Candy-pocalypse

Today, you're in luck, because I've come up with some random musings that I think you'll find entertaining. Buckle up, 'cause mama just found her keys and we're a goin' drivin'.

Random Musings

1. It's fun adding the word 'pocalypse' to the end of other words. For example, one day, around Halloween, when I was doing my nursing preceptorship (which is like an apprenticeship where you work one on one with a nurse and she teaches you and you learn and eventually you teach her and she says, "Look who's the teacher now!" and you say, "Ahh geez, Phyllis, you're makin' me embarrassed!" and she says, "No but seriously Diane, you are a top notch nursing student!" and you say, "It's not Diane, it's Dion" and she says how ashamed she is), this ER tech came to work and said, "I went to CVS and there was literally NO CANDY THERE!" And then I said, "Oh no! It's a candy-pocalypse!" She didn't get it. She didn't giggle or even crack a smile, but I was quite pleased with myself. Another example would be when you run out of toilet paper, you could say, "It's a toilet paper-pocalypse!" Or if you were going through a dry spell sexually, you could say, "It's NOT raining men!"

2. I have decided that pictures of puppies asleep are adorable, especially when they are dressed up in wizard costumes. Puppies asleep in a wicker chair? Also fucking adorable. Equally adorable is a picture of someone rolling a puppy down a mountain. It's also cute when someone takes a picture of a puppy asleep on a computer keyboard or asleep on a desk covered in papers--because it totally looks like the puppy fell asleep while he was doing his taxes!

You know what's NOT adorable though? A creepy picture of a baby asleep in a cloth hammock that's held up by a hook that looks like it belongs to the killer from "I Know What You Did Last Summer" (as well as sequels "I Still Know What You Did Last Summer" and "I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer"). Moral of the story: sleeping puppies in quirky outfits and silly settings--great, sleeping babies in baskets, boxes, with wings, wearing jail outfits, held up by hooks, etc.--bone shatteringly frightening.

3. What's UP with the baggers at the grocery store? Why do they always ask you if you want a bag for the bulkiest and most awkward-to-carry items? I walk up to the counter with 6 packs of AA batteries and a medium-size bag of cat food and all the bagger girl can say is, "Um...do you, like, want a bag for this cat food?" Well, actually, the BATTERIES could fit in my purse, but the cat food is fucking annoying as SHIT to carry, so yeah, I'd like a bag. And also: fuck you. Just assume that unless I say I don't want a bag, I WANT A BAG. It's not like they don't have a bag big enough to fit a medium bag of cat food or a couple of two liters of pop. Do you know how annoying it is to try to free-hand 2 two-liters of pop up 20 stairs in the god JAM dead of Winter? I've had it. I have absolutely had it.

Ok. That's enough random musings for now. If you're wondering about the picture of the basket of white kittens at the beginning of this post, that's just my favorite picture that came up when I typed "pocalypse" into an image search.

New Normal

I am now a graduate nurse. I can give you a TB shot. I can insert a Foley catheter into you. I am a medical professional. And it feels weird.

Maybe it feels weird because I have so much time off. I'm used to having to study constantly. I'm used to the constant threat of failure, and I'm used to having to face my fears on a daily basis. I'm used to crying because I contaminated my sterile field (I have gotten the hang of that now, but it's still intimidating). But now, I don't have to worry about that stuff anymore (at least not until I get a job). I could still fail the NCLEX, though, so there is that.

I haven't started studying for it. I have been spending my days watching TV (today I watched 'A Killer Among Friends' starring Patty Duke and Tiffany Amber Theissen) and applying for jobs and thinking about the future and the kind of person I would like to someday be. It's almost 2011, so now is a good time for re-invention I guess.

Next year, I want to lose the 100 pounds or so of unsightly fat that have taken up residence all over my body (totally my fault, by the way). I want to get a nursing job that I like at a good hospital and grow professionally. I want to travel more (I'm definitely going to check out Portland, Oregon, and I want to go back to New York City, too, and see a taping of SNL).

