Last night was my final Friday Night Face Off Show. Marcelo, Sean, Camilo, Shannon, Mish, Robert, Dana (and me and Steph) played. Serpico came out to MC despite his feeling under the weather. Kevin sat it out in the audience since the cast was already so large. The house was lively and peppered with friends and lovers. Steph and I truly went out in style surrounded by the best of the best and I couldn't have asked for anything more. Afterwards everyone "yes anded" a hike to Bukowski's and so I ended my stay with FNFO with drinks and feasting at that same place on a hot July day I was once welcomed into the fold.
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Recently I have been taking serious stock of how amazing the people in my life are. Especially people whom I don't expect special favors from, not because I don't know they are wonderful, but just by virtue of how removed our lives seem to be. For example, last week at work Joan gave me five meal tickets for free when I asked to buy one. And she wouldn't take my money. She said "So you can go back to Japan some day." What? I had no idea she cared. Amazing. Twice in the past month someone has driven a ridiculous distance to drive me home. John did it one night when it was snowing and I missed my train, and last week TC offered me a ride home just so I wouldn't have to leave karaoke before my name was called. What? Yes. And neither of them live anywhere near me. Laura stayed up later than she wanted to just to proof read one of my sketches the other night and make it funnier; Jay fixed my refrigerator light because it was driving me crazy; my aunt paid for lunch and called it Christmas, the other day. The list goes on and on.
It makes me happy, it makes me grateful, and it makes me want to be a better person.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Recommended Reading
I read a lot of books, and not surprisingly, have read quite a few about homelessness. Here are my top recommendations right now. In order of most enjoyable to most informative:
The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls
Entertaining and at times shocking, Walls' short memoir is plot and character driven. The narrative moves quickly and smoothly with realistic dialogue and genuine, three dimensional portraits of her family members. My favorite thing about it was that Walls never explains what you're supposed to think of her disjointed childhood and her homeless parents. She just tells you about them. A quick read, and an amazing story that anyone could enjoy.
The Mole People, Jennifer Toth
I can not recommend this book enough. My copy is worn and torn and currently on loan to someone. What Toth found when she went beneath the streets to clarify the "mole people" myth was astonishing. Her book is fluid and honest. She covers identities as requested, and even reveals some as requested. There are photos. Amazing journalism for such a young person. This book does not reflect the experience of all homeless people, however it forces the reader to start really expanding his or her understanding of homelessness.
Actually, even if you really don't care about homelessness as a social issue, it's just a fascinating study of behaviors and the human mind. For example, several of the communities Toth visited operated under their own governmental systems. They had mayors and regulators. They had electricity siphoned from the subway, and runners who brought food down. And they preferred this life in the tunnels to life above ground as we know it, and they adapted.
Others of course, had no choice originally and then lost the ability to ever make the choice again.
The first time I read it I did not know any homeless people personally. It helped me to look at people in all walks of life in a whole new way. Now that I work with this population every day, each time I re-read the stories I see something new I didn't see before.
The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls
Entertaining and at times shocking, Walls' short memoir is plot and character driven. The narrative moves quickly and smoothly with realistic dialogue and genuine, three dimensional portraits of her family members. My favorite thing about it was that Walls never explains what you're supposed to think of her disjointed childhood and her homeless parents. She just tells you about them. A quick read, and an amazing story that anyone could enjoy.
The Mole People, Jennifer Toth
I can not recommend this book enough. My copy is worn and torn and currently on loan to someone. What Toth found when she went beneath the streets to clarify the "mole people" myth was astonishing. Her book is fluid and honest. She covers identities as requested, and even reveals some as requested. There are photos. Amazing journalism for such a young person. This book does not reflect the experience of all homeless people, however it forces the reader to start really expanding his or her understanding of homelessness.
Actually, even if you really don't care about homelessness as a social issue, it's just a fascinating study of behaviors and the human mind. For example, several of the communities Toth visited operated under their own governmental systems. They had mayors and regulators. They had electricity siphoned from the subway, and runners who brought food down. And they preferred this life in the tunnels to life above ground as we know it, and they adapted.
Others of course, had no choice originally and then lost the ability to ever make the choice again.
The first time I read it I did not know any homeless people personally. It helped me to look at people in all walks of life in a whole new way. Now that I work with this population every day, each time I re-read the stories I see something new I didn't see before.
Great for people who love history and/or Boston history specifically and/or who are seeking more information about homelessness in the Hub. The dense didactic passages peppered with names and dates are staggering at first, but are for the most part skillfully blended into the stories of two different homeless women in the 1980s.
The descriptions of the women's experiences create a counterpoint to the historical time line as Pine Street Inn and other recognizable services get on their feet. The dichotomy of the two narratives serves to illustrate two variations of "homeless life." Because the stories are paired with the nitty gritty of the socio-political and historical backdrop the reader walks away with more than just a sentimental feeling about two street women, but with a fresh understanding of the causes of homelessness as well as knowledge of the roots of all our current programming. And hopefully, therefore, with a better understanding of what changes may need to be made for the future.
The descriptions of the women's experiences create a counterpoint to the historical time line as Pine Street Inn and other recognizable services get on their feet. The dichotomy of the two narratives serves to illustrate two variations of "homeless life." Because the stories are paired with the nitty gritty of the socio-political and historical backdrop the reader walks away with more than just a sentimental feeling about two street women, but with a fresh understanding of the causes of homelessness as well as knowledge of the roots of all our current programming. And hopefully, therefore, with a better understanding of what changes may need to be made for the future.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thank You
Three Hole Punch had our final hump night show at Improv Boston last night. We laughed, we cried, we read from our journals, and I chewed on Shannon's hair.
We'd like to thank Improv Boston and everyone there who made this possible. Thank you to everyone who came out and supported us on these cold Wednesday nights. And thank you to those who supported us from afar with phone calls and messages of encouragement*.
We're sad for our first ever "run," to be ending, but are looking forward to some one night engagements as well a few road shows coming up. We'll always have Berlin.
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* Thanks, Mom!
We'd like to thank Improv Boston and everyone there who made this possible. Thank you to everyone who came out and supported us on these cold Wednesday nights. And thank you to those who supported us from afar with phone calls and messages of encouragement*.
We're sad for our first ever "run," to be ending, but are looking forward to some one night engagements as well a few road shows coming up. We'll always have Berlin.
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* Thanks, Mom!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Three Hole Punch reminds you that we love you even if you don't come to our last Hump Night show.
Three Hole Punch is performing our final Hump Night show tomorrow night at Improv Boston! We'll be bringing back our favorite sketches from this month's run as well as revealing the final chapter of Hallo, Germany! If we're feeling share-y, we'll read real life diary entries to you, and as always, we promise to improvise the crap out of your suggestions.
Show starts at 8pm and will be followed by a very special final performance of Eight to the Table.
2006, Chicago, Il. (left to right) Carly Mandell, Natalie Baseman, Amy "Butts" Koske, Susan Messing, me, Liz Caradonna, Steph Jones and Calla Cofield.
Everyone here besides Susan Messing was involved in Three Hole Punch at the time. Susan Messing was just teaching us how to be ballsier. "Horny!" she yelled. "Horny horny!" we responded obediently. And so it was.
Show starts at 8pm and will be followed by a very special final performance of Eight to the Table.
2006, Chicago, Il. (left to right) Carly Mandell, Natalie Baseman, Amy "Butts" Koske, Susan Messing, me, Liz Caradonna, Steph Jones and Calla Cofield.Everyone here besides Susan Messing was involved in Three Hole Punch at the time. Susan Messing was just teaching us how to be ballsier. "Horny!" she yelled. "Horny horny!" we responded obediently. And so it was.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Mmmmm Soft Places
Not a lot of time to write anything substantial today. All my free time went to sketch writing for the new IA Mainstage show. At work, I costumed A Midsummer Night's Dream almost completely, which was unexpected. The students were super excited for their new digs. I have found that in school play directing there is a distinct kind of science to the production schedule, even in a truncated time period like the ones I operate within. The costumes are neither revealed nor handed off until all the lines are learned and the play has been run at least once off book. Then the costumes are a reward. However, it's my preference to wait until the show has been run several times off book with me nit picking and nagging the kids until they are almost sick of the show. Then WABAM! Costumes. Something to make the old new, and to rekindle the energy of the production process.
After work Keith and I drove to the MSPCA to pick up a sad package: the cremains of Princess Sabrina Diamond Fluffbottom. I haven't seen Keith in ages, but he emailed me and asked for the ride. I was happy to oblige and sad that I didn't have more time to spend. Keith told me the story of the night she died which had us both close to tears by the end. R.I.P Miss Fluffbottom.
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Three Hole Punch got another positive mention in a blog this week. The salty and dapper Neil Reynolds of Code Duello and IB Mainstage plugged our show's final week.
Code Duello is one of my all time favorite improv shows. I have seen them several times in Boston, and once in New York. The first time I saw them was at the Cantab during a Bastard's Inc. show. I immediately wondered, "If I get good enough will I get to work with those guys?" Even now, I can't believe I know Matt and Neil. When we were all at the DCM last summer 3HP sat for their set and talked about how crazy it is that we have the luck (and blessing) to know them. Needless to say, because my love of their show borders on fanaticism I am floored by Neil's plug and by the kind message he sent to us personally.
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In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you all that my 13 day stretch of work got a nice little break up on the seventh day, Saturday. I took an early train to work, and after a harrowing experience involving a wheelchair, an old man, a discarded mattress and a can of soup in a plastic bag I arrived at work out of breath and sore, but still early for my shift. Ashley had shown up early too, but found out she was not on the schedule. Because the supervisor couldn't approve a float nurse (due to some program wide belt-tightening), Ashley was told she'd have to go back home. Since she needed those hours and I needed the time off she was easily talked into taking my team for the day. Before I knew it I was back at home cleaning my apartment and writing sketches. By noon I had accomplished so much that I even let myself take a nap before church and then had dinner with my adopted grandparents.
People ask how I handle working so much. The answer is that I count on miracles like Saturday all the time.
After work Keith and I drove to the MSPCA to pick up a sad package: the cremains of Princess Sabrina Diamond Fluffbottom. I haven't seen Keith in ages, but he emailed me and asked for the ride. I was happy to oblige and sad that I didn't have more time to spend. Keith told me the story of the night she died which had us both close to tears by the end. R.I.P Miss Fluffbottom.
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Three Hole Punch got another positive mention in a blog this week. The salty and dapper Neil Reynolds of Code Duello and IB Mainstage plugged our show's final week.
Code Duello is one of my all time favorite improv shows. I have seen them several times in Boston, and once in New York. The first time I saw them was at the Cantab during a Bastard's Inc. show. I immediately wondered, "If I get good enough will I get to work with those guys?" Even now, I can't believe I know Matt and Neil. When we were all at the DCM last summer 3HP sat for their set and talked about how crazy it is that we have the luck (and blessing) to know them. Needless to say, because my love of their show borders on fanaticism I am floored by Neil's plug and by the kind message he sent to us personally.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you all that my 13 day stretch of work got a nice little break up on the seventh day, Saturday. I took an early train to work, and after a harrowing experience involving a wheelchair, an old man, a discarded mattress and a can of soup in a plastic bag I arrived at work out of breath and sore, but still early for my shift. Ashley had shown up early too, but found out she was not on the schedule. Because the supervisor couldn't approve a float nurse (due to some program wide belt-tightening), Ashley was told she'd have to go back home. Since she needed those hours and I needed the time off she was easily talked into taking my team for the day. Before I knew it I was back at home cleaning my apartment and writing sketches. By noon I had accomplished so much that I even let myself take a nap before church and then had dinner with my adopted grandparents.
