2ndclepunkbuddha

Today while having a chat with a former coworker, I found out that a man I was taking care of two years ago at the group home where I worked died recently.  I had quit the job nearly two years ago, I only kept up with the former coworker, but there were a few times I would give the residents of the group home a thought or two.  What's sad about working with the developmentally disabled is aplenty.  In short, the social work bureaucracy is beyond horrible - if you are working for them on a PRN / optional basis (such as being a substitute teacher or a job coach), one day they will just forget about you.  They will just never call or text you again, and if and when you reach out to them, they just won't respond and move onto the next person.  If you work for them on a full time basis at part time hours (such as being a direct support professional at the group home where I was) when you will be working crazy hours and worked to death, they will treat you badly and f...

In the first quarter of this year, like a lot of people, I was looking to make certain changes.  As I was unable to live primarily on a multi district substitute teacher's income, I took a second job in order to make a living.  During the fall semester of my first year of substitute teaching, I was working at a group home for the developmentally disabled (most weekday mornings and every other weekend on during the day shift).  It was an alright job - I was a babysitter for 12 mild/moderate adults who were living semi-independently and just needed some minimal to medium assistance in doing everyday tasks (driving a car, grocery shopping, cooking, etc.).  The primary thing they needed was to have someone pass out their meds first thing in the morning before they left for work on the weekdays or when they got up on the weekends.  Financially it was profitable, but as I would find out in working in the social work world, things would change like that.  If you a...

Just the other day I was on Facebook (as everyone else is constantly) and got a notice that I had been added to a group.   This was a secret group.   It popped up in the lower left corner of the screen, I was doing something else and by the time it registered with me that it had happened, the bubble disappeared.   Upon double checking things, I was rather surprised for a variety of reasons that a secret group had been created for my upcoming 25 th high school reunion, which will be next spring/summer.   25 already?   It seems like just yesterday I was just anticipating going to my 20 th reunion.   And being sorely disappointed with it.                     I was in an usual feeling for the event, as I’m sure all are if and when they decide to go to their reunions.   I remembered thinking to myself once I had returned from the high school graduation cere...

Last weekend I went to a funeral in Detroit.  It was for my childhood friend's father, a kind man and a wonderful soul I was privileged to know, and it was of great sadness that I heard of his passing.  I insisted on going to the funeral even though it was a ways to travel, but I believe in this principal and follow through on it completely: When people die, you go to their funerals.  It says to you and others around you that you are there to pay your last respects to that person and that you cared for that person no matter what did or did not happen. But this blog is not about my friend's father, it was about another situation that presented itself at the event.  I was nearly sickened to see that someone else showed up at this man's funeral when I saw him across the room.  I quickly looked away and did not make eye contact.  I didn't want to be near him.  I have no idea if he saw me at all, and if he did he would probably play the avoiding game if h...

Last summer as well as this, and into the fall, I took a job that changed me.  I fully admit, I did not do my homework, I was just randomly answering ads for employment once I put certain words in the search engine, it appeared, and I answered it.  I walked into the elementary school where the summer program was taking place, and was shocked.  This was a summer program working with the developmentally disabled population, the student population age ranged from that of preschoolers to the early/mid twenties.  The ambulatory ones were only a few (confined to wheelchairs and walkers), but most were mobile.  And they were either suffering from autism or a form of mental retardation.  It gave me pause as it would anyone.  Our first reaction when we see a person like that in public is a feeling of fear, then replaced by a sadness.  Having never been around people like this before, I had never gotten to the third phase of feeling about them, which is won...

While I have taken a more liberal stance than most people in my acquisition of adventure, excitement and learning in life, one in a similar position will often times find themselves attracting unstable people.  Those who live on the edge tend to gravitate towards one another, feeding off one another's abilities and input as well as create situations that not even the most gifted of writers can create.  As I age, I have become more fond of peace and quiet as opposed to the endless noise that was once enjoyed.  One thing, however, that does not seem to ever go away, is the presence of dramatics.  There are many layers to our personalities, some things will ignite a fire and other things will not, and variables are fluid for all people.  While I am not trying to speak to nor feed into individual or group angst or paranoia, it is a disconcerting feeling to know that there are people out there who we may encounter who are unstable.  You could never know that the...

A few minutes before I left the house, I sat there on the couch wondering whether or not I wanted to actually put forth the effort and go.  I had a talk with myself.  It wasn't one of those "Don't be lazy" or "You don't feel like going out but you don't feel like staying in either" kind of talks, but wondering exactly why I was doing this.  Months ago I got an invite to go to a junior high school reunion, and I said yes to it and marked the calendar for it.  The day had at last arrived and I was sitting in front of the TV thinking "Why am I about to do this?"  Perhaps it was sunlight deprivation syndrome since it was a cloudy, rainy day it was taking place on, which was a shame since it's been an otherwise sunny summer.  Maybe I was afraid.  But what was I afraid of?  That I haven't accomplished much in life?  It wasn't quite the same as fearing going to your high school reunion, that's a separate set of circumstances (one t...