www.goodreads.com

I've recently discovered this amazing website!

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Not really.

It will, however, keep you occupied FOREVER !

Alcohol and Serenades

Every week Isaiah House has about two referrals for intakes.

Homeless and mental health outreach organizations desperately seek places for their clients to go during the day, especially as the cold weather is rapidly arriving.

During the intake, clients are given a tour of the building and told about the services our program offers.

Breakfast, lunch, groups, showers, referrals for doctors' appointments, etc.

Then clients are asked a series of questions about their mental health diagnosis, medication compliance, criminal history, suicidal ideations, homicidal ideations, other major health problems, and what kind of a support system is present.

I am expected to take diligent notes during this process.

I am also expected to not react to responses to said questions.

Quite possibly, the hardest part of my job, is pretending to be unphased.

Unphased when Eddie tells me he was hospitalized for attempted suicide two weeks ago.

Unphased when Ms. D tells me she has used every drug except heroine.

Unphased when Ms. L pees in my office.

Unphased when Nathan tells me he's staying in an abandoned house.

I have found that I absolutely CANNOT remain unphased when my client's sing.

I have heard the most beautiful songs come from the mouths of the most "undesireable" members of our society.

Edward on Thanksgiving.

And Jessie Mae Paul yesterday morning.

I gave Jessie Mae a tour of Isaiah House and then took her to my office for the intake.

We sat in my office across the table from eachother.

When I asked her what her name was, she said, "jessiemaepaul."

I wrote her name down "Jessie Maepaul."

I finally figured out her name is Jessie Mae Paul.

The intake was challenging.

She dropped out of school in eigth grade.

She was unable to recall details about her background.

She didn't know what a mental health diagnosis is.

It took her several minutes to sign her name.

She wrote "JESSIEMAEPAUL."

All capital letters.

No Spaces.

Jessie Mae told me that she drank alcohol on Saturday, but not Sunday or Monday because she ran out of money.

She said she was excited about doing chores because she loved to clean.

After filling out several forms, I described the different groups to Jessie Mae.

When I mentioned karaoke, her face lit up.

She said that she loves to sing and that she was going to sing me a song.

Jessie Mae sang "Jesus Loves Me" in her loud, raspy voice.

And it was beautiful.

Then Jessie Mae sang "This Little Light of Mine."

She proceeded to tell me that I should think about that song while I'm at work everyday.

JESSIEMAEPAUL reminded me that most days I learn more from the Isaiah House clients than they learn from me.

She promised me she would return.

This weekend was the first snow! And I was told I look like Jodie Foster. I'm taking it as a compliment.

"Planners", and "organizers", and "steer-the-course-ers" and why I don't aspire to be one

I've come to the conclusion that I am not a "planner."

You know the type: organized, ambitious, and steer the course.

Planners.

I went through high school with every intention of becoming a planner.

I went through college with every intention of becoming a planner.

Then, I started my JVC year with the intention of becoming a planner.

One day, I would stop NOT planning and start planning.

But I'm not a planner.

I can't do it.

I have a planner.

It's pink and brown.

It has lots of room for scheduling, and list making, and life organizing.

It has lots of empty space because I don't write it in.

It has lots of empty space because, instead, I write notes to myself on post-its and carry them around in my pockets and backpack.

Because I'm not a "planner."

So now, I've decided to stop trying to be a "planner" because I've been trying for 8 years and it's not happening.

I'm going to continue being a non-planner.

Because that's what works for me.

I wound up at McMurry University by not planning.

I wound up in JVC by not planning.

I wound up at Isaiah House by not planning.

Not planning is actually a positive quality (or so I'm going to keep telling myself).

Not planning has left room for opportunity and possibility.

By not planning I have ended up where I was supposed to be all along.

So my life plan is to not plan because by planning my own plan I am not following my life planner's plan.

Catch my drift?

Joe!

Joe Biden's son, Hunter Biden, was a JV back in the 80s, I believe, so they both made a surprise visit to JVC's big fundraising dinner last night. I was so starstruck!

I look googly-eyed, and Joe (we're on a first name basis, by the way) looks like a wax statue, but it was AWESOME!

Wisdom from the Georgetown Jesuit: Rev. Curry (my new favorite person)

"We cannot thrive until we understand the limitations of our brokenness.

