Alexandra (apiphobic) wrote,


for the last week, I've been working with a ninety one year old woman who lives in an assisted living community. I'm with her three days a week for two to three hours at a time. my job responsibilities include taking her out for lunch if she doesn't want to eat the lunch provided at the facility, taking her shopping, bringing her to doctors appointments, helping her with daily tasks, and keeping her company.
most of the time I just listen to her talk, and change the subject when she starts to become frustrated with the holes age has burned into her vocabulary.

I'm in my senior year of school and struggling with my animation project. objectively, taking on this extra responsibility was probably unwise, but I think it was the right choice.

I don't find the work depressing, and it's flattering that both my employer and this woman's family think she's in good hands. it gets me out of bed early a few more days a week than I otherwise would. but most importantly, it gets me out of my own bullshit for a while.

like last night, it took me 7 hours to set up lights (stop motion animation project), even with the help of my instructor, just because the space at school is so poor and cramped. I shot 4 seconds, accidentally moved my camera, deleted everything, then I shot 18 more seconds--- but I wasn't happy with it. I came home around one am feeling defeated and pessimistic, and went to bed wanting to cry.

but this morning, I got dressed, drove to the home, and went for a walk with this woman. as she puttered along, and told me all she could remember about her husband and her four children, I started to think

fuck feeling sorry for myself.
I'm young, I have my health, and I have fucking awesome projects on the line. this world is mine, and I need to stop being a baby.
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