The end(finals suck)

All of this white space seems so serene to me. I don't want to fill it up and I don't think I have anymore things to say. I am almost done the worse rushed papers of a decade. Feeling like my references for my PHD have gone down the drain. *ack

through friendship...

I went home last week.
and because my home is a mausoleum (and my mother a hoarder)
there were things that were posted on my wall from the 1992.
19 fucking 92.
There was this poster I ripped out from seventeen magazine...
I wasn't seventeen.
It was a 'how to' be a good friend. I ripped it out and put in on my wall...
I wonder what made me find that article important. I guess it touched a part of me.
the inside me whom I didn't know juuust yet.
Well, I think in so many ways that article gave me the basis of who I was going to be.
I would cultivate people and discover relationships that would save my life and my sanity
those are not the same thing
so many times over and over.
Those friendships would be my source of strength and creativity...
I laugh when people tell me I'm strong or smart or cleaver...
I stole all that from the people who love. me.

Not Like Crazy...

It would be an impossible task to encapsulate the inexplicable drag, drop, explosion of a fucked ass year this was.

This afternoon I was sitting in the computer lab chilling with my girl Shauna, whispering Jill...

what you do is crazy baby, not like you belong in an asylum, crazy baby, like sun in morning, i'm astounded by your love for me...

and I suddenly couldn't kick this flood of relief. It was

opposite

of the panic attack I had last Friday contemplating the moment of revelation.

I looked up and to the left to welcome an old friend home.

happiness.

See, cuz, like, the world is over and everything is working out.

everything is checking out, sir.

my little girl is sitting in a field of flowers wearing a cotton dress with blue, red, and yellow stripes. The straps are tied tight with little bows and  her hands are nasty with the sap of dandelion flowers. She is elated by the sun dancing over the leaves...

nothing else matters right now.

deep breath.

The End

i have always loved endings. for me, logically, they signal rebirth. sometimes a love of endings causes me to yearn for them when things get a tickle in them. i work to stay in the dirtiest places now..at least until i know i'm not running - but transitioning. there is a difference, you know. here on this blog - i am prepared to transition. this blog has represented a will for me. it started as a way to bring a friendship together with dreams of being famous. at the heart of it was my secret desire to be a better writer. this has been accomplished. having completed a tough semester at school - i see my style and my voice as a writer all over my work. it brings me great joy to recognize how far i have come.

but all things change. the voice of this blog has become muddled. the purpose and dedication is therefore different. what goes where and the fear of the 'overshare' loom mightily. i am looking to find a way to get back to my more political writing side. my momentum faltered after a friend ruined my computer and i was never able to quite pick back up to that speed. my fault entirely. so i intend to keep sharing my writing. definitely with a larger audience but here...my personal blob is finished.

thank you for reading and being my audience for the past four years.

toodles.

bek.

Two more to go...

finals suck. i think i don't care anymore. a pass is a pass??
then i can go home to this...for days and days and days (+beer+Ocho+bf+gym-stress)

lol - MMMMEEEEEeeEEEEEeeeeee

the school of social work
by: molotovsky

times a wasting

I have been razor focused on time.

When you don't have all you need, your vision narrows and tunnel vision lets you see nothing excepts those things relevant to getting you through to where you need to be.

A paper done, a bill paid, a meal cooked...

This weekend I walked into an urban outfitters.

My favorite place.

I know it isn't the PC place to like - it is a land of big box pretending to be small.. quirky.. individual.. They steal folks ideas and put them on sale for 4 bucks.

I used to walk through the aisles slowly, singularly, identifying all the things I would lovingly watch until that very.. last.. mark.. down - I could feel my fingers anticipating the feeling of triumph when I walked out of the third store I searched with a piece I love at 9.99 from 89.99. I would giggle identifying a designer piece they didn't even bother to change before swiping. There was an unlimited about of time. With that black and white reusable bag clutched in my hands, full of  things, I would feel like "I win, time is free, I am free." Money was limited but time was not...I was rich...in time.

What happens though when you leave this moment to hope for the next? When this day is simply an impediment to the next, an impediment to where you need to be, an impediment to get what you need for you? It feels like you are sitting in a padded room with nothing to do (twiddle your thumbs) and at the very same time you are in the world working 15 hours shifts. Exhausted and yet completely removed from it all. Watching yourself spin crazily to complete deadline but only being aware when it's something that achieves a benchmark.

I thought about all of this as stood at the balcony of the UO for a while. They play the appropriate indy movie thoughtful moment music - which breaks me out of the reflection revelry with it's "it's just too perfect for the moment perfectness" and I head downstairs to the men's floor where they hide the good shoes that never go on sale.

13,22,2/2....

stupid test...

I took a dumb test about my best career choice...this is what it said.

You are a Persuader, possible professions include - entertainer, recruiter, artist, newscaster, writer/journalist, recreation director, librarian, facilitator, politician, psychologist, housing director, career counselor, sales trainer, travel agent, program designer, corporate/team trainer, child welfare worker, social worker (elderly services), interpreter/translator, occupational therapist, executive


oh.

oh yes!