People ask how I handle working so much. The answer is that I count on miracles like Saturday all the time.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Scary Wagers
The recent Hib break out has everyone all up in arms. Mainly because out of the five cases there was one death. And the death was not a child too young to be vaccinated, but a child whose parents deliberately did not vaccinate. It's a kind of Holy War, these vaccine arguments because those who believe in the shots firmly believe they are saving their kids. But those who have reasons against it believe just as firmly that they are doing the same thing.
Parents chose to not vaccinate their children for many reasons. Religion is obviously on the list. Especially religions like Christian Scientists*. But religion aside, there are still a ton of parents who are opposed. Many parents fear the toxins used as preservatives in the vaccines, some of which have been loosely linked to the development of diseases such as autism, Multiple Sclerosis and other genetic, autoimmune or neurological conditions which have increased in prevalence since the introduction of so many new vaccines.
Or else they fear that the manner in which vaccines are prepared (generally in a blood broth from an animal like a pig or a horse or a monkey) is not safe. People have even questioned if this is the cause of some cancers. Not far fetched at all. In fact, the polio vaccine in the 1950s was largely contaminated with the cancer virus SV40. The FDA does not regulate the purity of the bio-materials vaccines are grown in. That is something left up to the drug manufacturers. That blood might not be clean. But it might be! But maybe not!
The reasons to vaccinate your children are largely to protect them from horrible and untimely deaths from preventable illnesses. In addition, vaccinating your own child helps to build up herd immunity. The concept of herd immunity is simple: if almost everyone in a community is immune to a disease, the disease will not infiltrate and harm those who are not immune (let's say, the 1% religious folks, and fetuses and infants too young to get the vaccines). Therefore some children of anti-vaccine parents enjoy protection just by living as a minority among those who have received a vaccine.
It is also true however that in the case of vaccines which involve the injection of a live attenuated virus - MMR and also the TB vaccine), that newly vaccinated members of the "herd," can actually pass the disease along to the unprotected in the days before the virus is killed off. The unprotected will either A) get very sick and possibly die or B) develop a passive immunity that is undetected because their immune system took care of the job on its own.
The benefits of having most of the population vaccinated are clear, however the risks seem great. Although I chided my friend Ayla for days about not vaccinating my godson, just one look at the site Think Twice shut me up for a while. Although no nationally recognized studies link Autism to the MMR vaccine, story after story of families turned upside down after a child receives one of these shots become hard to ignore. One of the greatest and most published case for a link between MMR and autism to this day is of course Hannah Poling.
The official stance of the Center for Disease Control, the FDA, and the American Academy of Pediatrics is that the MMR vaccine does not cause autism. They have studies that you can download and read online. The Institute of Medicine published this safety review. The CDC is quite sure that the Hep B vac doesn't cause MS, and would like you to be sure as well.
I feel like the number of immunizations children receive today is too high. I do not think babies in developed countries need Hep B vaccines, for example, unless the mother has Hep.
However, I also think that vaccination technology has come a long way, and several vaccines are absolutely necessary. But why stop where we are? I demand more regulation instated for vaccine preparation. Why isn't anyone testing the carcinogenic potential of sheep agar? Why isn't anyone searching for an alternative to thimerosal??
I'm irrationally angered by the lack of consensus surrounding this issue. I like my medical issues to be resolved by hard facts. But the hard facts don't appease me here because the data is as fuzzy as an ethical dilemma, not scientific at all. It says, yes some children developed autism after this shot, but they were outliers and so we are not even entertaining the link. It says, although mercury poisoning is rare you are a bad mother if you vaccinate your child because you know you're doing him harm. It's better to count on herd immunity to protect him from a meningitis that may take his life than to knowingly give him what may become cancer.
It says you're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
My heart goes out to the families effected by the Hib outbreak. Your choice to not immunize cost the life of a child. But I see how a choice the other way could have done the same.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* and Jehovah's Witnesses but only until the late 1940s when someone (I forget his name) made the decision that possibly receiving a bit of pig blood in a shot is not the same as drinking blood, and therefore not against Scripture. Just in time for Polio. Phew!
Parents chose to not vaccinate their children for many reasons. Religion is obviously on the list. Especially religions like Christian Scientists*. But religion aside, there are still a ton of parents who are opposed. Many parents fear the toxins used as preservatives in the vaccines, some of which have been loosely linked to the development of diseases such as autism, Multiple Sclerosis and other genetic, autoimmune or neurological conditions which have increased in prevalence since the introduction of so many new vaccines.
Or else they fear that the manner in which vaccines are prepared (generally in a blood broth from an animal like a pig or a horse or a monkey) is not safe. People have even questioned if this is the cause of some cancers. Not far fetched at all. In fact, the polio vaccine in the 1950s was largely contaminated with the cancer virus SV40. The FDA does not regulate the purity of the bio-materials vaccines are grown in. That is something left up to the drug manufacturers. That blood might not be clean. But it might be! But maybe not!
The reasons to vaccinate your children are largely to protect them from horrible and untimely deaths from preventable illnesses. In addition, vaccinating your own child helps to build up herd immunity. The concept of herd immunity is simple: if almost everyone in a community is immune to a disease, the disease will not infiltrate and harm those who are not immune (let's say, the 1% religious folks, and fetuses and infants too young to get the vaccines). Therefore some children of anti-vaccine parents enjoy protection just by living as a minority among those who have received a vaccine.
It is also true however that in the case of vaccines which involve the injection of a live attenuated virus - MMR and also the TB vaccine), that newly vaccinated members of the "herd," can actually pass the disease along to the unprotected in the days before the virus is killed off. The unprotected will either A) get very sick and possibly die or B) develop a passive immunity that is undetected because their immune system took care of the job on its own.
The benefits of having most of the population vaccinated are clear, however the risks seem great. Although I chided my friend Ayla for days about not vaccinating my godson, just one look at the site Think Twice shut me up for a while. Although no nationally recognized studies link Autism to the MMR vaccine, story after story of families turned upside down after a child receives one of these shots become hard to ignore. One of the greatest and most published case for a link between MMR and autism to this day is of course Hannah Poling.
The official stance of the Center for Disease Control, the FDA, and the American Academy of Pediatrics is that the MMR vaccine does not cause autism. They have studies that you can download and read online. The Institute of Medicine published this safety review. The CDC is quite sure that the Hep B vac doesn't cause MS, and would like you to be sure as well.
I feel like the number of immunizations children receive today is too high. I do not think babies in developed countries need Hep B vaccines, for example, unless the mother has Hep.
However, I also think that vaccination technology has come a long way, and several vaccines are absolutely necessary. But why stop where we are? I demand more regulation instated for vaccine preparation. Why isn't anyone testing the carcinogenic potential of sheep agar? Why isn't anyone searching for an alternative to thimerosal??
I'm irrationally angered by the lack of consensus surrounding this issue. I like my medical issues to be resolved by hard facts. But the hard facts don't appease me here because the data is as fuzzy as an ethical dilemma, not scientific at all. It says, yes some children developed autism after this shot, but they were outliers and so we are not even entertaining the link. It says, although mercury poisoning is rare you are a bad mother if you vaccinate your child because you know you're doing him harm. It's better to count on herd immunity to protect him from a meningitis that may take his life than to knowingly give him what may become cancer.
It says you're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
My heart goes out to the families effected by the Hib outbreak. Your choice to not immunize cost the life of a child. But I see how a choice the other way could have done the same.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* and Jehovah's Witnesses but only until the late 1940s when someone (I forget his name) made the decision that possibly receiving a bit of pig blood in a shot is not the same as drinking blood, and therefore not against Scripture. Just in time for Polio. Phew!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Hope Realized
Today this article from White Coat Notes showed up in my Google alerts. MGH is going to provide a TON of funding for the Department of Mental Health to work more closely with BHCHP.
This is great great news for BHCHP.
Because I believe firmly in holistic approaches to healing, I don't think that health care for anyone is truly complete without a mental health component. Even in the absence of a DSM-IV diagnosis, every one of us has the potential to have spiritual, mental, and emotional disturbances in response to a physical ailment. When these are ignored, well being suffers.
It is especially important in the homeless population to have mental health care due to the fact that mental illness can cause and/or perpetuate homelessness. The prevalence is outstanding, and without proper programming the most we can do in many cases comes down to short term fixes or harm reduction.
Bob Taube is quoted in the above blurb as saying that this move by MGH is going to "revolutionize the way we practice medicine," and I couldn't agree more.
This is great great news for BHCHP.
Because I believe firmly in holistic approaches to healing, I don't think that health care for anyone is truly complete without a mental health component. Even in the absence of a DSM-IV diagnosis, every one of us has the potential to have spiritual, mental, and emotional disturbances in response to a physical ailment. When these are ignored, well being suffers.
It is especially important in the homeless population to have mental health care due to the fact that mental illness can cause and/or perpetuate homelessness. The prevalence is outstanding, and without proper programming the most we can do in many cases comes down to short term fixes or harm reduction.
Bob Taube is quoted in the above blurb as saying that this move by MGH is going to "revolutionize the way we practice medicine," and I couldn't agree more.
Friday, January 23, 2009
"Tell me more about that..."
Me: So forget us. What would you say is the biggest health issue you're facing right now?
New Admit: I like to think of myself in this situation as a race car brought in to an auto shop. I got two flat tires (indicates swollen legs), my hydraulic fluids are low, I got some shot pistons, you know? I'm just here to get it all fixed up before I go out to the race again.
***********radio static********************
Me: So... now what?
Patient Being Discharged: I don't know. I just need to get away from everyone. People talking about drinking and drugging. That's what got me into this mess. I just want to be clean and sober. I don't even want to hear about it. You go out in the streets, even in the shelters, it's all over the place. I'm an addict. I can't be around it. I'm going to keep failing. All I want to do is quit and get my real life back.
*********radio static *********************
Me: You mentioned you're feeling "down." Tell me more about that.
LongTerm Patient: I'm feeling trapped here. I want to get out, but I can't. I'm sick and I have no where to go. I'm a person likes being free. I want it all. A door, a lock, my key. I want to come and go, no one tells me no. I'm just feeling bad. You know them birds like vultures? Like seagulls too? You see them circle around another one, can't do anything about it? That's how I feel now. Like that.
***********radio static*******************
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I'm just a girl, guess i'm some kind of freak...
Yesterday I worked a productive 8 hour shift and arrived home just in time to shower and hop out the door to IA Mainstage rehearsal. Invigorated and feeling warm, at 7pm Steph and I hailed a cab and jetted to Improv Boston for our 8pm show. We met Scott, Adam Brooks and the practical half of Three Hole Punch, practiced our new lounge singer format, rehearsed the new sketches, and then pulled off a successful show for a great house. The audience included friends from work, as well as some current and past members of the Umass comedy scene. We all hiked up to karaoke, where my past mingled with my present amid nachos and songs made popular by the band Asia. Today, a 12 hour shift and then a "preview" show at IA. I do live a charmed life. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I began to drink yerba mate again this week after an impulse buy at Harvest. I have relished the taste of a well brewed cup since I first tried it years ago, but I got out of the habit of drinking it last summer when I picked up chai again.
My favorite thing about yerba mate is that it creates an state of mental alertness that is second to nothing besides an actual good night's sleep. It doesn't make my heart pound or my thoughts race. I stay focused, deliberate. And I don't get jittery or "crash," the way I do with coffee or a red bull.
The downside? Like any CNS stimulant it is a highly effective appetite suppressant. Which is not useful to someone trying to maintain a BMI slightly above "danger zone."
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I began to drink yerba mate again this week after an impulse buy at Harvest. I have relished the taste of a well brewed cup since I first tried it years ago, but I got out of the habit of drinking it last summer when I picked up chai again.
