[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
[ << Previous 20 ]
[ << Previous 20 ]
|Friday, April 19th, 2019|
Cute outfit Friday.
I am finally breaking away from my dark heavy clothes. This shirt is amaze, I wish I didn’t need a jacket. But I still need a security blanket, plus it’s also cute, it’s a peplum. And flowers! Black tights, black booties. Lately it was all what’s-clean Friday, or, all-black Friday.
Dad sent me this photo this morn. Taken about 30 years ago!
My kindergarten graduation. I was nervous going up to the stage, because I didn’t know who was supposed to hand me my diploma. My teacher, Dixie? (The woman looking at the camera.) But it was my dad! Happy as ever. I was a good girl. Adept at accessorizing.
Looking at the first photo reminded me that my teacher called me over one time, while writing on my report card, and she asked me to raise my right hand. I raised.. my hand, and she said something like, “Good! You know left from right!” And she wrote it on my report card.
|Thursday, April 18th, 2019|
In my dream I am hand in hand with JG. We will walk out and show our courage. I spot threats and lag behind. He leads. — I am also near MP. I want to say thank you. Keep at it. — And, a door in my apartment moves on its own. The ghost, obviously. I stand on the doorframe to make sure. The door presses hard on me, ‘What do you want?’ I ask it.
In our waking life, John tells me the good thing about ghosts is that they really can’t harm you [did we not watch Nightmare on Elm Street one Sunday morning in bed? Do I teach him nothing?], and that you could just ask them what they want.
In the dream, again, I wake up. In my apartment, there isn’t even a door there.
An openness in my life leads me to wonder how I haven’t made time for some kind of official gratefulness. My inactivity breeds the same. The problems in my life keep resolving, some I didn’t even expect. On both counts (problems and resolutions). It’s a good time on the pendulum, from where I watch. But the pain and destruction did drag on; the prayers shall hold this trend now for longer, please.
My mom tells my dad she feels me being so happy. He says, “She’s always been happy.”
|Sunday, April 14th, 2019|
|On the sidewalk:
He points it out.
A little boy and a little girl, scratching on styrofoam sheets in the wind, making snow.
|Friday, April 12th, 2019|
“There will be no political nor humanitarian solution for Venezuela until the chavista regime falls.”
“I’ve never seen you here for breakfast,”
“I’m a morning person now.” I meant actually to say, ‘I am a breakfast person now,’ but I’m not a morning person. “I’m on a low carb diet, so I have to eat breakfast.”
“You’re on a diet? You look great,”
“I’m so swollen. My belly is so swollen,”
“And you think that’s what it is?” She said, returning my debit card with one hand, and scratching behind her ear with the other.
“Yeah! Carbs,” I said, and I walked away feeling...—
|Wednesday, April 10th, 2019|
I rarely sigh a smile before I interpret (what was said), but this lady.
“I say my home is an ambulatory hospital,” on if she needed help at home.
She put us in a positive mood. Comments were reverted to ABC levels of being around a person who speaks Spanish. “Una cerveza, por favor,” said the physical therapy student. “Your English is better than my Spanish!” Said Frankie, to my astonishment. Though definitely vanilla, with a side of vanilla, in the 1,037 times we’ve worked together, he had never uttered such platitude. The personable nurse piggy-backed on our session. I interpreted something for him (he asked me), and then told the patient that after doing that, they’d be “finito.” “Does that really mean finished?” He asked me. With my ears on each of the providers who had summoned me, and who were still moving their mouths, I shook my head no. “Really?” Really. That’s when the student asked for a beer. “Does it mean anything?” Were we at a party? I don’t know how, from the depths of my heart, I answered him! Is Mercury gearing up? Are my PMSic hormones in retrograde now? “It means very thin.” “But maybe it’s one of those things that is cultural.” Yeah, our [U.S. Americans] culture’s. My reserves of energy for explanations, long explanations at that, is expensive, and requires mutual dedication, and time. Plus, he still seemed unable to believe me. After we walked out, I heard him asking the patient, and with the smile on her face that had relaxed us all, God bless her, she was shaking her head no.
