Voodoo Child v. 16: it doesn't have to be eternal to be immortal.

So first week of school is done. It's been incredibly busy, tiring, and mentally I'm exhausted. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but it's been a real test on my system. I hate being exhausted, and I'm not that girl who goes to bed at 9:45PM, but I've been doing that lately, and it's helped immensely.

At any rate, welcome back to school, right?

So the plan, my friends, is to not cut my hair too much. I'll trim it, but it looks like the length is going to stay. I struggled with the decision, but I'm keeping it as is. I know. A life-shattering decision, right?

I've got a lot on my mind, things I've ranted about, or things that have recently popped up. I will probably get  my head on and let you in on some things ina few days, but I wanted to check in.

ciao for now.

vdc 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

 In honor of the day I rest, I bring you this. The look is classic, and the shirt is far more classic than I can even say.

Enjoy,

voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 12:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The first day of school has come and gone. It's only nine more months until we move onto Summer Break. I'm just kidding. It's nice to see the childrens again, be able to catch up, chat and make some new friends. I wish I could go into detail about how wonderful some of my kids are, and I'd love to go into even more detail about how much drama some of my day can be. But I'll tell you some stuff that's relatively innocuous.

I have an intern.

I did my time as an intern. Two years to be exact. I was very fortunate to have good mentors in my life, ones that I'm very close to til this day. I'm always thrilled to be able learn from someone who's more established in the field. I'm also very fortunate to be able to have these situations on a regular basis. I think one of the things I've learned in life is that if you have the opportunity to learn, you should run to it with wide fucking arms open, your mouth big and wide ready to drink in the knowledge. Was I always like this? Hell no. But now I am where I am, if I'm not learning something, I'm ready to get sent to pasture like a sorry cow.

But so here I am, ten years since my master's degree and ten years since I've been an intern, and now I have the fortune to pass down the knowledge, yo. I look at it as a responsibility, seriously. I have the opportunity to train a young mind, and I'm going to make sure I pass down what I can to her. Everything. It's not like I'm a god or anything, but I know I'm good at what I do, and goddammit, if you don't believe me, come and watch. I want to be able to make sure the field is FULL of people who know what the hell they are doing, not full of people who are in it just to get rich. I lie. You're not going to get rich doing what I do. Hold on whlie I laugh a bit.

At any rate, I'm taking her through campus, bringing her to my meetings, making sure she can get a sense of the vastness of my job on campus. It's not vast, I just do a LOT of shit. Anyways, she turns to me and says, "Do you know EVERYONE?" People stop me and say hi, others give me the Waddup Nod. Others pull me to them and ask me when they can set up a meeting with me. Another student, observing this says, "Can I touch the hem of your garment?" She laughs. I laugh. I buy her lunch.

I want to be able to pass down to the childrens a good experience, to know that advising doesn't have to be crappy. That it is possible to learn in a fun environment, and that with hard work, you can become a G at what you do. There's a difference between being comfortable and wanting to be bigger, better, and wiser. You have to expose yourself to situations where you'll learn and expand that comfort zone. Even if it means learning the things about you that SUCK. And I know there are things that I'm not happy with.

So I work on it every damn day. When I'm not challenged, it doesn't do it for me, so taking on an intern is like being back in the classroom myself. I ask her all the time, what do you think worked that I did. And more importantly, WHAT DO YOU THINK I DID THAT WAS OFF? I have no ego in this matter. I don't care how great I am (but I am great), I care about how crap I was that day. So I can make myself better.

I read somewhere that God doesn't look at your badges or your awards. S/He looks at your scars.

And I gots plenty.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Sorry to be so MIA. Last week Husbandido came home after staying in Sacramento for the good part of two weeks. Knowing him the way I do, I understood the challenge of being in a small house with so many people, plus the stress of being in a situation of inbetween life and death, waiting, and feeling guilty for having a good time while someone is not well.

As an update, Dad is doing well, pulled through surgery with flying colors. It is my hope that this experience has him doing what he needs to do to stay well. Including doing some of the things he might not like (drop the crispy pata) and things he'll have to get used to (drop the crispy pata). I see in the lives of his sons, one of which is my very own, changes that they have initiated. I hope these changes stick with them as well. And no, you cannot help Dad by eating all the remaining chicharron in the house.

Since his return, we've been going out a lot, spending quality time on dates. And by dates I mean real dates. Going out on Thursday night, we went to see Bourne Ultimatum. Pretty good, I must admit. Love the throw down, Kali-style. Someone's bound to correct me on that if I'm wrong, so be it. Go see it if you haven't. Well worth it.

