The Poet That Knowed It

Some Mo' George

"There are 200 countries in the world, now.

Do these people honestly think that god is sitting around picking out his favorites?

Why would he do that?

Why would god have a favorite country?

And why would it be America out of all the countries?

Because you have the most money?

Because he likes our National Anthem?

Maybe it's because he heard we have $1 delicious flavors of Classic Rice-A-Roni!

It's delusional thinking!

And America is not alone with this sort of delusions.

Military cemeteries around the world are packed with brainwashed dead soldiers

who were convinced god was on their side.

America prays for god to destroy our enemies.

Our enemies pray to god to destroy us.

Somebody's gonna be disappointed.

Somebody's wasting their fucking time.

Could it be everyone?"

—George Carlin

About the Aged

 Working as a CNA at a nursing home requires so much more energy than I expected. You have to be on your toes. You have to expand your imagination to follow the bumpy thought process of someone affected by dementia. You have to be a nutrition therapist and sometimes a referee. The struggle is for real.

I love the strangers I’ve come to adopt and likewise. Every single one of them has their own weird, interesting story. From the 91-year-old twins, Alva & Alda, who used to participate in ménage a trois with each other, to the man whose wife is a kleptomaniac and steals hygienic items from the supply closet. 

     Sometimes Veda asks me for a loaded gun so she can end her "useless" life. That's when my psychiatrist side emerges and I have to explain why life is so precious. I suppose it would be easier for someone who believed in Jesus and an afterlife. But for me, I believe we only have one time around and we need to make the absolute best of it.

When I leaned down to serve a resident, she commented: "What lovely tan skin you have!"

"Thank you!" I blushed. "My mom is White and my dad is Black."

"Do you like that?" she asked in a condescending-like tone. I laughed.

"Yes, I do."

"I wouldn't like that...." I didn't get offended, though. If someone who was born in the late 20th century and early 21st made a remark like so, I would be heated and defend my ethnicities whole-heartedly. However, I acknowledge that it was a different time when she was growing up. She was born in 1922.

My first adventure in the shower room was a trip. My assignment at hand: shower Miss Susan. Easy enough. She's this tiny Alzheimer's resident who is pretty independent for the most part. All she does is sleep in her wheelchair or take strolls down memory lane, burying her nose in an excellent photo album she has compiled over the years. I find it an impressive collection for the 1950's. She's from a small town where she lived on a farm her entire life. I can relate to that.

Every day. Every single day, Miss Susan asks me: "And who are you?"

"I'm Janessa. I'm your nurse aid."

"Janessa? Well that's an unusual name, but it sure is pretty!"

"Thank you, Miss Susan."

"Where am I?"

"You're at Riverview Acres."

"In Colorado?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well you sure are a kind lady."

"Thank you, Miss Susan."

And that's basically our conversation every time I see her, even if it's multiple times in one day. This was not the case on Shower Day. I went into her room and asked, "Miss Susan, are you ready to take a shower?"

"No!" she screamed at me. So I walked out of her room. I watched a video at orientation about how the law used to require residents to shower 3 times a week. Now, they only have to be showered one day a week and they choose what day that is. I went up to my coworker and relayed, "Susan doesn't want a shower today."

"No, she needs to. She's going to refuse it every time if you let her." So I went back into Susan's room and repeated, "Miss Susan, are you ready to take a shower?" This is where a small, innocent woman morphed into a fierce fire-breathing dragon.

"No! I don't need a shower." I grabbed her wheelchair handles and started maneuvering us towards the shower room. She complained the entire time I undressed her. The minute that warm stream of water touched her delicate skin, I heard nothing but obscenities for 15 minutes solid.

"HEEEEELP!!!" Susan screams at the top of her lungs.

"Miss Susan, stop that!" I said through my laughter.

"SONS OF BITCHES! I lived on a farm my whole life and there were no sons of bitches there!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked sarcastically.

