validation

She wondered if that person was intentionally mean to her.

"No," she thought, "you always take things too personally. It's all in your head."

She had respect for that person. That person had poise, grace, humor, maturity.

She felt she could learn a lot from that person, but still, she wondered why she felt so un-liked when it was so unprovoked. Attempts to reach out were ignored.

She found herself obsessed with what that person thought of her because she couldn't win...

until one day she just stopped. Friendship attempts were halted, perceived value discounted. No longer noticed, no longer cared.

Months later, someone commented.

"That person is so mean to you. It's so weird."

She was innervated with validation. She knew it.

And then she wondered why...

insomnolent

I'm all caff-ed up and I don't know why.

I waited all week for this peaceful Friday evening where I could finish my weekly assignments in no particular rush, lounge, and catch up on some illusive rest.

After a night of belly laughs with my favorite fellow navigation mistress over the inside jokes of the physician and nurse sides of human sexuality I was a little behind schedule. It's 0100 and I've sent my last email with its obligatory attachment and should be on my way to bed.

My eyes are tired but the gears are still whirring methodically behind them. They aren't as efficient as they could be having been thoroughly exhausted earlier in the day with the vacuum packing of additional knowledge in the moments before a test... they are allowing misspellings and poor word choices through the cracks... but they continue tirelessly not allowing my body a moment to regenerate.

A week of thinking momentum cannot be stopped on a dime. apparently.

Fractions.

There is something about this time in life, and people are becoming either attached to an other forever, or deciding quite suddenly that the way things have been going aren't right and initiate a parting of ways. It seems almost polarizing - where are all those people in between?*

A nurse I was with on the labor and delivery unit this summer was in my nursing program just a few years ago, and she said it decimated the couples in her class. I thought it would only end up affecting me (because, you see, I was the first person to lose my other), but no. Slowly but surely nearly all of the unmarried couples in my cohort have split (there are a few exceptions, and all but one cohabitate).

Some have gotten back together, some have found someone new (with what time?), but where many of us were happily coupled when we started we find ourselves in a different place now. Is this par for the course for our age group, or have we changed? It's jilting to see all of the unexpected splitting, like land mines on our weekends, replacing our complacent selves with zombies the following Monday. Some were inevitable, some were our own doing, and some fell from the sky like a kingfisher. The pain feels close even when it doesn't hit personally because it could so easily be my own. maybe because it seems like it just was my own. Best case, it's right, or for the best, but it's never easy in matters of the heart. Even superficial is relative when you're dealing with the vitalest of organs. Regardless of whether you're the hurter, the hurtee or both; if you're human the sting of a split is inevitable.

***

Not that this is the proverbial end by any means (I hope!) but for now, I got what I wanted. Lucky for me what I want hadn't ventured too far away and I "fished my wish". What we have isn't perfect, nor will it ever be; it's a work in progress. It's new and it's old, it's novel and it's broken in. I'm getting to know me2.0, and showing her off as I fall for him2.0 just like I did the first time. It's bumpy and hard but we've never had it any other way. In a phrase: it's worth it ♥

I am the luckiest.

*we're doing our part to fill in that middle. its lonely here, just us, but at least we have each other.

blustery day.

nostalgia. Start at 4:55 for my favorite. [continue to 4/8 for the heffalumps and woozles...]

the intro here is straight childhood magic.

"Cristopher Robin: Pooh, what's your favorite thing in the whole world?
Winnie the pooh: My favorite thing is me coming to visit you, and then you ask, "How about a small smackeral of honey?"
Christopher Robin: I like that, too. But what I like most of all is just doing nothing.
Winnie the Pooh: How do you do just nothing?
hristopher Robin: Well, when grown-ups ask, "What are you going to do?" and you say, "Nothing," and then you go and do it.
Winnie the Pooh: I like that. Let's do it all the time."

rhymes with puck...

Like an alcoholic, I was a denier. I denied my overuse of curse words. I thought I could quit anytime and with minimal effort. Turns out, it's not that simple. Once certain words have come into your vocabulary, it is hard to get them out without a dedicated effort.

