their room, or sing loud, obnoxious Italian music in my ear, or tell me the same story every five minutes.

11. According to the security man when taking my photo for my ID card, I have the worst devil eyes he has ever seen. Hmmm. Not exactly something you want to hear on your first day of working with elderly.

I want seed balls...

Oh how I want to be done studying for exams. Right about now I wouldn't mind walking around the neighborhood hucking balls of dirt. If only...

Homework? Who needs that stuff...when you can eat yummy things?