Waiting (thoughts from the inside)

Hello friends! To all of you out there who still might find the random musings of my life interesting, I say a warm hello. A large "meh" to the rest of the world. 

So the last blog I wrote was WAY back in March (or May?) before graduation from nursing school, the national nursing boards exam, my 30th birthday, etc., etc. 
A lot of changes, but a lot of NO changes too. 

Let me explain... 
So I graduated nursing school in May (yay me!) and then I took the NCLEX exam and passed (yay me again!) so now I'm officially a registered nurse. This is what I worked for for 15 LONG months. The fact that it's over is still a bit surreal. 
But probably not so surreal for the rest of my classmates. That is because, you see, they all have jobs. They're happily "nurse-ing" away at different locations around Texas. (And one in Wyoming.) 

Me? I'm sitting here. Yep, just sittin' away. Slowly gaining weight and becoming dull-witted. 
Why, you ask? 
I'll tell you. It's because I, alone out of 30 people, can not find a job. 
Have I applied, you ask? 
Yes, I say. To well over 50 positions. 
But they do not want me. I have not been called for a single interview. 
Nada. 
Zip. 
Zero. 
Zilch. 

No one, it seems, has looked upon my application with favor and decided that I'm worth a quick glance. From April to September, week after week, application after application, I have been passed over and told, "Thanks, but no thanks." 

Why is that? I don't know. I can think of PLENTY of reasons, but I sincerely hope they're all untrue and just coming out of an increasingly deluded mind. 

What do I do with my days, you might wonder. What does one do when faced with an eternity of NOT being the only thing you want to be, you may ponder. 
Well I already told you. I sit here. And watch tv on the internet. And play stupid computer games. And talk to my dog. (He's wonderfully supportive.) And slowly, slowly lose confidence that I will ever get to use the skills I worked SO hard to learn. It's not like I can go temp somewhere while waiting for something permanent. Nursing doesn't work that way. 

So I wait. And I sit. And I wonder... 
What was all that work for? 
Why did go to nursing school? 
When will I finally get a chance to do something I literally ache to do? 
Because I'll tell you, it's no use being a nurse if you can't actually nurse anybody. I suppose it's a bit like a carpenter without thumbs. 

Forgive me the wallowing post, friends. Maybe soon I'll be able to give a lighter, happier, sillier update.  

But I doubt it.

Turtles

So today's post is kind of a bonus. Aren't you thrilled?

For the last week I've had a song percolating in my brain about turtles and the tragedies that befall them when they happen to meander across major roadways.
Strange, you say?
Well of course.
Don't you know whose blog this is?

Anyway, the song came about because of two of my nursing school friends. Neither of them directly caused the demise of a turtle, but each witnessed one.
And subsequent distress ensued. (On the girls' parts. The turtles had already "joined the choir invisible," so to speak.)

So the song was born.
And I'm sharing it with you.
And I know you're desperately excited.



Right?




That's ok.
I'll wait for the applause over here.


Oh you shouldn’t leave a turtle on the highway,
That’s just not the place he’d like to be.
The trucks that whizz right by,
Might make a turtle pie,
The turtle mightn’t like that part at all.

Oh you shouldn’t leave a turtle on the highway.
The sun just might not be the turtle’s friend.
The fire in the sky,
Could make the turtle fry,
The turtle might not find that part too swell.


[chorus]
Oh turtles should be left in quiet waters.
In streams and brooks and places by the sea.
So if you see a turtle,
Hitchhiking down the pavement,
Make sure that he’s allowed to stay carefree…


Oh you shouldn’t leave a turtle on the highway.
There’s not much for the turtle to digest.
The lack of tasty food,
Might wreck the turtle’s mood,
The turtle might find this too much to bear.

Spring Break

Ah, spring break. Pretty much the only reason I have the time and energy to sit here and write this post.
It's a marvelous thing.

Some people are off on a beach, wearing tiny triangles of fabric and string that they pretend are actual bathing suits, drinking enormous amounts of alcohol and hooking up with random strangers. (Mmmmm.... STDs.....)
Some people are traveling to see relatives they haven't seen in months, like long lost Great-aunt Bertha and her hairless chihuahua Nacho.
And some people, like my lovely friend Lacie, are getting married in the Bahamas.

Me?
I'm lying on the living room floor with my snoring dachshund Barney and my NCLEX-RN Q&A Flash Cards.
And I think I just inhaled a dust bunny.

You see, friends, on April 10th I have an exam called the "Exit HESI" at school, which is the Grand Pubah of exams. You have to get a certain score on it in order to graduate as the score indicates something like an 85% chance you'll pass the national nursing boards, or something like that.
It's all quite intimidating.