Walk-a-Thon for Homelessness

Pretty scenery during the walk


Me and Russel


Community and friends



Stopping for a pose in the foliage

I love Thanksgiving because it's a holiday that surprises me. I love Thanksgiving because it's a day that encourages people to be selfless.

I love Thanksgiving this year because I woke up feeling bitter. Bitter for many reasons, including not being able to go home and having to walk a mile down 1st St. in the rain with a huge bowl of stuffing.

I realize that according to the calendar today is not Thanksgiving. At Isaiah House today was Thanksgiving. Today was the day that the Isaiah House staff prepared a holiday meal for the clients.

So again, all morning I was feeling bitter. Not only did I have to walk a mile in the rain with a huge bowl of stuffing. But then when I get to work, I'm soaked and my office is freezing cold.

At 11 o'clock, my bitterness increases when the staff starts reheating all of the food for lunch in an hour.

Why isn't this oven three times bigger?

Why are only two of the burners accessible?

Why has the mac n'cheese been in the oven for 30 minutes and it's still cold?

At 12:05, I go out into the dining area, still feeling bitter, and tell everyone to say some things that they are thankful for. One woman says her freedom. One man says his sobriety. Another man says the Isaiah House staff. And then silence.

Surely more than three of the 40 people in Isaiah House can think of something they are thankful for.

Crickets chirp.

I'm starting to feel increasingly bitter.

Finally, the program director of the addictions program stands up and says he is thankful to be alive.

Other people start listing off praises.

Then Edward stands.

Edward stands and says he wants to sing a gospel song.

Edward has been wearing the same blue sweatpants, orange button-up shirt, and adidas tennis shoes since I did his intake last week.

And Edward has the most beautiful voice.

Edward sings about tomorrow being a better day.

I feel myself start to cry.

I'm crying because all day I was bitter about silly things.

I'm crying because Edward can stand up and sing about tomorrow being a better day, when he is homeless, and only has one outfit.

When Edward is finished singing, everyone stands and claps and cheers.

With thankfulness in my soul, I help serve lunch, and cut pie, and call for seconds.

I'm not bitter anymore because I don't have anything worth being bitter about.

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving

I am thankful for:

1. The drummer on Georgia Ave. who plays on traffic cones and plastic buckets

2. Letters from Mom, funny e-mails from Daddy, and text messages from Jonah

3. Rwandan coffee

4. My JVC community

5. Captivating novels

6. Rainy, cloudy, hot chocolate weather days, but also, sunny beach days

7. People who make Christians look good

8. Love

9. Good health

10. Surprises

College does not prepare you for real world, grown-up, 40 hour work weeks, and 10:30 pm bed times

I was inspired by Kristina to describe a typical day as a JV in DC.

Let me just preface this by reiterating the title of this entry. COLLEGE DOES NOT PREPARE YOU FOR REAL WORLD, GROWN UP SCHEDULES.

Should I repeat myself?

COLLEGE DOES NOT PREPARE YOU FOR REAL WORLD, GROWN UP SCHEDULES.

Why do colleges forego informing their students that once you graduate, there is no time allotted for naps?!

My alarm goes of at 6:45 am. I silence it as quickly as possible. It's a terrible noise. It makes my stomach churn a little bit.

Ten minutes later, my alarm screams at me again. It's still a terrible noise.

I get out of bed and run downstairs straight for the coffee pot, with only one eye open, and my hair looking like I've been electrocuted.

I wish that I had remembered to try and figure out the timer on the coffee pot last night so that I don't have to do this every morning.

I debate quickly between Chock ful 'o Nuts and the Rwandan blend that our Dutch neighbor, who works for the world bank gave us as a souvenir on one of her many worldly travels.

I decide on the Rwandan one since I know Lucas will enjoy it more than the Chock ful 'o Nuts I grew up on.

I empty the dishwasher.

I eat some breakfast.

I go back upstairs and stare at my closet. Then I stare at my laundry basket. I think to myself that I should have done laundry because all of my favorite clothes are dirty.

I pull a shirt out of my closet.

I look at it and think to myself that I don't even like it so I should just give it away.

I pull a pair of pants out of my laundry basket. Don't judge me. I'm embodying the JVC value of simplicity by wearing dirty clothes.

My hair looks catastrophic so I tie a scarf around my head. Also, I haven't owned a brush in years.

I go back downstairs and throw some lunch in my backpack.

I walk 20 minutes to work down 1st St. with my coffee in hand.

I say "hi" to people walking their dogs.

