All Things Profane and Sacred

I feel pretty exhausted today, but not sleepy in the slightest. I always feel wound up after volunteering at the night clinic. Today was a pretty easy day, client wise, but I was training a newbie, which always gets me nervous. I could tell our last client was going to be difficult when I looked at her handwriting. I dunno, but it just looked like trouble, ya know? Then I called her name and looked in her eyes and knew it was going to be a long one. In a way, I'm glad, because our other clients that night were pretty easy-straightforward people who were able to articulate their needs and wants-and I didn't want the newbie to think it was all cakewalks and fanfare. Nope, low income clinics have quite a share of mentally ill, drug addicted or mentally challenged clients, and you gotta be able to work with them just as you would any other client. Well, this client ended up flipping me off and screaming "Fuck you!" before she left, so Newbie got a full helping of what he'd be shrugging off if he wanted to continue volunteering at the clinic. I must be adjusting to legal life-it didn't particularly bother me (maybe because I saw it coming), but Newbie looked rather shocked.

I somehow got lucky enough to get the interview for the job where my application got in late. Even though the job would require a move to Newport, I'm rather hoping to get it. A change of scene would be nice. As much as I love my house and love Portland, I also wouldn't mind getting out of the big city and living somewhere in the back country, somewhere woodsy and quiet. It would be a pain in the ass logistics wise-I'd have to move first, and then J and the boys would have to join me after we got up some cold hard cash, and I'm not sure what I would do for housing, broke as I am, but I figure that if I get the job, something will work out. It has to.