Pelagia Noctiluca

Pelagia Noctiluca

Monday, September 29

28 Days and a Wake Up

New job, new job, new, job. My excitement props up my fatigue like dewy tent poles. I've been a counselor in a group home for teens for the last two years, working until midnight or later five nights a week. We're all about extremes, leave your moderation at the door, please. Wait, we don't say please. We say, "Look Bitch! Give me my fucking sweet snack, or I will fucking kick your ass! Fuck you! I am being respectful!" Or in a happy moment, "Fuck, Dog! This is best fucking porkchop I've had in my whole fucking life! You fucking rock! This is tight!"

Fucking, fucking, fuckity, fuck fuck. A quiet one passed through recently, and carefully whispered to me, "I never knew there were so many ways to use "fuck" in a sentence. I think I'm ready to go home now." She was one of the small handful of non-abused/non-abusive kids, who are sent to us for a reality check. Suddenly their parents are not so unreasonable, and they are desperate to return home to normal rules and boundaries.

Things I've lost track of: How many holes have been punched in walls, though I could estimate the number next to my face. How many times I've been called a bitch. The number of police visits, abuse stories, chairs thrown, and incident reports all blend together. However, the number of actual contacted hits in the last two years? Two. One between 2 kids that ended in less than 10 seconds, and one in my face. I hurt myself far more playing basketball.

Positive things I've lost track of: The number of ridiculous, laughing basketball games I've played. The number of children's stories I've read that the kids have never heard of. How many times I've watched a teenager draw for the first time, write a poem, play a song, and realize that they are actually good at it. Even, finally, the number of successful home placements and jobs has become blurry.

Now, it's time to get some sleep, to slow down a bit. I'll be working with a lot of the same kids, but in the daytime, and in fewer numbers. I'm afraid I'll get bored and antsy, but I'm sure I'll find something interesting to channel my energy. Something that involves less swearing. A pair of sparkly Mary Janes skipped by me on a four year old last week, and I said aloud, and luckily just out of earshot, "Damn, those are some nice fucking shoes!"

Saturday, September 27

Chopped Thoughts

It's a lovely morning for a woodchipper. Oh look, it has a little flag on it. Wake up, get some mulching in before lunch. What? It's 1 pm? How does that happen? No wonder my morning dreams were so noisy. Race cars, a broken xerox machine, and a flock of bees drowned out the words of the other dream participants. Eww, and one of them became an asshole english teacher from highschool, who I haven't thought of in years. Weird - to Betsy - Mr Scott - how the hell did he get in my dream? I can hardly remember having any interaction with him. The woodchipper turned someone else into him.

Sunny, crisp and blue today. I wish work started now. One more month of midnight swing shift, then the new job begins. Moving to a new time of day is almost as good as moving dwellings.

Thursday, September 25


You know your family is materialistic when ups trucks trigger flashbacks.

Wednesday, September 24

But why?

So now, youtube won't work for me here? Oh well, at least I'm back home in green blogger land.

Thursday, September 18

Wordpress is holding me hostage

That dashboard feature is still gone. I can't post or delete my blog. I'm a technological retard. Blogger is for retards. Yay for retards. I tell my work kids not to say retard. It's inappropriate and I like to reserve it for my own personal use. One of my favorite co-workers says, "if it doesn't have a sexual orientation or a developmental disability, please don't call it gay or retarded." That phrase is reserved for staff. Thank you.

Monday, September 15


Back here now. I have no patience for plug-ins, the dashboard dealy is missing, and the font over at wordpress is making me itchy. Blogger's puffy print for computer retards suits me spot on.

I disappeared for a while, mired in social services burn out. I applied for about 52 jobs and 38 apartments in the last 2 weeks, and landed, nothing. Some exaggeration there, but not much. Then I had a good day again, and I was very happy to not have gotten any of the 73 jobs I applied for. Now, I am testing out a day schedule this week, in hopes for a little change and more sleep. It's 7:22 am. This is airport time. Except I'm only going four blocks.