On Friday we headed out late because I had to work until pretty much 9:30 in the PM. My summer program is at the end, and we had to stay late because of an intervention we needed to have with a student. I can't get into the situation, but at the age of 18, a young woman is just coming into her own, after everything she ever dreamed or wanted for herself. She is starting her college career. Her mother wants her to come back home. As in pack your shit and let's go home. This student sat in my office and cried, fear in her eyes that she must return home after she's just started. Parents can be fucked up like that sometimes.

After I got home and decompressed, I dragged Husbandido out for some late night food in North Beach. I half expected to see my Freshmen there inebriated. Luckily it was not to be.

Yesterday we went to see Superbad (see, date night galores). You'll love it for the humor, the music, and the relationship between the two stars. It was nonstop hilarious, and had me laughing loudly at parts. Go with good friends and crack up over it, will you?

Today I'm off to work. I have presentations up the ying yang, but all will go well, I hope. Here's to the start of the new school year, and to the road ahead for everyone.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I was sitting in the waiting room, immersed in my Harry Potter book (done, by the way). I started feeling a crick in my back, and I stared at the wall opposite to me, and my eyes adjusted to focus on the crinkles in the wall. I closed my eyes and felt them burn, that searing burn that, after reading too many microfiches, I used to feel when I was working on my dissertation. My eyes watered a bit, and I gave a big exhale and opened them up.

I looked at the eyes of the people around me, red-rimmed and watery with old tears. They stared off into different directions, silent, sniffling and quiet. People walking by looked into the room, and seeing that there was clearly no space, moved on and looked for other places to rest. I return to my book, and reread sections  I know I've seen but don't remember. I wonder how much I've sleep-read since I was here two days ago.

The doctor comes in, nervous, but knowing that the news is better. He says hello to us like we've known each other a very long time. Almost like family, it's quaint and I want to ask if he wants to come over for dinner later. He rattles off situations, possibilities, perscriptions, and mentions locations. The words fly past me. He looks at the one of us (there are ten) who understands medical terms, and says things that are in a different languages.  Measurements, numbers, dates, drugs. I wonder if I should feel insulted that he's not talking to us. The one that understands more medicine looks heavier, his shoulders sink. I know it's not good. I feel sad for the longest time, and it's not the first time today. But I don't know who I feel sadder for: the man in the ICU or the man in the waiting room.

In shifts we go to the room and sit quietly, awkwardly watching television and, covertly, his breathing. Labored. Different. Tenuous. We make small talk. There are so many machines and beeps, my tendency to want to push buttons and tug on things is tested. He smiles, and for a moment I feel okay.

The hardest thing about the waiting is that level of adrenaline that hovers near the edge, waiting for the moment to kick into gear. That moment between action and no motion feels like a dentist's x-ray vest on you. I drove back to SF on Sunday night at 1AM, on the drive home we talked about the weekend...but there were little words to be shared. We drove home mostly in silence, broken only to talk about things mostly unspoken until now.

Voodoo

PS: Bill Walsh memorial this weekend at Candlestick.

PS2: Nice job, Barry. Don't let the haters get you down.

PS3: Is very expensive. 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was reading Harsh Cry of the Heron the other day when the Harry Potter book came my way via my Aunt. I decided to put Heron away in favor of the HP one. The night was young so I took the liberty of tearing into the book. 100 pages later, I fell asleep.

The days have been filled with much of the same: pleasant and not-so-pleasant distractions. I have problems trying to remember what's coming next, and my work inflicted ADD makes things more interesting as I try to figure out what to do next. I'm not really supposed to be blogging right now. I'm sure there's a project that needs to get done. I'm sure of it.

Staring out the window of my office now, I hear the rumble of jack hammers, and by now you'd think I'd be over it, but it's like going to the dentist every day. Even the back of my mouth fills with spit just thinking of it. I'm trying to come to a sense of where I am, and it feels like there's no purpose, no rhyme, no reason. I hate days like this. If only there was a direction to the madness, and if only there was a plan that I could work off of. I take a deep breath and think that there's something wrong with iTunes, and I switch on the shuffle mode. There, that's better.

The good news is that the kids are coming back soon, and that makes the world a little different, that is, it's going to be different around the office. The bad news is that it's work. Just kidding. i love me some work. Just means I have to switch gears. I am enjoying the time I have now; I have tons of creative time. But that might have to go on the back burner later when they get back.

***

Keep in your prayers my Father in Law who is in the hospital.

Thanks,

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 01:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)