Pelagia Noctiluca

Pelagia Noctiluca

Wednesday, January 30

No Crack Tonight

Just painting and Johnny Cash. There are nights when I don't have to smoke crack to do my job, and tonight was one. So was last night. Apparently, the house has been mellow for the last five days, and if I recall correctly, last tuesday night was a breeze too.

The last three weeks were intensely chaotic and volatile, which forced basic survival mode of separating the kids needing protection/comfort from the kids feeding into the chaos by amping their aggression as much as possible. Think prison-style mob mentality in a ranch house for teens. Until things got so bad, that I got hit in the face. At that moment, a kid down the hall abrubtly stopped his yelling at another kid, and the hallway grew silent. Well, except for Laundry Bucket Banger's persistent warcry. After his arrest, relief spread over the group, and they gradually let down their guard across the board. But, it wasn't just relief. There was a pinch of empathy mixed in, which is always what I'm going for, and what is often, the most lacking. Everyone knew that LBB was not a normal kid, and the deliberateness of his actions are always in question. However, they had taken 3 weeks of it, plus another kid who requires a whole other essay and several more crack vials, and they were done, hating each other and the staff even more. Then, that pop in the face turned it all around, and it's scary how easily that could have swung the other way. As much as I hated seeing him arrested, I know it was the best thing. The other kids who'd been pissed at me for whatever reason, were now thanking me for "putting in my time," and basically doing whatever I asked. And since I asked that we paint, they couldn't grumble too much. I worked the next day, we did more painting, and they were near silent, almost too much so as they did every chore without being asked. They even promptly turned off the t.v. at 9pm. They also hardly bickered between each other at all. I took the following day off, wednesday, and got a cold, which kept me out until Monday, yesterday. When I arrived for my shift last night, the walls were covered in paintings, and one of my angriest kids greeted me with, "About time you're back, we thought you bailed. Check this out, I can paint!" And Dude, this kid can really paint, and he only started last Tuesday.

Tuesday, January 29

Ever Attentive Eight

1. What makes you decide to be with the person you’re with? A mutual belief that we are meant to share this particular time and space.

2. What made you decide to do the work you do? I'm the Freak Whisperer. I've been doing it forever, I'm just getting paid now.

3. What type of discussion brings out the most passion in you? Prejudice towards the freaks I whisper to, and the systems that expel them and keep them freaky.

4. If you could change three things about your life instantly by snapping your fingers, what would you wish for before the big snap? That I'd have the sense not to snap. I saw that Twilight Zone, and I know the moral to this story.

5. What two qualities do you possess that you would never, ever change? The constant need to paint, draw, or create any kind of output. Without it, I'd be bored and so would my walls. What else? The ability to pinch people and pick up objects with my toes.

6. When you come across something you want to change in your life, what’s the first step? To say, Oh Hell, because change is a pain in the ass. Beyond that, make a list, or 5 if it's a big change.

7. At what moment in your day are you most at peace? This time of not-so-morning when I'm drinking coffee and preparing for the day. Though, there is enough anticipation of the day's unknown, that it might not be so peaceful. I suppose then it's more honest to say I'm at the most peace in the thick of the work day, when I'm part of a productive and therefore peaceful group of people.


Just because someone is meant to be, doesn't mean they are meant to be who you thought they were, or should be. My meaning plus your meaning, often equals an entirely unexpected meaning that reduces our original meanings to mere hopes and projections.

Sunday, January 27

Iridescent Lung Dust

My four days off flew away, and left me in a cloud of dust. I slept, painted, read Lonesome Dove, (a good book really can solve most of your problems), painted, slept, read more, and on and on for the last few days, and it was wonderful. Did some baking too. I might get one more day off tomorrow, but that is still undetermined. If so, I'll try to get some mario world done. It doesn't take much to make me all better.


The last three books I've loved, were all borrowed from different people.

I misplaced myself at a strange girl's house the other night, but then found A Stranger in A Strange Land on the shelf, and all was right again.

Transitions are chaotic and drawn-out, that's why they make toddlers cry.