"Ya old bitch! Ya old bitch! YA OLD BITCH!" Susan chanted.

"You got water in my eeeear! I'm gonna get an earache now!! My mother washed my hair all my life and never ONCE did she get water in my ears!"

"Where am I?"

Riverview.

"HELL HOTEL!"

"If I ever get out of here, that's the last you will see of me!!" Susan threatened. She's in her 90's. She's not going anywhere. "You used to be such a kind lady!"

After I'm finished, I turn the shower lever all the way to the right until the last drop of water ceases. I wrapped a towel around her shoulders and laid another across her lap. Two minutes later I hear, "Thank you for saving me from that..." Disregard the fact that I'm the one that put her there.

"You're welcome, Miss Susan."

"I know you don't want to do that to me," Susan reassures me. "It's the sons of bitches making you." My ribs were aching so badly from all the laughing that took place in that shower. I find this experience the most ironic because I love nothing more than a nice shower. It's my time of reflection, fake-argument conversations, and finding myself. (LOL) You would have thought I forced her into acid rain.

I finally wheeled her to her room, wrapped a blanket around her shivering body, and asked if there was anything I could do for her.

"No... I don't think so..." she says. And after a few moments of silence she asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Janessa. I'm an aid here."

"Janessa? Well that's an unusual name… but it sure is pretty…"

The Prodigal Child

If you want something great to read,

this is it.

www.thatprodigalchild.blogspot.com

prod·i·gal  (adj)

- wastefully or recklessly extravagant

Words From the Wise

     I work at a nursing home and the other day when I told one of my residents that she has beautiful blue eyes, she told me something I might not ever forget. She explained...

When I used to complain about my eyes, 

my dad would say: 

"it's a long way from your heart."

Narrative Study

    For my Human Growth and Development class, I was assigned to interview someone over 60 and compare their life to concepts we learned throughout the semester. I chose a friend who I am very near and dear to. She recently published her own book (Acts and Miracles of God), which I couldn't be more envious about. So here goes my synopsis of 66 years on Planet Earth...

            I had just moved to Peetz, Colorado, in 2004 when I met Mrs. Carol A. Sparks. She was short stature, had a corpulent frame, and bright, blue eyes that danced when she talked— and she talked a lot. I had never met anyone so enthusiastic about life and learning. I was in love. She had recently returned from her second trip to Israel and was presenting her journey to my fifth-grade class. Since she's a Pisces and I'm an Aquarius, we definitely hit it off right away. Our first was nine years ago. Now we're both old (I'm 19 and she's 66), but our relationship has only grown stronger over the years. I was very honored to interview her and learn more about the wonderful experiences that molded this woman.

            Carol Kittel was born February 23, 1946, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She was her married parents' first child. Her mother was Catholic, and her father was Lutheran until he converted to Catholicism right before her first holy communion. Erikson's Psychosocial Stages begins with birth to one year— trust vs. mistrust. Although her father worked full-time as a mechanic, her mother stayed at home and cared for baby Carol night and day. They weren't wealthy by any means, but they managed. In the late 1940's, American families had very defined roles. The men would work_­ to provide for their families and the women would do housework, care for the children, and cook. Carol was fed, kept clean, and given love. In her infancy, Carol learned to trust her parents and environment.

            Carol's early years were remarkable. When she was 2 years old, her younger sister Judy was born. Judy had her nights and days mixed up, so their mother would stay up all night with the newborn and sleep all day. Obviously, someone had to care for young Carol, so her maternal grandmother (who was French and Catholic) would take her during the days. Erikson's stage for 1 to 3 years is autonomy vs. shame and doubt— children either become self-sufficient or doubt their own abilities. Carol is the epitome of self-sufficient. Her grandmother taught her the alphabet at age 2, simple words at 3, and math at 4. She also taught Carol how to use a telephone (the one where you spin a dial) and the number for the police station, which was more digits than "911". Carol believes her grandmother did this so she wouldn't have to be running around at her old age. She could say, "Carol, get the rice. R-I-C-E," and little Carol would go across the kitchen to get what her grandmother needed. This was a tactic that benefited both parties.