The professors say they've seen students crumple to the floor in tears, both of joy and defeat.
Does this make me feel confident?
No, it does not.
It makes me wonder:
Will I be the first student in the history of the HSC to smash the computer screen after learning my score?
Should I smuggle in some hairspray and a lighter and threaten to blowtorch the building unless they pass me?
Could I arrange for several trained armadillos to burrow into the room at strategic times thus creating distractions and allowing me time to google the answers?

Perhaps I should just continue with these cards.

But I think I'll keep the armadillos just in case...



In other news: Happy 29th birthday to my best friend Cassie!! You're the greatest and I love you!

No more "B"s

That's right. The titles of my posts will no longer begin with the letter B. I've decided to move on.

Eh?
What's that?
You're surprised I'm alive?

Well, frankly, so am I.
I've been in nursing school, you see. Technically, I still AM in nursing school. For four more months. (Then.... GRADUATION!!!)
And all of my creative juices were sucked right out of my body and channeled into learning pharmacology and physiology and how to clean up poop and "nurse" people back to health. (AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! What? No puns allowed? Fine.)

So my beloved little blog DIED. Ironic, isn't it?
But I've decided that I just have to bring it back. I've missed writing and I've missed all of you lovely people. If you're still out there.

*crickets*

Well I'll just talk anyway.

So LOTS of things have happened since I went away. Besides nursing school, I mean. I'll have to write a whole separate post about all the interesting nursing school things, I think. Friends, fun, field trips... poop. Lots of poop. But I digress.

The BEST new thing that's happened is my nephew Connor! My older sister Jennifer had him last May and he is LOVELY. I just think he's the most wonderfulest thing I've ever seen. He's 8 months old now. So he can't really do a whole lot except smile and be a cute little happy lump but if you knew him, you'd love him. I sure do. I don't get to see him as often as I'd like. He's in Lufkin and I'm here in College Station. But unless I barge into my sister's house and announce my intent to become a permanent resident I think things are as good as they're going to be right now. And it's ok. Just as long as he knows who I am.

You remember how my body is slowly trying to do away with me? Yeah, that's still going on. I have pernicious anemia now. It's where your stomach suddenly decides it's not going to produce something called intrinsic factor anymore so you can't absorb the vitamin B12. (Aha! I've found my ulterior motive for getting rid of the B words!)
You get awfully ridiculous without B12.
You can't concentrate, or walk in a straight line, or see, your body starts to strip away the sheaths surrounding your nerves.... it's a marvelous thing.
So I've been getting that fixed. Shots for 6 months. Then tablets for the rest of life. Fun.
See? This body really IS on a mission to kill me. For heaven's sake, it must be some kind of psychological freak show.

So many of my wonderful friends or family have had babies or gotten married! It's been like an explosion! Maybe there's an upcoming apocalypse someone forgot to warn me about...

Anyways... I hereby promise to update this here bloggy-thingie on a more consistent basis from this time forth. Maybe with funny nursing stuff, maybe with old funny Germany stuff, maybe with just stuff that nobody cares about but I think is interesting. As I mentioned at the beginning, you read at your own risk.

I shall leave you with a picture of the new love of my life.

Because it's not funny

I’ll dance upon no man’s grave
Be he great or small
Though pain he does inflict on me
I cherish not his fall.
In anguish will he dwell alone
Absent light and air
No God of Love eternally
Is more than man can bear.
So evil if he ever was
If cruel and filled with hate
His doom I’ll wish on not ONE soul
For now it is too late.

Bothered

Have you ever noticed that there are certain places that NEVER seem to run at high levels of efficiency?
Like, you know, the Department of Motor Vehicles?? (They call themselves the Department of Public Safety now. HA.)
Let me tell you about my experience today.

