||[Aug. 7th, 2011|06:56 am]
What are you studying or did you study in school? Is it related to what you want to do for your career?
A patient was just asking me something similar whilst commenting on how compassionate is my personality. My only answer came from a point of honesty, that I had to go to school to learn what I needed to learn to do what I do, but that compassion cannot be taught.
Words cannot describe how good my night was. I am at a point of desperation, desiring to record all the high points before the beer and euphoria leave me.
Orientation at work is going well. It is very hard work, constant and with few breaks, and the computer system is new and unlike anything I have ever done. I make mistakes constantly, but I am also doing a lot of good. I keep thinking that it's just going too well, and at times I am afraid that I am going to mess up so severely that I will not be forgiven. I meditate on banishing these thoughts.
Switching back to a night schedule also comes with a certain level of disorientation. When the sun comes up at dawn, there is a certain organic level of panic that hits me without logical reason. So I got home this morning and called my mom with all my unnatural concerns.
Because I am scheduled overnight for twelve hours, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday this upcoming week. And then I have to desperately seek eight hours of sleep on Thursday in order to drive overnight and hit Nashville before rush hour, so that I can spend a few hours during the daylight before the hotel will let me rent a room to rest. The things that I do for love... But before that, I am in the midst of a domestic war on fleas, and I know that I will be gone for four or five days, and I need to ensure that my cat is cared for, and I need a vacuum cleaner, and I owe my friends who feed my cat, and I really really wanted to get with my brother while I have time to show him how I place an entire organic chicken into eighteen meals, and I really don't know how I will have the time to do everything that has to be done.
Well, my mom was anchored and set my mind at ease, said as she usually does exactly what I needed to hear. "Skylar is not dying," she said. She promised to get two chickens, to prepare one her way, and to keep the other for when I have time. She told me to do what I needed to do, within the time that I have. And then I slept.
Nine and a half hours later, I awakened to being eaten by fleas. Margaret via facebook recommended diatomaceous earth, and T.K. agreed to feed Roman again in my absence. So I fed the cat and said goodbye, and then I set out to be a hunter-gatherer once more.
The co-op indeed had diatomaceous earth. The cashier commented on my late grandfather's bat shirt. In the parking lot once again, I was elated. My night began with a major victory.
James called, asked if I wanted to hang out. Indeed I did, and I promised to call when I came back to that side of town, but explained at the time my intentions for gathering some more much needed supplies. He agreed to see me later when I was back. So at the liquor store I picked up some German beer, and I found that Blackheart has become more affordable than Captain Morgan or Sailor Jerry.
I don't know how I made it to Pet Smart before close, but I stocked up on cat food and cat food, and a scratching post, and cat toys. The only thing I didn't have time to ask for was cat grass, but I kind of thought he'll hold out for just a little while longer, at least. Because Blue Buffalo has fruits and things in the blend anyway.
Then at Target I found a much needed Dirt Devil, and aluminum foil, and Scottish tape, and fingernail clippers so that I do not have to keep borrowing my brother's.
I forgot cigarette lighter fluid. It isn't urgent.
Feeling accomplished but horribly hazy, I looped back around for a coffee at Arsaga's. On the drive there I ran into a sudden appreciation, feeling intensely blessed and euphoric. Again I was a silly little girl, running around happy in Illyria, asking of my Father in heaven, "Where are we?"
And His voice came clearly to me, answering sweetly from a point of strength and stability, and my Holy Spirit like a mother told me, "We are in Fayetteville, baby." I was home. And I was happy.
At Arsaga's I should have expected that conversation would be wonderful, needed, and engaging. Fortunately D-Rok was kind of ready to go about the time that I was, and I was happy to drive him back toward the direction I needed to be heading at the time. So I dropped him off at his house, and we said our farewells.
As soon as he disembarked from my car, James called, said he was getting tired, but that it might just be the booze. I encouraged him to stay awake just a few minutes longer, promised to buy him dinner. He agreed.
I drove alone again. But I was never alone. My God was always there with me by my side.
I had high hopes and kind of expected the Vietnamese place to be on par with the one in Baltimore. K had already spoken good things about it. So at the restaurant I was pleased not to have been disappointed. It was everything I had hoped, and the bonus was that James enjoyed it as well. We talked, and it was a very comforting kind of connection, like we might have been best of friends in a past life or something. just my take on it at least. We seem to have become good friends pretty quickly.
So dinner was awesome, and then when we were done we went back to his place for beers and music. Remind me to buy them a DVD player as thanks for watching the cat. Anyway, fermented grain flowed, and so did the Holy Spirit. We spoke of philosophy and spiritual things while bad anime went into good anime on the muted television, and we listened to Morrissey then something else dark and gothic then punk then metal then Judas Priest.
James said he would rather care for my cat in his own place, and so I agreed to drop him off on Thursday before I left town. should be a good thing for all considered.
I excused myself before the sun came up and greeted the rain outside. To avoid Dickson Street during the night hours I took the long way around. Off College I rounded the turn on North, and for a fleeting instant my mind wandered and asked a question which has no answer. But instantly the track changed on the iPod shuffle to speak for the Father the only answer that can be. And with a Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley took me home.
Back home again, I am safe from the sun. Armed with powdered oyster shells, my war on domestic vampires takes a turn in my favour. The cat and I are together, and I find it funny to see toy mice on the carpet now. Still I am happy. I wish to revel in this into the morning.