Countdown: 1 day until New York. 3 days until Paris.
I suppose that this should have been my week of emotional remembrances: going to all of my favorite places for "one last look" and slowly visiting all of my old friends from NC before I leave for the other side of the globe. However, I was working too hard for any of that emotional hoopla. Starting a week ago, I worked three double shifts in a row. That means that I worked the Breakfast/Lunch Shift AND the Dinner Shift. Basically, I was at work from 6:30am until 8:00 pm or later. Three days in a row.
Needless to say that was a tiring experience, but at the same time, I enjoyed it, but I only noticed how much I enjoyed it after that crazy time was over and I was back to a regular schedule. Wednesday morning, the first morning that week when I didn't have work, I woke up late and sort of lounged around all day, and I just didn't feel good. Yet for the first part of this summer and for a great deal of last year, I made the choice to laze and procrastinate as opposed to do some good quality work. Knowing this, I think my experience of working at the nursing home is a lesson for me about the value and, hell, FUN of hard work. I wasn't doing anything "amazing" or "important" but I was having a good time, and I was getting benefits from it. There's a pleasure you get, and I guess I hadn't experienced that in a tangible way yet. It just made me realize how much better I feel when I'm working my ass off and enjoying the benefits of that. I'm quite glad I've discovered this.
My last day of work last night was fun though. I got to do my favorite task of wheeling the food carts out to the residents and we did our shift like clock work; no late or earliness. Also, I got to take a break after the food delivery was over and play the piano there. It was fun, I actually had performed the night before as well, but I was a little nervous so I don't think my playing was spectacular, but last night I was very focused and the repertoire was a little different so it was just a more comfortable experience. A nice lady came up to me when I was playing and talked to me about music. She told me that I was very good, and that I make sure to I stick with it, and not be like her son who got married and gave up music and now regrets it.. I take it there's an interesting In-Laws drama in that family.
In other news:
My sister turned 16 on friday. Incredibly surreal. It's hard for me to believe that she'll be driving soon. I'm so freaking old.
Morning pages are still going well. I missed a day when I stayed the night at my good buddy Nash's house friday night, but other than that I've been good.
Got a new Haircut. il est trop sexy
Started watching the X-Files: Season 1 on netflix with mom. It's amazing how a show from 1993 can still have such a creepy impact on you. I'm beginning to be come addicted.
and I think i'll leave it at that for now. Nothing super exciting happened in North Carolina this past week so I'll not go on and on about it. My next post, however, will be coming to you from Paris, France as I begin my study abroad adventure.
The wait is over,
It's all Happening.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Chapter 2: He works Hard For The Money (doo-doo. doo-doo.)
Countdown until departure: 1 week and 3 days
Well, it's getting close. I can almost taste the Parisian air as we speak...never mind, I'm just standing downwind from a smoker. Nevertheless, the preparation for the journey is an essential part of the journey itself so I thought it would be good to fill you in on my doings and thoughts while I wait for the jetplane to take me across the pond.
There are two main things that have happened since I decided to create this blog. My commitment to Morning Pages and my new job. There are other things I could talk about (like visa drama for starters, a story for next week perhaps, once it's all sorted out. oy) but these two are basically the biggest things going on
for me at this moment.
Morning Pages
As I was sitting in my room one night, I discovered an old book I had gotten during my days at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts (known at the time as North Carolina School of the Arts, the U came later)The book is called The Artist's Way and it seems to be a textbook, or a course of things you can do to fire up your creative impulses. Well, I really only got the book because one of our teachers at NCSA was super jazzed about it, but it sounded interesting enough and it incorporated some spiritual elements that I was experimenting with at the time. The main exercise is one called Morning Pages. This is where every single morning, when you wake up, you get a note book and write three pages in it. It is totally stream of conscious and free form and you literally just write what ever pops into your head, whether it be "man...I'm super tired this morning" or "I hate this, I don't know what to write" or even "my mind has been on genitalia a lot recently, I wonder what that's about?" all of those things are kosher so the point is just to do a brain dump, I guess. It seems to be working. I started last Thursday morning and since then I've already begun to feel a slight creative tinge beginning to re-enter my life. I started a new jazz piece the other day, and while I was at work I kept having poetic moments (more on those to come. ) So, I intend to keep up this practice, see what happens. There are stories in the book that talk about people getting so in touch with their morning pages that they can sort of ask it questions and receive answers in the writing of that day. it's pretty cool. But mainly it's just something that I can do and say "I'm going to do this, damn it, because it's probably good for me and it can't hurt" I'll keep you all posted as to what happens with these morning writings.
Oaks Nursing Home
After flitting around from odd job to VERY odd job all summer, I finally landed a steady paying gig for this past month working as an aide in the Dietary department of a local nursing home. Despite the menial nature of the job, I've really enjoyed it. First of all the people are all really nice and interesting. I work with a population consisting of about 50% African-American, 49.5% Filipino, and .5% white people (aka: me) so decided to take this as cultural learning opportunity. What happened today for instance is an example of one of my favorite parts of the day.