My favorite thing about yerba mate is that it creates an state of mental alertness that is second to nothing besides an actual good night's sleep. It doesn't make my heart pound or my thoughts race. I stay focused, deliberate. And I don't get jittery or "crash," the way I do with coffee or a red bull.
The downside? Like any CNS stimulant it is a highly effective appetite suppressant. Which is not useful to someone trying to maintain a BMI slightly above "danger zone."
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Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A quickie while you're away
1. I loved yesterday's post from It's Not a Lecture, but not for its political message.
Propaganda is propaganda even when it's "art" *. (And even when it's for "your" team.)
Political agendas aside, I loved the post because I love words so, so, so much and I love seeing them in varying colors and sizes and until now had never seen a word cloud generator. (I know. I am internet sheltered.) However, now I can't get enough of my new toy. Poems, blogs, AIM conversations. It's all in.
Songs by The Weakerthans work wonderfully well: "This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open.)"**
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* By "art," here I of course am referring to a computer generated image of text input with a finite number of aesthetic manipulations left available to the program's user.
** Because The Weakerthans were so wordy in the album "Left and Leaving," I have only included the second half of "This is a Fire Door..." from the section, in my opinion, where it starts to really take off.
Propaganda is propaganda even when it's "art" *. (And even when it's for "your" team.)
Political agendas aside, I loved the post because I love words so, so, so much and I love seeing them in varying colors and sizes and until now had never seen a word cloud generator. (I know. I am internet sheltered.) However, now I can't get enough of my new toy. Poems, blogs, AIM conversations. It's all in.
Songs by The Weakerthans work wonderfully well: "This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open.)"**
------------------------------------------
* By "art," here I of course am referring to a computer generated image of text input with a finite number of aesthetic manipulations left available to the program's user.
** Because The Weakerthans were so wordy in the album "Left and Leaving," I have only included the second half of "This is a Fire Door..." from the section, in my opinion, where it starts to really take off.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hit the Ground Running, Don't look back.
Today marks the beginning of a thirteen day stretch of work. Needless to say, I am pouring myself another tall glass of water and chewing on a Mojo bar as we speak.
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Today at work everyone watched the Inauguration. Some patients watched it in their beds. Some gathered in common areas. Some of the nurses or practitioners were able to get smooth enough video streaming on cnn.com or nbc.com. Most of us however, went to the 2nd floor. The spectacles of the day were showing on the flat screen tv in the patient activity room as well as on a huge projector set up in the Atrium. Staff and patients gathered in both rooms to watch the events unfold.
I had the same meta- feelings I had when I was in Tokyo watching the election coverage. "This is what I'll remember," I kept thinking. I will remember a family of people, all of us together there together in our "living room." We are, just as Obama said of America itself, not related by race or religion or blood. Instead, we are related by a common cause. An ideal. A dream. We are related by the idea that everyone matters, everyone deserves a second chance, and most importantly, everyone deserves access to good health care. And we gathered today to hear from a man who promises that we can continue to pursue this dream of ours. I believe in the new administration, but more importantly I think, I look around every single day and see the people I work with and I believe in them. And they believe in me. And we do it every single day.
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Today at work everyone watched the Inauguration. Some patients watched it in their beds. Some gathered in common areas. Some of the nurses or practitioners were able to get smooth enough video streaming on cnn.com or nbc.com. Most of us however, went to the 2nd floor. The spectacles of the day were showing on the flat screen tv in the patient activity room as well as on a huge projector set up in the Atrium. Staff and patients gathered in both rooms to watch the events unfold.
I had the same meta- feelings I had when I was in Tokyo watching the election coverage. "This is what I'll remember," I kept thinking. I will remember a family of people, all of us together there together in our "living room." We are, just as Obama said of America itself, not related by race or religion or blood. Instead, we are related by a common cause. An ideal. A dream. We are related by the idea that everyone matters, everyone deserves a second chance, and most importantly, everyone deserves access to good health care. And we gathered today to hear from a man who promises that we can continue to pursue this dream of ours. I believe in the new administration, but more importantly I think, I look around every single day and see the people I work with and I believe in them. And they believe in me. And we do it every single day.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Chocolate Cake
I shall begin by plugging this week's Three Hole Punch Show.
It's at Improv Boston, at8pm is part of the "Hump Night," and will feature:
- all new improv!
- an update from Germany's most esteemed secretaries
- musical interludes with four illustrious lounge singers and IB's own piano man, Adam Brooks
- secret journal reading
- and more!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last night I went out for dessert with the elusive Mr. Quinn at Finale. He and I had a lot of catching up to do. He is currently working in the South End food and bar scene and it's fascinating to trade stories with him. Feeling decadent, and not a bit self conscious in front of Quinn who has seen me eat entire bowls of brownie mix* in moments of desperation**, I took the waiter's suggestion of the chocolate molten cake. It was desiderata.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* In fact, we used to call it "Michelle Pudding."
** "Desperation" being loosely defined as any moment of any day when I was craving something sweet and did not have other options available to satiate this particular desire. (Or a stove).
It's at Improv Boston, at
- all new improv!
- an update from Germany's most esteemed secretaries
- musical interludes with four illustrious lounge singers and IB's own piano man, Adam Brooks
- secret journal reading
- and more!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last night I went out for dessert with the elusive Mr. Quinn at Finale. He and I had a lot of catching up to do. He is currently working in the South End food and bar scene and it's fascinating to trade stories with him. Feeling decadent, and not a bit self conscious in front of Quinn who has seen me eat entire bowls of brownie mix* in moments of desperation**, I took the waiter's suggestion of the chocolate molten cake. It was desiderata.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* In fact, we used to call it "Michelle Pudding."
** "Desperation" being loosely defined as any moment of any day when I was craving something sweet and did not have other options available to satiate this particular desire. (Or a stove).
Sunday, January 18, 2009
"And late December can drag a man down, you feel it deep in your gut"
It feels like, in the winter time, I have two modes. I either fall into a terrible funk, or I busy myself so much that I can't fall into a funk. This year, I chose the latter. However, being so busy means losing a sense of mindfulness. It also means some pretty unhealthy stretches of days where sleeping becomes a fond memory and I eat an apple for lunch and fried pickles for dinner.
Today, at the suggestion of an old friend, I took a conscious "brain vacation" day. How did I spend it? I'm so glad you* asked!
1. First, I slept in. I woke up early, but saw the snow and turned back over. Like a groundhog.
2. I was going to walk to church and meditate on the way, but I was running late. So I drove. Only to find out I had gotten the mass times wrong. So I parked my car and took a Meditative Sensory Walk.
When I stayed with the Sister of the Good Shepherd back in 2004, some of the best things I learned were different ways of praying and meditating. The Sisters were big on incorporating Eastern techniques into our Western, Judeo Christian practice. One of the coolest things we did was learn to take long walks and concentrate on only the present, only the here and now, through each of the five senses. We did this in the woods and in New York City.
This morning I had a really hard time and realized I am way out of practice. I kept letting my mind wander to the past, or to the future. Or, an even worse habit I have, I began narrating my walk as if I was already journaling about it. "I made my way up the snowy street past the frozen pond..." I had to focus on seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing and feeling things without thinking the words for them. Which is hard to do, to process sensory input without turning it into descriptions. Just to feel, and to know that you are feeling, and to not allow the mind to make it anything else. Great practice especially for someone like me who takes an unhealthy pride in the amount of multitasking she is able to accomplish.
3. I attended Mass, and actually tried to attend Mass in the same way I meditated.
4. I went grocery shopping for the first time since I got home from Japan**. I bought all kinds of healthy and delicious things, and straightaway ate lunch at my cozy kitchen table instead of at my desk. NO COMPUTERS ALLOWED.
5. I drank a TON of water all day and even took a nap.
6. Later, I worked on a video editing project. Yes, the verb is "worked," but this was an important part of vacation. This particular project is purely creative. Unlike everything else I am doing, there is no deadline; it's not for Three Hole, or IB, or IA or BHCHP. It is just for me. Art for art's sake! It engaged me visually, aurally, and critically. Exactly the type of activity recommended by experts to create a better brain.
The takeaway? I feel a lot healthier at the end of tonight than I have other nights. But I would get bored quickly if every day was like this.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Hi Mom!
** Yikes! I know. I have no excuses to give you. I need to stop eating four meals a day at Java Jo's.
Today, at the suggestion of an old friend, I took a conscious "brain vacation" day. How did I spend it? I'm so glad you* asked!
1. First, I slept in. I woke up early, but saw the snow and turned back over. Like a groundhog.
2. I was going to walk to church and meditate on the way, but I was running late. So I drove. Only to find out I had gotten the mass times wrong. So I parked my car and took a Meditative Sensory Walk.
When I stayed with the Sister of the Good Shepherd back in 2004, some of the best things I learned were different ways of praying and meditating. The Sisters were big on incorporating Eastern techniques into our Western, Judeo Christian practice. One of the coolest things we did was learn to take long walks and concentrate on only the present, only the here and now, through each of the five senses. We did this in the woods and in New York City.
This morning I had a really hard time and realized I am way out of practice. I kept letting my mind wander to the past, or to the future. Or, an even worse habit I have, I began narrating my walk as if I was already journaling about it. "I made my way up the snowy street past the frozen pond..." I had to focus on seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing and feeling things without thinking the words for them. Which is hard to do, to process sensory input without turning it into descriptions. Just to feel, and to know that you are feeling, and to not allow the mind to make it anything else. Great practice especially for someone like me who takes an unhealthy pride in the amount of multitasking she is able to accomplish.
3. I attended Mass, and actually tried to attend Mass in the same way I meditated.
4. I went grocery shopping for the first time since I got home from Japan**. I bought all kinds of healthy and delicious things, and straightaway ate lunch at my cozy kitchen table instead of at my desk. NO COMPUTERS ALLOWED.
5. I drank a TON of water all day and even took a nap.
6. Later, I worked on a video editing project. Yes, the verb is "worked," but this was an important part of vacation. This particular project is purely creative. Unlike everything else I am doing, there is no deadline; it's not for Three Hole, or IB, or IA or BHCHP. It is just for me. Art for art's sake! It engaged me visually, aurally, and critically. Exactly the type of activity recommended by experts to create a better brain.
The takeaway? I feel a lot healthier at the end of tonight than I have other nights. But I would get bored quickly if every day was like this.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Hi Mom!
** Yikes! I know. I have no excuses to give you. I need to stop eating four meals a day at Java Jo's.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Performance Annoucement: Zombies and Improv coming your way.
Two posts in one day is excessive, but after writing so much about improv I realized I had a plug that needed its own post.
There is a performance in Boston tonight you should come see.
Here is the facebook event.
Here is the press release:
The Zombie Apocalypse is coming!
Saturday January 17th
Studio 414 is 551 Tremont St, Boston, MA
ring the buzzer and you will be escorted upstairs
This collaborative, improvisational, audience-participatory performance will incorporate poetry, hip hop, drag, comedy and anything else YOU bring. It will start at 5:30 pm and last until 9:30 pm-- come and leave at any point within that time frame. The space is not handicap accessible. All ages welcome.
The performers will be cycling through the space much as the audience will, so you may see:
Mumbles and the Dust (touring poets extraordinaire)
members of Three Hole Punch , local queer performance artists:
Havalah Grace Backus, M. Hanora and Johnny Blazes
MC Mr. Napkins
Other guests!
There is a performance in Boston tonight you should come see.
Here is the facebook event.
Here is the press release:
The Zombie Apocalypse is coming!
