First I want to say that the title of this post is completely plagiarized from today's sermon. This morning in church, our guest speaker talked about what he called "the most bizarre story in the bible." He was referring to the story in Mark ch 5 about the guy who was full of demons that Jesus cast out into the herd of swine. Well, I wasn't too sure about that being the most bizarre. There are TONS of strange things in the bible (Elisha and the floating axe head, Balaam holding a conversation with a talking donkey, the sun holding still for Gideon, huge walls falling down when a big group of people marched around them singing and blowing trumpets, etc). The funny thing is that I've read/heard these stories SO many times, they've sorta become...just stories that I accept without batting an eye or having a second thought.
SO, Rick (guest speaker) starts talking about how this guy in the story has been wandering naked among the tombs, how he can't be bound by shackles or chains, and how he spends his days crying and cutting himself with shards and rocks. Not normal behavior by any means. What in the world brings a person to that point?? What kind of life did he have prior to his current existence? I bet he wasn't much different from most people before Legion decided to move in. Anyway, you can bet this guy was one hurting unit in desperate need of a Savior.
This is where it becomes awesome. Jesus and His followers arrived to that particular area on a boat, and the possessed man RAN TOWARD HIM AND BEGAN TO WORSHIP! Just remember that it was the demons in him who were doing this (which I think is...awesome). Demons get cast out into the herd of pigs, pigs run off the cliff into the sea, and the man who had been possessed is now of a sound mind, dressed, and speaking normally. The story goes on from there, but here's what I found really cool. After sending the man back to spread word among his town/friends, Jesus gets back into the boat and crosses back over to the other side. He came all the way over to one shore, healed and saved this hurting man, sent him out to witness, and then got back in His boat and returned to the other shore.
How close is that to what He has done in every Christian's life? I was a hurting and miserable person without Him...and He knew where to find me. He called me, woke my heart to Him, and gave me Grace abounding. It doesn't matter where any of us are...Christ can meet us there. I'm definitely a member (though not proud of it) of the Million-Sins-Committed Club, but still He loves me and forgives me. Amazing. It's also very convicting to me that He told the man "Go home to your friends, and tell them how great things the Lord has done for you, and that He has had compassion on you." In other words...we shouldn't just take our salvation and keep in quiet and to ourselves.
Anyway, this has been an inadequate summary of an amazing bible passage that I had overlooked till now, but I hope I made some sort of sense.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Really?
Yesterday while driving to school, I saw something that has always provoked a huge "REALLY??" type of reaction from me anytime I see it. Driving next to me was this huge manly man truck. It was black and lifted and it was a 4x4 and it had tinted windows and mudflaps and chrome and more chrome and it roared in a very manly way when the driver put his foot on the accelerator and I'm pretty sure it was able to grow facial hair before it even left the assembly line.
So here's the kicker: On the back window of this truck were two stickers that show the silhouette of a naked woman in a very suggestive pose...one as an angel, the other as a devil. I'm sure you all know the ones I'm talking about. I want to know who the 7th grade boy was that came up with this idea, and after that I want to know how it is possible that more mothers don't beat their sons for putting these stickers on their trucks.
When did it become "manly" for men to lust after a woman's body and reduce it to nothing more than a means to satisfy his fleshly desires? How have multiple generations of women accepted the lie that our value lies in our sex appeal and our willingness to give our bodies without regard for commitment and respect? It is not acceptable to excuse it as "well, they are men. It's just how their minds work." Bull. People are perfectly capable of training their minds and their thoughts. Most choose not to.
So why do I get so disgusted by these stickers when I could "just not look at them," as many people advise me? Mainly because they are a slap in the face to womanhood and true manhood, and because they poison the minds of children and adults. Young girls see those poses and think that they have to look like that to be of value. Young men see them and think that they are allowed and entitled to view women in that manner.
So, back to where I first saw the truck. The vehicle next to him was a smaller SUV, rather unremarkable in appearance. There was an older man driving it. His bumper sticker simply read, "I love my wife."
There is hope, after all. :)
More to come on this soon....
So here's the kicker: On the back window of this truck were two stickers that show the silhouette of a naked woman in a very suggestive pose...one as an angel, the other as a devil. I'm sure you all know the ones I'm talking about. I want to know who the 7th grade boy was that came up with this idea, and after that I want to know how it is possible that more mothers don't beat their sons for putting these stickers on their trucks.
When did it become "manly" for men to lust after a woman's body and reduce it to nothing more than a means to satisfy his fleshly desires? How have multiple generations of women accepted the lie that our value lies in our sex appeal and our willingness to give our bodies without regard for commitment and respect? It is not acceptable to excuse it as "well, they are men. It's just how their minds work." Bull. People are perfectly capable of training their minds and their thoughts. Most choose not to.
So why do I get so disgusted by these stickers when I could "just not look at them," as many people advise me? Mainly because they are a slap in the face to womanhood and true manhood, and because they poison the minds of children and adults. Young girls see those poses and think that they have to look like that to be of value. Young men see them and think that they are allowed and entitled to view women in that manner.
So, back to where I first saw the truck. The vehicle next to him was a smaller SUV, rather unremarkable in appearance. There was an older man driving it. His bumper sticker simply read, "I love my wife."
There is hope, after all. :)
More to come on this soon....
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Enough already
I've recently begun to realize that there is a world outside of nursing school that I would like to a part of. The world where people go to movies on Saturday nights with friends, where friends get together for the fun of it (not just to study), and in general....where no one talks about urinary catheters, med administration, or the weird case that they saw on "Trauma, Life in the ER."
My life has been almost completely consumed with school for the last 2-1/2 years, and I still have one year to go. But I've finally reached a point of wanting to hold a conversation with someone where I don't mention a single word about my work. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I want to talk about anything else...a great book, a sewing pattern, a car project, a sweet recipe...you get the idea.
I went and saw "Morning Glory" with my friend Caitlin tonight and in this one scene, Harrison Ford's character (veteran newsman) tells the the work-obsessed young executive producer (Rachel McAdams)..."You would sleep at the office if you could. You meet someone and you only ever get to the third date because all you can talk about is your work." I feel like I am that character. All I talk about most of the time is nursing school. I love what I do but...good grief. Sometimes it needs to be put into a box with a tight fitting lid and be shoved into the closet for a while.
So tomorrow morning...I'm waking up, making my coffee, going to church with my family, and visiting with friends after service. I'm going to tinker with my truck for a little while. Call my nieces and talk with them...they are growing up so fast I can't believe it. Little kids should have to stay little for twice as long so that their aunties have more time to adjust to them growing up. In short...I am going to do everything I never take the time to do.
My life has been almost completely consumed with school for the last 2-1/2 years, and I still have one year to go. But I've finally reached a point of wanting to hold a conversation with someone where I don't mention a single word about my work. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I want to talk about anything else...a great book, a sewing pattern, a car project, a sweet recipe...you get the idea.
I went and saw "Morning Glory" with my friend Caitlin tonight and in this one scene, Harrison Ford's character (veteran newsman) tells the the work-obsessed young executive producer (Rachel McAdams)..."You would sleep at the office if you could. You meet someone and you only ever get to the third date because all you can talk about is your work." I feel like I am that character. All I talk about most of the time is nursing school. I love what I do but...good grief. Sometimes it needs to be put into a box with a tight fitting lid and be shoved into the closet for a while.
