Last year my wife and I, along with a few other staff, were asked to participate in a poetry reading with the children at the psychiatric facility that we both work at. This annual poetry group encourages children to open-up and express their feelings in a more positive way. An so my wife read her poems from the deployment years while I…had to make one up the last minute. But, not only was I able to make one on time, I also had enough time to draw illustrations. (Actually, this is my way of compensating for my Pacquaio-like accent). So I ended up with a book….a very not-so-serious one.

This is my attempt to put into blog form the book I made. Also, I think you have to have worked at this kind of place to appreciate this. For now, imagine yourself in a mental hospital (Feels familiar?). Here are a few helpful terms:

level R-means the patient is unsafe/aggitated/had recent violent outburst, “pile-up”-my lingo for the process of restraining a child, Taco pie-not sure, but it’s gross!, transition-during the change of shift, all patients must be in their rooms for an hour…usually ends up in a fight, Ricky Lake-an American talk show, dog poo-occasional indoor poop, courtesy of my pets, venti-large?…but don’t grande and tall mean kinda the same? Filipino-anyone under 5 feet tall.

So here goes:

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Starbucks Coffee Break

A way to balance life at home and (hospital’s name)

Written and illustrated by

Jesse Paez

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I fell asleep just four hours ago

And now it’s already six o’ clock.

Brush, shave, shampoo,…Dang! Dog poo!

Must be my luck.

Where’s my wallet? Where’s my key?

I got a pounding headache.

Too wet to drive. Too dark to see.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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I’m late for work. I look like a dork.

Everyone is level R.

This place’s a mess. “F@#! you,” he says.

My wife will kill me coz I drove her car.

Lots of screaming. Lots of blaming.

This boy’s bed he says he’ll never make.

They cuss. They fight. They don’t smell right.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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Just ten minutes in to school,v

Someone’s crawling on the floor.

Another just threw a book

just pass my head and he’s out the door.

Kids and grown-ups all in pile-ups.

Watch the head, for goodness sake!

The arm looks bad, he’s feeling mad.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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What is that for lunch? Taco pie?

What is even in it?

I can’t eat meat. It smells like feet.

It’s soggier than an armpit.

Time is up! No time to leave.

I’m dreaming of a mocha shake.

I’m feeling tired. This child’s all wired.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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Same old, same old, same old,

Same old paper trail.

Do the score, phone calls and more.

Parents on my e-mail.

I’m way behind. I’ve lost my mind. Transition ain’t a piece of cake.

I need to speed and pick up my kid.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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One’s at the bus stop. Another’s at daycare.

Too much driving for a Filipino.

Elijah wants food. The other’s in a bad mood.

Need a nap for my Felomino.

There are dishes and laundry. Rooms that are dirty.

These I can no longer take.

The dogs ate his assignment. The TV’s off alignment.

I need a Starbucks coffee break.

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It’s ten past nine. Pajama time!

It’s time for them to go to bed.

Five books later, I still hear a yeller.

Mino just bumped his big old head.

More screaming. More arguing.

This is worse than Ricky Lake.

I had enough I have to say. So close my eyes and pray.

I need my Starbucks coffee break.

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So now, at last, some peace and quiet.

Got some time to be alone.

I can’t believe I survived a riot.

Now I speak to Dawn on the telephone.

A spoonful of sugar, creamer, and instant Forgers?

My tension starts to evaporate.

As I tell my wife about my day, she yells at me to say:

“Honey,… why are you drinking coffee this late?!!!”

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Hmmm…one latte…two latte…three latte…

…dieciocho…diecinueve… VENTI!

…ZZZZZZZZZZZ

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MrNonsense is Jesse. He was born and raised by two solid parents in Tondo, Manila. He came to Iowa when he was 17 and is now raising a family in Washington, where a group of Filipinos adopted them as their own. Mr. Nonsense can often be seen in the Tacoma-Seattle area carrying a camcorder, accompanied by his two sons and his personal chauffeur, his wife. He uses his Tondo upbringing to nurture his children and to survive in a mental institution, where he currently works. He enjoys basketball, cooking, singing, cartooning, producing short movies, and making his own furniture out of junked wood because he's so cheap. He is a self-proclaimed "Man of the House,"...when his wife is not home.