Saturday January 17th
Studio 414 is 551 Tremont St, Boston, MA
ring the buzzer and you will be escorted upstairs
This collaborative, improvisational, audience-participatory performance will incorporate poetry, hip hop, drag, comedy and anything else YOU bring. It will start at 5:30 pm and last until 9:30 pm-- come and leave at any point within that time frame. The space is not handicap accessible. All ages welcome.
The performers will be cycling through the space much as the audience will, so you may see:
Mumbles and the Dust (touring poets extraordinaire)
members of Three Hole Punch , local queer performance artists:
Havalah Grace Backus, M. Hanora and Johnny Blazes
MC Mr. Napkins
Other guests!
The Improv Update
Three Hole Punch got some great publicity in blogs this week. Our show was mentioned in Transient Travels, as part of Susan Forshner's own take on the boston.com feature "25 things to do in Boston for Under $25." In addition to that, we managed to warm the impossibly icy myocardium of a certain "professor," and in doing so elicited a positive review here in his blog, Periscope Depth.
Come check us out this upcoming Wednesday for all new sketches, all new improv and all new secret telling!
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Last night I went to my alma mater, Boston Latin School to see the Yellow Submarines Improv Troupe perform. I was invited by a former camper from Thacher. I was her first improv teacher when she was no older than nine, and I had her in my summer classes until she was 12. Because of the casual nature of summer camp, she essentially became like a younger sister.
In high school, I was in the Yellow Submarines (briefly). The group was formed during my at freshman year at BLS by two of my peers, Josh Michel (of Mosaic) and Jack Ferris. Josh's youngest brother, Jesse was in the show tonight. As was Paul, the younger brother of Joe Gels of Boston's own Improv Jones. It was a great show overall. The players were very enthusiastic even through rough spots. The best part was that seeing how Josh and Jack's creation lives on. And also seeing Cam, Jesse and Paul in a new and upcoming generation of improvisers. What a seriously cool thing to witness, the next generation of comedy.
Oh, and if this wasn't enough generational name dropping for you, the new head of drama over at BLS is none other than Sean Sullivan of Friday Night Face Off and BNN, so I ran into him over there too.
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It blows my mind to think that I never would have auditioned for Mission:IMPROVable in college if I hadn't been in the Yellow Submarines in high school. Josh is the one who dragged me there. I wasn't passionate about comedy until after I got into Mission. And Mission changed my life. I would be a completely different person now. I wouldn't be here.
Speaking of "here" - I had my second to last show with Friday Night Face Off last night. It was solid. Shan, Steph and myself went up against Dana, Michelle and Sean. Serpico played the ball, and Bobby MC'd. I had fun every minute, the audience seemed to as well, and it was a great house. It's hard to imagine that in two more weeks I won't be doing this anymore. In fact, I can't imagine it. I guess I'll have to wait and see.
Come check us out this upcoming Wednesday for all new sketches, all new improv and all new secret telling!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last night I went to my alma mater, Boston Latin School to see the Yellow Submarines Improv Troupe perform. I was invited by a former camper from Thacher. I was her first improv teacher when she was no older than nine, and I had her in my summer classes until she was 12. Because of the casual nature of summer camp, she essentially became like a younger sister.
In high school, I was in the Yellow Submarines (briefly). The group was formed during my at freshman year at BLS by two of my peers, Josh Michel (of Mosaic) and Jack Ferris. Josh's youngest brother, Jesse was in the show tonight. As was Paul, the younger brother of Joe Gels of Boston's own Improv Jones. It was a great show overall. The players were very enthusiastic even through rough spots. The best part was that seeing how Josh and Jack's creation lives on. And also seeing Cam, Jesse and Paul in a new and upcoming generation of improvisers. What a seriously cool thing to witness, the next generation of comedy.
Oh, and if this wasn't enough generational name dropping for you, the new head of drama over at BLS is none other than Sean Sullivan of Friday Night Face Off and BNN, so I ran into him over there too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It blows my mind to think that I never would have auditioned for Mission:IMPROVable in college if I hadn't been in the Yellow Submarines in high school. Josh is the one who dragged me there. I wasn't passionate about comedy until after I got into Mission. And Mission changed my life. I would be a completely different person now. I wouldn't be here.
Speaking of "here" - I had my second to last show with Friday Night Face Off last night. It was solid. Shan, Steph and myself went up against Dana, Michelle and Sean. Serpico played the ball, and Bobby MC'd. I had fun every minute, the audience seemed to as well, and it was a great house. It's hard to imagine that in two more weeks I won't be doing this anymore. In fact, I can't imagine it. I guess I'll have to wait and see.
Friday, January 16, 2009
How are your boundaries?
In an entry a few months ago I referred to my new position on the Boundaries Awareness Committee at work. I promised details, and aim to begin delivering. For those of you in public service roles this is a familiar concept, and for some others of you this might be a completely foreign world so hang in there.
"Boundaries" in this case refer to a psychosocial barrier between a medical provider and a patient. Violations of this line disrupt therapeutic relationship by causing a status shift, creating distrust, blurring the personal rights of one or both parties, or otherwise upsetting the delicate balance of a provider-patient relationship. Some boundary violations are clear, such as carrying on a sexual relationship with a patient, or buying from or selling drugs to a patient. Boundary violations, however, can be far more subtle, and even very well intentioned, but in the end undermine therapeutic results. I can not stress enough how much more serious this is when working in a community with a ton of psych issues. Boundary violations of the subtle nature are kind of a case by case thing. However, almost always what would fly just fine on a med-surg floor is not going to have the same results in a psych unit. Accepting gifts from patients, bending small rules, sharing personal stories... these are all well intentioned innocent behaviors that could completely ruin the dynamic of a provider-patient relationship particularly with psych clients.
Therefore, I can not tell you how appalled I am by the recent ruling in Washington state that teachers are not barred from sexual relationships with students. A teacher is in a therapeutic position with his or her students. He or she must have their trust and respect. Even the teachers who use a "buddy" approach must have a line drawn somewhere in the sand. In turn, the students can look to the teacher to teach them. To know their strengths and weaknesses and to guide them. All of these benefits are lost to the student who enters into a relationship with their teacher, and to any of their mutual friends in the know. A sexual relationship levels the playing field where a field should not be leveled. I don't care how mature you are at 18, it's not really about consent to me. It's about the relationship damage. My patients are over 18 too. That's not the issue. A psychologists clients may all be "of age," but it is NOT helpful to the patient to allow such a severe slip of boundaries to occur.
Here is my own story of my first boundary violation on the job.
I saw a man on a train one day. I recognized him as a former patient of my facility, though not someone I had ever directly cared for. He recognized me before I could walk away and we began talking. As we chatted, I gave him half of my sandwich because he was hungry. (Wrong move #1) He began to speak about his children and how he wished he could still take them to the movies. "Say, " he said, "wouldn't it be great if someday when I have my life back together, and a car, we could go to the movies?" Not having had any experience in what to do in these situations, but remembering from some psych class somewhere that imagining a positive future can help to stop self destructive thinking I answered, "I bet that would be fun. " (Wrong move #2). Wrong move #3 came when he asked for my number. Suddenly, and too late, I realized he had been hinting at this all along and I had been clueless. I refused to give him my number, but I said it was "against policy" instead of saying that I personally was refusing to do it.
Everything I did was done to be "nice." Nothing was done to get something I wanted, or to hurt the guy in any way. It was all wrong.
The next week he called me every day at work. He called while I was off duty, so I didn't know. Then one day he got through to me. He said he was at a hotel. He wanted me to meet him there. There was a hot tub. He was going to give me the number, did I have a pen? With the stakes so clear and so high I was finally able to give the answer that I should have given in the first place. I told him it was "inappropriate" to call me. Period. He got upset and told me he thought I "was different." I called my supervisor.
She listened to the story and nodded a lot and we went to the DON and I was told that although my heart was in the right place when I gave away the sandwich I had unintentionally crossed a boundary. In that man's eyes we were friends as soon as I shared my lunch. And it's not a bad thing to be friends with people. It's even not bad for me, as a nurse to be friend-ly. But as your nurse, at the end of the day I can not be your friend. It's bad for me and bad for you. There's a reason surgeons don't operate on family members.
Christmas that year he showed up to where I worked, drunk, and brought me a full length leather jacket. It was gorgeous. I was terrified. I called my boss back up and I had to promise I hadn't had any new contact with him, which I hadn't. We can laugh about it now, but at the time, it was serious stuff.
It's important in fields like this to check in with your co workers and ask "how are your boundaries?" It seems corny, but it's a very real question and is aimed at helping people to check in and keep from being under or over involved, both of which are a symptom of issues with boundaries.
And yeah, it's hard. I've always hate the word "inappropriate," when used to define behavior. It leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. But learning the language of behavior management has been necessary. The most recent issue I've had with a patient crossing a boundary was this past year. He told me he had feelings for me and asked if I could spend some "quiet time" with him discussing it. As a human being my reaction was to let him down easy, perhaps to make a joke and let him save face. But it isn't enough, especially when it comes to populations with damaged social history or outright psych issues. I had to actually say, "you're being inappropriate, and I know you're aware of it. I am not interested and this conversation is over." Try it out loud. It's harder than you think.
It's hard to be friendly, and nice, caring and giving while also being prepared to quickly draw the line without any hesitation or mixed messages. How can you be Florence Nightingale and also the General? One of my co workers tonight wondered out loud if maybe we were better off just being bitchy to begin with so patients don't get attached. Sometimes I wonder at all the unfriendly nurses or doctors I have encountered and whether maybe they just had a bad boundaries experience in their past. But that's not a solution. If a boundaries violation is, by definition something that upsets the therapeutic relationship, then choosing to not have a therapeutic relationship doesn't make much more sense. You might as well leave the field.
We're meant to be compassionate, yet professional. There is a delicate balance, and every interaction must be careful weighed. Medical providers must be continually self aware, and never end vigilance over their own behaviors. Every action must be double checked no matter how well intentioned. It's kind of exhausting.
How are your boundaries?
"Boundaries" in this case refer to a psychosocial barrier between a medical provider and a patient. Violations of this line disrupt therapeutic relationship by causing a status shift, creating distrust, blurring the personal rights of one or both parties, or otherwise upsetting the delicate balance of a provider-patient relationship. Some boundary violations are clear, such as carrying on a sexual relationship with a patient, or buying from or selling drugs to a patient. Boundary violations, however, can be far more subtle, and even very well intentioned, but in the end undermine therapeutic results. I can not stress enough how much more serious this is when working in a community with a ton of psych issues. Boundary violations of the subtle nature are kind of a case by case thing. However, almost always what would fly just fine on a med-surg floor is not going to have the same results in a psych unit. Accepting gifts from patients, bending small rules, sharing personal stories... these are all well intentioned innocent behaviors that could completely ruin the dynamic of a provider-patient relationship particularly with psych clients.
Therefore, I can not tell you how appalled I am by the recent ruling in Washington state that teachers are not barred from sexual relationships with students. A teacher is in a therapeutic position with his or her students. He or she must have their trust and respect. Even the teachers who use a "buddy" approach must have a line drawn somewhere in the sand. In turn, the students can look to the teacher to teach them. To know their strengths and weaknesses and to guide them. All of these benefits are lost to the student who enters into a relationship with their teacher, and to any of their mutual friends in the know. A sexual relationship levels the playing field where a field should not be leveled. I don't care how mature you are at 18, it's not really about consent to me. It's about the relationship damage. My patients are over 18 too. That's not the issue. A psychologists clients may all be "of age," but it is NOT helpful to the patient to allow such a severe slip of boundaries to occur.
Here is my own story of my first boundary violation on the job.