So tomorrow morning...I'm waking up, making my coffee, going to church with my family, and visiting with friends after service. I'm going to tinker with my truck for a little while. Call my nieces and talk with them...they are growing up so fast I can't believe it. Little kids should have to stay little for twice as long so that their aunties have more time to adjust to them growing up. In short...I am going to do everything I never take the time to do.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Superior Cell Phone Genetics
Tonight, in a wild streak of devilry and rebellion, I set my books aside for a few hours and went to the cell phone store. Alltel, which has been my phone company for 6 years, was recently bought out by AT&T, who I assume by now is owned by AOLTimeWarnerWalMartMarthaStewartFordFritoLayCompany. I don't know anything about phones except that when I use mine it emits a special ray that lets me drive using ESP while I text on it, but apparently, Alltel phones are incompatible with AT&T systems (sensing some sort discrimination here, just have to dig a bit and I could probably file some sort of hate crime lawsuit). I think AT&T should change their system out to meet the needs of my recycled flip phone that is about 4 years old now and has pieces falling off of it, but apparently in this relationship, it's all about them. SO after receiving 3 letters in the mail with glossy pictures of genetically superior AT&T phones, and getting propaganda emails about how great these phones are, and most recently, receiving threatening texts about what will happen if I don't go pick a new phone, I finally conceded and headed to the local Klan headquarters to upgrade to one of their preselected phones.
For the record, this whole thing just stinks. They buy out my company, they declare my phone's name is suck, they preselect 5 phones for me to choose from, and then if I want to even consider touching my plan in any way, shape, or form, they want me to sign a contract declaring my allegiance and fealty to them for the next 432 years of my life. If I decide to cancel this contract, they reserve the right to eliminate me from the gene pool to prevent the possibility of any of my potential successors from being around to cancel phone contracts in the future. They don't say this outright, but I know the truth.
Five minutes after walking in, I have my new phone selected, and the guy tells me, "It will probably be here in January." So after all of the threats and emails and texts about how upgrading my phone is quite possibly the most important thing I will do in this life, they won't have it till January. Which is totally fine...I didn't want to change phones in the first place. Mine is awesome because I can leave it out on a table at school or forget it on a store counter and NO ONE will steal it because it is so old!!! I've dropped it out of my truck multiple times over the last couple of years and it still works like a charm! Maybe they want my phone back so they can copy its longevity chromosome and incorporate it into their little AT&T phone gene pool. It's just a theory. I don't think I will let them have it. All I have to say to them is this: Don't think I don't know what you think I don't know.
For the record, this whole thing just stinks. They buy out my company, they declare my phone's name is suck, they preselect 5 phones for me to choose from, and then if I want to even consider touching my plan in any way, shape, or form, they want me to sign a contract declaring my allegiance and fealty to them for the next 432 years of my life. If I decide to cancel this contract, they reserve the right to eliminate me from the gene pool to prevent the possibility of any of my potential successors from being around to cancel phone contracts in the future. They don't say this outright, but I know the truth.
Five minutes after walking in, I have my new phone selected, and the guy tells me, "It will probably be here in January." So after all of the threats and emails and texts about how upgrading my phone is quite possibly the most important thing I will do in this life, they won't have it till January. Which is totally fine...I didn't want to change phones in the first place. Mine is awesome because I can leave it out on a table at school or forget it on a store counter and NO ONE will steal it because it is so old!!! I've dropped it out of my truck multiple times over the last couple of years and it still works like a charm! Maybe they want my phone back so they can copy its longevity chromosome and incorporate it into their little AT&T phone gene pool. It's just a theory. I don't think I will let them have it. All I have to say to them is this: Don't think I don't know what you think I don't know.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Blessings in my life this week
1. The funky weird brand of coffee in the bright red and yellow can that I found at the hick grocery store in Bloomfield. It is awesome and I have sworn to love it till the end of the time.
2. The green sweater that my Aunt Anita bought and mailed to me from Seattle this week. If I had every single hoodie in the world to chose from, I would have chosen this one. I've been wearing it in the evenings here while drinking a cup of the fore mentioned coffee. This sweater is pretty much making me want to move to Seattle.
3. Seeing pictures of my best friend and her beautiful new baby boy, and remembering her at 12 years old, standing in her driveway in a mickey mouse t-shirt, barefoot and throwing a drill team flag up in the air for hours on end.
4. Fresh Mangoes and coconut. For breakfast, 2nd breakfast, elevensies, lunch, dinner, late night snack, etc. Don't be surprised if my skin turns orangey-yellow soon.
5. Listening as my 2-1/2 year old nephew tells me about his toy trains and how he went potty in the potty chair.
6. Getting excited with his mommy (my big sis) about the idea of her kids getting to see the real life Thomas the Tank Engine at some point in the next few years.
2. The green sweater that my Aunt Anita bought and mailed to me from Seattle this week. If I had every single hoodie in the world to chose from, I would have chosen this one. I've been wearing it in the evenings here while drinking a cup of the fore mentioned coffee. This sweater is pretty much making me want to move to Seattle.
3. Seeing pictures of my best friend and her beautiful new baby boy, and remembering her at 12 years old, standing in her driveway in a mickey mouse t-shirt, barefoot and throwing a drill team flag up in the air for hours on end.
4. Fresh Mangoes and coconut. For breakfast, 2nd breakfast, elevensies, lunch, dinner, late night snack, etc. Don't be surprised if my skin turns orangey-yellow soon.
5. Listening as my 2-1/2 year old nephew tells me about his toy trains and how he went potty in the potty chair.
6. Getting excited with his mommy (my big sis) about the idea of her kids getting to see the real life Thomas the Tank Engine at some point in the next few years.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Nate "Oteka" Henn
Tonight I read about the recent blast in Uganda that killed 76 people. A young American guy was among the victims. He was over there as an aid worker. He was only 25 years old, but he died with his boots on...not just trying to,but honestly making a difference in this world. In reading his story, I realized that although he gave up a life of comfort, ease, and security in order to follow Christ to "the ends of the earth", he gained a life far richer and deeper than most of us will ever know. I praise God for this man's life, his service, and the example that he set for me and countless others.
This post is dedicated to him.
http://blog.invisiblechildren.com/2010/07/in-loving-memory-of-nate-oteka-henn/
This post is dedicated to him.
http://blog.invisiblechildren.com/2010/07/in-loving-memory-of-nate-oteka-henn/
Monday, July 12, 2010
Chance encounter in the library
Well, I'm here to report that I am now full of tetanus, diptheria (still haven't figured out how to spell that one correctly) measles, mumps, rubella, and hepatitis B serums. Any type A+'s want a blood transfusion? I've got everything in me that you could want. I was sort of expecting to have a sore arm from the Td, but so far there is just a little of bit of pain that isn't even worth mentioning, which obviously isn't going to stop me from saying that my left biceps hurt.
On to a more serious note, I have started studying bioethics during my time off of school this summer. I recently started going to the public library again since I have some time on my hands, figuring it would be nice to do some recreational reading for a change. My exact and meticulously planned library excursions go something like "walk into the library, close my eyes and spin around 5 times, stop, extend my hand in front of me, open my eyes, walk to wherever my finger is pointing and explore that particular aisle." This method generally has interesting results as I find myself reading about things I normally don't think about and finds me leaving with a stack of titles ranging from meteorology to farming to classic literature to philosophy to motorcycles and so on. The only aisle that I laugh and walk away from is the one that has all the tax code books. Somehow I don't think my self-education will suffer extreme neglect from this.
