Sunday morning found me driving around the city looking for a blasted coffee shop that was open. First, I swung over to my neighborhood hot spot, the May Day Cafe. No luck, still have nearly 10 mintutes. Next, I drove over to Butter, a little out of my way but still semi-en route to work...my prospects were even worse there, I still had almost 30 minutes till the doors would open. Cafetto saved me finally.
Now today, I hear of a new development - the South City Cafe!! This little joint will be opening on the corner of 34th and Chicago any day now. And they open at 7am!

Random.

/ With the previous weeks lack of quality sleep and upped anxiety and stress, I've been having a return/increase in night terrors. One involved me dreaming about then waking half up thinking there was a man with a metal tool with silver wavy prongs on it getting ready to swing down onto me - I know I said something outloud as I was in the middle of it but I don't remember what. It took more than a few minutes to come out of that one. Luckily, everyone is used to it and just tells me to shut up (not literally, of course). Many laughs have been had at my expense over the years, including from myself, because if you can't laugh, what can you do?

/ I'm beginning to learn to stick my fingers in my ears and close my eyes when it comes to the guy's backgrounds and activites on the street - the less I know, the better. Denial, it's not just a river in Africa. Unless there is a 'need to know' to assist them better or maintain shelter/housing rules, I will disregard it.

/ School - final project time and both of my in-progress projects have had wrenches thrown in. Can't get an interview for my writing class, no one is available or will return my call/e-mail. I hate bothering people so I may be stuck interviewing someone who was a last resort (the object is to interview someone in a career we are interested in and this person is doing something that I am only semi-interested in). The other project fell behind when I had to miss my group's meet-up to consolidate information. Christ! I can't fall behind now, the semester is nearly over!!

/ In continuing my independent study - I recently started Luis Alberto Urrea's first book, "Across the Wire: Life and Hard Times on the Mexican Border". It's been pretty eyeopening thus far. He talks about missionary work he did in the 80's and the families that live in the dumps in Tijuana in particular. In these dumps, not only is there garbage (which the families glean their belongings and food from) but they also slaughter and burn animals there amongst the shacks, rotten flesh mingling with their water and food supply when the rains come and mud forms, blue acrid smoke rising from the pile of bodies as they burn. Luis is able to describe this in just enough detail that you start to gag while imagining it.

/ Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows how to read, 2 men come to mind right away and I know there are more than I even know about. When I spoke to one about a month ago, I had asked if there was anything we could do to help him with it and I've thought about it since - he is nearly 40 and has gotten along so far, at this point, I don't think he wants to pursue it. From what I gather, it's the same situation with the other gentleman, he kind of just wants to let it go and will ask for assistance when needed. Then I wonder if I want them to learn because I feel like they are missing out when, maybe in reality, they may not even care to ever learn. But then I think about how empowered they could feel if they took that step but it's not my job to pressure them, only to help when and if they are ready.

/ More crisis this weekend:

1. A former shelter guest came in, his antidepressants were changed and he was feeling very off, on top of that, he had just moved into a board and lodging unit, which means that he shares a room and has some shared facilities - he had been able to maintain soberity while staying with us and seemed to be doing well. He came in this weekend and had drank that day and was feeling suicidal but kept reassuring me that he wouldn't do anything. I didn't even have a tissue to lend him when he started tearing up. When it comes down to it, it can be challenging to know what to say as you're letting someone talk and trying to both be there for them and determine a risk. He finally agreed that going to the hospital was the best option and arrangements were made.

2. Later that night, a woman came up to me in the parking lot. I asked if I could help her and she started crying, telling me that she needed a place to stay. She had lost her housing that day or the evening before and had spent the day in her car crying and trying to figure out what to do. I whisked her into an office and determined that it wasn't related to Domestic Violence, that narrowed down her options. No young children and no DV means that shelters are few. Luckily, the women's shelter nearby had space that evening when I called for her. Again, there were no tissues as she cried, wondering how she could be 46 years old and have this happen to her. What do I say to that?? In the end, I didn't feel horrible sending her away as I knew that she was in good hands at the shelter she was en route to.

Dear butthighs:

Why must you foresake me? Years of haphazardly purchasing youthful clothing has come to an end. Legs and abs that used to house muscles now hold chub. I must work hard not to fall victim to the horrific mom jeans and applique sweatshirt crowd. My desire for black skinny jeans has been squashed as I yank them up only to find they won't move...I find myself combing the racks both at retail and thrift level desperately seeking a pant that fits. At home, I throw garments across the room in frustration and stomp around, scaring anyone in my path. All because of you, butthighs. I foresee a life a fast paced walking, sprinting on my bike and stairsteppers in my future...