I saw a man on a train one day. I recognized him as a former patient of my facility, though not someone I had ever directly cared for. He recognized me before I could walk away and we began talking. As we chatted, I gave him half of my sandwich because he was hungry. (Wrong move #1) He began to speak about his children and how he wished he could still take them to the movies. "Say, " he said, "wouldn't it be great if someday when I have my life back together, and a car, we could go to the movies?" Not having had any experience in what to do in these situations, but remembering from some psych class somewhere that imagining a positive future can help to stop self destructive thinking I answered, "I bet that would be fun. " (Wrong move #2). Wrong move #3 came when he asked for my number. Suddenly, and too late, I realized he had been hinting at this all along and I had been clueless. I refused to give him my number, but I said it was "against policy" instead of saying that I personally was refusing to do it.
Everything I did was done to be "nice." Nothing was done to get something I wanted, or to hurt the guy in any way. It was all wrong.
The next week he called me every day at work. He called while I was off duty, so I didn't know. Then one day he got through to me. He said he was at a hotel. He wanted me to meet him there. There was a hot tub. He was going to give me the number, did I have a pen? With the stakes so clear and so high I was finally able to give the answer that I should have given in the first place. I told him it was "inappropriate" to call me. Period. He got upset and told me he thought I "was different." I called my supervisor.
She listened to the story and nodded a lot and we went to the DON and I was told that although my heart was in the right place when I gave away the sandwich I had unintentionally crossed a boundary. In that man's eyes we were friends as soon as I shared my lunch. And it's not a bad thing to be friends with people. It's even not bad for me, as a nurse to be friend-ly. But as your nurse, at the end of the day I can not be your friend. It's bad for me and bad for you. There's a reason surgeons don't operate on family members.
Christmas that year he showed up to where I worked, drunk, and brought me a full length leather jacket. It was gorgeous. I was terrified. I called my boss back up and I had to promise I hadn't had any new contact with him, which I hadn't. We can laugh about it now, but at the time, it was serious stuff.
It's important in fields like this to check in with your co workers and ask "how are your boundaries?" It seems corny, but it's a very real question and is aimed at helping people to check in and keep from being under or over involved, both of which are a symptom of issues with boundaries.
And yeah, it's hard. I've always hate the word "inappropriate," when used to define behavior. It leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. But learning the language of behavior management has been necessary. The most recent issue I've had with a patient crossing a boundary was this past year. He told me he had feelings for me and asked if I could spend some "quiet time" with him discussing it. As a human being my reaction was to let him down easy, perhaps to make a joke and let him save face. But it isn't enough, especially when it comes to populations with damaged social history or outright psych issues. I had to actually say, "you're being inappropriate, and I know you're aware of it. I am not interested and this conversation is over." Try it out loud. It's harder than you think.
It's hard to be friendly, and nice, caring and giving while also being prepared to quickly draw the line without any hesitation or mixed messages. How can you be Florence Nightingale and also the General? One of my co workers tonight wondered out loud if maybe we were better off just being bitchy to begin with so patients don't get attached. Sometimes I wonder at all the unfriendly nurses or doctors I have encountered and whether maybe they just had a bad boundaries experience in their past. But that's not a solution. If a boundaries violation is, by definition something that upsets the therapeutic relationship, then choosing to not have a therapeutic relationship doesn't make much more sense. You might as well leave the field.
We're meant to be compassionate, yet professional. There is a delicate balance, and every interaction must be careful weighed. Medical providers must be continually self aware, and never end vigilance over their own behaviors. Every action must be double checked no matter how well intentioned. It's kind of exhausting.
How are your boundaries?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
everything was exact.
Last night during the 3HP show we did a structure we call "
And although I'm surprised and even shocked by some of the content, I'm not really embarrassed to share it because A) it's funny stuff, and B) it doesn't matter. It comes down to what Eggers refers to in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius when he writes:
What am I giving you? I am giving you nothing. I am giving you things that God knows, everyone knows...
These things, details, stories or whatever are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs
for anyone to see.
But I feel like the same logic can be applied to keeping these journals in the first place:
So should the snake bring it with him, this skin should he tuck it under his arm? Should he? No, of
course not. He's got no f*cking arms!
I have this large, heavy box of notebooks, dating back to 1993. Literal baggage. But like Eggers' snake, I've shed these skins. So why carry them?
Well, that's easy. Fodder for comedy shows. Because is there anything so endearing as the following?
"A poem:
But she is hiccoughing [sic]."
When I read that I remembered the night it referred to, and also recalled a book of two line poems* I had completely forgotten about. Thanks, comedy!
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*Nice Hat. Thanks., by Joshua Beckman and Matthew Rohrer whose signatures appear on the same page in my journal as this
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I've got nothing.
Here is a photo of some weird girls dressed like bugs (circa 2004).
That was my real hair. We were in Shannon's room. Steph was a "love bug." Amy is still not single. Sorry, guys.
Liz C. is not in this photo because she was at a Frat house waiting for us to show up and perform an improvised choreographed dance number in her boyfriend's basement. Seriously.
Come see our show! We will not be dressed like bugs but we WILL be giving out hugs.
That was my real hair. We were in Shannon's room. Steph was a "love bug." Amy is still not single. Sorry, guys.Liz C. is not in this photo because she was at a Frat house waiting for us to show up and perform an improvised choreographed dance number in her boyfriend's basement. Seriously.
Come see our show! We will not be dressed like bugs but we WILL be giving out hugs.
Johnny Blaze in the News
Scanning through the news this morning I found one of my roommates doing what ze does best:
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Storage Unit #198
Here are some things I found when Pim called from Florida and gave me the combination to "our" storage unit.
1. My spare car keys.
2. The bubble machine
3. The NCLEX prep material stuff I was trying to lend to Blake months ago but couldn't find in my basement. (It's ok, he passed the test anyway).
4. A box labeled "other people's stuff," that contained (among other things) a binder of music for a show I never did, Danny's mom's copy of "Life of Pi," Danny's copy of "Choke," which I borrowed around the same time, a deck of cards and some comic books. (Maybe Steve's?)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My upstairs neighbor threatened, in printed word, to take our boots if he found them in the foyer again. And to not return them. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this grown man is threatening to steal my boots and hide them in his apartment.
If it weren't in all caps and bold I would have thought he was flirting with us.
I was going to hang the letter up with his other one from last summer but Laura says it makes her too mad. And I want Laura to be able to use the bathroom. Which is where we hang letters.
I'm over it. He has a lot of anxiety about the front hallway. I don't. So he wins just by caring more. It's way easier this way.
1. My spare car keys.
2. The bubble machine
3. The NCLEX prep material stuff I was trying to lend to Blake months ago but couldn't find in my basement. (It's ok, he passed the test anyway).
4. A box labeled "other people's stuff," that contained (among other things) a binder of music for a show I never did, Danny's mom's copy of "Life of Pi," Danny's copy of "Choke," which I borrowed around the same time, a deck of cards and some comic books. (Maybe Steve's?)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My upstairs neighbor threatened, in printed word, to take our boots if he found them in the foyer again. And to not return them. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this grown man is threatening to steal my boots and hide them in his apartment.
If it weren't in all caps and bold I would have thought he was flirting with us.
I was going to hang the letter up with his other one from last summer but Laura says it makes her too mad. And I want Laura to be able to use the bathroom. Which is where we hang letters.
I'm over it. He has a lot of anxiety about the front hallway. I don't. So he wins just by caring more. It's way easier this way.
Plug
Three Hole Punch would like you to join us for our Hump Night show this Wednesday. All new sketches! All new improv! All new secrets! All at 8pm at Improv Boston.
Monday, January 12, 2009
How to deal with Hospital Blues, and also Creeps on a Bus
How to deal with Hospital Blues (or How I Learned to Stop Fearing and Respect That 70's Show)
I was on the bus. I was determined to arrive at IB in a different mood than the one I left work in. Which is to say, I wanted to stop worrying about this blood pressure or that lab result and leave it at the job. Because otherwise you don't sleep. I was blasting my music accordingly. That 70's Show once had a very telling moment related to this. Before you skip it based on the source, let me tell you that this is particular clip captures a very true thing, no matter how you feel about the show. I think of this every time I leave work on a trying day. Now it's like you've read my mind. Also, the song Bad Blood is awesome.
******************************************************************************************
Creeps on a Bus (or What the Deaf Girl Heard)
So I had my headphones on, ipod blasting and was deeply engrossed in the book I am currently reading.* I did not notice the man standing in front of me. I did not hear the things he was saying. I did not see the faces he was making. Until a hand came into my field of vision and turned the page I was on.
I was genuinely disturbed. I jerked my neck up quickly and came face to face with Camilo and his lady friend.
Camilo started when I jumped. "Did you seriously not hear me the whole time?" He looked around nervously. I looked around too. Everyone on the bus was staring at us. The man across the aisle from me was leaning forward in his seat, catching every word.
"I honestly didn't," I said, "I was really involved in my book and my ipod was on too loud."**
"That's a great book," offered the man sitting behind me, "McSweeny's is good too." His voice was strained.
"I love McSweeney's," I said quickly and turned back to Camilo.
Cam began to laugh. "I was so obscene," he said, "I was creeping myself out. I've been at it for a while now." Around us, passengers visibly relaxed but did not take their eyes away.
The Dave Eggers fan said, "I turned off my mp3 player when he started talking to you so I could hear him. I was ready to jump if it got any worse."
People all around us nodded in agreement. Some laughing, some smiling, one or two still completely serious, ready to jump still maybe, unsure if things could turn sour any minute.
"You could have gotten jumped," I said to Camilo, who was laughing even harder now.
"I mean, these strangers, they might have killed you!" I was laughing too.
"I totally had your back," said one of the strangers. Everyone laughed.
Cam didn't repeat any of the things he had been saying, but he assured me they were horrible, terrible things that no one should say to anyone else (again, nods from strangers, all of them smiling by now) and he realized half way through there was no way I was just ignoring him but he couldn't just give up.
We got off the bus together at Prospect Street and Awesome Literary Critic did too. "Seriously," he said, "I would have defended you. My name is Jared." He shook hands with me and Camilo both and headed down the Red Line entrance.
It's funny, because I like to think that Jared who likes Dave Eggers would have defended me. But I'm not so sure. People are funny in threatening situations. I mean, you'd think someone would have stopped Camilo before he touched my book. If he was saying truly terrible things. But it's moot. I'd rather not need defending at all. I think maybe from now on if I'm reading then my ipod needs to be at half volume. For good measure. Thanks, creepy Camilo.
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* A re-read: Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which "deserves" its own post even though I have read it before. warning, this post will not come for a while but will be epic when it comes.
** This is why I missed my stop that very morning and had to back track on the Orange Line in the snow. Same book. Same play list.
I was on the bus. I was determined to arrive at IB in a different mood than the one I left work in. Which is to say, I wanted to stop worrying about this blood pressure or that lab result and leave it at the job. Because otherwise you don't sleep. I was blasting my music accordingly. That 70's Show once had a very telling moment related to this. Before you skip it based on the source, let me tell you that this is particular clip captures a very true thing, no matter how you feel about the show. I think of this every time I leave work on a trying day. Now it's like you've read my mind. Also, the song Bad Blood is awesome.
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Creeps on a Bus (or What the Deaf Girl Heard)
So I had my headphones on, ipod blasting and was deeply engrossed in the book I am currently reading.* I did not notice the man standing in front of me. I did not hear the things he was saying. I did not see the faces he was making. Until a hand came into my field of vision and turned the page I was on.
I was genuinely disturbed. I jerked my neck up quickly and came face to face with Camilo and his lady friend.
Camilo started when I jumped. "Did you seriously not hear me the whole time?" He looked around nervously. I looked around too. Everyone on the bus was staring at us. The man across the aisle from me was leaning forward in his seat, catching every word.