During last week's trip, the first aisle I walked down contained a number of books on bioethics. A light bulb clicked on in my brain and I thought to myself "hey, maybe we should learn about this and develop a thought framework on it since we are going to be a nurse and work in the medical field for the rest of our life!" (in case you are wondering, I reserve the right to refer to me as a we whenever we want to).
I have extremely passionate and firm beliefs regarding the more normal (how sick is it that I can use the word "normal" here, as if they are nonchalant and run of the mill?) topics such as abortion and assisted suicide and have no problem discussing them with anyone who has a mind to. When it comes to other issues in bioethics, like cloning, genetic modifications, etc, my lack of knowledge is evident by the presence of mere shallow opinions that are all I have to offer when questioned. With this in mind, I picked a few books that looked promising and started reading them almost immediately upon arriving home. Wow. My mind is exploding over the entire arena of humanity that has been opened and explored by these authors. Let me preface my initial thoughts about this subject by saying that: I know I still have a ton to learn, I wrote this in the middle of the night, and some of my reasoning more than likely has holes in it. This is a raw and unedited viewpoint and I know there are large amounts of information that need to be filled in to complete many of the thoughts that are presented here. In other words, these are my reading notes....just a work in progress.
The current trend in the world today seems to be one that removes moral absolutes from medical decision making-absolutes which guarantee the moral value of each individual-and replaces them with a set of subjective values (which, being subjective, are obviously determined by another person).
Rabbit trailing for a moment, I've also been reading "Reading Lolita in Tehran", in which the author makes the point that works of fiction that are told from a narrator's subjective viewpoint always color the reader's opinions of the other characters in the story. The narrator's subjective opinions cause the other characters to be loved or hated by the readers; the rules and beliefs of the narrator accordingly determine the fate of the other characters.
Resuming my original train of thought now...while reading my other book, "Culture of Death",
and learning about the transformation of bioethics in the United Sates during the last 40 years, I was caught up in how similar the two books I am reading are, though they are found on opposite sides of the library. The leaders in the bioethics community, be they doctors, lawyers, college professors, or politicians, are narrating the stories in which hundreds of thousands of unborn babies, severely disabled human beings, and elderly suffering from Alzheimer's play silent roles. The subjective guidelines written by their fellow human beings, those who supposedly know what is in the best interests for the "good of the whole" are applied to these individuals who are unable to stand for themselves.
Ok, that's all I have for now. More to come soon, hopefully something that will explain the framework of ideology that the bioethics community (in general) operates from. Btw, I know I titled this post "a chance encounter", but now that I am learning about this vast subject, I know it was more than coincidence or chance or luck that I wound up on that particular part of the aisle.
On to a more serious note, I have started studying bioethics during my time off of school this summer. I recently started going to the public library again since I have some time on my hands, figuring it would be nice to do some recreational reading for a change. My exact and meticulously planned library excursions go something like "walk into the library, close my eyes and spin around 5 times, stop, extend my hand in front of me, open my eyes, walk to wherever my finger is pointing and explore that particular aisle." This method generally has interesting results as I find myself reading about things I normally don't think about and finds me leaving with a stack of titles ranging from meteorology to farming to classic literature to philosophy to motorcycles and so on. The only aisle that I laugh and walk away from is the one that has all the tax code books. Somehow I don't think my self-education will suffer extreme neglect from this.
During last week's trip, the first aisle I walked down contained a number of books on bioethics. A light bulb clicked on in my brain and I thought to myself "hey, maybe we should learn about this and develop a thought framework on it since we are going to be a nurse and work in the medical field for the rest of our life!" (in case you are wondering, I reserve the right to refer to me as a we whenever we want to).
I have extremely passionate and firm beliefs regarding the more normal (how sick is it that I can use the word "normal" here, as if they are nonchalant and run of the mill?) topics such as abortion and assisted suicide and have no problem discussing them with anyone who has a mind to. When it comes to other issues in bioethics, like cloning, genetic modifications, etc, my lack of knowledge is evident by the presence of mere shallow opinions that are all I have to offer when questioned. With this in mind, I picked a few books that looked promising and started reading them almost immediately upon arriving home. Wow. My mind is exploding over the entire arena of humanity that has been opened and explored by these authors. Let me preface my initial thoughts about this subject by saying that: I know I still have a ton to learn, I wrote this in the middle of the night, and some of my reasoning more than likely has holes in it. This is a raw and unedited viewpoint and I know there are large amounts of information that need to be filled in to complete many of the thoughts that are presented here. In other words, these are my reading notes....just a work in progress.
The current trend in the world today seems to be one that removes moral absolutes from medical decision making-absolutes which guarantee the moral value of each individual-and replaces them with a set of subjective values (which, being subjective, are obviously determined by another person).
Rabbit trailing for a moment, I've also been reading "Reading Lolita in Tehran", in which the author makes the point that works of fiction that are told from a narrator's subjective viewpoint always color the reader's opinions of the other characters in the story. The narrator's subjective opinions cause the other characters to be loved or hated by the readers; the rules and beliefs of the narrator accordingly determine the fate of the other characters.
Resuming my original train of thought now...while reading my other book, "Culture of Death",
and learning about the transformation of bioethics in the United Sates during the last 40 years, I was caught up in how similar the two books I am reading are, though they are found on opposite sides of the library. The leaders in the bioethics community, be they doctors, lawyers, college professors, or politicians, are narrating the stories in which hundreds of thousands of unborn babies, severely disabled human beings, and elderly suffering from Alzheimer's play silent roles. The subjective guidelines written by their fellow human beings, those who supposedly know what is in the best interests for the "good of the whole" are applied to these individuals who are unable to stand for themselves.
Ok, that's all I have for now. More to come soon, hopefully something that will explain the framework of ideology that the bioethics community (in general) operates from. Btw, I know I titled this post "a chance encounter", but now that I am learning about this vast subject, I know it was more than coincidence or chance or luck that I wound up on that particular part of the aisle.
Sleep is for the dead (or normal).
Insomnia is awesome. It sounds a little like salmonella, and it's probably not just a coincidence that if you have salmonella, you probably also have insomnia. For the record, I do not have salmonella, just insomnia, and even though food poisoning is a fun and colorful experience, I think I already paid my dues in that department this year.
I tried going to sleep earlier but it was one of those times where you lay down on your bed and try the old "just close your eyes" trick that your parents always pulled on you when you were little, except tonight when I closed my eyes my brain didn't get the memo, so here I am, writing run-on sentences for the benefit of the free world. It's just to bad the world isn't really free anymore. Take water, for example. I was recently at Disney World in Florida (not to be confused with the Disney World in Peoria) with a good friend of mine. I think it was about 345% humidity and around 345 degrees Kelvin most of the time we were there. (*READER WARNING: This next bit of info might be too much, so if you don't want to be grossed out, just close your eyes while reading the next few lines so you don't hear what I have to say*).