“What the fuck?!” Said the lady who asked me if we could share the table at lunch, because they didn’t give her a fork. I relate. She sprung out of her seat.
Later I was glad we were joined by Ma Dulce, next to me. I like that she chose us. I always choose her. And though we have never said a word to each other, don’t you just want your nurse to be named Ma Dulce? Oh wait, that’s my Spanish brain: sweet ma.
Last night while reading, a name on the page reminded me of a coworker, at large, who lost her four daughters and her husband in a crash, last year. From reading her name on the papers, I convinced myself that we had shared a table, too. And for a couple of weeks, I looked around for the man, a postal worker, I believed to have been her husband, who hung out around here. But one day, I found him, the postal worker.
“Not a doctor in medicine, a doctor... in business.”
“Hello Spanish interpreter, how are you?” A nurse I hate. “How are you?” Grin. Was that my boyfriend behind me? [An old, imaginary, hospital boyfriend.] I hadn’t seen him in months. The hospital’s like Grand Central, people come and go, and come and go, but it’s a lot of the same people. It wasn’t him.
Unbelievably, we ended up working together at the end of the day. I like to think he has a little crush on me, too, so we can be equally awkward around each other. I never know what to say to, “What’s up?” Especially when asked a second time. I have to think. “I’m good.”
Speaking of imaginary boyfriends, I also had one in the park, Will (I heard someone call once), who is my manly kind of man, too, with even two manly dogs in tow. One day, having been so over-it-all for years, I told myself that he was messy. Hot Will is so messy in private life. I got over it.
|Tuesday, April 9th, 2019|
“Coming back in the train, I thought again how strange it is — for twelve years, every minute of every day has been organised around Janet, my time-table has been her needs. And yet she goes to school, and that’s that, I instantly revert to an Anna who never gave birth to Janet. I remember Molly saying the same thing: Tommy went for a holiday with some friends when he was sixteen, and she spent days walking around the house astonished at herself. ‘I feel as if I’d never had a child at all,’ she kept saying.”
|Monday, April 8th, 2019|
I have my coffee at home and with company. Family. Already dressed. Suddenly I wonder, is it really 8:08?! What with the hour we gained or lost, with the daylight, with the peace. It is the time (still a while to kill). Sure I forget some things, my yoga clothes, my W2. I accept it. I don’t like to go on Mondays, and, I didn’t know I had to be at the office for a period of time (to be able to play with the computer. The secretary called out). I go to catch up on news but I’m caught up. I went to bed early. I slept well. Do I have nothing to do? Am I settled?
I wake up well rested. I have coffee with company. I have plans. Funny vids. Difficult revelations in a safe space, a bit of fear. Way uptown. Culture. Polar bear gets arrested (my fave). Statue of Liberty rubber duckie. Silence, connecting. Places where I’d never been. Walking. Two people brought together, three. Burgers yes! Medium (but I mean rare). My home is your home. The extra keys gone, landlady let herself in (with my permission). She brought up a package of mine. Good bad TV. Black and white, incense, a bit of fire at least. All home. Bliss.
I sleep too long, took too much melatonin, I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom, or look for my sweetie in bed in the middle of the night, my fave. Protests. Representative men. “I don’t like to use the word pride, because it has to do with ego...” preach. Soothing Sounds for Babies,
circa the 60’s. Weather in the 60’s! Walk. Change change. Mouthwatering delicious chicken, a lot of food: potatoes, broccoli, flat bread, chutneys. Places where I’d never been. Out of print, outdated, hard-to-find book found. Freedom. Fortune. Coffee; ‘refugees and immigrants welcome here’; 20-dollar coffee (per pound). A little girl climbs the stool next to mine, I’m glad she’s wearing a helmet, eventually her mom drags the stool away from us, “Give these people some space,” preach! I am relieved; John holds a stiff hand up in greeting, little girl does the same thing. Fro-yo hunt. I turn around and walk right back out of the store. Too many kids! ‘Is the fro-yo tart?’ Is all I want to know before I wait in line. A little boy holding a cup full of water he’s trying to cover with a napkin blocks my exit, another grabs and tries to search the bag with my book. Where is the nearest bus stop? Home. Entertainments. Popsicle? Popcorn? Freedom. Pizza! Shopping detour. Good finds. “Good times.” Good times.