My coffee is now cold, so I dump it out in someone's flowerbed.

I get to work just after 8 am.

I say "good morning" to everyone, then walk upstairs to my office.

I print off the schedule for the day, check my e-mail, waste some time reading trashy news.

I go back downstairs and plead with some of the members to run the morning meeting.

Ms. Mary agrees.

I watch James play solitaire.

I watch David play crazy eights.

I compliment Ms. Doris' purple hat.

Ms. Debra asks me why I never look nice for work. (maybe because I haven't brushed my hair in years?)

I watch Roger pour 4 packets of sugar into his coffee, then 4 packets into his cereal.

I ask Ms. Debra if she is going to sing karaoke with me today.

She says no. (maybe because I haven't brushed my hair in years?)

Ms. Pam asks me to open the Isaiah House store.

I go to the first aid kit and find some band-aids. I knew these shoes would be a terrible idea.

I say good morning to Joy and Jamie.

Morning Meeting starts at 9:15 am and ends at 9:30 am.

Exercise starts at 9:30 am. The members sit in their chairs in a circle and do leg lifts, arm lifts, head rolls, ankle rolls, and toe touches.

The next group starts at 10:15 am. It's my group. "Understanding Our World."

I decide on a topic, optical illusions, and print off some "magic eye" pictures.

It turns out that discussing illusions with former drug addicts and people who experience hallucinations was not a good decision.

The group is over at 11 am.

At 11:15 am the journaling group begins. Since I don't run that group I catch up on case management stuff. Yelling at case workers and social workers, the usual.

At noon we serve lunch.

Members complain that I don't make the portions big enough. "I'm a growing boy," one guy says. "Can I get 3 chicken legs?" another asks.

At 12:15 we serve seconds.

At 12:30 I eat whatever leftovers we had at our house from dinner the evening before.

The afternoon chores begin at 12:30.

"Ms. Emily, where is the mop?"

"Ms. Emily, I see that the floor is dirty, but do I have to sweep?"

"Ms. Emily, why do I have to clean today?"

"Ms. Emily, the dishwasher is broken."

"Ms. Emily, the butt can is outside and it's cold."

The next group begins at 1:15.

Karaoke time.

David sings "Smoke gets in her eyes."

Ms. Johnnie leaves the room because she is tired of hearing David sing that song every week.

Ms. Debra sings "Heya" and starts doing a booty dance.

Don breaks the microphone.

Everyone leaves at 2 pm.

I retreat back to my office where I spend the next 2 hours writing progress notes, calling case managers, getting releases of information, reading files, and researching drugs (legal, psych drugs).

At 4 pm I log off my computer, grab my stuff and walk 20 minutes back home.

I walk in the front door and Kierstin is sitting at the dining room table eating some fruit and reading the newspaper.

Shortly after, Jordan walks in the front door with his bike.

I put on my running clothes thinking that will motivate me.

It doesn't, so I just wear my spandex until I take a shower later.

I load the dishwasher and Kierstin and I exchange stories about difficult and/or funny clients at work. She laughs about Ms. Debra. I laugh about Tim the Stabber.

Tricia gets home and yells, "Hello!"

Lucas and Kristina get home and start talking about a lady with a pet lizard in her purse at work.

Someone starts cooking dinner. The other 5 stand around the kitchen washing dishes and/or drinking wine.

Lucas sets the table.

We all sit down. I sit in the same spot every night. Everyone else adapts better to change.

We say grace.

The food is served. Usually beans.

We eat.

Then we eat seconds.

Then we eat thirds.

Then we divide the rest for lunches the next day.

We clear the table.

We load the dishwasher.

Lucas sings some Breaking Bread hymns in a pseudo-operatic voice.

Tricia shows us her cheerleading moves from high school.

Jordan and Tricia talk about med school.

Kristina and I watch Gossip Girl.

Kierstin tries to give Lucas a hug.

Tricia calls Lucas' dad and asks him to bring baby pictures of Lucas when he comes to visit.

Kristina and I talk about going running at 6 the next morning. (it doesn't happen, by the way)

Kierstin goes to bed at 9 pm. (she goes into work at 6 am)

Lucas and I dance a little bit.

Kristina blogs.

Jordan plays soccer.

I take a shower.

I get into bed.

Kristina and I have some pillow talk.

Lucas and Tricia come cuddle with us briefly.

I go to bed at 10:30 pm. Because I'm not in college anymore. Because once I graduated I lost my inherent ability to stay up for more than a couple of hours after the sun sets.