So while walking and walking and walking and walking through all of WDW's 975 separate theme parks in this heat, I might have broken a light sweat (by "light" I mean there was sweat squishing out of my shoes as I walked, leaving nice foot prints behind me even though I hadn't just walked out of a swimming pool). What can I say....I'm used to hot dry weather, but the South has a sauna-feel to it that makes me think I should see old men with towels around their waists emerging from steam clouds. Whoever said that "girls don't sweat, they shimmer" should have been there with me that day because I was shimmering so much the astronauts probably saw me from the space station.
When you're shimmering excessively, you are obviously losing a lot of water. So I was chug-a-lugging my H2O religiously, but somewhere in the Magic Kingdom or on the Safari Ride or inside the Golf Ball or while wanting to throw golf balls at the wild animals that I saw on the safari ride just to see if the lions really were real or just machines of the magical kingdom, I lost my water bottle. Then I had to buy a new one. You know how much they charged for a bottle of water?!? Three dollars!!! For 16 ounces!!!! After I found this out, I realized that Disney just built the rides so that people would be distracted long enough for secret employees to steal their water bottles, forcing them to go spend more money on more water.
And that's what the Disney empire is based on (and here you thought it was built on revenues from movies and what-not). After doing the math in my head, I figured out that my sweat was worth roughly 19 cents per ounce. Ok, for a comparison, gasoline is something like 0.9 cents per fl oz. (Don't check my math because it's 4:06 AM and I might have accidentally converted something to square acres instead of fluid ounces).
Back to my original point. The world is not free, especially the 2/3 of it that is covered by water (1/3 of which was converted to *shimmer* by yours truly). However, vaccines are free. I'm hoping they still are anyway, because I'm on my college-kid budget (also known as "Shop at Goodwill on 1/2-off everything day") and have to get measles/mumps/rubella, tetanus/diptheria, and a hepatitis series done before I am allowed to do clinicals at the hospital this fall.
I called around town and the general conspiracy plan that all of the Farmington doctors offices came up with was to charge between $300-$400 just to let people stand in the same room as the vaccines in hopes of obtaining immunity by way of diffusion. (If we were in the south, it would be by reverse osmosis). If you actually want the shot injected, you have to trade a kidney or your liver for it.
Obviously, I want to keep my bank account and my body intact at least until grad school (when I have serious expenses), so I called up to Durango and found a place that apparently received a government grant (AKA "fun money and we can always print more!") that is enabling them to give out free vaccines. I'm not really sure about the ethics behind all of it and can't help but wonder if there is secret serum in the bottles that will turn me into a liberal. If, after I receive these shots tomorrow, you hear me say "Yes we can!" or if I cut my hair like Janet Napolitano, please, do the right thing and shoot me dead right there on the spot. My family will understand (Heck, they'll probably say something like "Better shoot her again...y'know, just to be sure").
My rendevesouszzssszsouss (French for "let's get together secretly and smoke cigarettes while talking crap about other people behind their backs because we are too scared to say it to their faces) at the Durango clinic is later on today. I haven't had a shot in 21 years, so this should be interesting. Maybe if I cry, they'll give me a sedative, and hopefully, I won't have insomnia tomorrow night.
I tried going to sleep earlier but it was one of those times where you lay down on your bed and try the old "just close your eyes" trick that your parents always pulled on you when you were little, except tonight when I closed my eyes my brain didn't get the memo, so here I am, writing run-on sentences for the benefit of the free world. It's just to bad the world isn't really free anymore. Take water, for example. I was recently at Disney World in Florida (not to be confused with the Disney World in Peoria) with a good friend of mine. I think it was about 345% humidity and around 345 degrees Kelvin most of the time we were there. (*READER WARNING: This next bit of info might be too much, so if you don't want to be grossed out, just close your eyes while reading the next few lines so you don't hear what I have to say*).
So while walking and walking and walking and walking through all of WDW's 975 separate theme parks in this heat, I might have broken a light sweat (by "light" I mean there was sweat squishing out of my shoes as I walked, leaving nice foot prints behind me even though I hadn't just walked out of a swimming pool). What can I say....I'm used to hot dry weather, but the South has a sauna-feel to it that makes me think I should see old men with towels around their waists emerging from steam clouds. Whoever said that "girls don't sweat, they shimmer" should have been there with me that day because I was shimmering so much the astronauts probably saw me from the space station.
When you're shimmering excessively, you are obviously losing a lot of water. So I was chug-a-lugging my H2O religiously, but somewhere in the Magic Kingdom or on the Safari Ride or inside the Golf Ball or while wanting to throw golf balls at the wild animals that I saw on the safari ride just to see if the lions really were real or just machines of the magical kingdom, I lost my water bottle. Then I had to buy a new one. You know how much they charged for a bottle of water?!? Three dollars!!! For 16 ounces!!!! After I found this out, I realized that Disney just built the rides so that people would be distracted long enough for secret employees to steal their water bottles, forcing them to go spend more money on more water.
And that's what the Disney empire is based on (and here you thought it was built on revenues from movies and what-not). After doing the math in my head, I figured out that my sweat was worth roughly 19 cents per ounce. Ok, for a comparison, gasoline is something like 0.9 cents per fl oz. (Don't check my math because it's 4:06 AM and I might have accidentally converted something to square acres instead of fluid ounces).
Back to my original point. The world is not free, especially the 2/3 of it that is covered by water (1/3 of which was converted to *shimmer* by yours truly). However, vaccines are free. I'm hoping they still are anyway, because I'm on my college-kid budget (also known as "Shop at Goodwill on 1/2-off everything day") and have to get measles/mumps/rubella, tetanus/diptheria, and a hepatitis series done before I am allowed to do clinicals at the hospital this fall.
I called around town and the general conspiracy plan that all of the Farmington doctors offices came up with was to charge between $300-$400 just to let people stand in the same room as the vaccines in hopes of obtaining immunity by way of diffusion. (If we were in the south, it would be by reverse osmosis). If you actually want the shot injected, you have to trade a kidney or your liver for it.
Obviously, I want to keep my bank account and my body intact at least until grad school (when I have serious expenses), so I called up to Durango and found a place that apparently received a government grant (AKA "fun money and we can always print more!") that is enabling them to give out free vaccines. I'm not really sure about the ethics behind all of it and can't help but wonder if there is secret serum in the bottles that will turn me into a liberal. If, after I receive these shots tomorrow, you hear me say "Yes we can!" or if I cut my hair like Janet Napolitano, please, do the right thing and shoot me dead right there on the spot. My family will understand (Heck, they'll probably say something like "Better shoot her again...y'know, just to be sure").
My rendevesouszzssszsouss (French for "let's get together secretly and smoke cigarettes while talking crap about other people behind their backs because we are too scared to say it to their faces) at the Durango clinic is later on today. I haven't had a shot in 21 years, so this should be interesting. Maybe if I cry, they'll give me a sedative, and hopefully, I won't have insomnia tomorrow night.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Mapping out the future
Lately I've been putting a great deal of thought into what I want to do after I finish my nursing program here at my college. I'll be graduating in December of 2011 and will be an RN. I'm leaning towards simply transferring from San Juan to UNM in Albuquerque and finishing my bachelors degree in nursing with them. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to transfer to UW in Seattle and finish my BSN there, but then I'd be paying out of state tuition, which means I'd have to start making and selling meth in my garage to pay for it.