Nursing school was a great experience because it made me push myself in ways that I never would have otherwise. I had to do things that made me nervous. I want to keep going down that path. I also want to figure out how the heck those centipede bugs keep getting into my house.

Sorry this is not a super fun post. But I'm kind of depressed. Damn you Winter! Damn you change! This is totally JUST like the end of Cast Away, where Chuck Noland is standing in the middle of that dusty crossroads and he has to decide which way to go. Should he follow the hot angel wings lady? I mean, he can't go home because his fiancée totally married another guy and had a baby with him while Chuck was stuck on that island with Wilson. This is so typical. My life always mirrors Tom Hanks movies. First I meet that strange guy, fall in love with him, and then find out he's a mer-man, and now this!

I will probably do what Tom did in Big. I will go to a carnival, find a Zoltar machine and make a wish for my most pressing desire. I will not wish to be 'big' like Tom did, because I am already 100 pounds bigger than I'd like (and I can already ride whatever rides I want at the fair). I will probably not wish to be rich, because that's a lost cause. I will not wish to meet the man of my dreams, because I already met him (he was a mer-man and had to go back to living in the Atlantic off Cape Cod. I would've gone with him, but eh...). No, I will not wish for any of those things. Instead, I will wish to be brave--brave enough to go after what I want and seize it when I find it.

Weary Traveler

Dear readers,

I'm sorry I haven't written in so long. It's just...well...if you want to know the whole long drawn-out story, I'll tell you: I went to Europe for six months to wrestle for my college. I'm sure you're thinking, what the fuck, she wrestles? Since when? Well, hey, if you ever listened to me you'd know how much I love wrestling...how much wrestling is, in fact, my whole world. I'm sorry for the outburst...it's just...sometimes I feel like I'm invisible! Even though I have this blog where I often divulge my deepest, darkest secrets (like how much I love Lifetime movies featuring out of control teens), I still feel so alone--and so misunderstood.

But back to my story: about six months ago, I was commissioned by my school to go on this wrestling fellowship (I'm sure you're thinking, wrestling fellowship? Is that even a thing? Yes. It is. It is a thing. Stop questioning me!!). I was incredibly excited to go because I've never traveled and I love to wrestle. And I'm really, really good at wrestling. I get a lot of accolades for it--a lot of pats on the butt and free pasta dinners. So it's cool. Plus, I found out I was going to one of the most beautiful countries in all of Europe: Slovakia.

The people in Slovakia are so kindly!! They're always offering you meat on a stick and a mug of brew or something else great. Any longtime reader of this blog knows how much I love meat on a stick (or meat on a plate, in a bowl, or even in a glove compartment for that matter (Hey! Meat is meat. As long as it's mostly cooked, I'm game)). Because the people of Slovakia are so wonderful, I didn't think twice when a haggard old greasy-bearded Slovak wearing dirty overalls and carrying a rusty bone saw offered me a ride in his beat-up van when I missed my train to Poland.

He held out his hand for me to shake and said loudly, "Thems calls me Ctibor." When I grasped his hand in mine, I could feel the jagged bones beneath his paper-thin skin. His bones made me think of cemeteries and crows and garbage-can fires, so I was immediately put at ease. Plus, it was adorable how he was attempting to speak English! Having already spent a few months in Slovakia, I answered him in Slovak (the official language of Slovakia): "Mám ťa rád, Ctibor! Hovoria mi Liz. To je ale krásny zimný deň. Milujem túto krajinu. Je to tak pustá!" Loosely translated, this means: "I like you, Ctibor! They call me Liz. What a beautiful winter day. I love this country. It's so desolate!"

Ctibor nodded and grinned while digging around in the large front pocket of his overalls for what I assumed to be some sort of treasure. He produced a hand-rolled cigarette and I knew I was right--treasure. He lit the cigarette and leaned past me to look down the train tracks (We were on a wooden train platform. I was there because I had been trying to catch that train to Poland. I never asked Ctibor why he was there). He took a long slow drag and then said, an evil gleam in his eye, "Train to Poland no come. Dark come soon and you are like lost sheep's baby."