Work so slow. Rain all day. Cute outfit (long white pleated skirt, high-neck white sweater, black blazer, black boots). Bags. Blooming branches in bag. Bags, blooming branches in bag in packed 5:01 train. Wind down. Dress.
Long car ride, lovely. Party. Korean fried chicken. His friends, their friends, and family, “He’s the bestest,” kids, “She likes you. She doesn’t like anyone.” Happy birthday to youuu... Made-with-love cake. Long car ride. Places where I’d never been. Glendale, Bushwick... homes, traditional, concrete lofts with lots of plants homes. Dateline!
|Thursday, April 4th, 2019|
|Get it straight
“Did you know all this time I thought you were a social worker?” I had never noticed him. All this time how long? The four years I’ve worked in the hospital? We had our anniversary last month. I had plans to leave before I signed on at human resources, but, as life will have it. It is a good job. My big break, I call it sometimes (because of the amount of down time). It pays the bills, keeps a roof over my head, allows me to peruse and buy things, take time off, and saves me from bankruptcy should I get hit by a car or get appendicitis, or that sort of thing. I get out of the house, feel some purpose. “Now I see the big sign, INTERPRETER,”
“I get that a lot.” I was going to make a joke about ‘getting more hours,’ what patients and families usually ask social workers for (hours of home care), but maybe that was detrimental, maybe it was too “inside.” Plus, a friend of his then started saying, “Get it straight. I’m an interpreter.
“ They got off the elevator.
Social workers in this hospital tend to be petite, about my age, generally skip wearing a lab coat, never wear scrubs, and at a salary range in the 50’s, I assume exude the same social class level. I certainly don’t have the heart, demeanor, patience, character, or energy that it takes to be a social worker. It is one of the last professions I would choose, and I don’t even like working along with them in their field. I had kind of rolled my eyes when I saw who had summoned me: Monica Slater, Social Work. I had just crossed paths with her in the park is why. She hadn’t called us for months.
She was hand in hand with a psychiatrist she met and got engaged to. I meant to get an eyeful of who it was, to tell Josie, who really cares, later. She was the one who told me, the president of the knitting club. But I didn’t even care to really look. A quick glance was enough to see it was one of the baby doctors (the residents) Josie was always trying to match me up with. She seemed proud, Monica. I should have looked and been nicer, but I truly do not care. Did she not end up calling us anyway? Would our lives not be meant to be intertwined, whether I’m friendly or not?
The patient was upset and hard to understand, she informed me. “Hi Rose!” I shut the chart and got going to her quickly. Monica. She is a good one, I’d thought on my way over, at least. The patient was indeed agitated, refusing to go to his room. But with all the attention, he would cheer up at points and tell us that he liked New York. We needed to at least find out the name of the shelter he came from. “Because of all the bridges.” “Were you brought in by an ambulance?” They would have some information. “You can get an ambulance at the airport,” he said, that something like the FBI had brought him in. Monica said she’d come back later for the address he said to have somewhere. Nothing, as he determined, would happen until he took a shower. A nurse started wrapping the IV access on his wrist. Monica said hi to one of the janitors, by name. I left.