I drift off to sleep thinking about how lucky I got getting placed at Isaiah House and how blessed I am to have such a wonderful community.

lentil stroganoff, pot pie, lasagne, and brownie bundt

So, this post is mostly for everyone I went to college with. Remember how I used to not be able to cook? Remember how there were neverending jokes about my lack of ability near any kitchen gadgets (including stove, oven, refrigerator)? Remember, Allison, how you used to tell people that my cooking involved putting cheese on a starch and throwing it in the microwave? Remember when I was helping someone slice potatoes and I started grating them with the cheese grater? Remember? Remember? Remember? DO YOU?!?!?!?!

Well, my friends, those days are over. JVC has had tremendously wonderful magical powers upon my lack of ability when it comes to cooking. I'm going to go ahead and toot my own horn for a little while and say that I have become an excellent chef (much like Tricia), and my delectable entrees have included, but are not limited to, lentil stroganoff, lasagne, chicken pot pie, and a brownie bundt.

Gone are the days of cheesey microwaved meals. Gone are the days of grating potatoes. Gone are the days of dishes that only slightly resemble food.

It is the dawn of a new day.

Sometimes I need a reminder

First they came for the communists,
and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists,
and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews,
and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out for me.

proof that weekends rock

10. Kiki returns

9. Brownie bundt (best idea ever)

8. My alarm clock doesn't go off

7. Coffee tastes better

6. People are friendlier

5. The clouds go away

4. I don't feel inclined to look at my watch

3. Reading is more enjoyable

2. Schedules don't exist

1. Grocery stores have samples

Life is never boring on 130 Bryant

On Wednesday, I called the cops when only Tricia, Kristina, and I were home because a lightbulb exploded downstairs and we thought someone was breaking in.

On Thursday, Tricia thought she got bit by bed bugs at work so she threw her wool sweater away. Also, Lucas, Tricia, Kristina, and I sang some Jesus songs together while our next door neighbors blasted some very non-Jesus music.

Quotes from my favorite client:

Day 1:
Me: "Ms. D., I let my roommate cut my hair. Do you like it?"
Ms. D.: "Tell her she don't know what she's doing!"

Day 2:
Me: "Good Morning, Ms. D.!
Ms. D.: "Ms. Emily, how come you never look nice for work?"

Day 3:
Me: "It's only 10 o'clock and I'm so hungry!"
Ms. D.: "Are you sure you're not expecting?"

Is it REALLY justice?

On Wednesday, the sniper who killed several people in the Washington, DC area was executed. It saddens me to read descriptive details about this atrocious aspect of the American “justice” system. It saddens me even more to read the interviews with people who lost loved ones in the shootings and decided to witness the execution.

The loss of one life cannot be justified by the loss of another life. As the wise and wonderfully magnificent Gandhi once put it, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/11/10/AR2009111001396.html

I am by no means condoning the acts committed by the sniper; merely expressing my sadness regarding how it is so easy to give different lives different values.

My office!

Bottle caps, can tabs, and a deck of cards

Housemates

Spooning sans Jordan.


Our first community portrait.(From left to right: Tricia Hughes, me, Lucas Sharma, Kristina Simes, Kierstin Quinsland, and Jordan Becerril)

Too many definitions

The 10 definitions of peace that I previously referred to:

peace  /pis/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [pees]
–noun

1. the normal, nonwarring condition of a nation, group of nations, or the world.

2. (often initial capital letter) an agreement or treaty between warring or antagonistic nations, groups, etc., to end hostilities and abstain from further fighting or antagonism: the Peace of Ryswick.

3. a state of mutual harmony between people or groups, esp. in personal relations: Try to live in peace with your neighbors.

4. the normal freedom from civil commotion and violence of a community; public order and security: He was arrested for being drunk and disturbing the peace.

5. cessation of or freedom from any strife or dissension.

6. freedom of the mind from annoyance, distraction, anxiety, an obsession, etc.; tranquillity; serenity.

7. a state of tranquillity or serenity: May he rest in peace.

8. a state or condition conducive to, proceeding from, or characterized by tranquillity: the peace of a mountain resort.

9. silence; stillness: The cawing of a crow broke the afternoon's peace.

10. (initial capital letter, italics) a comedy (421 b.c.) by Aristophanes.

If I didn't e-mail you my JVC update...