"I honestly didn't," I said, "I was really involved in my book and my ipod was on too loud."**
"That's a great book," offered the man sitting behind me, "McSweeny's is good too." His voice was strained.
"I love McSweeney's," I said quickly and turned back to Camilo.
Cam began to laugh. "I was so obscene," he said, "I was creeping myself out. I've been at it for a while now." Around us, passengers visibly relaxed but did not take their eyes away.
The Dave Eggers fan said, "I turned off my mp3 player when he started talking to you so I could hear him. I was ready to jump if it got any worse."
People all around us nodded in agreement. Some laughing, some smiling, one or two still completely serious, ready to jump still maybe, unsure if things could turn sour any minute.
"You could have gotten jumped," I said to Camilo, who was laughing even harder now.
"I mean, these strangers, they might have killed you!" I was laughing too.
"I totally had your back," said one of the strangers. Everyone laughed.
Cam didn't repeat any of the things he had been saying, but he assured me they were horrible, terrible things that no one should say to anyone else (again, nods from strangers, all of them smiling by now) and he realized half way through there was no way I was just ignoring him but he couldn't just give up.
We got off the bus together at Prospect Street and Awesome Literary Critic did too. "Seriously," he said, "I would have defended you. My name is Jared." He shook hands with me and Camilo both and headed down the Red Line entrance.
It's funny, because I like to think that Jared who likes Dave Eggers would have defended me. But I'm not so sure. People are funny in threatening situations. I mean, you'd think someone would have stopped Camilo before he touched my book. If he was saying truly terrible things. But it's moot. I'd rather not need defending at all. I think maybe from now on if I'm reading then my ipod needs to be at half volume. For good measure. Thanks, creepy Camilo.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* A re-read: Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which "deserves" its own post even though I have read it before. warning, this post will not come for a while but will be epic when it comes.
** This is why I missed my stop that very morning and had to back track on the Orange Line in the snow. Same book. Same play list.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Gum ,Your Bowels and Society
I once had a patient with severe constipation. Passing flatus, normoactive bowel sounds. But just couldn't go. One of the M.D's at that particular facility told me that he had recently read a study that linked gum chewing to bowel motility, and he even gave me a copy. Apparently it's not exactly novel research because several journals, especially surgical, onco, and GU focused journals have published similar findings.
Because of that I still sometimes write, "encourage gum chewing as appropriate to stimulate bowel motility" in the A/P section of applicable SOAP notes, especially for new post- op patients.
Then I sit and wonder why anyone lets me have a grown-up job.
In all seriousness though, it has been really helpful to several of my patients, and it is evidence based practice, so it's a legitimate plan. I mean, especially in conjunction with something like, "push fluids p.o and encourage prn laxatives as needed." But I just really, really love non pharmacological interventions that have measurable physiological responses. Hot packs and ice, ambulation, pursed lip breathing, weight bearing activity, elevation, relaxation techniques, massage, acupuncture, incentive spirometer use ... I love it all. Medications are very important. And nothing can take the place of getting the proper dose at the correct times (via the correct route!) But when you can add behaviors or actions to create a definable and qualitative increase in quality of health, I think it's even better.
So much can be done just by altering one's lifestyle. Changing diet. Changing exercise habits. In mild cases diabetes can be almost completely managed that way. So can hypertension.
So much can be prevented with life style modifications. But as a society not only are we all about pharmaceuticals but we're also not so much into primary intervention. We'd rather do the damage now and pay for it later.
The exception seem to be middle class 20 somethings who are into being non smokers, doing yoga, shopping at Trader Joe's and going to the gym. (So... Cambridge, MA.) But for the majority of Americans either lack of education or lack of resources or just plain laziness stand in the way of life styles that could prevent major problems down the road. Meanwhile our current health care system is mainly controlled by the Pharm Industry which means that no one at the top has any major incentive to change that.
And so I will continue to include things in my care plans like ginger ale for nausea, elevation for edema, and ambulating ad lib to prevent pneumonia post op. And finding the research to back it up. At least now you know that if you're having trouble with your bowel movements you can go grab a stick of gum. It tastes better than cod liver oil and is cheaper anyway.
Because of that I still sometimes write, "encourage gum chewing as appropriate to stimulate bowel motility" in the A/P section of applicable SOAP notes, especially for new post- op patients.
Then I sit and wonder why anyone lets me have a grown-up job.
In all seriousness though, it has been really helpful to several of my patients, and it is evidence based practice, so it's a legitimate plan. I mean, especially in conjunction with something like, "push fluids p.o and encourage prn laxatives as needed." But I just really, really love non pharmacological interventions that have measurable physiological responses. Hot packs and ice, ambulation, pursed lip breathing, weight bearing activity, elevation, relaxation techniques, massage, acupuncture, incentive spirometer use ... I love it all. Medications are very important. And nothing can take the place of getting the proper dose at the correct times (via the correct route!) But when you can add behaviors or actions to create a definable and qualitative increase in quality of health, I think it's even better.
So much can be done just by altering one's lifestyle. Changing diet. Changing exercise habits. In mild cases diabetes can be almost completely managed that way. So can hypertension.
So much can be prevented with life style modifications. But as a society not only are we all about pharmaceuticals but we're also not so much into primary intervention. We'd rather do the damage now and pay for it later.
The exception seem to be middle class 20 somethings who are into being non smokers, doing yoga, shopping at Trader Joe's and going to the gym. (So... Cambridge, MA.) But for the majority of Americans either lack of education or lack of resources or just plain laziness stand in the way of life styles that could prevent major problems down the road. Meanwhile our current health care system is mainly controlled by the Pharm Industry which means that no one at the top has any major incentive to change that.
And so I will continue to include things in my care plans like ginger ale for nausea, elevation for edema, and ambulating ad lib to prevent pneumonia post op. And finding the research to back it up. At least now you know that if you're having trouble with your bowel movements you can go grab a stick of gum. It tastes better than cod liver oil and is cheaper anyway.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I try not to think too hard.
My Mom doesn't watch the news. This was a direct result of being the wife of a fire fighter. My Mom says that as soon as she and Dad got married she started hating the news. When Dad was home the scanner would be on constantly, telling us about every emergency in Boston. But when Dad was out the scanner was silent. "I didn't want to be thinking too hard about it," Mom says. These days, the habit sticks.
Last night though, Mom called me panicking because my aunt had called her to tell her about the fire truck that crashed. She knows one of the guys from that station, and was sick to her stomach thinking about it.
This morning my heart and prayers go out to Kevin M. Kelley's family, knowing that nothing will ever be the same.
Last night though, Mom called me panicking because my aunt had called her to tell her about the fire truck that crashed. She knows one of the guys from that station, and was sick to her stomach thinking about it.
This morning my heart and prayers go out to Kevin M. Kelley's family, knowing that nothing will ever be the same.
Coffee Shop
Last night Johnny, Laura and I were all home at the same time because I found out my student's improv show is next weekend. This almost never happens so to celebrate we walked to Java Jo's . That morning I had stopped there for breakfast (as usual on days when I teach) and to pick up a bagged lunch to bring to school with me. I noticed that the soup of the day was "Italian Wedding," and knew without the slightest hesitation that I would probably be back for dinner. So I was. This day has been brought to you by Java Jo.
As we sat at the table and talked it became clear that the large Latino man sitting nearby was not just talking on his cell phone. He was free styling in a low monotone. The free styling went on for about twenty minutes at a time, would be punctuated by something along the lines of, "please make them play that, homey, don't make me beg," and would begin again.
At first some of it was actually kind of good. Nothing like the stuff we used to "kick," at McClellan house parties, but hey, not everyone can be us, right?* The longer this went on the more colorful the language became and the less creative the content. Also, the volume increased and the flow got less cohesive. So we kept overhearing things such as, "Eff this, eff that, eff my effing gat. I'm not effing kidding." And "eff eff eff my n***** , pull that effing trigger." And "I'm hungry. Where's the food at? Do you have enough food to feed me? Do you have enough food to feed my crew? You don't have enough food to feed my team. You don't have enough food to feed this country. You don't have food to feed this town**. This town is going up."
Jen the Coffee House Girl had to go tell him to quiet down twice and eventually escorted him out. When he began walking I saw that he was drunk. I wondered if anyone was actually on the other end of his phone. Because sometimes in the past I too have pretended to be on my phone for various reasons. Just never that long.
* I am so sorry.
**At which point Laura and I made eye contact and I said, "a town is smaller than the country, he should have switched those," and Laura replied "you should go tell him that."
As we sat at the table and talked it became clear that the large Latino man sitting nearby was not just talking on his cell phone. He was free styling in a low monotone. The free styling went on for about twenty minutes at a time, would be punctuated by something along the lines of, "please make them play that, homey, don't make me beg," and would begin again.
At first some of it was actually kind of good. Nothing like the stuff we used to "kick," at McClellan house parties, but hey, not everyone can be us, right?* The longer this went on the more colorful the language became and the less creative the content. Also, the volume increased and the flow got less cohesive. So we kept overhearing things such as, "Eff this, eff that, eff my effing gat. I'm not effing kidding." And "eff eff eff my n***** , pull that effing trigger." And "I'm hungry. Where's the food at? Do you have enough food to feed me? Do you have enough food to feed my crew? You don't have enough food to feed my team. You don't have enough food to feed this country. You don't have food to feed this town**. This town is going up."
Jen the Coffee House Girl had to go tell him to quiet down twice and eventually escorted him out. When he began walking I saw that he was drunk. I wondered if anyone was actually on the other end of his phone. Because sometimes in the past I too have pretended to be on my phone for various reasons. Just never that long.
* I am so sorry.
**At which point Laura and I made eye contact and I said, "a town is smaller than the country, he should have switched those," and Laura replied "you should go tell him that."
Friday, January 9, 2009
It all will fall, fall right into place.
Yesterday at work I mixed some powdered metamucil for a patient. She refused it. But when I went to throw it away all the powder had sunk to the bottom and solidified.
I had an instant flashback to a magic trick my Dad bought at a magic shop in Florida. He used to collect magic tricks, and I eagerly would accompany him to buy the latest and greatest pocket illusions. He had purchased this one on the sly as a surprise, but just couldn't wait until we got back to the hotel to show us, so he opened it up right in the restaurant. As I slid my color changing scarves through my hands over and over, practicing how to conceal the slipknot in my small palm, he poured some water into a coffee mug. Then he turned it upside down. And nothing came out. The water had disappeared. I was enthralled. The secret, of course, was that a "magic powder," had been added to the mug. The powder was really some type of super absorbent polymer which created a gel that would stay in the mug*.
My dad would share his secrets with me because I was, obviously, another magician. And Mom and Brian are family. So he showed us the gel in the mug. It was gross and ten year old me was delighted, though not for the first time, by how science could be used for entertainment**. But then we had a problem. What to do with the gel? After looking around theatrically a few times Dad shook the mug hard, into a potted plant by our table. Instead of breaking apart and blending in nicely, like he'd hoped, the gel stayed in the shape of the mug and just sat there on the soil in plain view. My mother feigned embarrassment but she laughed until she cried. My brother and I dared each other to pick it up. My Dad commanded sternly that none of us look at it lest we draw attention to it, but he was the worst of all. When our waitress came by he casually remarked how much he "loved the plants here." I do not remember the rest of the evening, but I remember that we didn't stop laughing until long after we left the restaurant that night. For the next few months one of us would occasionally bring up the gel, wondering who found it, what they thought of it, and we'd lose it all over again.
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*this is apparently also how disposable diapers work.