Wednesday, January 23

Tissue Soup

I just dropped my snotty tissue into my chunky soup and fished it out with my spoon, and it is still tasty. The soup, not the tissue, though it's probably not that untasty all coated with beefy soup. I'm smart enough to know when I need a day off, so today, I'm getting paid to not be at work. Sweet. This vacation time thing is a new concept for me. Bummer is that the germs in my body heard about my freed-up schedule and attacked me in my sleep, so now I'm crusty and whiny, and my face hurts. And, no-one, not one person, is willing to retort with "well, it's killing me," and it really bums me out. What's the point of having your face hurt if nobody is willing to take up their end of the joke? Funny thing is that I had totally forgotten that tonight was supposed to be the fun reward night. I was supposed to go with one other staff and 3 kids to a Sonics game and now I will miss out. Why am I deleting things? As I was saying,, a basketball game sounds awful this evening, when all I want to do is wrap up in a sarape and read Lonesome Dove.

Tuesday, January 22

Not So Uplifting

This post needs several disclaimers.

1. My latest painting is vivid and beautiful, and it comforts me.
2. I really do love my job and there are many fun and easy shifts.
3. I still question the purpose of this blog. It may just be to hear myself talk, and that's ok.
4. I'm aware that I can double-think myself into oblivion, and my awareness of that spits me through an even thicker tunnel of double-thinkery that dumps me back into my painting room and then I'm ok.
5. I just annoyed myself by sounding like the being john malko-whatever movie, and now I'm seriously digressing.
6. What I like about being single is that I can work until midnight. I like it that I can come home and do whatever I want. I don't like that when I do want to talk, there is nobody here. If I didn't work until midnight, I could rendezvous with other people who go to sleep at a reasonable hour. But, then I'd miss out on the action of the swing shift.
7. On to the action, and finally to the main topic of the email.
8. Almost. Part of my funk tonight is being annoyed all over again about a bunch of crap I just deleted because I can't go that far in a blog.


It was a terrible work weekend. Laundry Bucket Banger freaked out all weekend long, as opposed to once every day or so for a few minutes. He got arrested a few times for trashing the house, and each time spent a few hours in the hospital before returning to us. I almost wrote a post like this on saturday night when he disappeared for 8 hours and we all worried like crazy. Another disclaimer, this kid is awesome most of the time and one of my favorites. He really needs a place more equipped for him, but there isn't one. Anyway, he flipped again tonight and I ended up in between him and a pregnant girl calling him a fucking retard. Thanks, girly, that's helpful. So, she locks herself in the bathroom while he tries to kick down the door, and in the fray, I got hit in the face. It's not bruise-worthy, just a sore nose, and to the point, finally, yes, of this story is that he went to jail for assault. For assaulting me, and now I'll have to go to court and testify, and the whole thing was stupid, and he shouldn't have been in our house anyway with volatile pregnant girls and random heavy objects strewn about. So, it sucks and I feel guilty because I didn't want him to go to jail and I had to be the one who decided on the spot whether or not to press charges. The problem was that he was still freaking out and unsafe to the other kids, and the mental health people wouldn't take him. So, the safest place for him seemed to be juvie and that is fucked up. So, cheers to my blog, I feel just a hair better now.

Thursday, January 17

Definitely Morning

.........and set the grass on fire?

Wednesday, January 16

Not so morning

Late night painting makes foggy mornings. Purple-ish/blue-ish tree fog. Who put leaves on my tree?

Sunday, January 13


Freshly Realigned, clicked into sync. And look!

Eagle vs. Shark

And then look again at the trailer link. I couldn't link it straight there, because I'm a computer dork. And not the kind you call for help, either. But, seriously look.

Tuesday, January 8

How could I forget?

Happy Birthday, David Bowie,

I'm sorry we couldn't be together today. I hope you got my messages, cards, and offers of undying affection and sexual favors. Don't worry, I was able to read between the lines of your restraining orders and threats of prosecution, and I know you'll always love me too. If there is an afterlife, I'll wait for you there, and you can croon to me in your ghostly fashion. Although since you're my parents' age, you'll probably get there first, so you just hold on and I'll be there after I do a few more things here first. In the meantime, I have your posters, records, books, and sparkly buttons to keep me snug at night.

