Friday: I gave my two weeks notice to my employer. I’ve been a bus driver for Bloomington’s public transit system for nearly seven years, and although submitting my resignation was a glorious act, it was also slightly difficult. Leaving any place or person after seven years is difficult – not because you necessarily love that thing or person, but because that object (even if we’re discussing a person, after seven years that person becomes an object, an object of psychological dependence) becomes routine, and because we are all creatures of habit, its absence is felt, often in strange ways. Make no mistake: I'm happy to be moving on, I just don't know where I'm going, which is a rich source of anxiety for me.
I’m disappointed that I’ve spent the past seven years behind the wheel of a bus, or, more accurately, I hate the fact that I have wasted the past seven years doing practically nothing and, in the process, gone nowhere. I’ve met some interesting people and seen some unforgettable things, but it’s time for me to move on – my intelligence can be better spent in other roles; moreover, I desire a job that allows me to make an important and lasting impact on people’s lives, which is why I’m drawn to nursing, especially hospice nursing.
When I informed my supervisor that I would be leaving in two weeks, I also informed him of my near-future plans, which includes a career in hospice care. My supervisor, unbeknownst to me, has had three experiences with hospice care, most recently last fall, when he lost his brother to cancer. He was so touched by his experience that he literally couldn’t speak about it – he didn’t want to fall apart. So, instead, he wrote me a touching letter, a letter that reaffirmed my passion to pursue a career in hospice.
Sunday: PB and I braved a virtual monsoon of rain and ventured to The Bishop in Bloomington to see Damien Jurado perform. And what a performance it was. With full band he performed his latest album, the morose masterpiece Saint Bartlett, in its entirety. He then, solo, played “The Killer” and “Ohio.” It was possibly the most personal performance I’ve ever witnessed – he played every song with a passion and intensity that’s rarely seen on stage. I’d never seen him live before, but now that I have, listening to his music is a different experience than before: I feel like someone who has discovered an unlocked diary – you have some reservations about reading its contents, but inside those handwritten words a story is told, and it’s a tale full of dark spaces, places where people who attempt to love others are cut for their efforts, places where the loser is celebrated. You know it’s wrong to pry into such personal places, especially of a stranger’s, but you justify the invasion because those experiences make you feel less alone. His songs are medicine for the walking wounded. Jurado is a rare talent and shouldn’t be missed; check out Saint Bartlett and his tour schedule. (Also, don’t miss the opener, Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground. Definitely recommended for Elephant 6 fans, especially those who loved Beulah’s When Your Heartstrings Break. Sousaphone, French horn, trombone and more, Kay Kay rocked it Sunday night.)
Monday: Earlier today, sister was sentenced 9-18 months in prison for a DUI charge from a year ago. The judge, who, apparently, was expected to give her a mere probation sentence, called her a "menace to society" (yes, a direct quote). Sad to say, but at this point in sister’s story, a stay in prison is the best possible thing that could have happened. I guess. I don’t know…
xx
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