I suppose that is a bad idea, because the people I would be selling drugs to would eventually be the people I will have to treat in the hospital so...scratch that idea. I'll just sell a kidney and a lung. You only need one of each to survive, right? On that note, we actually have a place here in Farmington where you can sell your blood plasma. I don't know what they do with it, but I have had several friends who made a regular business of selling their plasma to get party money. Easy money for sure...maybe that's the answer to my how-to-finance-school problem.
A more realistic (though less dramatic) solution is to let Uncle Sam pay for it by way of the United States Navy. Yep, I would do it. How weird is this though? I CALLED THE NAVY...they didn't come after me or anything, and I EMAILED THE NAVY, gave them a full description of my education, how long I have left, reasons for interest, etc. You wouldn't guess it from my writing style on here, but I am capable of near-perfect grammar and structure when needed. Which by the way, is something their website is severely lacking in. It goes something like this (I am not making this up):dss"Your wildest dreams. Anywhere you want to go. Become more. Action. Part of a team." I was really ticked off and annoyed by the time I got through one paragraph because of the horrible grammatical errors it contained.
Back to what I was saying...so after I contacted them twice, they finally condescended to send me a letter, which was written with the same flair as their website ("Fast jets. Guns. Pow."), and a DVD loaded with film clips of jets with afterburners, He-Men with their faces painted, and groups of lemmings marching in step. And I'll stop right here to say I LOVE AND RESPECT OUR MILITARY with all of my heart. My family is a military family and I would be honored to serve. I just want a little more information to go on than the above mentioned items. Like, I'm not gonna fly a jet, I don't plan on painting my face (can you imagine the response that would get you while working in a hospital?), and marching in circles was fun when I was a 13 year old Civil Air Patrol cadet at summer encampment. I can think of a thousand other things I'd rather do than spend hours proving I can walk the exact same way as a hundred other people.
So basically, so far it seems that their recruiting efforts are focused on 17 year old kids that are impressed by uniforms and guns. Anyway, I'm still leaving the door open should they reconsider and decide to send me a semi-intelligent letter or, Heaven forbid, actually call me.
My ultimate goal, as most people have heard me blab about a ton already, is to enter the mission field. I need experience before I go, which is a huge factor in why I am interested in the Navy (motto: "Do Stuff"). I've been researching humanitarian aid groups like Doctors Without Borders and would love to work with them. I guess for now, the tentative plan is to sign a contract now with San Juan Regional, let them pay for my RN schooling, work for them for two years after graduation, during those two years be taking classes with UNM online, get my BSN, have two years of nursing experience under my belt at that time, then go on my journey to put band aids on the world (yea, they'll be the band aids that have Kermit the Frog's face all over them).
I suppose that is a bad idea, because the people I would be selling drugs to would eventually be the people I will have to treat in the hospital so...scratch that idea. I'll just sell a kidney and a lung. You only need one of each to survive, right? On that note, we actually have a place here in Farmington where you can sell your blood plasma. I don't know what they do with it, but I have had several friends who made a regular business of selling their plasma to get party money. Easy money for sure...maybe that's the answer to my how-to-finance-school problem.
A more realistic (though less dramatic) solution is to let Uncle Sam pay for it by way of the United States Navy. Yep, I would do it. How weird is this though? I CALLED THE NAVY...they didn't come after me or anything, and I EMAILED THE NAVY, gave them a full description of my education, how long I have left, reasons for interest, etc. You wouldn't guess it from my writing style on here, but I am capable of near-perfect grammar and structure when needed. Which by the way, is something their website is severely lacking in. It goes something like this (I am not making this up):dss"Your wildest dreams. Anywhere you want to go. Become more. Action. Part of a team." I was really ticked off and annoyed by the time I got through one paragraph because of the horrible grammatical errors it contained.
Back to what I was saying...so after I contacted them twice, they finally condescended to send me a letter, which was written with the same flair as their website ("Fast jets. Guns. Pow."), and a DVD loaded with film clips of jets with afterburners, He-Men with their faces painted, and groups of lemmings marching in step. And I'll stop right here to say I LOVE AND RESPECT OUR MILITARY with all of my heart. My family is a military family and I would be honored to serve. I just want a little more information to go on than the above mentioned items. Like, I'm not gonna fly a jet, I don't plan on painting my face (can you imagine the response that would get you while working in a hospital?), and marching in circles was fun when I was a 13 year old Civil Air Patrol cadet at summer encampment. I can think of a thousand other things I'd rather do than spend hours proving I can walk the exact same way as a hundred other people.
So basically, so far it seems that their recruiting efforts are focused on 17 year old kids that are impressed by uniforms and guns. Anyway, I'm still leaving the door open should they reconsider and decide to send me a semi-intelligent letter or, Heaven forbid, actually call me.
My ultimate goal, as most people have heard me blab about a ton already, is to enter the mission field. I need experience before I go, which is a huge factor in why I am interested in the Navy (motto: "Do Stuff"). I've been researching humanitarian aid groups like Doctors Without Borders and would love to work with them. I guess for now, the tentative plan is to sign a contract now with San Juan Regional, let them pay for my RN schooling, work for them for two years after graduation, during those two years be taking classes with UNM online, get my BSN, have two years of nursing experience under my belt at that time, then go on my journey to put band aids on the world (yea, they'll be the band aids that have Kermit the Frog's face all over them).
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Trying to write again.
I think I figured out why I've had writer's laryngitis for the last few months. I stopped drinking coffee in April. Yea, I know...sounds impossible. I just got to the point where I felt like it was making me feel worse each day instead of perking me up. So I switched to tea, and now, pretty much the only thing I drink is water. And let's face it, water doesn't exactly give you a brain buzz late at night like the coffee beans do.
Other than that, the only reason I can of as to why I stopped writing for so long was that this year has been weird. I feel as though I grew older in a short amount of time. Somewhere between losing my Grandma, being overwhelmed with school,being accepted to the nursing program, watching my mom go between sickness and worse sickness, having a crazy emotional roller-coaster ride in June, and trying like crazy to decide what to do after finishing the nursing program, I seriously have lost the ability to write the way I used to.
I think losing my grandma had a lot to do with it. When I boarded the plane from WA to ABQ after she died, I left part of my youth behind me forever. I still think of her every single day. 99% of the time, I forget she is gone and I catch myself thinking "I need to call her", or "Grandma would love those flowers, or that book, or this drive, or that ice cream" etc. It still doesn't seem possible that she left us and went away. I dreamed of her a few weeks ago...she was standing tall and strong, graceful and lithe. Her skin was smooth and her eyes were bright and full of laughter, and as she looked at me, she said "everything is ok...I'm happy." I know she is, but I miss her so, so much. If she was still here, she and I would be sharing a room, the way we did every summer. We'd be up late talking while sharing a midnight snack right now, just like we were at this time last summer. She'd be wearing her silk nightgown and we'd be laying in our beds in my room, talking about anything and everything. She'd be commenting on how nice the breeze felt as it came into my window. I can still hear her voice in my mind, still see her there rummaging through her suitcase for a recipe or scripture verse she had written down on the back of a bank statement envelope.
Back in May, my parents and I went to the garden department at Lowe's to find some new plants for the yard. Mom and I had the idea of planting a memory rose for Grandma, since those were her favorite flowers. There were a bunch of smaller white and pink roses, but nothing looked like her. Then I saw a large red rose hanging in the air over me head, and I swear...I could feel her there with me. That flower reminded me so vividly of my Grandma, I burst into tears right there on that aisle while surrounded by 500 other people.
