Dating: you beast! we are not friends.
School: ugh. less than 6 months, and then I'm dunzo, for nowzo, and that's enoughzo.
Truly, I don't know what else to say. I'm dating, so THAT'S the worst. The guy that I have been smitten with for two weeks pulled a disappearing act- as they do, so that's the worst. Why would you possibly leave me in the dust? My brain is meaner than you will ever be, and I will think up a thousand things that I did wrong that made you disappear.
I've been dating for a thousand years. At this point, I can only conclude that it is something about myself. right? I mean, ugh.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
controlled by bells.
"still compared with those a stone's throw away from here, our lives have both been relatively easy"
I am living in a borrowed house, on borrowed time. Sound familiar? See This Is Something, August 2007. Then I was 24, preparing to go live in eastern europe. I listened to Smashing Pumpkins. Went to the beach and the waitressing job that I hoodwinked my way into. Now, I am preparing to leave this house I've lived in the past 2.5 years, because my man of 3.5 years comes to the epiphany, at the last minute, that he doesn't want to marry me. With the ring in my hand; he ducks out.
Love is a hound from hell, charles bukowski? Nah. Moving is a hound from hell. Nursing school is a hound from hell. Love should be relatively easy.
Screw this house, and the crappy ass road we live on. Screw this street, and the asshole with pittbulls who have prevented me from walking further down the lane. Screw his rebound relationship, and his "I never promised you anything, did I?"
I feel like today I poured ice cream into my patients. I can't fix your burning neck or broken back, I don't have control of the pain meds - but please. Take some ice cream and a sprite. Let me give you an ice pack and hold your hand, and change your sheets when you sweat. Let's get you comfortable.
During this god-awful breakup, sometimes I'm thankful for my job. I get a lot of human connection in the hospital, and I wonder, as a nursing student and NA, how doctors do it...they get all the power but none of the humanity. For doctors visiting our floor, it must seem like a bee hive of activity, running towards call lights, running to bed alarms, dashing off to give prn pain meds (unscheduled) and handling patients whose bodies are giving out on them in insulting, surprising, or painful ways.
Today, a visiting doctor was standing up near our secretary's desk when a loud, jangling alarm went off. I caught the eye of the nurse next to me and I knew that I was echoing her expression: head tilted, focused. We were both listening intently: "Is that a code blue? a chair alarm? The emergency "RED PHONE" going off? Where do we need to be RIGHT NOW?"
The doctor, gray haired and distinguished, grabbed his pocket. "it's my pager." he said dismissively, and walked away. I faced the nurse next to him and said, "he doesn't understand, does he? Our work lives are utterly controlled by noises like that."
I am living in a borrowed house, on borrowed time. Sound familiar? See This Is Something, August 2007. Then I was 24, preparing to go live in eastern europe. I listened to Smashing Pumpkins. Went to the beach and the waitressing job that I hoodwinked my way into. Now, I am preparing to leave this house I've lived in the past 2.5 years, because my man of 3.5 years comes to the epiphany, at the last minute, that he doesn't want to marry me. With the ring in my hand; he ducks out.
Love is a hound from hell, charles bukowski? Nah. Moving is a hound from hell. Nursing school is a hound from hell. Love should be relatively easy.
Screw this house, and the crappy ass road we live on. Screw this street, and the asshole with pittbulls who have prevented me from walking further down the lane. Screw his rebound relationship, and his "I never promised you anything, did I?"
I feel like today I poured ice cream into my patients. I can't fix your burning neck or broken back, I don't have control of the pain meds - but please. Take some ice cream and a sprite. Let me give you an ice pack and hold your hand, and change your sheets when you sweat. Let's get you comfortable.
During this god-awful breakup, sometimes I'm thankful for my job. I get a lot of human connection in the hospital, and I wonder, as a nursing student and NA, how doctors do it...they get all the power but none of the humanity. For doctors visiting our floor, it must seem like a bee hive of activity, running towards call lights, running to bed alarms, dashing off to give prn pain meds (unscheduled) and handling patients whose bodies are giving out on them in insulting, surprising, or painful ways.
Today, a visiting doctor was standing up near our secretary's desk when a loud, jangling alarm went off. I caught the eye of the nurse next to me and I knew that I was echoing her expression: head tilted, focused. We were both listening intently: "Is that a code blue? a chair alarm? The emergency "RED PHONE" going off? Where do we need to be RIGHT NOW?"
The doctor, gray haired and distinguished, grabbed his pocket. "it's my pager." he said dismissively, and walked away. I faced the nurse next to him and said, "he doesn't understand, does he? Our work lives are utterly controlled by noises like that."
Monday, August 19, 2013
Listen to Jason Isbell; Take a math test.
Q. Guess what is the worst?
A. Packing your shit up when you truly didn't think you'd be leaving this house - that is, until Baby was on the way. That ring would sparkle from your finger as you planned how to decorate your new home which Ex-Man was building for you - all on a plot of land large enough to encompass your rose garden, chicken coop, and Future goats. And all of those goddamned babies.
or, you know, into a shared apartment in a complex across town.