No Locking Posts!!

I was devastated months ago when I finally realized that I couldn't lock posts...

It meant that in place of my funny date stories - there would be no funny bf stories.  Stories just aren't as funny when you're held accountable, or could hurt someones feelings, and honestly it simply isn't fun knowing that it ends up being like a message etc...

So in response I've said nothing.

tre boring.

I'm thinking of breaking the seal....

Letting it out...

But like I said previously I don't wanna be the single in the twin letting everything out and  the other single gets to stay safe behind silence...

Oh power plays...

the annoyance....

Sigh (cracks knuckles)

So I spent thanksgivings with the beau's family because my mother decided that now was the best time to go on vacation. So in 32 years of life - this year was the first I did not spend with my family. I was/am devastated. There were MANY blogable moments - including finally meeting mama's baby boy, aka Shareef - but before we left mom's house for dad's house (oh, yeah I was all UP in this families ass for twelve hours) I got a little loose with the tongue with moms.

faux pa.

She was discussing her need for her baby boy and beloved wife of baby boy to have children. I take blame. I did mention that couples usually get a dog as a trail before winding their way up to children (should have been my first sign that my tongue was loose)... So I, obviously feeling comfortable, decided to share that I was ready to have children...soon. We had discussed my boundaries with time and her son before so this wasn't exactly news to her. But then I started talking about how before he had come around I was considering having children alone and I put off thinking about to see where this would go...I had always assumed I would have children I didn't have to share, blah blah blah.

Her response?

Weeellllll, Mrs. Mom is generally talkative so I wasn't going to get the rude silence if she was displeased. Honestly, I will never know....which will simply feed my anxiety about the diarrhea mouth.

ah well. the beau will have to let me know (hint,hint)....

on the agenda!

A natural woman...

Resource room thoughts...Go!

Aretha....check.

You make me feel. You make me feel like a . na.tur.ral. wo.man. You make me feel..like. a nat.ur.ral. woooman.

Dam. What does it feel like to feel like that? A natural woman? In this social moment - I guess we would have to take it to Lady Gaga's Born this way....

with certainty, that's not what Aretha was talking about. Now I know not to fantasise about romance novels those aren't real, but this shit snuck up and got to me.

I don't know what it is but I want it!!

Is it when your S.O. runs his their head (Freudian slip - I meant hand...I guess I meant head - smh) hand up your thigh and tells you that you are it. Just it? I'm sure the right answer is something like feeling whole in yourself and sharing that with your preferred other but smack that. I've been single and that is a hollow pill to swallow - placebo effect....hate to say it ( I mean feel it).

paradoxically, i'm sure i've not had this natural woman thing. Not with a boyfriend (insert irony) I don't think. Maybe the dark one but that was so long ago and those memories are packed tight in a waterlogged cardboard file at the bottom of the basement. eh.

The bff said yesterday "I'm not in the best of shape but I look good naked" and I thought, "Wow, I haven't felt like that in a long time." I didn't even realize I hadn't felt steamy, sultry, sexy for while until that moment...

aw shit.

Ah well...

Thanks Blogger.


You must be prescient. You somehow knew what I needed today was a reminder of how little I impact the world.


You were thinking to yourself "that dam bekabug needs a kick in the pants!"... show her how many people read her blog...*snicker*


4, on a good day. :)


y'all are all who matter to me.


Giggling...

that's it.

love this room. those callalillies are the spot.

worldwhirlwind

I'm chilling in the resource room bumping Al Green's Here I am baby...

(come and take me..take me by the hand)

Loving, loving what I'm doing. I don't normally say I'm lucky, or even worse, blessed. Mainly because I feel the presence of good fortune rests on a shaky foundation and if you bring attention to it it will fall - egg to concrete. Don't test it. Don't look forward to it. Don't expect it. And be grateful when it shows up.

Yet right now?

Even through Everything that has happened. I feel snug as a bug in a rug in the bosom of God's goodwill. It may not last but it's here right now.

and seriously right now - i am truly exhausted. all week i have gone home and gone directly to sleep. do not pass go. do not watch the daily show (well, watch as teeth brushing is commencing). do not call the beau (who was busy anyway). ocho snuggle. star gate universe. sleep. oversleep. start over.

Last week I was surrounded by loved ones and etcs moving and such but my recovery time for upheaval in the hierarchy (see.below) is slloooowwwinnng down. Never mind I haven't been able to afford my bounty of fruits and veggies...Never mind all my meats are pumped full of crap because I can't afford the good stuff. At least I haven't gotten sick.

Social work moment:

Yeah, see the safety and physical needs? uhm yeah. fiddling with those sucks. Hey you watching out for these things yourself? Required assignment to keep from ending up on my couch....