I haven't been able to write for a long time because that silly, retarded part of me has just felt dead. I want to find it again though...but for a while, these posts will probably be pretty serious, if not just different from what I normally write.
Other than that, the only reason I can of as to why I stopped writing for so long was that this year has been weird. I feel as though I grew older in a short amount of time. Somewhere between losing my Grandma, being overwhelmed with school,being accepted to the nursing program, watching my mom go between sickness and worse sickness, having a crazy emotional roller-coaster ride in June, and trying like crazy to decide what to do after finishing the nursing program, I seriously have lost the ability to write the way I used to.
I think losing my grandma had a lot to do with it. When I boarded the plane from WA to ABQ after she died, I left part of my youth behind me forever. I still think of her every single day. 99% of the time, I forget she is gone and I catch myself thinking "I need to call her", or "Grandma would love those flowers, or that book, or this drive, or that ice cream" etc. It still doesn't seem possible that she left us and went away. I dreamed of her a few weeks ago...she was standing tall and strong, graceful and lithe. Her skin was smooth and her eyes were bright and full of laughter, and as she looked at me, she said "everything is ok...I'm happy." I know she is, but I miss her so, so much. If she was still here, she and I would be sharing a room, the way we did every summer. We'd be up late talking while sharing a midnight snack right now, just like we were at this time last summer. She'd be wearing her silk nightgown and we'd be laying in our beds in my room, talking about anything and everything. She'd be commenting on how nice the breeze felt as it came into my window. I can still hear her voice in my mind, still see her there rummaging through her suitcase for a recipe or scripture verse she had written down on the back of a bank statement envelope.
Back in May, my parents and I went to the garden department at Lowe's to find some new plants for the yard. Mom and I had the idea of planting a memory rose for Grandma, since those were her favorite flowers. There were a bunch of smaller white and pink roses, but nothing looked like her. Then I saw a large red rose hanging in the air over me head, and I swear...I could feel her there with me. That flower reminded me so vividly of my Grandma, I burst into tears right there on that aisle while surrounded by 500 other people.
I haven't been able to write for a long time because that silly, retarded part of me has just felt dead. I want to find it again though...but for a while, these posts will probably be pretty serious, if not just different from what I normally write.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Almost there!
Time for awesome metaphors!
The school semester really seems like three pregnancy trimesters shrunk down to a shorter time frame. I've never been pregnant but I think that this is the case anyway. Allow me to elaborate on this a bit: By the end of the semester, you just want to have the whole thing over and done with, except instead of yelling "I HATE YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!!!" at one man, you get to say it to 4-5 sadistic professors. Okay, I admit I'm being a little bit dramatic. I just want be done already. And my professors really are awesome this year and I can't legitimately complain about any of them but that's never stopped me in the past so I figure, why let it influence me now?
Moving on...right now I'm writing a 4 pager on "What influenced you to enter the health care field?". So I'm making a 4 page list of all the forms of happiness that the great money I'll earn can buy :). No, not really. Mine is heartfelt and legitimate and, in case you're still wondering, money is not why I'm becoming a nurse. I'm becoming one so I can steal prescription drugs.
So the final part of my English class includes assembling a portfolio of my work to present to a committee of professors (fancy term for "people who never joined the real world"). I think I might write one of those stories from when we were little kids where a picture is substituted for the word...kind like "John kicked the (soccer ball pic here) to Mary. Mary dropped her (beer bottle pic here) and yelled at John." Maybe I'll write one where all of the teachers are the characters. Yea. Then I can sign up for the class again after they flunk me. Creative genius never goes unpunished.
The school semester really seems like three pregnancy trimesters shrunk down to a shorter time frame. I've never been pregnant but I think that this is the case anyway. Allow me to elaborate on this a bit: By the end of the semester, you just want to have the whole thing over and done with, except instead of yelling "I HATE YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!!!" at one man, you get to say it to 4-5 sadistic professors. Okay, I admit I'm being a little bit dramatic. I just want be done already. And my professors really are awesome this year and I can't legitimately complain about any of them but that's never stopped me in the past so I figure, why let it influence me now?
Moving on...right now I'm writing a 4 pager on "What influenced you to enter the health care field?". So I'm making a 4 page list of all the forms of happiness that the great money I'll earn can buy :). No, not really. Mine is heartfelt and legitimate and, in case you're still wondering, money is not why I'm becoming a nurse. I'm becoming one so I can steal prescription drugs.
So the final part of my English class includes assembling a portfolio of my work to present to a committee of professors (fancy term for "people who never joined the real world"). I think I might write one of those stories from when we were little kids where a picture is substituted for the word...kind like "John kicked the (soccer ball pic here) to Mary. Mary dropped her (beer bottle pic here) and yelled at John." Maybe I'll write one where all of the teachers are the characters. Yea. Then I can sign up for the class again after they flunk me. Creative genius never goes unpunished.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
My Grandma
On Sunday, March 21, my beautiful Grandma went home to our Savior. She left at noon, which I think is something she did on purpose. Noon is when everyone always went home from church and made a big dinner. It was a time for family to come together. Now, I don’t know what all really goes on in heaven, but I like to think that when she walked through those gates, she was welcomed by all of our family members that are already there, and that they had a huge dinner waiting for her.
A few years ago, my mother and aunt took my grandma to the ABQ airport. If you knew my grandma, you knew she was a glamorous and gorgeous woman who was always dressed to the nines. At the airport, she was treated like royalty the entire time, skipping through ticketing, security, etc. At the gate, the pilot himself came off the plane to personally assist her in boarding. The entire time, the man who was escorting them through the airport kept telling various employees, “Estella’s here! Estella’s here!” Grandma just smiled and sparkled the entire time. I think that when she got to heaven, angels must have been flying around shouting “Estella’s here!”
Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I have ever done. She was and forever will be the queen of my heart. Her love was unconditional, her life a living testimony to Christ. Her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have all risen up and called her blessed.
The impact that she had on me personally is beyond description. She came to live with my family when I was 12 years old, and rotated between our house and our relatives for the following 13 years. I invariably shared a room with her. Now, for most young teens, sharing a room with Grandma is not the coolest thing in the world. I resented her for it and popped more attitude than I care to admit. However, as I grew up, she ceased being only my grandmother and became a true friend, and in the last few years, became one of my best friends. We spent countless nights lying in bed talking to each other till well after midnight. I was able to tell her my secrets and never worried that she would tell anyone. I know she is at rest and I wouldn’t make her come back to this earth. I just can’t believe that my time with her is gone, that I will never stay up late on hot summer nights talking with her, that we will never share another cup of coffee or play another round of cards. I can’t believe that we won’t share a pineapple sundae from Sonic, make another batch of strawberry jam, or cook another Thanksgiving dinner together. I only hope that I will be half the woman of grace, wisdom, intelligence, and strength that she was.