** i fell in love with science because of my Dad.
My dad would share his secrets with me because I was, obviously, another magician. And Mom and Brian are family. So he showed us the gel in the mug. It was gross and ten year old me was delighted, though not for the first time, by how science could be used for entertainment**. But then we had a problem. What to do with the gel? After looking around theatrically a few times Dad shook the mug hard, into a potted plant by our table. Instead of breaking apart and blending in nicely, like he'd hoped, the gel stayed in the shape of the mug and just sat there on the soil in plain view. My mother feigned embarrassment but she laughed until she cried. My brother and I dared each other to pick it up. My Dad commanded sternly that none of us look at it lest we draw attention to it, but he was the worst of all. When our waitress came by he casually remarked how much he "loved the plants here." I do not remember the rest of the evening, but I remember that we didn't stop laughing until long after we left the restaurant that night. For the next few months one of us would occasionally bring up the gel, wondering who found it, what they thought of it, and we'd lose it all over again.
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*this is apparently also how disposable diapers work.
** i fell in love with science because of my Dad.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
I don't think this is sustainable... but it's fun!
My next day off is NEXT Saturday.
There is no room to fail. There is no down time in which to imagine not getting back up. There is no lowest priority to drop. "Lose Yourself" plays on repeat in my head at almost all times*.
However, the best intentions of my mind mean nothing to my body. When I didn't hit my bed until 2am this morning for the third day in a row, something inside me gave up. I shut off my alarm at 5am in my sleep today (I even remember the dream and the context of the alarm and everything) and got a phone call at 7:18am asking where I was. I was out the door in ten minutes, but because of the Orange Line Fiasco ended up at work at 8:15am.
This is why I can't have a dog.
I hit the ground running; I did not have my usual team of patients. I counted off narcotics all the while my mind racing to memorize names and meds quickly. For those of you with office jobs, this might be like if you got to work at 10:30AM and then someone said, "None of your clients are your clients anymore. You have all new clients. But they used to be your coworker's clients, they are not new to the company. The projects are in various stages of completion. You need to figure them out immediately and complete them."
I worked a 12 hour shift. We had a meeting at noon which took me off the floor for an hour, so I did not actually catch up to all of my day shift work until about 4pm when it was time to start evening shift business. But I got things done and at the end of the day I was proud of the work I did and the interactions I had with both patients and co workers. I used the Fart Machine. A lot. I took time to double check my work. I dealt with urgent situations. I took an admission. I had time to sit and listen when it counted (somehow), and I even threw down some dancing in the Atrium.
This is why I can't gain weight.
I didn't have any caffeine. I did the whole thing on adrenaline, prayer and chicken pot pie.
This might also be why I can't have a boyfriend**.
Tomorrow I'm going into Thacher to teach. And Saturday and Sunday it's back to work. And Monday back to Thacher. Three Hole needs to rehearse all new sketches for our show Wednesday. (I need to edit one of mine). I have IA rehearsal Tuesday and also on Wednesday right before the Three Hole Show. One of my former students wants me to go to her improv show this weekend and Mom spilled tea on the laptop I gave her last year and would like my help buying a new one.
I figure I can keep this pace up for another week or so. Then I'll have a weekend off. By the end of January my time teaching will be winding down and Three Hole will slow down too. February I can focus on work and Mainstage alone. In March I am going to Costa Rica and will think of few things besides what to name all the lizards I find.
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*This is usually when "I'm Yours," by Jason Mraz isn't playing because it was on at work today and damn is that little ditty catchy!
** This, of course is what we in the business refer to as a "joke." The real reason I can't have a boyfriend is because I don't want anyone besides Laura and Johnny to know I wear glasses at night during the 10 seconds between showering and falling face first into my bed.
There is no room to fail. There is no down time in which to imagine not getting back up. There is no lowest priority to drop. "Lose Yourself" plays on repeat in my head at almost all times*.
However, the best intentions of my mind mean nothing to my body. When I didn't hit my bed until 2am this morning for the third day in a row, something inside me gave up. I shut off my alarm at 5am in my sleep today (I even remember the dream and the context of the alarm and everything) and got a phone call at 7:18am asking where I was. I was out the door in ten minutes, but because of the Orange Line Fiasco ended up at work at 8:15am.
This is why I can't have a dog.
I hit the ground running; I did not have my usual team of patients. I counted off narcotics all the while my mind racing to memorize names and meds quickly. For those of you with office jobs, this might be like if you got to work at 10:30AM and then someone said, "None of your clients are your clients anymore. You have all new clients. But they used to be your coworker's clients, they are not new to the company. The projects are in various stages of completion. You need to figure them out immediately and complete them."
I worked a 12 hour shift. We had a meeting at noon which took me off the floor for an hour, so I did not actually catch up to all of my day shift work until about 4pm when it was time to start evening shift business. But I got things done and at the end of the day I was proud of the work I did and the interactions I had with both patients and co workers. I used the Fart Machine. A lot. I took time to double check my work. I dealt with urgent situations. I took an admission. I had time to sit and listen when it counted (somehow), and I even threw down some dancing in the Atrium.
This is why I can't gain weight.
I didn't have any caffeine. I did the whole thing on adrenaline, prayer and chicken pot pie.
This might also be why I can't have a boyfriend**.
Tomorrow I'm going into Thacher to teach. And Saturday and Sunday it's back to work. And Monday back to Thacher. Three Hole needs to rehearse all new sketches for our show Wednesday. (I need to edit one of mine). I have IA rehearsal Tuesday and also on Wednesday right before the Three Hole Show. One of my former students wants me to go to her improv show this weekend and Mom spilled tea on the laptop I gave her last year and would like my help buying a new one.
I figure I can keep this pace up for another week or so. Then I'll have a weekend off. By the end of January my time teaching will be winding down and Three Hole will slow down too. February I can focus on work and Mainstage alone. In March I am going to Costa Rica and will think of few things besides what to name all the lizards I find.
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*This is usually when "I'm Yours," by Jason Mraz isn't playing because it was on at work today and damn is that little ditty catchy!
** This, of course is what we in the business refer to as a "joke." The real reason I can't have a boyfriend is because I don't want anyone besides Laura and Johnny to know I wear glasses at night during the 10 seconds between showering and falling face first into my bed.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
sleeping on thin doors
Tonight is opening night of Three Hole Punch presents Flirty Laundry. We can't wait to see you there, so you better come. Yes, you.
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One of my former patients came to visit the facility last week. I didn't recognize him he looked so good. He was a sick, very sick and depressed dying man the last time I had seen him. he loves his new place. He decorated it. He stopped drinking. He said he often has his homeless friends over for meals. He is getting a cat.
Yesterday the Globe reported that in the past year the number of homeless families in the city has increased by 22%. Today an article appeared in my homeless news feed that explained the proposal for dealing with this growing vulnerable population. The breakdown is that Boston is trying to adopt a Housing First policy in the hopes of decreasing the total number of homeless individuals but especially to decrease the total number of families who have no homes.
The main concept of Housing First as a social policy is that before an individual can deal with the issues that caused their homelessness he or she needs a roof overhead. According to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the physiological needs of a human being must be met before safety, love, esteem or self actualization. Housing First brings to our attention that people can hardly be expected to be successful at meeting even the most basic of physiological needs (sleep, food, sex) without a consistent (and safe) shelter.
Housing First style programs exist in major cities all over the States though the concept is relatively new (1990s or so). If you google "housing first," and "boston," you can find statistics on how successful of a policy it is. This is particularly relevant if you know much about (or care about) the history of how homelessness as a social issues has previously been approached. The other major approach to dealing with chronic homelessness (by which I mean to exclude "newly" or transitionally homeless persons) is known as the Continuum of Care. Continuum of Care is still very much also in practice and it is the movement of the homeless through a system of "levels," which would ideally and ultimately lead them to an independent and permanent living situation. This is more in line with Maslow's familiar pyramid design. Get them into shelters so they can meet physiological needs (treat their physical and mental medical conditions so they become stable) and then they can look to achieve the rest of the steps on the way to safety and security.
Each policy has its place. And each one has weak spots. Housing First works well because obtaining a stable and safe dwelling place does in fact create an overall higher success rate for meeting physiological needs and then some. It is especially effective, I need to point out here, for families. However, for individual people who have spent years and years on the street in a community of other homeless people, an apartment can be an isolating and lonely experience. And many of them report that they still sleep outside or at least on the floor. A house doesn't replace a social network. And a house can't cure mental illness or addiction. On the street, someone who ODs may be taken to an ER by a buddy. Unfortunately I have had several former patients die from overdoses once they were housed.
Continuum of Care helps to prevent that scenario. People are placed in public shelters, and then agency shelters, then transitional housing, and then (ideally), their own place. The transitions from level to level help people to network and make the changes they need. For example, an alcoholic may only be accepted to certain programs based on how long he or she is able to document sobriety. This is meant to ensure that by the time this person gets their own housing they will be functional enough to deal with it. However, many individuals will never make it to the highest "level." It is difficult to find decent work while living in a shelter, even an agency shelter. It's difficult to stay sober or clean living amongst others with similar addictions. And constant rejection from employers or future landlords because of CORIs, lack of background information or just straight up bias can be damaging enough to the morale that people give up and end up on the streets again. Also, I suppose it bears saying that this strategy is not as effective for entire families.
I think Housing First policies are far more useful because they work for solo flyers and families. They create a safe and dedicated place where people can become successful on their own terms. However, in the future of homeless outreach I would like to see more strategies put into place to prepare individuals for "inside," life after years of rough living. They need a place to learn skills. Like how to balance a checkbook or budget a paycheck or shop for food for a week. I would like to see programs to enable much more follow up from case managers, mental health workers and occupational therapists. And I would like more attention paid to the fact that people form their own families in the street and that depression and lonesomeness are very real problems when suddenly everyone you love and know are far away.
***************************************************************
One of my former patients came to visit the facility last week. I didn't recognize him he looked so good. He was a sick, very sick and depressed dying man the last time I had seen him. he loves his new place. He decorated it. He stopped drinking. He said he often has his homeless friends over for meals. He is getting a cat.
Yesterday the Globe reported that in the past year the number of homeless families in the city has increased by 22%. Today an article appeared in my homeless news feed that explained the proposal for dealing with this growing vulnerable population. The breakdown is that Boston is trying to adopt a Housing First policy in the hopes of decreasing the total number of homeless individuals but especially to decrease the total number of families who have no homes.
The main concept of Housing First as a social policy is that before an individual can deal with the issues that caused their homelessness he or she needs a roof overhead. According to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the physiological needs of a human being must be met before safety, love, esteem or self actualization. Housing First brings to our attention that people can hardly be expected to be successful at meeting even the most basic of physiological needs (sleep, food, sex) without a consistent (and safe) shelter.
Housing First style programs exist in major cities all over the States though the concept is relatively new (1990s or so). If you google "housing first," and "boston," you can find statistics on how successful of a policy it is. This is particularly relevant if you know much about (or care about) the history of how homelessness as a social issues has previously been approached. The other major approach to dealing with chronic homelessness (by which I mean to exclude "newly" or transitionally homeless persons) is known as the Continuum of Care. Continuum of Care is still very much also in practice and it is the movement of the homeless through a system of "levels," which would ideally and ultimately lead them to an independent and permanent living situation. This is more in line with Maslow's familiar pyramid design. Get them into shelters so they can meet physiological needs (treat their physical and mental medical conditions so they become stable) and then they can look to achieve the rest of the steps on the way to safety and security.
Each policy has its place. And each one has weak spots. Housing First works well because obtaining a stable and safe dwelling place does in fact create an overall higher success rate for meeting physiological needs and then some. It is especially effective, I need to point out here, for families. However, for individual people who have spent years and years on the street in a community of other homeless people, an apartment can be an isolating and lonely experience. And many of them report that they still sleep outside or at least on the floor. A house doesn't replace a social network. And a house can't cure mental illness or addiction. On the street, someone who ODs may be taken to an ER by a buddy. Unfortunately I have had several former patients die from overdoses once they were housed.