Last week, a diagnosed psychotic man who has gone unmedicated for months was walking around Isaiah House wearing a shower cap and singing “Jingle Bell Rock.” When I asked him if he was wearing a shower cap he said he was and when I asked him why, he said, “Because it feels good.” This answer was coupled with a look of incredulity at my lack of understanding at how good it feels to wear a shower cap and sing “Jingle Bell Rock.” Obviously. Sans sarcasm. I’m sure it DOES feel good to not need to live up to some image of normality.

I’ve decided that the mentally ill population greatly resembles the kindergarten age population. I remember when I was in kindergarten the only shoes I ever wore were hot pink high-top converse shoes. Let me just clarify that I went to a Catholic school so I wore a school uniform everyday WITH my hot pink high top converse. Let me also clarify that I had long, bushy, white blonde hair. And this was back in the day before hair products existed in my life. So, everyday I wore hot pink high-top converse, with my long, bushy, white blonde hair. Wearing my hot pink high top converse made me feel good. And I didn’t tame my hair because it didn’t feel good. Kindergarteners understand the world. Kindergarteners are in touch with reality.
When I told my dad about this client at work, this was his response:
“Your friend in the shower cap singing Christmas carols very well may be, more in touch with reality than all of the self-important young people in suits and ties walking around DC determinedly in search of some public policy initiative that they believe will change the course of human history!!”

How profound! No offense to self-important young people in suits and ties. But really, do those suits feel good? I think not. And when it starts to rain, you’re going to wish you had a shower cap on.

It’s always an adventure in the nation’s capital. One week I accidentally stumbled upon a protest of all things related to the Democratic Party and then a couple of weeks later I attended the equal marriage rights rally. Living in such a politically active area can be maddening at times and inspiring at times, but is always exciting. Regardless of your personal political inclinations, if there was ever a good time to live in Washington DC it is now. The excitement among the people here, 60% of whom are minorities, who have felt neglected for so long is almost tangible. The marginalized populations feel that their voices are finally being heard.

Every day I pray for peace. Did you know that there are ten different definitions for peace? Maybe the reason why peace in the world has not been attained is because the world is conflicted about what peace actually is. The definition I like the most is “freedom of the mind from annoyance, distraction, anxiety, and obsession.” External peace will only be attainable when the world’s internal sentiment is no longer at odds. The world will know peace when broken people are healed.

For Lucas! :)

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
It must have been cold there in my shadow,
to never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that's your way.
You always walked a step behind.

So I was the one with all the glory,
while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name for so long.
A beautiful smile to hide the pain.

Did you ever know that you're my hero,
and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.
I would be nothing without you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be.
I could fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

Did I ever tell you you're my hero?
You're everything, everything I wish I could be.
Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

Oh, the wind beneath my wings.
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings.
Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.

Fly, fly, fly high against the sky,
so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you,
thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.


The story behind this is as follows:
One day, Jordan was sitting in the living room and he said, "what's the name of that song? You know the one about the hero?" He was referring to the song by Enrique Iglesias, but because Lucas and I are kindred spirits, we started singing this song, not by Enrique, but by Bette Midler.

"Why blame the dark for being dark? It is far more helpful to ask why the light isn’t as bright as it could be."

In my mind, and sometimes out loud, I catch myself criticizing people for their faults and mistakes, rather than looking for their light. For whatever reason, it is oftentimes much easier to see the darkness in people, rather than the light. I have decided to challenge myself to see the light in someone else EVERYDAY.
I see lots and lots of people on my walk to and from work each morning. I am changing my perspective so that I really listen when they say “good morning” and look closely when they smile, rather than focusing on the clothes they are wearing or any number of other judgments I could make. I live with lots of people. I am changing my perspective so that I enjoy the homecooked meal that a roommate made, rather than being bitter about dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. I work with lots of people. I am changing my perspective so that I laugh when a client tells me I never look nice for work, rather than getting frustrated when another client complains about what we are serving for lunch. I am changing my perspective so that my life is brighter.
I have become an expert at pointing out the faults of others. What I want to be, is an expert at pointing out the gifts of others. I want to see accomplishment before I see mistake. I want to recognize light, before darkness.
Bishop Desmond Tutu once said, “My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.” We are, everyone, reflections of our neighbors, and when we focus on the darkness of others, we are inherently focusing on the darkness of ourselves. You are a part of me, I am a part of you, and together we can be better than we are alone. We can be brighter.