We started our workshop and Chantal, our coordinator, had us cutting out National Geographics looking for descriptions--both visual and literal, of 'group dynamic'. I found these great pictures of the Wodaabe people of Niger. Look them up online if you can. I put the pictures right above my head on the ceiling of my space. So we made this big collage, then had to explain it, then had to listen to this hour and a half lecture on how groups form (!). At eight thirty I started to get worried and went up to ask Brody, who left today to go home and so wasn't involved in the workshop, if he would go get me some champagne. I gave him my wallet with money and my ID--he's 17. I went back downstairs and we started this activity that had us all making these construction paper note pages that were divided into four squares with our names on the top, and everyone had to write something they liked about you, something they thought you could improve upon, a skill you brought to the group, and a role you may play in the future. It took forever. Brody came down and told me that my ID had not worked for him, as it looks nothing like him. He did, however, get our local friend, Mark, to grab me some. I checked outside where it was being stored, and it was sparkling pink wine...not quite the champagne dream I had in mind. It was nine when I found this out, and was grateful for the phantom of champagne I had. I wanted to stay outside and drink, as I didn't really want a bunch of nasty shots being bought for me, but nobody else wanted to join me as it was a little cold. Candace came with me, though. We hack butts together sometimes. We went up to a small graveyard in the hills behind the church. I wanted to just drink in the graveyard that night. The moon was really bright, though not quite full. She had a half or more bottle of rum and a couple nicotine free cigarettes that I guess she got from the museum. I cracked my bottle and poured a sip out for the dead. It was sweet and bubbley, but not champagne. It went down well, which is more than I can say for the rum-yech! I had a couple swigs of it anyway. We talked for a while and smoked until we finished our bottles. She was slightly more drunk than I was and scared to go home, so since we had some time before curfew, we decided to walk the strip. We bumped into Mark and I told him my thanks. I led Candace and him into a strange conversation about each other. I think she likes him a bit--at least I keep telling her that she does. I was feeling nicely buzzed but not too far gone, which is how I like it. Mark gave us an illegal lift back to our house just before curfew. I stayed up and laughed with and at Candace, who was putting on a bit of a show. I got into bed and stared up at the Wodaabe pictures. They made me smile, then I fell asleep. Today was not too slow. I did some painting and some more juggling. I'm getting better at it--just two balls, though, in one hand. I took some pictures of the boys, but didn't get the candid ones I have in mind. I want to save some room on my roll for the weekend. I talked with Sam and Georgina about my learning plan and Sam said he would get me on the power tools--like the lathe and ban saw. I just have to be careful I don't lose a finger. It should get better. I started my second sock, after a few unsuccessful attempts. Blah Blah I'm writing this. PEACE
LOVE - Tristan
before || after