Nobody is bitter, least of all me.
(Jen Lancaster, y'all. she's HILARIOUS)
I am frustrated, because I decorated here. I painted, and steam-cleaned. I bought a mirror to match the living room, and pilllows to match the kettle on the woodstove. I framed pleasing photos of the two of us. I planted lilacs, hydrangeas, purple phlox around the mailbox. Now, holy hell, next year those bulbs I planted will bloom and he will probably run them over with the lawnmower. Or worse, he won't. I've lived here for 2 1/2 years, which is longer than I've lived ANYWHERE since I lived with my parents. Also, I have never been good at sucking things up. I will mourn the shit out of this relationship.
A. Packing your shit up when you truly didn't think you'd be leaving this house - that is, until Baby was on the way. That ring would sparkle from your finger as you planned how to decorate your new home which Ex-Man was building for you - all on a plot of land large enough to encompass your rose garden, chicken coop, and Future goats. And all of those goddamned babies.
or, you know, into a shared apartment in a complex across town.
Nobody is bitter, least of all me.
(Jen Lancaster, y'all. she's HILARIOUS)
I am frustrated, because I decorated here. I painted, and steam-cleaned. I bought a mirror to match the living room, and pilllows to match the kettle on the woodstove. I framed pleasing photos of the two of us. I planted lilacs, hydrangeas, purple phlox around the mailbox. Now, holy hell, next year those bulbs I planted will bloom and he will probably run them over with the lawnmower. Or worse, he won't. I've lived here for 2 1/2 years, which is longer than I've lived ANYWHERE since I lived with my parents. Also, I have never been good at sucking things up. I will mourn the shit out of this relationship.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Try Again?
heh.
the initial blog, This Is Something, is a quote from a friend of mine from college. For all intents and purposes, we'll call her Shmictoria Shmice. She was fond of saying, often over a bottle or two of decent white wine, "This is something, right? I mean, it isn't nothing."
Now that that is clear, let's catch up. I am thisclose to being 31, and I am thisclose to finishing Nursing School. A major relationship of mine is ending, and I am verklemmt. I have a small dog, a great job in a hospital in a smallish appalachian city, and both a book and a nail polish fetish. I drink a great deal of decent white wine.* I am a Godmother and a good friend to folks near and far. I also believe that I've been a pretty super girlfriend these past 3.5 years, but what do I know... I guess I will also have to start dating again soon. Much hilarity will ensue, AM I RIGHT?
*decent white wine would also be a valid name for the blog.
--------------------------
Tomorrow, my last year of nursing school begins. Bodily Fluids! Gore! "Comical" misunderstandings with patients await!
the initial blog, This Is Something, is a quote from a friend of mine from college. For all intents and purposes, we'll call her Shmictoria Shmice. She was fond of saying, often over a bottle or two of decent white wine, "This is something, right? I mean, it isn't nothing."
Now that that is clear, let's catch up. I am thisclose to being 31, and I am thisclose to finishing Nursing School. A major relationship of mine is ending, and I am verklemmt. I have a small dog, a great job in a hospital in a smallish appalachian city, and both a book and a nail polish fetish. I drink a great deal of decent white wine.* I am a Godmother and a good friend to folks near and far. I also believe that I've been a pretty super girlfriend these past 3.5 years, but what do I know... I guess I will also have to start dating again soon. Much hilarity will ensue, AM I RIGHT?
*decent white wine would also be a valid name for the blog.
--------------------------
Tomorrow, my last year of nursing school begins. Bodily Fluids! Gore! "Comical" misunderstandings with patients await!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Ass Hat Meanies
Back when I started my last blog,This is Something, I was a spry 23, pursuing my masters degree in a northern city far too cold for my liking. Between that time and now, four (?) years* have passed. Now I am a virtually geriatric, nearly-28 year old woman. Since that other first blog post, I have:
1. dropped out of grad school
2. moved to eastern europe
3. fell in love with an ass-hat.
4. fell out of love with an ass-hat.
5. moved to the mountains of western north carolina.
6. got a dog.
7. fell in love with someone, who, so far, is not an ass-hat.
and that's pretty much been my twenties. In other news, I quit smoking cigarettes. Nonetheless, I still yearn for that sweet, sweet nicotine every time I get frustrated. (damn it). Like now, for instance, with a random freaking student loan bill for 6 times the normal amount. The hell?
hence the blog.
*Only? pshaw.
1. dropped out of grad school
2. moved to eastern europe
3. fell in love with an ass-hat.
4. fell out of love with an ass-hat.
5. moved to the mountains of western north carolina.
6. got a dog.
7. fell in love with someone, who, so far, is not an ass-hat.
and that's pretty much been my twenties. In other news, I quit smoking cigarettes. Nonetheless, I still yearn for that sweet, sweet nicotine every time I get frustrated. (damn it). Like now, for instance, with a random freaking student loan bill for 6 times the normal amount. The hell?
hence the blog.
*Only? pshaw.
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