Love forever,

Your only fan that truly matters, Pearly.


Overthinking, doublethinking, or just listening? Whose guts? My guts. Not my supervisor's, friends' or others' guts. My initial guts said don't be wooed by money and a quick ticket to Seattle. I tried to chalk up my guts to fears, but I'm not fearful. My head is clear and screaming at me to listen. I don't really want this job, and I realize I'm more fearful of getting it than not. Right town, right pay, but I'm pretty sure it's the wrong job. So, I have fancy new interview clothes for the interview on Friday. I shall go through the motions wile I become sure of my path, partly for practice, partly just in case it is the right job. But, I feel like I'm wasting their time. Shower now, then last night's dream pondering. Though I don't feel much need to ponder it, it's pretty clear. I might have to paint it though, because visually, it was intense.

Friday, January 4

Teeter-totters always were my favorite

A friend told me tonight that my life is really intense. It's true, and seems it always has been. The times when I've not been very happy are the few times when life is calm, (calm or placid?), or when there is only one issue to focus on. Is this unhealthy or is this just me? If nobody manned the emergency rooms, we'd be screwed, right? Same with teen shelters, which feels very ER'ish a lot of the time. Legally speaking, we fall into the ER status of a "break as needed" facility, with the expectation of being able to go non-stop for 8-12 hours. This has never been a problem for me, though I do crash hard at the end of the week. My relationships outside of work have nearly equal intensity, and that is where I'm pondering the proper balance. Someone too calm doesn't want to hear about my job or gets worried about me, which makes me feel antsy and suffocated. Someone too intense throws off my balance, and my life becomes chaotic. I'm now applying for a potentially more chaotic job, and though I'm intimidated, I want it badly, and know I'll rock it if I get the chance. But, who will want to hear about it? More and more, I like the idea of a long distance intense relationship. Maintain the intensity in short bursts at a 60 mile long arm's length, assuming this is an option. Otherwise, I'll split my focus between the job and a dog, and resolve not to date my clients, figuratively speaking of course. Maybe that's the imbalance right now, I am presently dogless. But, you can't force these things. The right dog will arrive at the right time. Ideally, I'll get this job, find the right home, and on my walk home from the local coffee shop, some mangy creature will tentatively approach. Once I've determined that it is indeed a canine and not about to attack, then I'll invite it back to my place for something squeaky and a bite to eat. The clicking of its nails on my hard wood floors will echo my universe clicking into sync.

Tuesday, January 1

Involuntary Red Rover

How exciiiting! Can you say that like Robert Downey Jr does in Hugo Pool? I can. I never knew that mauve was the first invented color, or that Yarnwhore has a blog, or that Tracie got an easel and paints. Can I really be this enlightened just since becoming bloggy again? And without the "friend" politics of myspace even. And I hate Fucking Tom! Well, I should stop then. Sorry, bad joke, but he really grated on me.

Anyway, work is too fresh to regurgitate. Staying up until midnight with the yout's may have been a mistake, but really all was fine until 11:50. Suddenly, the anticipation of counting backwards from ten, for a reason other than someone being in trouble, fragmented a few individual's brains into shards of seizuring pinballs. Knitting needles, laundry bucket banging, and a third, most helpful child, informing me that I'm really not helping the situation by refusing to let them watch Tremors. That was my mistake. Not denying Tremors, (admittedly, a damn fine movie, but too much weaponry for this group), but turning to respond to Junior Staff with my arm outstretched across a doorway. Laundry Bucket Banger must have mistaken my get lost command to JS as the nostalgic, masochistic cry of "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Laundry Bucket Banger Right Over." And over he flew. Damn, that game is just as painful as it always was.

Apparently, regurgitation is not so much of a problem.

But, for those of you who avoid these situations and think I'm on crack, let's end with the positives. After all, it is a new year, and 2008 equals 10, which equals 1, which means we're all lucky. Before the demons were released, pictionary was played, vibrant collaborative paintings were created, fisher price toys had their moment in the sun, and What Dreams May Come made the yout's declare, "Whoa, Dude, that's intense." And it was. Happy New Year.