This is day 8 of lent, and I've cursed five times. I don't need to curse, and I've cut out consciously selecting curse words... but five have snuck in. I did need to be more specific about what I am considering a curse word, because I'm so heavily monitoring my verbal output I'm cringing as I let out less offensive words. I decided that I'm allowing crap, darn, jerk and idiot. And in conversation I allowed myself to use "bitch" because it was a direct quote (although this is hardly the most offensive word). I think I'll allow hell also... it's a place, right? .

Interestingly, my problem words aren't the majority of George Carlin's seven dirty words-- I only use three (but I don't use the p word unless someone has angered me and I'm stating emphatically that they've really, er, ticked me off)... but in the seven words/phrases you can't say on tv, I do use three of them regularly (and all three were the ones I let slip -- calling someone a gluteus-maximus hole, dropping an F bomb, and hyperbole'd a fecal synonym). I have some work to do. In addition to the seven, I added the longer homonym of dam, the opposite of blow and another term for female dog.

Does this make me a Lenten promise breaker? Ultimately, it would be nice to make this a lifetime promise because I don't need to use these ugly words, so I have no problem extending my Lenten time a day for every mistake. I do, however, recognize the utility of these words as pain relief, so I think the next time I stub my toe (outside of Lent) I'll let one out, but only because it's free and satisfying pain relief...

A penny for your pinafore?

I was in the gym at school on Monday and the basketball court had been overtaken by munchkins. One of them passed by me in a bright yellow mesh pinny. The whiff I caught in his wake took me right back to elementary school... snowball (dodgeball) Fridays, and Wednesdays where they would give us 20 minutes to run around the track as many times as we could stand it, bombardment, kickball, stadium rounders, german batball... all of which (except kickball) I've come to discover were made up by our gym teacher since I couldn't find the rules on the internet, so you won't know what I'm talking about...unless you really like Kurt Vonnegut.

The smell is something I can't describe, but is apparently universal for pinnies worn daily by sweating prepubescent kids. It's not a foul smell per se, but it is distinct, and boy does it take you back. The best days in gym class were a) after we split off from the boys and no longer had to share pinnies with them, and b) the day after the pinnies were washed so you didn't have to wonder who they'd been on...

Incidentally, I learned that pinny is short for pinafore, and is a kind of dress-like apron to be worn over a dress, but was more modernly adapted for the sports attire...personally I always thought they were called pennies.

Time Machine

Apple's Time Machine software has had a paradoxical effect on my life.

Thanks to a problem with my laptop, anything plugged into the USB gets wrongfully ejected in the eyes of my mac even when it hasn't been touched...so this means if I leave my laptop unsupervised while it can communicate with USB storage devices, it will ruin them because it will convince itself that I've wrongfully pulled them out and reinserted them, meaning they will no longer run having had their memory corrupted. I would love to get this fixed, but like a five year old going to the doctor, my laptop works flawlessly within the force fields of Apple stores.

(When are the going to open up that genius device to the general public? The Luke Skywalker grade Wireless iForce, to make your apple products work in your home like they do in the stores...)

Anyway, I've digressed. Because I don't leave my external hard drive plugged in I sometimes forget to hook it up every few days to have Time Machine backup my computer. It would be in my best interest to do so, so it's not like I consciously decide not do it; I just don't always think of it. Time Machine takes it upon itself to remind me how long its been since I've plugged in my drive, allowing me to see how quickly my life is passing me by rather than allowing me to go back in time to enjoy the way things were in the good old days.

25 days since I last plugged it in? No, I swear I plugged it in no less than three days ago. Seriously? 40 days? 40?! Sheesh. Time flies... no thanks to you for reminding me, Time Machine.

65 days? I KNOW I'M GETTING OLD, OK? I DON'T NEED YOU TO TELL ME!

Locomotion.

I love trains. Somehow they instill much less anxiety than flying, and everything about them is just so relaxing to me. Because I’ve flown so much more often than I’ve had reason to go on a train, until my trip to Europe the train did instill a lot of anxiety in me because I just didn’t know how to navigate them. How long will it stop? How will I know when to get off? What if I can’t get off quickly enough? After Europe I came to appreciate it because of all that it offers, and stopped having flashbacks to scenes from "Fried Green Tomatoes" (2:55). Rather than getting to see our country’s finest six lane roadways, you see woods and bodies of water. You aren’t burdened by traffic, and you can go the most direct route possible. I simply adore the convenience of the train.

