If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.
Every day is a haze. Where did passion go? Did I leave it on the bedroom floor? Did it get lost in the laundry, maybe thrown out by accident with my obsolete poetry books and journals?
A brief stint with freedom and sanity have left me plunging headfirst into Work again. At least this time it's not food service.
My co-workers this time are King, Prince, Valentine, Fabio, Romeo, Calypso, Demeter, Hecate, Gaia, Bree, Lily, Annie, Bert, and Simon-Sabrina and Vincent-Venessa (who were only recently diagnosed as male). They are mice. Adorable albino lab mice. I spend my days cleaning their cages, counting their food, massing their squirming, skittish bodies and attempting to differentiate one from the next by making deliberate Sharpie markings on their tiny frantic forms. For now they are my friends. In a few months I'll start my experiments. No death for them, just pain, all in the name of science, eh? Don't hate me.
I've been singing with Dreamcatcher many Saturday nights, and the occasional Friday. It's definitely an altered state of consciousness; pounding fear, apprehension, joy and freedom all in one moment, with my thoughts in a puddle at my feet wondering how I can manage to sing with such a passion to countless strangers but to look in their eyes I dissolve... I love the late nights, the $70 dollars cash that I always forget I'm to be rewarded with until it's in my hand, but my throat still feels like my tea was mingled with something caustic.
Friday was something else. All the rain seemed to come in spastic deluges at inopportune intervals, and lighting and thunder came at the same time shaking me to my bones and sounding like bombs. Mom's flight was cancelled, so we performed at the Verona Eagles Club without her, the keyboard standing patiently unused, taking up a large wing of the tiny stage. I felt like I was in cage, pinned to the left by Jeff and his bass, to the right by music stands and mic stands, and to the rear by Mark's drums, balanced pricariously on high heels like stilts and trying not to trip over Mark's carelessly (and dangerously) abandoned guitar cord. Somehow we made it through the night without the cement of keyboard chords and mother-guitaring. They'll be wanting us back, according to rumor, but I can't imagine why. We captivated perhaps five individuals, one of which was my father.
I received a call on Frida - in my frantic scrambling to go from collecting mouse poop to dressed fancy for giggin' - from Melissa Rubin (who shares the last name of my most recent and least effective therapist) to alert me that I've been given the vet tech position at Alleghent Veterinary Emergency and Trauma Specialty (AVETS). I'll be attending an orientation at 10:30am on Monday. The job is going to conflict with my other two, I don't know how badly. But it's 9.50 an hour more than I am making now, with benefits, and a good step along the becoming-a-vet-eventually-I-hope career path.
Clarice and Archimedes are causing a ruckus. They are very hungry lil' keets, and I've been negligent. The food is gone, so, alas, I must don something more acceptabe than right now's nothing and travel into the world of consumerism and traffic scramble.
Til next time.
A brief stint with freedom and sanity have left me plunging headfirst into Work again. At least this time it's not food service.
My co-workers this time are King, Prince, Valentine, Fabio, Romeo, Calypso, Demeter, Hecate, Gaia, Bree, Lily, Annie, Bert, and Simon-Sabrina and Vincent-Venessa (who were only recently diagnosed as male). They are mice. Adorable albino lab mice. I spend my days cleaning their cages, counting their food, massing their squirming, skittish bodies and attempting to differentiate one from the next by making deliberate Sharpie markings on their tiny frantic forms. For now they are my friends. In a few months I'll start my experiments. No death for them, just pain, all in the name of science, eh? Don't hate me.
I've been singing with Dreamcatcher many Saturday nights, and the occasional Friday. It's definitely an altered state of consciousness; pounding fear, apprehension, joy and freedom all in one moment, with my thoughts in a puddle at my feet wondering how I can manage to sing with such a passion to countless strangers but to look in their eyes I dissolve... I love the late nights, the $70 dollars cash that I always forget I'm to be rewarded with until it's in my hand, but my throat still feels like my tea was mingled with something caustic.
Friday was something else. All the rain seemed to come in spastic deluges at inopportune intervals, and lighting and thunder came at the same time shaking me to my bones and sounding like bombs. Mom's flight was cancelled, so we performed at the Verona Eagles Club without her, the keyboard standing patiently unused, taking up a large wing of the tiny stage. I felt like I was in cage, pinned to the left by Jeff and his bass, to the right by music stands and mic stands, and to the rear by Mark's drums, balanced pricariously on high heels like stilts and trying not to trip over Mark's carelessly (and dangerously) abandoned guitar cord. Somehow we made it through the night without the cement of keyboard chords and mother-guitaring. They'll be wanting us back, according to rumor, but I can't imagine why. We captivated perhaps five individuals, one of which was my father.
I received a call on Frida - in my frantic scrambling to go from collecting mouse poop to dressed fancy for giggin' - from Melissa Rubin (who shares the last name of my most recent and least effective therapist) to alert me that I've been given the vet tech position at Alleghent Veterinary Emergency and Trauma Specialty (AVETS). I'll be attending an orientation at 10:30am on Monday. The job is going to conflict with my other two, I don't know how badly. But it's 9.50 an hour more than I am making now, with benefits, and a good step along the becoming-a-vet-eventually-I-hope career path.
Clarice and Archimedes are causing a ruckus. They are very hungry lil' keets, and I've been negligent. The food is gone, so, alas, I must don something more acceptabe than right now's nothing and travel into the world of consumerism and traffic scramble.
Til next time.