            Since Carol already knew words and numbers by the time she entered her private, Catholic elementary school, education was too easy for her. She received perfect grades in all subjects except music and art. From age 3 to 6, children either want to take on adult-like activities or incorporate the limits set by their parents. When it came to school, Carol was always overachieving. She spent most of her time with boys and participated in rough play. She could help the boys, and since her dad was a mechanic, she knew a lot about cars. She felt girls did silly things, such as worry about their hair. Carol was adventurous as opposed to feeling guilty. A significant event happened in her life when she was 5— the grandmother that raised her died. My first funeral was when I was 7, and I remember acknowledging that I wouldn't see my aunt ever again, however the emotional reality of it never set in. I think Carol was indubitably sad over her grandmother's death, but it's hard at age 5 to truly identify the severity of a situation like so.

            From 1952 to 1957, Carol was in Erikson's industry vs. inferiority stage. Children learn to be competent and productive in mastering new skills or feel inferior. Carol was definitely competent and productive in elementary school. In fact, a student who was struggling in school asked her if she could lend her an assignment so the student could "check" their work. That student ended up copying the whole assignment. It was then passed around the second grade for all the underdogs  to copy. When the teacher graded their papers, students who usually received C's were scoring perfectly on this homework. Carol didn't realize that this was cheating; she was trying to help. The nun sat her down and had a talk about ethics and cheating. It was then that Carol's intelligence was proven to be outstanding and she was allowed to skip second grade to go into the third grade.

            In junior high, she continued her education in a private school. She played the only sports offered for girls; volleyball, basketball, and later, tennis. As I mentioned before, her family wasn’t affluent, so she worked for school tuition. She was a cashier in the cafeteria at lunch, cleaned classrooms after school, and worked at the book store before school. She watched “American Bandstand” after school and was excited to see Catholic students still wearing their uniforms. When it comes to identity vs. role confusion, Carol was always comfortable and happy with herself. She knew who she was and what she was capable of. She was strong in her faith and lived to serve her Lord. She leaned towards more liberal ideas, which she learned from the nuns and priests. Her mother was prejudiced towards anyone who wasn’t German and possibly the French were acceptable. Her mother openly criticized Jews, even though her father was one-sixteenth Jewish. From that, Carol developed the trait of being tolerant, and even appreciating other races and ethnicities. She was in junior high during the early 1960’s, also known as the infancy of the hippie era. Carol was never interested in drugs and did not support free love. She felts girls were more emotionally invested when it came to sex than boys. Also, girls had to bear all the consequences. She was comfortable enough with herself to want to wait until marriage before she engaged in sexual activity. As an adolescent, Carol was characterized as someone who knew their identity and cherished it.

            High school was a fun experience for Carol. As a freshman, she was ranked 4^th out of 720 students. She never fell below the top ten. She remained close to her teachers and studied as vigorously as ever. An interesting fact about Carol is her freshman class was one of the first to learn about DNA. Also during her freshman year, there was a senior boy who was interested in her. He waited around her for her to finish cleaning classrooms and would drive her home. He would park behind her dad’s garage and they would talk and kiss. One day she went inside her house after a love session and exclaimed, “I just love it when Jim kisses me!” She explained her mother’s voice went up eight octaves.

            “Ohhh?” her mother sang. “Carol, how do you feel when you’re with Jim?”

            “I feel so popular!” young Carol replied.

            “And how do you think Jim feels?” she asked.