Perhaps the single most defining part of her was her undying love for my grandpa. She was married at 16 and widowed at 17. A few years later, she met a military man by the name of James Dacy. She loved him deeply and passionately. They were married for more than 40 years before he went home to Christ. She followed him around the world multiple times, and always told me that her place was by his side, no matter what. When other wives whose husbands were deployed went home to their parents, she stayed at his home base and waited for his return, even when he was sent to Africa for 3 years. She was faithful and true to him throughout their marriage and even after his death. After he passed away in 1994, a friend asked her if she would remarry. She replied “No…I’ve already known the love of my life. I’m waiting for Jim.” Wait for him she did, as faithfully as if he were merely on a deployment again. I know that when she went home on Sunday, he was standing there waiting for her. I’m willing to bet they haven’t stopped dancing yet. She taught me more about true love than anyone I have ever known…she exemplified it. If and when I ever marry, I will carry the memory of her love for her husband in my heart. They were the true romance, because they shared a true, undying, and selfless love for each other. I hope I am someday blessed to have the same in my life.
Ladybug, you were the most beautiful woman I have ever know, both inside and out. Thank you for every lesson you ever taught me, for every moment we shared. Caring for you before you went home was the greatest privilege of my life, being your granddaughter and carrying your name is the greatest honor I could ever hope for. My love for you will never die. You are forever the queen of my heart. I love you.
A few years ago, my mother and aunt took my grandma to the ABQ airport. If you knew my grandma, you knew she was a glamorous and gorgeous woman who was always dressed to the nines. At the airport, she was treated like royalty the entire time, skipping through ticketing, security, etc. At the gate, the pilot himself came off the plane to personally assist her in boarding. The entire time, the man who was escorting them through the airport kept telling various employees, “Estella’s here! Estella’s here!” Grandma just smiled and sparkled the entire time. I think that when she got to heaven, angels must have been flying around shouting “Estella’s here!”
Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I have ever done. She was and forever will be the queen of my heart. Her love was unconditional, her life a living testimony to Christ. Her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have all risen up and called her blessed.
The impact that she had on me personally is beyond description. She came to live with my family when I was 12 years old, and rotated between our house and our relatives for the following 13 years. I invariably shared a room with her. Now, for most young teens, sharing a room with Grandma is not the coolest thing in the world. I resented her for it and popped more attitude than I care to admit. However, as I grew up, she ceased being only my grandmother and became a true friend, and in the last few years, became one of my best friends. We spent countless nights lying in bed talking to each other till well after midnight. I was able to tell her my secrets and never worried that she would tell anyone. I know she is at rest and I wouldn’t make her come back to this earth. I just can’t believe that my time with her is gone, that I will never stay up late on hot summer nights talking with her, that we will never share another cup of coffee or play another round of cards. I can’t believe that we won’t share a pineapple sundae from Sonic, make another batch of strawberry jam, or cook another Thanksgiving dinner together. I only hope that I will be half the woman of grace, wisdom, intelligence, and strength that she was.
Perhaps the single most defining part of her was her undying love for my grandpa. She was married at 16 and widowed at 17. A few years later, she met a military man by the name of James Dacy. She loved him deeply and passionately. They were married for more than 40 years before he went home to Christ. She followed him around the world multiple times, and always told me that her place was by his side, no matter what. When other wives whose husbands were deployed went home to their parents, she stayed at his home base and waited for his return, even when he was sent to Africa for 3 years. She was faithful and true to him throughout their marriage and even after his death. After he passed away in 1994, a friend asked her if she would remarry. She replied “No…I’ve already known the love of my life. I’m waiting for Jim.” Wait for him she did, as faithfully as if he were merely on a deployment again. I know that when she went home on Sunday, he was standing there waiting for her. I’m willing to bet they haven’t stopped dancing yet. She taught me more about true love than anyone I have ever known…she exemplified it. If and when I ever marry, I will carry the memory of her love for her husband in my heart. They were the true romance, because they shared a true, undying, and selfless love for each other. I hope I am someday blessed to have the same in my life.
Ladybug, you were the most beautiful woman I have ever know, both inside and out. Thank you for every lesson you ever taught me, for every moment we shared. Caring for you before you went home was the greatest privilege of my life, being your granddaughter and carrying your name is the greatest honor I could ever hope for. My love for you will never die. You are forever the queen of my heart. I love you.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tax season is here.
Of course, for me,the tax season only lasts 24 hours and is still almost three months away, because I wait to do any of it till the last possible day each year. Today I received my tax info tuition statement (officially known as Form 109884328797864-T) from my college in the mail. I opened it 25 minutes ago. Three minutes ago, I spilled applesauce on it. Within the next nine minutes, I will have misplaced it and won't see it again till April 14th, when I will find it under my bed inside a Far Side comic book, marking some particularly funny panel that I wanted to show someone else but forgot to after I lost the book off my nightstand. Then, even though I will be in a rush to get my taxes done, I'll sit there on my floor going, "YES! I found my Form 109884328797864-T and now I can finish my-oh sweet I LOVED this panel!", and then I'll sit read the whole book and won't file till the 15th.
Speaking of the 15th reminds me of the 14th, which reminds me that upcoming day of love and romance, where millions of women get upset if their respective man failed to do something original, and where millions of men think that a box of candy (that says "made in china" on the bottom) from Wal-mart counts as something original. It's a nasty, nasty cycle. I spent last Valentine's night at a lovely restaurant, surrounded by balloons and flowers. Of course, I was the person carrying food to the tables and refilling drinks and by the end of the night I was ready to pop the balloons with a steak knife. And it wasn't really a lovely restaurant, it was Applebee's, and it was crowded, and the kitchen crashed, and I have no freaking clue what makes 573 billion couples think that by all going out for dinner on the same night, they will have a private, relaxing experience. Seriously..."Hey honey, let's have some time for just the two of us. Let's go to the standing-room-only lobby at a restaurant that doesn't take reservations and wait for 70-90 minutes for a table. It'll just be us and 340 other couples packed together". Yea, that screams romance. I won't even touch on how long it took for food to arrive, except to say that really, they could have raised and butchered out a steer in less time than it took to get a steak that night. Nights like that made me wonder why the heck I worked in a restaurant and definitely kept me motivated to stay in school.
Getting back to my taxes...I'm actually just waiting for one more thing to come in the mail before filing, which I really actually want to accomplish earlier than April 15th this year. My goal is to file by April 14th. I'm so tempted to do them by hand this year, simply for the reason that I could send my late-night-snack-food splotched forms to the IRS in Santa Fe and some government employee would have to pull a coffee stained, peanut butter crusted-together stack of papers out of the envelope and try to decipher my writing through the mess, then I'll call 3 days after I mail it and demand to know why I haven't received my return yet. And then it will be their turn to question their employment.
Speaking of the 15th reminds me of the 14th, which reminds me that upcoming day of love and romance, where millions of women get upset if their respective man failed to do something original, and where millions of men think that a box of candy (that says "made in china" on the bottom) from Wal-mart counts as something original. It's a nasty, nasty cycle. I spent last Valentine's night at a lovely restaurant, surrounded by balloons and flowers. Of course, I was the person carrying food to the tables and refilling drinks and by the end of the night I was ready to pop the balloons with a steak knife. And it wasn't really a lovely restaurant, it was Applebee's, and it was crowded, and the kitchen crashed, and I have no freaking clue what makes 573 billion couples think that by all going out for dinner on the same night, they will have a private, relaxing experience. Seriously..."Hey honey, let's have some time for just the two of us. Let's go to the standing-room-only lobby at a restaurant that doesn't take reservations and wait for 70-90 minutes for a table. It'll just be us and 340 other couples packed together". Yea, that screams romance. I won't even touch on how long it took for food to arrive, except to say that really, they could have raised and butchered out a steer in less time than it took to get a steak that night. Nights like that made me wonder why the heck I worked in a restaurant and definitely kept me motivated to stay in school.