Continuum of Care helps to prevent that scenario. People are placed in public shelters, and then agency shelters, then transitional housing, and then (ideally), their own place. The transitions from level to level help people to network and make the changes they need. For example, an alcoholic may only be accepted to certain programs based on how long he or she is able to document sobriety. This is meant to ensure that by the time this person gets their own housing they will be functional enough to deal with it. However, many individuals will never make it to the highest "level." It is difficult to find decent work while living in a shelter, even an agency shelter. It's difficult to stay sober or clean living amongst others with similar addictions. And constant rejection from employers or future landlords because of CORIs, lack of background information or just straight up bias can be damaging enough to the morale that people give up and end up on the streets again. Also, I suppose it bears saying that this strategy is not as effective for entire families.
I think Housing First policies are far more useful because they work for solo flyers and families. They create a safe and dedicated place where people can become successful on their own terms. However, in the future of homeless outreach I would like to see more strategies put into place to prepare individuals for "inside," life after years of rough living. They need a place to learn skills. Like how to balance a checkbook or budget a paycheck or shop for food for a week. I would like to see programs to enable much more follow up from case managers, mental health workers and occupational therapists. And I would like more attention paid to the fact that people form their own families in the street and that depression and lonesomeness are very real problems when suddenly everyone you love and know are far away.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Hello, Goodbye. One moment, lose yourself.
Hey everyone. I have something I'd like to tell you. But in true MischMash fashion, first I need to tell you an anecdote. Scroll down if you hate anecdotes.
Last night was Will Luera's birthday party. He held it at Improv Boston. I felt like everyone I know was there, even though that's not even a little true. But it felt that way. I couldn't walk a foot without hugging someone. The whole night was fantastic, but I wanted to tell you this:
A big group of us had formed on the main stage "dance floor." We were in a circle and someone brought Will into the middle of it. And we danced around him. In the shadows of the colored lights I saw my friends' faces all around me. Everyone was singing. Everyone was clapping. Everyone was smiling. I saw Laura in the circle. I thought about how far we've both come since we met so many years ago. We never could have forseen this new life. I saw many of the friends I've made in the past year. Just one year and I am so close with so many wonderful people. So many different lives that come together for the sake of making people laugh. And tonight, those people come together for the sake of celebrating a man who gives and gives of his own life to us.
I got very overwhelmed with emotion just then. Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt like my heart was about to explode. I caught Steph's eye and ran at her, and she wrapped her arms around me and I said, "take it all in, like John told us in Japan," and so we did.
And I have that moment. It's locked in.
Stop scrolling here!
I have been asked to perform with Improv Asylum's mainstage cast and I am going to. Anyone relatively close to me will know it was a difficult decision for me. Anyone very close to me can tell you it has been ripping me in half.
When I moved here I was already in production at IA in the NXT cast. Steph Jones and I were driving to Boston once a week for late night rehearsals. The rehearsals got more frequent once we moved here. We both stayed on seasonally even after we had auditioned and gotten spots in Theatersports at Improv Boston. I stayed because working at IA and working at IB fill two different needs within me. And both communities have been wonderful to be a part of.
Improv Boston, however, has truly become my home. My family. My world.
The best thing about families is that you never really leave them. And so although I will obviously not be performing at Improv Boston while I am a mainstage cast member at Improv Asylum, I do not want to think of myself as "leaving," Improv Boston.
The other great thing about families is that they expand. And I can not wait to embrace the connections and friends as well as the challenges and learning that await me at Improv Aslyum.
I stressed to Will in our meeting this week that this is a move I need and want for myself professionally and personally right now. Will understood completely, and even helped me to come up with a career plan for the next year or so based on what I told him about my goals. "My job is to run Improv Boston," he said hugging me, "but as Artistic Director it's just as important that I help each performer who comes in here to figure out their own plan."
I've never been much for plans. But at least I'm making choices. And that keeps me in motion.
Anyway. To all of Improv Boston, Friday Night Face Off, and especially Will: thank you for an amazing time. And here's to many more amazing times ahead of us, because this isn't a real goodbye anyway. It's more of a "see you soon."
After all. Three Hole Punch has a hump night slot at Improv Boston all this month. So you can't get rid of me THAT quickly!
Last night was Will Luera's birthday party. He held it at Improv Boston. I felt like everyone I know was there, even though that's not even a little true. But it felt that way. I couldn't walk a foot without hugging someone. The whole night was fantastic, but I wanted to tell you this:
A big group of us had formed on the main stage "dance floor." We were in a circle and someone brought Will into the middle of it. And we danced around him. In the shadows of the colored lights I saw my friends' faces all around me. Everyone was singing. Everyone was clapping. Everyone was smiling. I saw Laura in the circle. I thought about how far we've both come since we met so many years ago. We never could have forseen this new life. I saw many of the friends I've made in the past year. Just one year and I am so close with so many wonderful people. So many different lives that come together for the sake of making people laugh. And tonight, those people come together for the sake of celebrating a man who gives and gives of his own life to us.
I got very overwhelmed with emotion just then. Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt like my heart was about to explode. I caught Steph's eye and ran at her, and she wrapped her arms around me and I said, "take it all in, like John told us in Japan," and so we did.
And I have that moment. It's locked in.
Stop scrolling here!
I have been asked to perform with Improv Asylum's mainstage cast and I am going to. Anyone relatively close to me will know it was a difficult decision for me. Anyone very close to me can tell you it has been ripping me in half.
When I moved here I was already in production at IA in the NXT cast. Steph Jones and I were driving to Boston once a week for late night rehearsals. The rehearsals got more frequent once we moved here. We both stayed on seasonally even after we had auditioned and gotten spots in Theatersports at Improv Boston. I stayed because working at IA and working at IB fill two different needs within me. And both communities have been wonderful to be a part of.
Improv Boston, however, has truly become my home. My family. My world.
The best thing about families is that you never really leave them. And so although I will obviously not be performing at Improv Boston while I am a mainstage cast member at Improv Asylum, I do not want to think of myself as "leaving," Improv Boston.
The other great thing about families is that they expand. And I can not wait to embrace the connections and friends as well as the challenges and learning that await me at Improv Aslyum.
I stressed to Will in our meeting this week that this is a move I need and want for myself professionally and personally right now. Will understood completely, and even helped me to come up with a career plan for the next year or so based on what I told him about my goals. "My job is to run Improv Boston," he said hugging me, "but as Artistic Director it's just as important that I help each performer who comes in here to figure out their own plan."
I've never been much for plans. But at least I'm making choices. And that keeps me in motion.
Anyway. To all of Improv Boston, Friday Night Face Off, and especially Will: thank you for an amazing time. And here's to many more amazing times ahead of us, because this isn't a real goodbye anyway. It's more of a "see you soon."
After all. Three Hole Punch has a hump night slot at Improv Boston all this month. So you can't get rid of me THAT quickly!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Epiphanies
Today at church Father Charlie gave an amazing sermon. I'm going to share some of it.
Today is the Fest of the Epiphany. Known elsewhere in the world as "Three Kings Day." Fr. C is my favorite preacher with good reason. He spoke to us very frankly about the fact that the "Three Wise Men," that we sing about did not exist. They are part of what theologians call "True Myth." But we can neither throw the story away or be fooled into taking it at face value. The legend has a lesson : The magi did not find God on their own. God sought them first by sending a star.
Father Charlie went on to say that God comes to us every day. When we are open to it we can experience those moments as epiphanies. Any time we catch them, an epiphany. Seeing an old friend can be an epiphany. A birth, a wedding, a party. Maybe even in grieving, if we are open, we will find epiphanies.
However, he said, sometimes our lives can get so hectic that we don't realize all the different ways we're missing those moments of revelation and joy. It's possible to get so caught up, even in the good things in life, that we miss them somehow. Many of my friends who have gotten married say the same thing. They are so wound up in the planning that when the day comes, it's almost a let down. They missed the moment.
Father Charlie referenced this article from the Globe today that says city life might actually be changing our brains. Because the article touches on the idea that nature plays in the development of our minds, he then talked a bit about nature. The Native Americans, he pointed out, understood our need to communicate constantly with the Higher Power. They spoke to the Great Spirit in everything from rocks to trees to deer to people. And we need to take a page from their book. Because we're missing it.
I know my schedule is about to blow up. But somehow I need to take these moments. And make them mine. And make them mindful. And live those epiphanies. Because otherwise, what's the point?
Today is the Fest of the Epiphany. Known elsewhere in the world as "Three Kings Day." Fr. C is my favorite preacher with good reason. He spoke to us very frankly about the fact that the "Three Wise Men," that we sing about did not exist. They are part of what theologians call "True Myth." But we can neither throw the story away or be fooled into taking it at face value. The legend has a lesson : The magi did not find God on their own. God sought them first by sending a star.
Father Charlie went on to say that God comes to us every day. When we are open to it we can experience those moments as epiphanies. Any time we catch them, an epiphany. Seeing an old friend can be an epiphany. A birth, a wedding, a party. Maybe even in grieving, if we are open, we will find epiphanies.
However, he said, sometimes our lives can get so hectic that we don't realize all the different ways we're missing those moments of revelation and joy. It's possible to get so caught up, even in the good things in life, that we miss them somehow. Many of my friends who have gotten married say the same thing. They are so wound up in the planning that when the day comes, it's almost a let down. They missed the moment.
Father Charlie referenced this article from the Globe today that says city life might actually be changing our brains. Because the article touches on the idea that nature plays in the development of our minds, he then talked a bit about nature. The Native Americans, he pointed out, understood our need to communicate constantly with the Higher Power. They spoke to the Great Spirit in everything from rocks to trees to deer to people. And we need to take a page from their book. Because we're missing it.
I know my schedule is about to blow up. But somehow I need to take these moments. And make them mine. And make them mindful. And live those epiphanies. Because otherwise, what's the point?
Saturday, January 3, 2009
All the single ladies, all the single ladies.
Tonight I was at a wedding, shaking my tail feathers such as they are, in the living room of my boss.
That's out of context.
My really great friend Dan whom I have known since high school got married tonight and it just so happens he is the one who got me the job I have now because his Mom is in charge of the part of the program I work for.
More on the wedding tomorrow, actually, because it's a wonderful story that needs its own post.
But on the dance floor a very well dressed lady approached me and asked if my dress was "Betsey Johnson." "I have no idea," I replied, "I bought this for about eight dollars at a thrift store."
I gamely gestured towards my back and she checked the tag. "Yep," she said, shifting her fur stole, "Betsey Johnson. Congratulations. That dress probably sold about $400 retail." My jaw dropped and she continued on a bit about how she can spot a Betsey Johnson a mile away since she follows her line. I googled it just now, and she was right.
And just to think I almost didn't buy it because I thought the mid section was too clingy.
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That's out of context.
My really great friend Dan whom I have known since high school got married tonight and it just so happens he is the one who got me the job I have now because his Mom is in charge of the part of the program I work for.
More on the wedding tomorrow, actually, because it's a wonderful story that needs its own post.
But on the dance floor a very well dressed lady approached me and asked if my dress was "Betsey Johnson." "I have no idea," I replied, "I bought this for about eight dollars at a thrift store."
I gamely gestured towards my back and she checked the tag. "Yep," she said, shifting her fur stole, "Betsey Johnson. Congratulations. That dress probably sold about $400 retail." My jaw dropped and she continued on a bit about how she can spot a Betsey Johnson a mile away since she follows her line. I googled it just now, and she was right.
And just to think I almost didn't buy it because I thought the mid section was too clingy.
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