            “Oh, he feels popular, too!” Carol reassured her. It was then that her mother sat her down and explained that this senior was getting aroused when they kissed. That night when Jim called, Carol started, “Can you believe what my stupid mother said about us?” She continued telling him about her mother’s theory. After that night, he never called her again. Carol had been tutoring him in Latin and he ended up dropping the class because of his failing grade. She found a fellow freshman boy to date that she did wholesome activities with— they went bowling and to the movies. As far as Erikson’s stage of intimacy vs. isolation, Carol participated in her share of intimate relationships, but never relied on them to make or break her. She continued to go to school in Milwaukee for her freshman and sophomore years, but wanted to go to a boarding school for her junior and senior years. She traveled 65 miles away to St. Mary’s Academy in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. She thought it was the perfect escape. The boarding school was far enough away from her hometown that no one knew her and the schoolwork was actually challenging. She never went to any proms, though, because two years before she attended St. Mary’s, two boys died in a car accident on their way to prom and the school ended the prom program for good. As far as seeking love, Carol mostly received her affections from the nuns. When she was a junior being inducted into the National Honor Society, her parents weren’t going to attend because her father was reluctant to leave his pumping station for a night. The head priest called him up and said, “Look, I will pump gas for you for this night.” That was a moment in Carol’s life where she felt rejected. Her father couldn’t leave one night of work to come see this amazing achievement. While we’re on a down note, I’ll mention she failed her driving test the first time around. She was extremely embarrassed that her first failure in life was something so simple. Her father was a mechanic, for goodness sake! She practiced for a week and managed to pass the second time. In general, as a young adult, Carol had her intimacy fill.

            Generativity vs. stagnation is when middle-aged adults contribute to the next generation through meaningful work or they stagnate. After Carol graduated from her boarding school at age 16, she turned to the convent for her college education. Her first year included basic studies like biology, history, philosophy, calculus, English rhetoric and composition, etc. Her second year was more ecclesiastic studies such as church music, church ethics, theology, the New and Old Testament, etc. She left the convent at age 20, though. She was supposed to be a junior and a half and was merely a sophomore and a half. She decided to set God aside and worship education. She believed education would save the world. She went to New York and attended Columbia University for a semester. She lived in an apartment with four other ex-nuns. They protested against lead-based paint once and it ended with her and a few boys spending the night in jail. After that semester, she returned to Milwaukee to finish her degree in teaching. She was a language arts and social studies teacher for three years. In the summer of 1971, Carol was on a trip in Europe when she met her husband John. He was working, doing electrical engineering in aerospace. He had a top-secret security clearance in those days. A year before they met, John worked on a project with Apollo 17 that was put on the moon. She threatened to upset a gondola on the dirty water canals of Venice if he didn’t kiss her. He did. From July 31 to June 28, Carol followed John around 8 countries, including divided Germany. After their whirlwind adventures, John returned to his home in Dallas, Texas, and Carol returned to Milwaukee. They kept in contact over the months and eventually fell in love. He proposed to her in October and they were married in December, when she was 25 and he was 29. She was a teacher for three years before resigning and driving to Texas to live with her beau. Soon after, John was laid off and they traveled around the country going to interviews. They went to Florida, Missouri, Kansas, Loveland, Colorado, and finally decided that Fort Collins, Colorado, was the place they wanted to be. They have lived in Colorado ever since 1972. Unfortunately, John and Carol never produced children. They wanted them, but it never happened. As far as adopting, John didn’t want to for fear of social rejection towards their child (Chinese children were popular for adopting then).

            During Carol’s late 20’s, John continued working as an electrical engineer. There was a recession in teaching jobs in the 70’s caused by the increase of male applicants trying to dodge the war. Therefore, John thought it was a good idea for Carol to go back to school for a different career. She attended Colorado State University for accounting; the first school she attended in her whole life that wasn’t Catholic. She graduated in 1980 with her Masters and passed her CPA exam on the first try. She worked at a firm for 18 months before starting her own practice. She didn’t want to audit— she wanted to help people. She was more interested in taxes and such. Her business was very successful, attracting Colorado’s elite. Her client base consisted of two CSU presidents as well as politician Hank Brown. The firm started in October 1980 and lasted until 2002. During these times, she and John traveled to the West coast frequently. Many trips were made to California and some to Washington. This lifestyle remained the same throughout Carol’s 40’s, which was early 1990’s.

