Around the turn of the year there were delightful 'look back at your life' directives from the newspapers and lady magazines. I love them, I eat them up. Something asked about the most creative moments in the past year and I realized how much I love running groups. Or really, how much I love coming up with ambitious ideas for groups. 'So I'll do more of that!' I decided. And revised my poetry group with the boys to be more hippyish and concentrated.

Everything was all mapped out and coordinated and it's been two days of chaos and mismanagement. Today alone we spent 30 minutes shuffling between three units, collecting girls and dirty looks. Well laid plans all mucked up is frustrating enough, right? Especially when the plans are something you are invested in, so imagine a time that happened to you. Now imagine how much that sucked, and then imagine the whole time that girls are cussing at you and staff are giving you dirty looks. When we finally had a space and the group had dwindled to 6, and the quiet room was a public room and a movie about Jesus as a drug dealer in the ghetto was blaring across the room, and my precious Borderline was making a massive attention seeking mess, but I could finally breathe. I was able to see what a tense White wreck I was, and haven't I learned? Nothing works here. It's broken.

The other thing I've learned is that these fucking kids are no fucking joke, and once I admitted my frustration and explained my vision, and took just a touch more abuse and a touch more love, we got into the swing of things and had some really nice moments.