These days it breaks my heart that it isn’t more economical to take the train or I would take it so much more. There’s a certain old time glamour to the train that makes me feel more connected to the past. My grandparents just returned from a train trip across Canada leaving my grandmother disappointed. It simply didn’t have the “Dick and Jane” era charm that she’d remembered. The dining car was just that, not the social scene she’d remembered with laughing and networking. There was no music and dancing, no getting to know the couple in the next cabin over. "Things just aren’t like they used to be," she mused.

Medieval Times

Do you ever think about the point at which you would have died if we didn’t have modern technology? Sure, it’s morbid, but until yesterday I really thought I was the only one who thought about it… but not so, my mom definitely does too.

I’m never sure where to draw the line… should it be the civil war, or just the 1920s? Or, what about back in the days of King Arthur and Guinevere? The cavemen? I usually just decide arbitrarily depending on my mood, but tend to settle for “medieval times”.

Two months ago, my mother herniated three disks in her neck leaving her unable to get comfortable outside of bed and with a stabbing pain shooting down her arm. She was in bed working from home for seven weeks. Just last week she finally got surgery to replace the worst of the three herniated disks. She felt better almost immediately, and thanks to two surgeons (orthopedic and neuro) and an anesthesiologist, post op was distinctly less miserable than the two months before.

She was doing her best to undo all the hazards of immobility she’d acquired, so we went for a walk around the neighborhood. She asked what I thought would have happened if she had been born 100 years ago, and in that moment I knew we were made from the same mold. We decided blood letting was a given, perhaps several rounds, and pondered if they would have known it was a neck issue – would they have treated her arm instead? She probably wouldn’t have died, unless she got an infection from contaminated leeches or something, but she likely would have been bedridden for the rest of her life… which knowing my mother would have ended with her being institutionalized from having a mental breakdown. How grateful we are that she was able to have the best of modern technology then because her life has resumed to better than it’s been since her neck starting getting bad two years ago.

When would my moment have been? Well, I was born a month early, but I don’t think I had any complications that I couldn’t have survived from. My lack of fasciotomy for chronic compartment syndrome would have rendered me unable to run, but if we’re going back 100 years, I’m not sure I would have been allowed to run competitively anyway. My wisdom teeth might have given me trouble, but I think they did tooth extractions (perhaps less humanely) back then, so I might have cleared that hurtle. I guess my medieval number hasn’t come yet (knock on wood!). Hopefully no numbers will come up anytime soon.

I’m not sure Roo would have ever been born, because I’m not really sure what happened before the RhoGam shot. Perhaps I would have had to watch my mom suffer several miscarriages until an A- child came about.

And my dad, well, despite losing the tips of his fingers and sustaining an arm threatening infection, somehow I think he would have been ok... I can’t say for sure but somehow I don’t think he couldn’t have beaten it… granted he might have lost that arm.

Room Service

This weekend while hanging out with my brother, I was reminded of one of my favorite memories… but it’s only one of my favorites because it’s been so long since it happened.

One summer, I believe it was the summer starting before the start of fourth grade, Roo and I became best pals. We’d had a rough patch from when he starting talking at the age of three (long story) until now, when he was six. Our parents were beginning to seem less reasonable every day, so we joined forces to make sure they didn’t try to put us to bed before dark. I loved thunderstorms, but he, like our beloved family dog Fergie, was petrified of them. Even though we had our own rooms, Roo had bunk beds, so I started sleeping on his top bunk so we could stay up and chat and I could protect him from thunderstorms.

