(no subject)
Hey, you remember that time when...?
Nah.. no I don't.
Yeah, I kinda felt the need to type something up for my sisters and everyone to read. Maybe it's not really for them though. I kinda miss writing... I don't think I have a notebook here to do so in though.
Amanda needs to receive a letter. That's what I'd be doing now if I had paper. Why don't they have paper in this place? They hid everything and keep it looking like a sears magazine. To hell with that...
...as soon as they get their shit outta that room downstairs, I'll maul the walls and make it mine. There won't be a square inch of pastel paint left to be seen on that wall, it'll be all covered with my brain. It'll splatter gorgeously, I think, It'll splay out to the furthest reaches of the room and when anyone walks into it they will be struck with how barbaric and un-sears like the room is.
No table and chairs set.
Nothing of the sort.
A desk to be smeared with my wonderful sweat and grime. That's what I want in there.
...
Well, we did more volunteer hours at the old folks home. I'm learning to deal with what happens to all of us. I like them, but it makes me sad. Lara is so politely confused.. she doesn't like to let on that she is though, and it struck me ass odd at first that she'd be in there. But once I talked with her here and there, I could understand. But I still got the impression she knew enough to not want to be there.
Some of the old ladies and gentlemen I can see have no choice but to be there.. I don't know her name, but she is so cute, and she is bitter. She has to stay in a chair all the time. They call them geri(geriatric)chairs. There are quite a few like this. "The hell are these people doing? Not feeding me! Nobody ever listens, I've been here for a week and no one cares to come in and see me." She says. Shelly, the lady who runs the volunteer program, says with a smile, "Oh yes, your daughter comes in every day to see you. She's going to be here any minute." And when shelly leaves, the bitter old lady calls her a liar, and swears at her.
And still... there are old ladies like Doreen. She is confined to a geri chair as well. She has the shakes really bad, and she's so sweet. I've never seen her with teeth in her mouth, and when she strains to remember this or that little tid bit she scrunches her eyes closed and I could just hug her, she looks so cute. She, despite her lack of mobility and her slipping mind, has such life in her. She laughs and makes jokes, and when we played Yahtzee with her and George and the rest of them, she would shakily brush her arm against Georges and say cheerily "That's for good luck!" and she would dump the dice out of the cup. She was so surprised when she got a Yahtzee.. we all said "Oh look, Doreen! Yahtzee!!" And she looked shakily down at the dice and her face lit up and she said with her toothless shrunken-faced smile "Yahtzee!"
So, yeah. It's damn rewarding, and damn hard to work with these people. I thought "She'll die sometime soon, and I will have to experience that." That's really what makes it hard. It's not wiping butts that worries me.. everyone seems to be worried about that... when they die, I don't know.. I've never experienced death in that way before. I've never cried over a real persons death in my life, I don't think.
I don't know... I gotta write some letters. Where's some effing paper when you need it?
Nah.. no I don't.
Yeah, I kinda felt the need to type something up for my sisters and everyone to read. Maybe it's not really for them though. I kinda miss writing... I don't think I have a notebook here to do so in though.
Amanda needs to receive a letter. That's what I'd be doing now if I had paper. Why don't they have paper in this place? They hid everything and keep it looking like a sears magazine. To hell with that...
...as soon as they get their shit outta that room downstairs, I'll maul the walls and make it mine. There won't be a square inch of pastel paint left to be seen on that wall, it'll be all covered with my brain. It'll splatter gorgeously, I think, It'll splay out to the furthest reaches of the room and when anyone walks into it they will be struck with how barbaric and un-sears like the room is.
No table and chairs set.
Nothing of the sort.
A desk to be smeared with my wonderful sweat and grime. That's what I want in there.
...
Well, we did more volunteer hours at the old folks home. I'm learning to deal with what happens to all of us. I like them, but it makes me sad. Lara is so politely confused.. she doesn't like to let on that she is though, and it struck me ass odd at first that she'd be in there. But once I talked with her here and there, I could understand. But I still got the impression she knew enough to not want to be there.
Some of the old ladies and gentlemen I can see have no choice but to be there.. I don't know her name, but she is so cute, and she is bitter. She has to stay in a chair all the time. They call them geri(geriatric)chairs. There are quite a few like this. "The hell are these people doing? Not feeding me! Nobody ever listens, I've been here for a week and no one cares to come in and see me." She says. Shelly, the lady who runs the volunteer program, says with a smile, "Oh yes, your daughter comes in every day to see you. She's going to be here any minute." And when shelly leaves, the bitter old lady calls her a liar, and swears at her.
And still... there are old ladies like Doreen. She is confined to a geri chair as well. She has the shakes really bad, and she's so sweet. I've never seen her with teeth in her mouth, and when she strains to remember this or that little tid bit she scrunches her eyes closed and I could just hug her, she looks so cute. She, despite her lack of mobility and her slipping mind, has such life in her. She laughs and makes jokes, and when we played Yahtzee with her and George and the rest of them, she would shakily brush her arm against Georges and say cheerily "That's for good luck!" and she would dump the dice out of the cup. She was so surprised when she got a Yahtzee.. we all said "Oh look, Doreen! Yahtzee!!" And she looked shakily down at the dice and her face lit up and she said with her toothless shrunken-faced smile "Yahtzee!"
So, yeah. It's damn rewarding, and damn hard to work with these people. I thought "She'll die sometime soon, and I will have to experience that." That's really what makes it hard. It's not wiping butts that worries me.. everyone seems to be worried about that... when they die, I don't know.. I've never experienced death in that way before. I've never cried over a real persons death in my life, I don't think.
I don't know... I gotta write some letters. Where's some effing paper when you need it?