            In the middle of the 90’s, though, John began having gastrointestinal problems caused by stress. The commute from Fort Collins to Boulder was starting to take a toll on his health, as well as the every-day pressure of being an electrical engineer in aerospace. After he spent three days in intensive care, they decided he should be somewhere more relaxing. In 2001, Carol sold her practice and house in Fort Collins and John retired. They found a quiet farmhouse a few miles outside of Peetz, Colorado, and settled there. Carol thought 56 was too young to retire, so she volunteered at Peetz High School as a library assistant. She would tell her class about the trips she made to Africa, Australia, and Europe. While she educated the naïve members of Peetz School, John remodeled their house and did farm work to keep busy. Without a doubt, Carol showed the signs of generativity and integrity.

            Mrs. Carol Sparks has to be one of the most interesting, intelligent, beautiful people I know! She has seen so much of the world and has always had an eagerness to learn, which I admire. Even though she became wealthier as she aged, she doesn’t have a selfish bone in her entire body. She is always donating money to causes and giving it to her students as gifts. She is always encouraging everyone she encounters to challenge themselves to be better. Carol is such a strong-willed woman who has dedicated her whole life to help others. I only have the utmost respect and love for this lady.

♥

The Struggle

Kyli <3

Pursuit of Happiness

I'm looking for happiness.
It's nowhere to be.
It's out hiding somewhere
that I cannot see.
Not sure what it looks like
or even what it means,
but I’ll know it when I find it,
'cause it will bring me to my knees.
I might find it in a flower
sprouting in spring
or in a silent meadow
hearing skylarks sing.
Happiness is out there;
don’t give it the boot.
I've seen glimmers and glimpses
and now I'm in hot pursuit.

—Marcus Garvin

With Them

   So I was in Game Stop buying Mortal Kombat 9 when I ran into this cute kid that's in my Human Growth & Development class. I've known him since high school, and I actually smoked K-2 with him for the first time. We were probably 17 years old. It's not surprising to run into him two years later because this town is just that small.

     I smiled at when I saw him because, as I said, he's cute. I even managed a "hey". I was actually embarrassed. I was wearing these bright M&M pajama pants and a gray shirt with the word 'volleyball' running across the front. If I remember correctly, I was wearing fucking white socks with flip-flops, too. WHO GOES OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE THIS?!? This chick. And who suffers the consequence when she runs into an adorable guy in the middle of a store that thrives off testosterone? Still this chick.

   "Look who it is!" he yelled across the store. "Dude... you pay attention so much. Every day in class you just be all hovered over your notebook, scribbling shit! You look like this!" He mimicked me reading the board with my head up, then hurriedly looking down and writing as fast he could. He repeated the motion another three times. I probably turned red.

   "And what about you!" I yelled back. "You sit back and don't seem to do anything! But then you did your Power Point and sounded all educated and shit." He smiled and his yellowish tan eyes glowed against his dark skin.

   "Damn right I sounded educated!" he said in a cocky tone, then laughed. College guys. He actually found my game for me and I left the store. I was so excited that someone else acknowledged how much effort I put into my schooling. R.G. would die if he knew about this. I texted him:

"This kid from my one of my classes just made fun of me for being studious.
Are you happy?"

   His reply: "Ecstatic!"

   Man, the last time I had R.G. for a teacher was in the 11th grade. The class was American History. I think I did pretty well. I smoked a lot of weed that year. Probably before school. Sometimes at lunch. Most likely after school. I walked out on my volleyball team in the middle of a homecoming game. I really isolated myself from my classmates (all 11 other of them). I was the definition of teen angst.

   But here we are, 2 years later and I'm rolling with the best of them.