Today on the cooking line I worked with this old Filipino woman named Rosie. She's basically a beast. She's 74 years old, and she still gets to work at 5:30 in the morning, dealing with the early hour 10 times better shape than my sleepy ass ( I kept having to explain that I wasn't farting, it was my ass snoring...ok enough with lame jokes) She does everything that I do, except superior, and she's also manages to keep a sunny disposition through the entire day (we worked from 5:30 in the morning until 2:00pm). After we finished the first part of lunch service, we got our own lunch break. We got to get out own plates and go through the line and take what ever we wanted out of the leftovers. We generally lean towards the more solid foods rather than the specially-prepared-for-old-people food (fried chicken puree anyone? thought not). After we had grabbed out lunch, she encourage me in halting English to come into the break room and eat lunch with her. As we enter the room, I see several of my Filipino co-workers and several of the Filipino nurses sitting around a big table. They greeted her and me when we walked in and then began talking in, I suppose either Tagalog or Filipino, but I'm not quite sure. It's really fascinating to listen to. Imagine a mixture between Chinese and Spanish and you've got the general sound of it. They were all talking and laughing very hard. Me, however, had no clue what any of them were saying. And I loved it. I don't know why, but I just was thrilled to be sitting surrounded by people speaking a language that I had no concept of how to translate or communicate in. It was kind of surreal. I wonder if that's what it's like to be a baby that can't talk yet.
Maybe it's the morning pages, or perhaps a bored mind, but I've also been having some spurts on inspiration while working on the premises. I've basically have a blues song in my head based off of Whole milk and Coffee, a favorite combo of the residents at the nursing home. Also, I've thought about doing a funkifized version of "I throw My hands up in the Air Sometimes" because while we work in the kitchen, often times our local top 40s station is on and I literally want to shoot the radio repeatedly with a 50 caliber bullet.
But besides getting ideas for more creative projects, I also noticed just moments of poetry in everyday life at this place sometimes. there is one particular moment that I love, and will probably never forget that I'll try to share with you.
It was morning, about 8:30 or 9 and I was walking down the hall of the nursing home to pick up a food cart that we put the trays in to be delivered to the resident's rooms. As I walks down the hall I can see, smell, and hear the various stages of de-evolution in the lives of these people. Almost all of the residents are in wheel chairs and the wheelchairs have alarms that go off when the resident stands up. Almost daily you'll hear one of these alarms ringing down the white hallway as another resident attempts to regain some dignity. However, they are always forced back into their seats, because they are simply too weak to walk. My favorite residents are the ones who are either too old, or stubborn enough not to care and continue to try to walk again. The smells of urine, pureed food, and medicated ointment waft through the halls as you walk by each room. As I walked up to the cart I passed by this one room where possibly the sweetest looking old lady was sitting in her bed. She seemed bedridden, and her hair was wild, as if she hadn't had anything done to it in a while. I highly doubt that she has moved from the in quite some time, knowing only the green walls and dim lighting of her nursing home room. She had these large blue eyes, and they were looking towards the window of her room. As she gazed out the window she said,
"Oh, Hazel, look at the sun coming in through that window! Isn't it pretty"
It was really beautiful that someone in such a dark place could still focus on the light.
Well I think that will do it for this week. Don't worry, we'll leave the old folks home in good time. Tune in next week for packing and shopping stories (don't worry, k-stone, I won't leave you out) as I prepare to leave and the tales of the evil French Bureaucracy!
Monsieur Wells
Well, it's getting close. I can almost taste the Parisian air as we speak...never mind, I'm just standing downwind from a smoker. Nevertheless, the preparation for the journey is an essential part of the journey itself so I thought it would be good to fill you in on my doings and thoughts while I wait for the jetplane to take me across the pond.
There are two main things that have happened since I decided to create this blog. My commitment to Morning Pages and my new job. There are other things I could talk about (like visa drama for starters, a story for next week perhaps, once it's all sorted out. oy) but these two are basically the biggest things going on
for me at this moment.
Morning Pages
As I was sitting in my room one night, I discovered an old book I had gotten during my days at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts (known at the time as North Carolina School of the Arts, the U came later)The book is called The Artist's Way and it seems to be a textbook, or a course of things you can do to fire up your creative impulses. Well, I really only got the book because one of our teachers at NCSA was super jazzed about it, but it sounded interesting enough and it incorporated some spiritual elements that I was experimenting with at the time. The main exercise is one called Morning Pages. This is where every single morning, when you wake up, you get a note book and write three pages in it. It is totally stream of conscious and free form and you literally just write what ever pops into your head, whether it be "man...I'm super tired this morning" or "I hate this, I don't know what to write" or even "my mind has been on genitalia a lot recently, I wonder what that's about?" all of those things are kosher so the point is just to do a brain dump, I guess. It seems to be working. I started last Thursday morning and since then I've already begun to feel a slight creative tinge beginning to re-enter my life. I started a new jazz piece the other day, and while I was at work I kept having poetic moments (more on those to come. ) So, I intend to keep up this practice, see what happens. There are stories in the book that talk about people getting so in touch with their morning pages that they can sort of ask it questions and receive answers in the writing of that day. it's pretty cool. But mainly it's just something that I can do and say "I'm going to do this, damn it, because it's probably good for me and it can't hurt" I'll keep you all posted as to what happens with these morning writings.
