Tag Archives: work

The Journal of Dreams 02/09/2010

Behind today, no real-time to talk about it.  Going to work.  I keep readjusting the heavy wood canvases, one particular canvas may be warped.  It pulls away from the wall and it is the upper corner.  Hopefully, once the paint (moisture) is on it, when it pulls away, if I keep up on it as it dries I will straighten it.  I will have to wait to paint on it until I am sure it is a viable canvas.

The Journal of Dreams 02/08/2010

Tired but happy I have a job and able to pay the bills.  The last 6 months of 2009 was bad for nursing work believe it or not which put me behind.  It is a wake up call for me to realize that even the people who know how to save a life are not really guaranteed work.  Too many times in the past year I have been close to homeless.  I figure I am earning the last part of this struggle through life in a hard way.  There are two reasons for it.  My education was most certainly through the School of Hard Knocks.  I have always been that way for me; resistant and rebellious.

The second reason was brought to light by my old father when he told me one time:  “Never forget your raisens,”  Which translated means “never forget where you came from no matter where you go in life or what you do.”  I have forgotten that before but not for a long time and often I have said truthfully that I lived better, had more control of my life and finances, and felt happier working at McDonald’s.  I knew when I worked, what would happen, what I would do, when I got off and when I got paid.  Often times I thought about going back to a job where I had time for the people. 

It seems hard to believe for the average bear but when you make more money, your life changes and you need more money and when you get paid daily, you really get screwed up because there is always some money in your pocket unless there is no work.  So the money you spend the day before frivolously, just might be the money you need to pay the light bill.  And for the back to the people part of it, being a nurse is like herding cattle.  You do not feed the sick and weary souls or your own soul, you feed the machine.

So why don’t I take a full-time job after 17 years?  Well it all started 17 years ago when I went on a quest to find a home, a job where I would feel happy and make friends…a life.  Seventeen years later and so many cities I lost count (maybe 200 or more), I still haven’t found a home.  I work hard, I do what is right, I am a team player and will break my back to do what need to be done but I cannot tolerate the bullshit of it all, blatant disrespect or one thriving off the others, like the machine.

When I went to nursing school, just as it is now, you are taught that it is a professional and respectful career.  If only one nurse or instructor had told me the truth of the matter, I may have been a doctor (although it is not much better than nursing), but most likely a lawyer.  My life would have been totally different.  Two years after I became a nurse I looked into medical school.  I had a plan to work in the mountains of West Virginia and provide healthcare to the poor by house calls and be paid by whatever they could afford. 

Before I became a nurse, I was shy, smiled all the time and my face turned red when I talked to people.  Now my face turns red in anger, I never smile, everything tears me up that deals with abuse of the system, the country, the people of the world.  It is my fault but I was a first generation college student, excited to find out I wasn’t as “stupid” as I thought I was and realized I had a chance.  It was one of the times I jumped from the frying pan into the fire without making an informed decision or evaluating my options.  It was all on me to figure it out.

Maybe the anger comes with growing up, but somehow I don’t believe that.  Maybe it is post traumatic stress disorder…I have seen a lot of real life things that belonged on Hellraiser or some other horror flick.  I work 13-15 hours (including to/from work), take an hour or so to go to sleep and chronically am deprived of sleep.  I know I don’t eat right, sometimes not at all in a 12.5 hour shift, just drinking Mountain Dew (a lot of nurses drink Mountain Dew, it is funny how they made “Code Red”…similar name to Code Blue)…Well, seven days until the new job starts.

The Journal of Dreams 02/06/2010

My endeavor was and is to write everyday this last year of the painting to show how life and work; dreams and goals are affected by everyday life.  Today this is the effect:  I received a call from the new manager allowing me to work as an agency nurse to make some money before I start the job to catch up on the bills already due.  Agency allows next day or rapid pay, so what hours I work today are paid to me tomorrow, therefore I can pay the bills.  Once I start the job, I do not get paid for 2 weeks, so life and work is  a priority.  The next few days will be sparse for writing because work starts today!

The Journal of Dreams 02/03/2010

My daughter just said:  “People seem to forget the people who preserved our freedom and gave us the life we have today.  It was people like grandpa and those guys who spent years as prisoner’s of war…some spent two years and it might have only been two years but I bet it was the longest two years of their lives.”

I am proud of her, she recognizes the moral rights and wrongs of the world.  She doesn’t like to watch the news, she says it makes her sad.  When I watch it, it makes me angry.  She went on to say:  “It’s not the movie stars or football players who sacrificed for us, it is those guys, guys we don’t even know, guys we’ve never seen.”

She’s right you know.

I got a job today!  Some relief for us.  The manager even gave me extra agency days to help catch up on my bills.  Today is a good day and even a week without work and an uncertain future can take a serious toll on a person, a family but cannot measure anywhere near what it must be like for a family waiting for their father (or mother) to come home.  I thank God for what I have.