   These were actually recorded last week. In that time, I managed to get my A&P grade up to an A but my Dietary Nutrition went down to a B. I'll get back to it's proper place by next week. Anyway, I've been to some dark places in my 19 years on this planet but I'm definitely at one of my best.
To which I conclude with:

n.lite.n

"Oh My God" 

by Michael Franti & Spearhead

Oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' suicide

Singin' oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' genocide 

Oh my my...

Slam bam I come unseen

But like gasoline you can tell I'm in the tank

Like money in the bank

I smell appealing, but I'm toxic, can send ya reeling

Without an inklin', keep ya thinkin'

'cause you gave cash to the feds, left your school district for dead

Fucked you up in the head, but still they sayin' nothin's wrong

Sellin' firewater but outlawing the bong

Still believing the system is workin'

While half of my people are still outta workin'

Anonymous notes left in the pockets and coats

Of judges and juries from 'Frisco to Jersey

Threats and protests politicians mob debts

Trumped up charges and phoney arrests

Stage a lethal injection, the night before the election

'cause he got donations from the prison guard's union

Oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' suicide

Singin' oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' genocide 

Oh my my...

Listen in to my stethoscope on a rope

Internal lullabies, human cries

Thumps and silence, the language of violence

Algorithmic, cataclysmic, seismic, biorhythmic

You can make a life longer, but you can't save it

You can make a clone an then you try to enslave it?

Stealin' DNA samples from the onborn

And then you comin' after us

'cause we sampled a James Brown horn?

Scientists who's God is progress

A four-headed sheep is their latest project

The CIA runnin' like that Jones from Indiana

But they still won't talk about that (Jim) Jones 

(People's Temple mass suicide) in Guyana

This ain't no cartoon

No one slips on bananas

Do you really think that that car killed Diana

Hell I shot Ronald Reagan, I shot JFK,

I slept with Marilyn (Monroe) she sung me happy birthday

Singin'

Oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' suicide

Singin' oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' genocide 

Oh my my...

Well politicians got lipstick on the collar

The whole media started to holler

But I don't give a fuck who they screwin' in private

I wanna know who they screwin' in public

Robbin', cheatin', stealin'

White collar criminal

McDonald eatin', you deserve a beatin'

Send you home a weepin', with a fat bill for your

Caribbean weekend

For just about anything they can bust us

False advertising sayin' "halls of Justice"

You tellin' the youth don't be so violent

Then you drop bombs on every single continent

Mandatory minimum sentencin'

'cause he got caught with a pocket fulla medicine

Do that again another ten up in the pen

I feel so mad I wanna peaceful revolution

Singin'

Oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' suicide

Singin' oh-my, oh-my God!

In my mind they got us livin' genocide 

Oh my my...

Restaurant Writing

    When I was still young, I came to the conclusion that the mind is insatiable. I've chased people and ideas only to watch them remain a safe distance ahead, or away. I see it in others, too. Society tries to distinguish people by race, money, and intelligence, but it doesn't realize we are all surviving on the same things: oxygen, love, and acceptance. Trying, anyway.

    The kids of my generation face problems that no other era before us has. My grandpa never told me a sad tale about the day his first Xbox 360 illuminated the blazing red ring of death. My grandma never sat me down and asked, "Have I told you about the time one of my supposed friends hacked my MySpace and deleted all my pictures and comments?"

    When my mom's dad was my age, he enlisted in the Navy and deployed to fight World War II. When my mom's mom was my age, she had been out of school for five years already; working to take care of her mom, while simultaneously avoiding nightly attacks from her abusive father.
It was a different time.

Funny People

“Religion has convinced people that there's an invisible man ... living in the sky. 

Who watches everything you do every minute of every day. 

And the invisible man has a list of ten specific things he doesn't want you to do. 

And if you do any of these things, he will send you to a special place, of burning and fire and smoke and torture and anguish for you to live forever, and suffer, and suffer, and burn, and scream, until the end of time. 

But he loves you. He loves you. 

He loves you and he needs money.” 

—George Carlin