Book Review:

The Devil's Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea

I read this book a month or so ago - throughout the entire book, I could barely put it down because I wanted to know what would happen next.

The book tells the story of the Yuma 14, as the group of men who died are referred to, and how their deaths came to be. The group started out with 26 men (Wellton 26) who were trying to cross the border through the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. Some were crossing to emigrate for good, some were just planning to work the summer then bring the money home to rebuild housing, etc...
Due to some careless and inexperienced Coyotes (the men/boys who are paid big bucks to lead/traffick crossers over the border), the group was led astray and eventually got lost. They spent days in the desert heat, well into the 100's, without food or water. Luis recounts truthful facts about the men's trip through the desert as well as vivid accounts of how things most likely felt and happened - this was done because so many of the men died that the stories had to be pieced together to paint a picture for the reader to visualize the conditions or scenerios a border crosser faces.

Myself? I put myself into those men's shoes and could imagine why they wanted to cross, how they were feeling when they left home, how painful the journey was (I had heat stroke in New Mexico about 10 years ago) and how scared and upset they must have been.

After reading The Devil's Highway, I do feel a new respect for those that do make the trek over the border (for legitimate reasons, not drug trafficking). If for no other reason, because they MADE IT and made it ALIVE. I get that border politics are messy and I would rather not get into what's right or wrong - I just want to recognize that if most Americans grew up in the conditions that some border crossers did or do, those same Americans would probably do the same thing.

In a test of parenting strength, the small child has been granted more independance as of late.

Tonight, against my internal naysayer, she will walk home from the bus and has been given permission to go play with the neighborhood youth with the stipulation that she calls me as soon as she gets home, calls me when a plan is hatched with the neighbor kids and is home at a certain time. I'll be at work but if something comes up, it's a quick jaunt home...

I'm trying to be tough and to let her grow, I know that this "running around the neighborhood" time is valuable and I enjoyed the hell out of it when I was young. I just get myself worked up envisoning all that could go wrong...

End Times.

I'm not usually one to follow grand predictions but all of these earthquakes in recent months have me a little uneasy in my seat... I'm almost tempted to go wild these next few years with the expectation of the end of the world boiling up.

Resumes.

People are weird, I just looked at a resume where the person listed a job she held at a grocery store from 1979 to 1984!!!!!! Whaaa? Why would someone go back that far on a freakin' resume??!!

Old Lady.

This year I've decided that I don't want to haul my heavy textbooks and other paraphanlia on my back anymore, I've bought a rack for my bike and I'm getting a pannier. While I enjoy the minimalist look on a bicycle (even gears seem like clutter), I would rather have the weight off of my back.

Work.

Still emo. Don't know what my problem is but I suspect not enough sleep and too many doubles while working 7 days. Hope this weekend I can not be so soft and not let things get to me.

The last 2 days have been trying and challenging. Yesterday at the shelter, a man thought that he was having a heart attack so we had to set the 911 gears in motion. I struggled with what I should do in the interim, while waiting. Inside, I feared that I wouldn't be able to do the right thing if he started to go downhill and needed CPR, although I'm sure instinct would have kicked in.

I did an overnight to train in a new volunteer, so my night shift ended at 9am this morning...and we had at least 5 or so guys trying to invite themselves to the breakfast that the meal group had brought and prepared for shelter guests. I had to be the bad guy and tell them to move along. Turns out it's been an ongoing problem that is happening because the overnight shifts are run by volunteers who don't always know who slept over for the evening or who aren't comfortable enough to be assertive when someone is scamming their way in.

This afternoon, I worked at the residential facility for formally homeless chronic alcoholics - 20 minutes into my shift, a man ran to the desk to report a man seizing upstairs. I flew up the 2 flights of stairs and got to his side. The other men in the room had already moved him onto his side so I sat with him and kept him propped. After what seemed like 10 minutes but was probably less, he came to somewhat and seemed very startled to see me looking down at him, he isn't someone I've connected with too much yet (there are 80 men and I've only been there 3 weeks or so). He was detoxing so it may have been that he was having some sort of hallucination as well - he jumped at least twice when his eyes focused in on me. I felt pretty helpless sitting there waiting on the paramedics, scared that he may die before they got there - he wasn't getting much oxygen and his chest was tight. On top of that, the men told me that he had hit his head twice on the table corner on the way down.

I am preparing myself already for my first lost client, there is one in particular who isn't doing well so I would not be surprised if he is the first to go during my term there. The program pretty much acts as a hospice, it's the end of the road for some residents.

Trial by fire!