6.15.05

i keep not updating because i'm waiting for things to come to some sort of resolution. they are refusing. phases are shifting, but only due to location changes. in some respects, the last few months feel strangely cohesive, given all the moving i've done. this is not a good thing, though it isn't overwhelmingly bad, either. it's because jon's crisis has persisted throughout all these different places i've been in; it also could be related to the fact that i missed winter. i'm still surprised when i look out the window and am confronted with the dense, lush woods rather than the bare branches i expect to see. you can't see very far in anymore.

some things have been happening. mom drove the jeep off the driveway in the same place charlie haiss and jon (reiling) did years ago. (i wonder if jon reiling is married yet?) rich macdaid showed up at my house, heralded only by an email from sarah, received five hours previous while i was at work. it made me anxious. i look out my driveway window a lot now. he couldn't smile anymore; i felt bad for all he'd gone through. it's been hot and thunderstorming for days: power was lost twice. now, it's cold and raining. my nasturtiums germinated, even, amazingly, in the rotting treestump. my left hip joint mysteriously hurts whenever i walk, though not when i bend. i haven't started writing my story yet. i booked tickets to go see jon again in a week and a half; hopefully things will be better than last time. i keep feeling that things will feel a small but solid piece better when i see sarah again.

last monday, i started my job at seton. i had one day of training and then was put out to sea in the detox ward, navigating through confidentiality snarls and talking to exceedingly fucked up people on the phone. my supervisors were all very impressed with my ability to cope and commended me several times, offering me more hours than i wanted by the end of the week. i accepted because i didn't know how to reject it (anticipating pressure from mom); i've been stressing about not having enough time for anything important ever since. there isn't enough work for me there; i do maybe one hour of actual work in a day and spend the other seven struggling to look busy. there isn't anyone else around, just the sense of unease that radiates from behind the locked detox doors. it's a hard place to be all day long.

conclusion, reached last summer, moderately forgotten about, now reinforced: i will never be happy if i work in a hospital.

clayton's in ladakh. i can't imagine a place i'd like to go more.