So I went to the DPS last month to get my license. Blah de blah, everything was fine. I came home with a temporary license and went about my normal life. My regular license was supposed to come in 30-45 days but as time went by I noticed that it had not arrived.
Well a few days ago I was looking at the temporary license and figured out why. The mailing address listed there was my Portland address from over two years ago. I have NO idea how that happened. I'm not sure why the people at the DPS didn't catch it but I'm pretty sure the reason *I* didn't see it was because I was super sick at the time.
So.
I called the DPS.
And the lady I talked to informed me that I could not make the mailing address change over the phone. I would, in fact, have to come all the way back in and make the change in person. To which she added, "MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" (Ok, maybe not...)
But she did tell me I wouldn't have to wait in line.
*Dance, dance, happy singing, throwing of confetti and general fiesta*
No waiting in line like a generic cow awaiting slaughter. No standing against the inevitably white-washed wall, surreptitiously sneaking glances at the large, sweaty man behind you wondering if he is, in fact, the man your mother warned you about.
Joy of all joys!
So with my mother in tow I went to the DPS office today.
And was a little shocked to be given the exact same forms and directions as the person in front of me, along with a little blue ticket that had the number 17 on it.
So shocked was I that I immediately sat down like the good little cow that I was supposed to be.
Then the fire started.
It was a slow fire. The kind that stirs in your stomach and begins to creep up your esophagus until it's right behind your eyeballs and you can't tell whether or not the room has gone red or you're having an aneurysm.
So I cut in line and asked the not-so-nice lady with the preliminary forms about my phone call and promise of no line.
And she gave me the look.
The "one eyebrow raised, who-do-you-think-you-are" look. And very "politely" informed me that I was quite wrong.
And once again, I became an anonymous cow.
So I sat. And seethed.
I am an excellent seether.
I inwardly raged against the inept DPS agents and their lies and trickery, I raged against the token woman with the kid who won't stop crying, I raged against the token foreigners who didn't bring the right documents and can't understand why they're being sent home. I even raged against the tiny TV and the Weather Channel and their idiotic obsession with tornadoes. And what's with all the signs around the room? Like, "Please refrain from cell phone use during processing." "Processing??" First a cow, then some sort of unhealthy and disgusting cheese?
When it was finally my turn to see the actual DPS agent, I told her I simply needed to update my mailing address.
She told me to take off my hat and get ready to take a new picture.
What?
That's right. A whole NEW license instead of just an update to the last one.
And there was a REASON I was wearing the hat, people.
So instead of a no-line, 10 minute, divinely-orchestrated DPS dream trip, what I got was a 45 minute wait and a new license that will, no doubt, exquisitely display my unwashed hair and makeup-less face for all the world to see.
Not to mention the sweet and silent urge to pee that had crept over me while I sat there seething.
I have decided that I do NOT like the DPS.

Bemused

I just finished Maureen McCormick's autobiography. It's an exceptionally interesting, and quick, read. It's always amazing to me that you can "invest" yourself in a TV show and in a TV character and begin to feel like you know and like or even love him/her. You can spend hours and hours with a fictional person in the intimate space of your home, your bedroom, or your living room, and begin to feel like you actually have a stake in his/her life. It's not hard to understand how people with mild or moderate behavioral or mental problems can become obsessed with actors and actresses.
Don't go getting all worried on me. I'm not about to show up behind Hugh Laurie's house with a urine specimen jar or anything.
This book that Maureen writes is completely open and honest about her life, including everything from her years and years of cocaine addiction and drug abuse to her issues with depression to fighting with her brother for conservatorship of her father. I was just amazed at how much I didn't know about her. I'd always thought about her as the kid from the Brady Bunch and assumed she was just a "normal" person. (Well, as normal as Hollywood people can be, anyway.) You can never tell about people. Especially television people.
You know who else you can never tell about?
Mimes.
And clowns.
And people who walk around Disney World or other places in those giant animal costumes.
I had to do that once.
I worked at Focus on the Family for two summers when I was in college, in a soda shoppe called Whit's End in the welcome center. It serves food and drinks and maintains a 32 foot slide by making the kids put socks over their arms. (Please, just don't ask.) And part of the job required dressing up in this giant costume of Mr. Whittaker. He's a character who owns Whit's End in the radio (and now TV) series Adventures in Odyssey, a show for kids that Focus created. There were actually three costumes but I wasn't tall enough to be Eugene, the geeky teenager, and I was too tall to be the dog, whatever his name was.
Anyway. You had to have an escort with you when you were in costume in case some kid or teenager decided to attack you (which happened to the girl in the dog costume far more often that anyone else) and to help you put on and take off the giant head. The escort also had to make sure all the zippers and straps were done and that no parts of the real you were showing, and they had to steer you away from obstacles that you couldn't see. Unless, of course, your escort wanted to have a little fun with you. (And we were all great friends so this happened quite often.)
Because once the giant head was on you could only see through the black mesh screen that was Mr. Whittaker's mouth. And it wasn't very big. Or very see-through-able. And it was SO hot in there. Oh my GOSH. It was like Dante's Inferno. There was a place up at the top for an ice pack and a little fan that was supposed to blow the cool air from the ice down onto your head. Well half the time the fans weren't working but even when they were they didn't help. We also wore ice vests under the giant body suits but even they didn't work for too long. (Oh, and on a side note... Once those started to melt you had two enormous wet spots exactly over your boobs. Try going back to work the front counter looking like that and just see if you don't get creepy looks.)
One time I was in the suit and a woman handed me her baby so she could take a picture. I knew she had handed me the baby but I couldn't FEEL the baby at all. I had this huge body suit on, including a big round belly made of PVC pipe, huge gloves, a giant head, friggin' enormous shoes, I can barely see anything and I'm just praying that I can hold the baby long enough for her to take the picture.
I was NOT smiling when she told me to say cheese.
So see?
It just goes to show.
Either the Brady Bunch, clowns, or a giant Mr. Whittaker holding a baby, you just don't know about people.