Getting back to my taxes...I'm actually just waiting for one more thing to come in the mail before filing, which I really actually want to accomplish earlier than April 15th this year. My goal is to file by April 14th. I'm so tempted to do them by hand this year, simply for the reason that I could send my late-night-snack-food splotched forms to the IRS in Santa Fe and some government employee would have to pull a coffee stained, peanut butter crusted-together stack of papers out of the envelope and try to decipher my writing through the mess, then I'll call 3 days after I mail it and demand to know why I haven't received my return yet. And then it will be their turn to question their employment.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
What Do They Do At 1 AM?
How funny would it be....if our politicians had to have everything done by Sunday night, the same way I do each week? Maybe this only seems funny because I've been sitting at my computer for the last 5 hours working on a paper that is due tomorrow. Seriously though, the image of our *Beloved Leaders* sitting there going "crud...crud if I don't finish this up, I'll get a bad grade, and then my average for the class will go down, and then I'll risk getting a lower letter grade, and then my GPA for the semester will go down, and then my name will be Suck" is hilarious. I think it would be even funnier if their pay reflected their bad GPA. Yea, I know this is nonsensical retarded musing :O)
I wonder how similar my life and their lives really are though? How many pots of coffee do they burn through while trying to get their work done? Do they sit there crafting their Serious Works of Grave Political Significance and Importance while wearing black and red knee high argyle socks with blue pajama shorts that are covered with pink and red hearts and a vintage orange t-shirt? (If Sarah Palin does then I'd be down with it...just hope that's not the case for John McCain. He has old man knees and should avoid shorts). While he dreams up his word-vomit for the next day, could Joe Biden have a fondness for eating clementine oranges at 2 AM and a nit-picky way of peeling them (starting from the top, in five vertical sections, so that it looks like an opened flower blossom)? Does Janet Napolitano rock out to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" while writing the death plans for all the Ron Paul supporters? Nah...I bet Janet blasts Blondie's "One Way Or Another".
Anyway, I finally finished writing the health care paper and let me tell you, I think I rewrote that paper about 3 times when it was all said and done. However, it is simply waiting for a peer review tomorrow morning before I upload it to my prof. There is nothing as horrible as the thought of walking into a classroom with an incomplete assignment...unless it's the thought that (seriously, do I seriously have to list his name in a blog about "our politicians"?)Al Franken might possibly also get up from his chair to get his blood circulating by dancing to "Funky Town" or "Play That Funky Music". For the record, my dancing skills are way funkier than his could ever be. I mean, really, I'm the one with the awesome socks.
I wonder how similar my life and their lives really are though? How many pots of coffee do they burn through while trying to get their work done? Do they sit there crafting their Serious Works of Grave Political Significance and Importance while wearing black and red knee high argyle socks with blue pajama shorts that are covered with pink and red hearts and a vintage orange t-shirt? (If Sarah Palin does then I'd be down with it...just hope that's not the case for John McCain. He has old man knees and should avoid shorts). While he dreams up his word-vomit for the next day, could Joe Biden have a fondness for eating clementine oranges at 2 AM and a nit-picky way of peeling them (starting from the top, in five vertical sections, so that it looks like an opened flower blossom)? Does Janet Napolitano rock out to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" while writing the death plans for all the Ron Paul supporters? Nah...I bet Janet blasts Blondie's "One Way Or Another".
Anyway, I finally finished writing the health care paper and let me tell you, I think I rewrote that paper about 3 times when it was all said and done. However, it is simply waiting for a peer review tomorrow morning before I upload it to my prof. There is nothing as horrible as the thought of walking into a classroom with an incomplete assignment...unless it's the thought that (seriously, do I seriously have to list his name in a blog about "our politicians"?)Al Franken might possibly also get up from his chair to get his blood circulating by dancing to "Funky Town" or "Play That Funky Music". For the record, my dancing skills are way funkier than his could ever be. I mean, really, I'm the one with the awesome socks.
Conquering Health Science Writing and Demon Insects of the South
This weekend I've been working on an extremely interesting paper titled "Health Care Financing". Yea, I know...contain your jealousy and envy. Interestingly, I found myself quite drawn into it once I started writing and now have a 450 word affair that I somehow have to cut 100 words out of in order to meet my prof's specifications. (For the record, I'm officially at that point of tired where I have to sit here thinking "Is it speficifations or specifications?").
Said paper is an assignment from my "Writing for Health Science Careers" class. The only problem I'm having is that my teacher wants this to be an OPINION paper, which would be okay except that I am incapable of stating only my own opinion and nothing but my opinion on the given subject. I have this insatiable need to argue against every single other opinion out there, which I'm pretty sure is what caused the current too-many-words thing I have going on. The horrible part is I'm not even close to being finished with it. All I know is, if Liberals would stop trying to force universal free health coverage on us, I wouldn't have to tell the world why their plans won't work, and my paper would fit within 350 words!(At last, I've learned how to blame everything on the government). Seriously though, how many times does socialism have to fail before we finally realize that it doesn't work?
Moving on. I have been presented with the opportunity to visit a very old, very dear friend of mine in FL on Memorial Day weekend. He's stationed at an AFB right by the ocean. Oh my cow I would get to see the water! We're talking about going to Disney World while I'm there, as well as dressing up in 50's fashion for an evening out, simply for the fun of it because we both love the glamor of that era. I think it will be a wonderful weekend, with the only exceptions being the 340% humidity and prehistoric-sized insects (and here you thought those were alligators in the swamps)that come with visiting the South
Airport security should let me board while carrying a shotgun loaded with buckshot when I say "I'm going to the South. This is insect repellent." If they've been there, they'll understand and wave me on through without a second thought. If they haven't, I'll henceforth be writing a blog titled "The Prison-Issue-Canvas-Slipper Wearing Conservative".
Said paper is an assignment from my "Writing for Health Science Careers" class. The only problem I'm having is that my teacher wants this to be an OPINION paper, which would be okay except that I am incapable of stating only my own opinion and nothing but my opinion on the given subject. I have this insatiable need to argue against every single other opinion out there, which I'm pretty sure is what caused the current too-many-words thing I have going on. The horrible part is I'm not even close to being finished with it. All I know is, if Liberals would stop trying to force universal free health coverage on us, I wouldn't have to tell the world why their plans won't work, and my paper would fit within 350 words!(At last, I've learned how to blame everything on the government). Seriously though, how many times does socialism have to fail before we finally realize that it doesn't work?
Moving on. I have been presented with the opportunity to visit a very old, very dear friend of mine in FL on Memorial Day weekend. He's stationed at an AFB right by the ocean. Oh my cow I would get to see the water! We're talking about going to Disney World while I'm there, as well as dressing up in 50's fashion for an evening out, simply for the fun of it because we both love the glamor of that era. I think it will be a wonderful weekend, with the only exceptions being the 340% humidity and prehistoric-sized insects (and here you thought those were alligators in the swamps)that come with visiting the South
Airport security should let me board while carrying a shotgun loaded with buckshot when I say "I'm going to the South. This is insect repellent." If they've been there, they'll understand and wave me on through without a second thought. If they haven't, I'll henceforth be writing a blog titled "The Prison-Issue-Canvas-Slipper Wearing Conservative".
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