It's Nannerpuss!!!!!!!

This is a result of sculpey, paint, and one new obsession!!! I made this for alex as a house warming present for his new kitchen!

You can call me....

A Good Day

Good day, note it. I have been losing faith quickly in my job. I will admit that that I arrived to skid row with the 'I'm going to help make a difference' and as of late that feeling has been nothing short of decomposing. With all but two of my clients severe addicts it is hard to follow them and even harder still to note their successes. We take one step forward than roll down the hill twenty steps back. I push, they pull. I worry, they don't seem to care. I have been talking about this with my friends and family however today something happened.

I was talking to one of my clients. This client, I'll call him JR has been struggling with his sobriety. He is diagnosed with major depression, previous suicide attempts, and at 36 years old he has been into rehab over twenty times for cocaine dependence. He has periods of sobriety, some up to a year. However, those periods at some point have resulted in a slip, more so a relapse. I have been trying to remind myself, this is his recovery as he tries and fails.

In December, before the holiday, I drove him to a secluded rehab in the Antelope Valley. He lasted for two months, one month shy of graduating their 90 day program. He returned to skid row where he called me to let me know he just couldn't do it anymore. He relapsed. He relapsed again. Recently he left me a telephone message at work, on a Saturday afternoon, telling me he felt so bad about relapsing he was going to overdose on pills. He told me his body would be found at the LA Morgue and to please let his family know he was sorry. (inhale)

That Monday, as I heard the frantic message I phoned all local hospitals and he was no where to be found. I called the morgue- not there. Checked the jails and not there either. Well today he came into the clinic and we sat in the setting afternoon sun talking about his life and his struggle with sobriety. I listened like I always do with little faith that I nothing I did matter. I listened to his story about checking himself into the hospital on Saturday and than how he got out Monday and used again because it makes him feel 'normal'. Then he said...

'Rebecca, why do you always listen to me. I have never worked with anyone like you before. You know when I relapsed last week you were the first person I thought of calling. Right before I scored of thought of you and what you would say. I thought about you in rehab and how I would make you sad if I quit. When I wanted to kill myself on Saturday I thought of you and what you might say to me and I couldn't do it because I didn't want to let you down. (I held back crying) You always support me and never judge me and always make me feel like I am important. No one has eve done that before.'

We finished a two hour conversation sitting curbside on skid row watching all the drug dealers and users walk past. I watched three people pee on the wall right in front of us and heard a woman and a man fighting in the room above us and the rats that roam the streets at night surfaced from underground for dinner. For the first time since I have been at this job I felt like I belonged, like I had come to the right place. I needed this and more so I need to remember this.

Good day.

My Bar

This is my bar. I found this bar on someone's lawn who had left it out for the trash. It is a beautiful bar however this piece of wood, trimmed with leather and fancy embroidered fabric, represents so much more than furniture. Through the years it has become a place where me and my friends gather. It was never on purpose, in fact I have two couches and table in my house where people may sit comfortably. However, when my friends and I drink, which we do in great abundance on occasion, it becomes a gathering place. It's ironic, no one ever stood up and drank in my home however I have begun to notice that an hour into drinking finds us standing around this piece of furniture laughing, much like your neighborhood bar. Here are some example..


Here you find Monique, Fernando, Todd and Alex, casually enjoying themselves.


Here you find Monqiue and I standing idly as Alex pours us drinks.


Here you find a handsome gent by the name of Berto, using the bar as an accent to his already sexy self.

It is weird. I was looking at this bar tonight and I got to thinking about my friends, crazy fuckers. Thinking about my friends over the years I can note not much has changed. They are the same, more strong and meaningful than years past. It is not to say I don't speak to any other people however I have a core group with whom I speak a great deal. These do not include my family, with whom I will always stay close. It goes something like this.


Alex
My best friend. He and I have been together since 1996, having both our ups and downs, he remains my best friend.


Monique.
I love this crazy bitch. Knowing her since I was 14, makes it hard for me not to call her my best friend. She recently found a new and will shortly, if not already, be moving to Las Vegas. Her boyfriend Fernando is great and I think they will have one hell of a Vegas wedding, it better be open bar. Though her and I do not see eye to eye on politics or religion, we have managed to remain very close even if our living arrangements keep us apart.


Todd
Having come into my life as Steven's 'new thing' 15 years ago he has since become a best friend. He and I see eye to eye on everything and he is positively the most hilarious person to go out with, even though our drinking together often finds me defending him in fights he obviously caused. He has a passion for assisting for those underserved people like myself and I will proudly stand and cheer when he obtains his grad degree!


Todd & Todd & Alex
Todd, in the middle, yup there are two todds, and this todd is also a good friend. Unfortunately he resides in butthole Costa Mesa so I don't get to see him as much. He is an intelligent and well spoken person, I am proud he is my friend.


Steven (with whom I hardly get to see!)
Ah Steven, what can I say after 20 years of friendship. There is no one like Steven.

It is not for lack of others that I don't mention anyone else, it is just these are the people I find most often in my house, leaning against my bar. Sure we have all had our downside. I have watched those above kick heroin, speed, and opiates, and sat beside them in AA. We have written each other while in prison. I have watched them fight, break up and reunite. I have stood in between them when conversations became escalated. But they are my friends. Never judging me, never reminding me of what I have done wrong, and always there when I need to complain,cry, and rant.

Thanks guys, you're welcome at my bar anytime!!