"Dead junkies can't get clean"
Edith Springer - early diva of harm reduction
B this quarter
It's rainy and cold and I'm just not interested in braving either for longer than the amount of time it takes B to pee and poop. So this has become her status quo, her appointed position. She lies on the floor, pointed at the door, a dazed look in her eye. I try to remind her that I really am a fun dog owner and we really do cool things together....nine months of the year.
Ennui
Most of my classmates appear to be dazed to paralysis by the lack of mental stimulation and structure this quarter. Many of us, upon realizing that there wasn't a lot of substance to be found in our curriculum, resigned ourselves to spacing out during lecture and the effort we expend in class and clinical seems barely enough to keep our hearts beating. Some classmates are gamely trucking on and it's kind of fun to note their annoyance with the rest of us slackers. They're the ones turning in 11 pages of notes (compared to my 1), attending all classes and actually asking questions, at clinical on time every day, and keeping tabs on the rest of us - making mental notes of our absences and so-so work.At least one classmate has seemed to take this opportunity to completely disengage from the program. Barely making an effort to attend, arriving to clinical seminar 20 minutes late and then walking away to stand in line for a cup of coffee for another 10 minutes (clinical seminar's only an hour long). Really, it's their choice just as the rest of us have chosen to be slackers or truckers. But it's still pretty amusing to see the truckers get so wound up about the lack of enthusiasm from the rest of us.
Senior crime
For my non-psych clinical we've been assigned to a Seattle neighborhood which is notable for a large Hispanic population, some nice murals, a site smack dab in the middle of industrial town, and a large community garden. After one project got off to a false start, I've been trying to spend more time in the neighborhood to get a sense of what it's like. I took B to the nursing home there and she was a champ - wagging her tail and gently meeting seniors and kids alike. C went with me to check out the food bank and walk to the community garden and eat burritos. I went to a meeting with classmates to hear more about a project with the food bank. And we joined the senior lunch at the neighborhood center.The senior lunch was sparsely attended the day that we went. Three of us got there a little late, having stopped for burritos, and two other classmates were there chatting to the three seniors that were present. We sat and joined the conversation, which seemed to be about some of the other seniors who usually attended. I was zoning in and out a bit (chatting inanely has never been my strong suit) and suddenly came to attention realizing that the talk had turned to rape. I'm not sure how it happened, but the group was talking about crime in general and rape in particular and this terrible thing that happened in Tacoma andthat terrible thing that happened on Capitol Hill and so on. One of the older women remarked that she would certainly kill anyone who did that to her daughter. Or friend. Or someone else. Or a pet. Oh yes, their days would be numbered for sure.I was a little weirded out by this conversation and wondered if it might be uncomfortable for the two men there, but my classmate definitely had no problems contributing to the conversation and then the older man started to speak. He said that when he was younger he was put in jail in the Tri-Cities. It was for drug possession; the police had found speed on him and so he had to go to jail. There was a man there who was incarcerated for molesting little boys. The senior told us that this other inmate was sometimes brought flowers by a visitor, but after he fell asleep, the senior and his buddies would take the flowers out of their pot, pee in the pot, and then put the flowers back. Hee hee. And they would short-sheet his bed. And put toothpaste in his hand and then tickle his face so he would slap toothpaste in his face. Hee hee. And pee on him. Hee hee.I felt a little sad for the molester who certainly deserved punishment but maybe not at the hands of his fellow prisoners. And I felt a little sad for those fellow prisoners that the best form of aggravation they could come up with came from children's camp.Is this what all seniors talk about at lunch?