Oaks Nursing Home
After flitting around from odd job to VERY odd job all summer, I finally landed a steady paying gig for this past month working as an aide in the Dietary department of a local nursing home. Despite the menial nature of the job, I've really enjoyed it. First of all the people are all really nice and interesting. I work with a population consisting of about 50% African-American, 49.5% Filipino, and .5% white people (aka: me) so decided to take this as cultural learning opportunity. What happened today for instance is an example of one of my favorite parts of the day.
Today on the cooking line I worked with this old Filipino woman named Rosie. She's basically a beast. She's 74 years old, and she still gets to work at 5:30 in the morning, dealing with the early hour 10 times better shape than my sleepy ass ( I kept having to explain that I wasn't farting, it was my ass snoring...ok enough with lame jokes) She does everything that I do, except superior, and she's also manages to keep a sunny disposition through the entire day (we worked from 5:30 in the morning until 2:00pm). After we finished the first part of lunch service, we got our own lunch break. We got to get out own plates and go through the line and take what ever we wanted out of the leftovers. We generally lean towards the more solid foods rather than the specially-prepared-for-old-people food (fried chicken puree anyone? thought not). After we had grabbed out lunch, she encourage me in halting English to come into the break room and eat lunch with her. As we enter the room, I see several of my Filipino co-workers and several of the Filipino nurses sitting around a big table. They greeted her and me when we walked in and then began talking in, I suppose either Tagalog or Filipino, but I'm not quite sure. It's really fascinating to listen to. Imagine a mixture between Chinese and Spanish and you've got the general sound of it. They were all talking and laughing very hard. Me, however, had no clue what any of them were saying. And I loved it. I don't know why, but I just was thrilled to be sitting surrounded by people speaking a language that I had no concept of how to translate or communicate in. It was kind of surreal. I wonder if that's what it's like to be a baby that can't talk yet.
Maybe it's the morning pages, or perhaps a bored mind, but I've also been having some spurts on inspiration while working on the premises. I've basically have a blues song in my head based off of Whole milk and Coffee, a favorite combo of the residents at the nursing home. Also, I've thought about doing a funkifized version of "I throw My hands up in the Air Sometimes" because while we work in the kitchen, often times our local top 40s station is on and I literally want to shoot the radio repeatedly with a 50 caliber bullet.
But besides getting ideas for more creative projects, I also noticed just moments of poetry in everyday life at this place sometimes. there is one particular moment that I love, and will probably never forget that I'll try to share with you.
It was morning, about 8:30 or 9 and I was walking down the hall of the nursing home to pick up a food cart that we put the trays in to be delivered to the resident's rooms. As I walks down the hall I can see, smell, and hear the various stages of de-evolution in the lives of these people. Almost all of the residents are in wheel chairs and the wheelchairs have alarms that go off when the resident stands up. Almost daily you'll hear one of these alarms ringing down the white hallway as another resident attempts to regain some dignity. However, they are always forced back into their seats, because they are simply too weak to walk. My favorite residents are the ones who are either too old, or stubborn enough not to care and continue to try to walk again. The smells of urine, pureed food, and medicated ointment waft through the halls as you walk by each room. As I walked up to the cart I passed by this one room where possibly the sweetest looking old lady was sitting in her bed. She seemed bedridden, and her hair was wild, as if she hadn't had anything done to it in a while. I highly doubt that she has moved from the in quite some time, knowing only the green walls and dim lighting of her nursing home room. She had these large blue eyes, and they were looking towards the window of her room. As she gazed out the window she said,
"Oh, Hazel, look at the sun coming in through that window! Isn't it pretty"
It was really beautiful that someone in such a dark place could still focus on the light.
Well I think that will do it for this week. Don't worry, we'll leave the old folks home in good time. Tune in next week for packing and shopping stories (don't worry, k-stone, I won't leave you out) as I prepare to leave and the tales of the evil French Bureaucracy!
Monsieur Wells
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Voilà! C'est mon première blog! Chapter 1: 2 weeks before I leave
Hello everyone,
Sound like fun?
Many of you may know that this is not my first European encounter. However, the last few times I was there, I had a hard time keeping any sort of documentation of the trip. I still remember the highlights, but I wish I remembered more. SO this time, since it's a such a grander scale and it's kind of a big deal, I mean to change that. I decided to make this blog (well this is obvious since you're here reading it, but this is your basic blog intro post so...deal). I will absolutely try to post once a week, probably saturday or sunday, and I will talk about cool things that are going on, my trials and tribulations, and hey I may even put new music I create up here too so you can listen :-D
Without further ado let's begin the journey. Even though I don't leave for another two weeks, i'll still post because there are still things that need to happen and who knows what will happen in a crazy place like Winston-Salem, NC :-P
Thanks for reading!
Monsieur Wells
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