Anyhoo - I'm home. Home in my cheap apt. and so much so home in my placement. I had an hour discussion with supervisor about how to get into this world in two years...the starting salary is sweeeeeet. I love working with these kids. Maybe I won't like all kids. But these kids? They make me feel like I'm supposed to be here working with them. I've had some set backs with kiddies shutting down and withdrawing. I've had some amazing successes as well with some of the most difficult kids showing remarkable improvement (and honestly, who knows rebellious smartalecky kids who read too much better than me?). It is truly a joy - and isn't this why I went through all of the drama for the last two years?

I suppose so.

(msw cousin paving the way for the mswdr. movement - get ready!)

Why does my house look like this??? Sad...

...black women stand up...

My supervisor rocks!

She is sadly out with a mysterious disease. We know it is serious but not life threatoning...I don't think I have ever been so curious about what is going on with someones health. I suppose she is my bff in my head and I am really worried...

So I am sitting at her desk today. I am totally uncomfortable sitting here as the children file pass and do the double takes when they see the black girl sitting here instead of the blond women they adore. It can't be helpped, I need the space...And to quote the good rev. Rice..."They will get over it" (Does anyone else think he overuses that phrase?)

The Point:
As I was sitting here, I noticed that she has the quote compulsion like I do. Just quotes stuck everywhere, most of them deep but not striking to me personally, a fair amount of them are surprisingly Xstian centered...(a secret Xstian...the plot thickens....)  This hit one deep.

To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury;
and refinement rather than fashion;
to be worthy, not respectable; and wealthy, not rich;
to study hard. think quietly, talk gently, act frankly;
to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with an open heart;
to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, hurry never;
in a word, to let spiritual, unbidden and unconscious
grow up through the common.
This is to be my symphony
 William Ellery Channing.

I love how smooth and silkily this life is presented. It reminds of me rainy days on a window seats and tweed jackets and the expensive version of aerosole shoes.  Even in its simplicity it seems privileged, and comfortable, and right now? Completely unattainable. It's a picture that I will look at when my river is frothy with stress, when my self control is hidden from sight and when my bank account is empty of money and I "think quietly" of becoming a stripper. One day I could be that woman.  One day I will have the patience and time and money to listen to babes and sages...right now it is just a dream I'm treading towards.

This is Not a teaching moment...

There was a point today that was glorious only in its ability to shatter my calm. It was definitely after talking to my dentist. He says very matter of factually, destroying my entire afternoon, "it sounds like you need a root canal".

Really?

I'm not going to bother to ask how much. The best part was all the useless advice I got...the priceless one was my dad asking me to go check my insurance from my old job. Would you just shut up and stop talking?

I'm so over it.

Self Advocacy and shit...

Finding our footing...that's the theme of this semester. I have been completely overwhelmed with the transition that I have gone through in the last 3 months. So I am in mid fall on a muddy hill.

To use a well trodden phrase, I am holding on with my fingernails and afraid to look down. I really feel that I am in the space where wiley has walked off the cliff and hasn't looked down yet. It's that moment when you anticipate the fall even though it hasn't started yet - making it all the more scary in its inflation by your imagination. I thought that I was just experiencing the regular transition on many levels; feeling overwhelmed with incredible life stressors and changes, feeling mishandled by the administration of the school, feeling out of wack with my field placement and the level of responsibility, and feeling over whelmed at the weight of fatigue on my ability to do what is an incredibly boring but manageable amount of reading.

Technically, I should feel ecstatic. Having fulfilled my main goal of receiving a Honors from my hardest professor - but smooth high of that incredible triumph was soon squashed by mounting concerns in every other part of my life.

That being said, I had my field advisory meeting today. Much to my surprise apparently I am in a crisis stage at my site. I am the only one with my case load level. I am the only one with readings to do at this level. I am the only one who has to do three process recordings, plus session notes on top of the regular work assigned for class. I could go on. Let's just say that there are many people who have yet to get their hands on a client, much do anything besides run recess and do paperwork. Oh.

Oh.

I am not used to people looking at me with pity eyes but that is what happened today. I found it to be extremely amusing, in a terrifying way that the professor goes, as I walk out the door, you need to email me for a meeting immediately. Apparently no one else has two ACS cases on her caseload. Oh 

I realized today the effect of stress for me is that I can't handle tiny stressors. Like the inability to adjust when the schools wifi is not working when I am trying to get my readings printed out. My brain turned to mush and oddly enough my thighs started to feel huge.  I was like, waitawhatthehell? Now I decide to feel fat? It's like all the insecurities that always float around, waiting for their moment, suddenly gain strength and infiltrate your mind. I feel fat and ugly. I feel sad and anxious. (Can you tell I have been working with folks around naming, recognizing, and expressing their emotions?)

I know one thing for certain. I love my job. I love it. Sometimes in between sessions I walk down the hall and actually feel the sun in my chest. The rays ,not the death dealing radiation. Even if I haven't accomplished anything in session, just the interaction and contact with these children light up my day - even if I am being called a caustic agent of the principal. :)

So I feel terrible. I feel triumphant. I feel anxious.

and I'm so over feeling. Really.