The Journal of Dreams 01/26/2010

Sketching today and working on the social networking sites.  I am going to research a site analytics program to see where the visitors are coming from.  It would be interesting to see if I can find one that tells me the countries, and even better the cities.  I often wonder if the Pope is keeping up with the work.

I need to focus on my day job since presently I do not have one!

The Journal of Dreams 01/07/2010

The black swirls are dry enough to highlight with Interference Blue but I can not find it.  Interference Blue is a white powder that when disturbed turns metallic blue.  For me it seems a color associated with heaven.  Tonight my daughter and I are heading to the craft store, I will look for it there.  In the interim, I will apply the human or synthetic hair to the black horse.  I can’t find that either…frustrating.  Out into the great wide open to find what I need…

We are back after roaming the entire city!  I found a synthetic black hair with silver in it, 18″ in length.  The human hair at that place was outrageous!  When applying synthetic hair you always have to be aware of heat applied.  I usually blow-dry the hair after applying sealer.  The distance is critical or the hair will try to turn into an afro as it shrinks.  I bought human red and blond hair for the red and pale horses.  They are in the distance and the hair can be much shorter.

This hair is different from what I am used to working with.  Usually I work with hair on a track,  This hair is one continuous 36″ piece that requires cutting in the middle.  It is crazy because I absolutely cannot stand for the hair to get stuck to my hands.  It sets off a panic within me as my fingers become intertwined with the binding hair.  After I work on this, I will write more this evening.  It is snowing out, so it is a perfect time to work on inside things.

The hair is in its place but I used far more than I wanted.  It covers the riders chest that I worked so hard on to make it look muscular and in correct anatomy…it was indeed a “pretty” chest.  The swirls within the horse’s body were created by mixing Yes paste (a thick, professional grade glue) and black acrylic paint.  I sealed them with hard wood floor polymer.  I suppose the evaporation of moisture from the glue made them shrink.  I would have liked the swirls to maintain their deep texture.

John, the carpenter said something very inspiring.  I was talking about the small army of black horses under the current horse and he said: “when they x-ray the painting, they will see all of those.  They always x-ray famous paintings”.  He must have been impressed.  I felt my cheeks flush up reminding me of the shyness I used to have before I grew distant and cold in my heart after becoming a nurse.  I should have done art all along, it is my true love.

I worked on the official website some more.  Updating the event board and coloring it is more appealing.  I placed clues to mysteries on some pages.  People keep calling me Sir, I suppose most people think I am a man and leaving it that way might just get me further faster.  The website allows 5 pages, so I purchased 5 extra for 10 total to make a store for prints and associated items.  I saw mugs, hats, t-shirts and all kinds of stuff which can be made.

Well, I work the next two days.  What it feels like is when you start to get the flu or a cold, when you feel achy and a little dizzy.  I’ve felt this way hundreds of times and know I am not getting sick, I am just tired.  This job ends on the 28th.  Twenty days and 12 shifts.  Imagine working a job where you count down the days until you leave several times a year, for years and years.  The gypsy in me misses the freeway I’ve traveled so many times.

I stand outside at work in the middle of the night smoking and listening to the freeway sounds and see the headlights calling me.  Sometimes I feel like just walking away and never looking back, then I stomp out my cigarette, take a deep breath and turn toward the door.  I pulled my shoulders back and say:  “One more year, just one more year.”  When I step through the doors and smell the “hospital smell”, I forget about my dreams…I am a dedicated little soldier.

The Journal of Dreams 01/04/2010

There is a guy, John who answered an ad I placed on a local site to make custom wood canvases.  He is making them for me and will be bringing 2 of them Friday.  He is a fine woodworker.  I spent some time last night at work (SSSHHHH!), trying to draw out the shipping crates needed for the 30 canvases of the painting.  I have a descent design but need professional guidance.  Imagine the crates breaking open in transit.

I spent a few minutes when I came home figuring out this black horse in the Journal of Measures.  I am determined to fix him once and for all!  My greatest downfall in painting and drawing is the horse so it is no wonder I am having this difficulty.  I am becoming quite good at the head but it is the body which looks strange to me.  On my next day off I will focus on setting myself free.

There are a lot of problems at work, adding undue stress on me.  The patient load is designed to have a tech working with a certain amount of the nurse’s patients but these techs are often nowhere to be found so the nurse’s workload increases to nearly unmanageable.  The economy has staffing dwindling down so sometimes I am the only nurse left at 4 or 5am…crazy!

My desire to paint is eating at me on the nights I work because I am not naturally a night person, so one night takes 2 days to recover, then it is time to do it again.  I have set a goal to paint something, write in the journals or social networks every time I am off.  I calculated what needs to be done in what timeframes and set goals.  Although not to the minute, it is time to sleep now…