Darkness was beginning to fall, and there was a pervasive silence that hung in the air--an eerie wintry silence. I was getting so cold, all I could think of was curling up beside a crackling fire in Ctibor's cottage, if he would be so kind as to invite me. I had already worn out my welcome at the village inn (but that's a whole other story).

"Ja som vydesený a chladená až na kosť! Potrebujem miesto na pobyt, a nevadilo by mi jedlo malých knedle zo zemiakového cesta s bryndzou a slaninou preliate miešanými," I said. This means: "I am terrified and chilled to the bone! I need a place to stay, and I would not mind a meal of small dumplings made of potato dough with sheep cheese and topped with scrambled bacon." It might sound like I was asking a lot of Ctibor, but believe me, Slovaks love to cook and entertain overnight guests.

Ctibor finished his cigarette and threw it onto the train platform, mashing it into the wood with the toe of his work boot for a few long seconds. I watched the embers glow and die and waited anxiously for him to speak. When he finally looked at me and grinned, I noticed he was missing quite a few teeth, which I found charming. "I love help lost American girl."

"Ctibor, jsi bomba!" I said, which in English means: "Ctibor, you're the bomb!" I followed him off the train platform and climbed into his old van. He let me sit in the very back on the floor, and I enjoyed the bouncy ride. Ctibor played the music of his favorite band, the Gypsy Devils, at top volume and chain smoked the whole way to his cottage. Being in that smoky, loud environment reminded me of my nights of debauchery with my college friends in the States and I felt a pang of homesickness. I thought of asking Ctibor to drop me off on the side of the road, but I really wanted those potato dumplings.

The last thing I remember before waking up on a Slovak hospital gurney four months later was the long dark dirt driveway that led to Ctibor's cottage. It was lined with black barren trees which bent and shook with the howling wind, branches scraping like fingernails against the car windows. Weird, right?!

So anyway, that's where I've been. I hardly even got to wrestle because of my "lost months" (that's what I've taken to calling the time I spent at Ctibor's). But don't worry, I'll be back on the mat in no time. Until then, I think I'll get back to blogging. After all, I've missed you guys.

Love,

Liz

Spittin' Tired

Ok, so day one is over.

Things I learned today: bras with under-wire are evil, and I should've brought a lunch.

I can already feel an ulcer coming on. I'm trying to remain calm, though, and I'm actually doing pretty well so far! I only cried once today and it was just because I was watching the last five minutes of Ghost.

There was one moment today when I wasn't completely filled with dread...and I actually felt slightly cool (a very strange and new feeling for me!). We were all getting a tour of the facilities where we'll be having class and doing labs; we were being led around by a TA, and she had a clip-board and was yelling over the crowd things like, "There are the vending machines!" and "There's the study rooms...you'll pretty much live in there!" We were all wearing our lab coats and looking bewildered. It was just like Grey's Anatomy (Season 1).

Ahhh, if only my life could be more like a TV show or movie (in which my boyfriend dies and then comes back as an apparition to save me from his evil best-friend's murderous heart and scandalous money laundering plot) and less like my actual life (which now only involves reading medical texts, driving, and worrying).

And so it begins

Tomorrow is the first day of my Accelerated 2nd Degree BSN program.

50 students.
A two-hour long commute.
Ridiculously difficult-to-decode directions on what to wear,
what to buy,
where to go,
what time to be there.

These are some of the things with which I am currently dealing.

I am filled with dread. And hope.

Part of me wants to curl up and die. Another part of me knows I'm going to kick nursing school's ass! Another part of me just wants to eat ham and drink water.

This year I'll be keeping you posted on my nursing school misadventures, and also on my continued efforts to shed the pounds and pounds of unsightly fat that currently adorn my body.

Wish me luck!