I got a call from the hospital on my personal phone. First I thought it was the dispatcher again, but soon I just knew I left my work phone somewhere. I hate carrying two phones. My new iPhone is obviously my preferred child. I never signed up to be responsible for other hardware! Did I have five dollars? Instead of paying the couple of hundred dollars you’re supposed to pay for losing or damaging the work phone—and that I would probably fight to termination—I’d rather pay the $5 I’ve specified on the unwanted-to-begin-with work device as an If-found reward.
I was pleased not only to find it, but to find out it was Tina, my favorite (and hardest working) clerk, who found it. One time it was my colleague-I-dislike who “found it,” and called me. I got pleasure out of telling him there was small—invisible if you will—print to the deal. He would not get the five dollars. He “found it” in our own office, por favor. Now it was different. Thank you Monica for getting me out of my way. One, two, three.. five singles, Frappuccino for Tina (my yoga mat rental money).
“He looks more like your son than mine.”
Say more things like that please! <3 <3 <3
Mommy says that she thinks nothing is going to happen. They know better. Does anybody know? Have I fallen for it? Since January 23rd, I’ve been consuming news, and I feel it.
The lady who was dying, sooner? Feels it. She cried about the starving people.
My feelings remain as last stated, the same medicine, heaven and heart flavor.
Words, and images. Stupidity.
Onward. “THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER,” I say to a man on the subway, who kept on a babbling about some different subjects, then. “We are not going to agree,” I said before the escalation.
The sun shines, the birds chirp, some I’ve never seen before. Let’s name all the insects we see, all the sea creatures, too, and find out about them.
“Are those birds real?” (The chirping) I wonder once again at extreme bliss.
Lying in his arms last night, skin, weight, organs, breath, affection. Plans.
I’m in disbelief, I almost want to rush it, but time moves, time brings us.
“...the Internal Revenue Service has about 800 different forms. For some of them, the instructions literally state that to determine whether you need to fill out the form, you first need to fill out the form. Each form is interlinked with many others, so that you can work your way down a form only to be halted in your tracks by a line demanding that you fill out three other forms first and then bring the results back to this one...”
“... For many taxpayers, the government already has the information that you “provide” to it on your tax forms: Employers send wage information to the Internal Revenue Service, and financial institutions send information about financial accounts. Why tell the government what it already knows?”
|Saturday, March 30th, 2019|
Dearest endlessly fascinating city.
The other pics today,
|Thursday, March 28th, 2019|
He had perfect subway register, too, dozing off at points.
I made Stalios (sp?) laugh. “What’s your name?” I asked as I wrote mine. I failed to ask him the previous day. “That’s Greek?” God, I’m so smart. “Does it mean something having to do with stars?” Actually it means “pillar,” stability. He took the clipboard, “Rose. I know what that means.” I told him a line I remember from a movie. A girl with a pretty name (which I forgot) explains its pretty meaning. “And the guy goes, ‘My name is Rob. It means to steal.’”
The instructors keep asking me about myself. It looks like every day it is a different one, so I will have to keep telling them stuff like, “I am always a beginner.” They savor stuff like that. I have practiced for many years. Where? All over. “But do you have a home
?” I said, “All of them.” They love it. I sweat, and I’m the kind of sore I am familiar and comfortable with. I can take class every day!
Conversation I had with Rosemary:
Like my brother, Rosemary will unearth and text me words that ellicit a memory and a laugh.
RM: You don’t remember?
I don’t either. But you would get a kick out of that
It was a patient, but what was the story?
I don’t remember the story
Was it yours or mine?
I think it was mine
WHAT WAS IT?!
This is why I keep a diary
I think it was simple, “Do you hear or see things other people don’t hear or see?” “Cuuuuuuchooooo”
|Wednesday, March 27th, 2019|
(Credit: the net)
I record today’s date, and patients’ dates of birth. I just had to do a double take. I wrote 2019 four times in a row, surely I made a mistake. Then I remembered that this morning (which feels ages ago), indeed I did work with two little people born not only this year, but this very month!