Now to back up a little bit, Roo is (obviously) my little brother. These days he’s much taller than me and in his third decade of life, but he’ll always be my little brother. We could not be more opposite… to the point where I’ve considered we were up in heaven or wherever spirits are before they are born, doling out genetic material to make sure we didn’t overlap. We were often told we looked like identical twins (which annoyed me endlessly, 1) because we’re three years apart and 2) I’m a GIRL), but our similarities end there. Roo is musically gifted; I am not. I spent my early life with my nose in a book and Roo has never read a book in its entirety. Roo doesn’t speak unless it’s of the utmost importance, and I never stop chattering. He cried being dropped off at daycare, I cried being picked up…and the list goes on.

For the year or so before we started bickering again we got along famously. One night in particular stands out in my mind. I was on the top bunk, and had just gotten comfortable except I was parched. Roo had just gotten back from brushing his teeth and so I asked him ever so sweetly if he would mind getting me a cup of water so I didn’t have to get down. To my surprise, he nodded and went and got one as I opened my book (probably something in the “silver blades” series). He came back and stepped on the bottom rung of the ladder to hand me a cup of water. I thanked him genuinely and marveled (internally) at how close we’d become. As I got about halfway through the cup of water I started wondering when he had gotten tall enough to reach the faucet. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard the faucet.

“Roo…When did you get big enough to turn on the faucet ?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. How did you get the water then? Was there a stool?”

Silence. I leaned my head down from the top bunk to look at him.

“Roo, did this come from the toilet?”

And Roo grinned and nodded proudly.

Miracles.

I was reading an article today, and it really put things together for the way I look at things. There are certainly days where I just don't notice, but on most days I do see those things that are nothing short of a miracle. I get this sense of wonder, and can't help but feel so grateful for life in general.

I think of snow as a miracle. Somehow this water, which can be a liquid, solid or gas has a fourth form, a composite of liquid and ice in the form of a flake. It could come down as sleet or rain, and yet somehow we get snow.

The olympics are a showcase of miracles - we collectively roll our eyes at the sob stories they tell that highlight the obstacles the athletes have overcome, but it is nothing short of a miracle that they made it there. They are a success, and the mixture of hope and passion and motivation and skill combine to form a magic potion for a gold medal. Those with excess arrogance flirt with karma and often times pay for it -- ask Bode Miller and Lindsey Jacobellis about their past Olympic experiences. The stories like that of Dan Jansen in speed skating and Aksel Svindal in skiing are nothing short of miraculous. Sure, they have grit and heart and passion (not to mention raw athletic ability), and by calling what they do a miracle I'm not trying to sell them short because they deserve what they've accomplished and are every bit responsible... but isn't the fact that sometimes our performances exceed our physical capacities (and occasionally the laws of physics) because of our strength of mind at least a little bit of a miracle?

We are surrounded by miracles everyday, and Mr. Wikstrom is right... thanks to modern technologies our expectations mean we don't appreciate the little (and not so little) miracles we see every day. Whether you're religious or not, it seems wrong not to be grateful to whatever the force was that brought us here to appreciate them. Man walking on the moon, the hubble telescope, deep sea exploration, docking with space stations, breaking the sonic boom, heck, even xrays & MRIs give me moments of wonder. Where did this collective sense of excitement and wonder go? Why is nothing impressive anymore?

I think to an extent figure skating is a good answer to this. Ever since those judges got in trouble in Salt Lake City in 2002, the judging criteria got more stringent to alleviate accusations that things were fixed. I read this article (and it wasn't this one or this one, but everyone is talking about it...). They've taken the emotion and the excitement out of skating. When I see the scores, they mean nothing to me. The judges are secret and are unable to do their job without video footage. I don't think you should be judged on how you are in the millisecond analysis of your jumps because that's not why we watch. If I couldn't tell a flaw with my naked eye why should they be judged on it? Why as our technology has our improved, have our expectations?

What I have noticed is that falls used to be rare... and not anymore. In fact this year a fall-less performance seems to be a rarity and even then, I don't see the flawless and emotionally charged routines that I remember. There are so many requirements for the routines that people aren't doing things that they used to, and creativity is so much less important. I don't even know the american skaters anymore (I followed Sarah Hughes, Nicole Bobek, Tara Lipinski, Kristi Yamaguchi, Michelle Kwan, and Nancy Kerrigan year round and pestered my family with facts as we watched), and there was a time when they looked like real women rather than pre-adolescent girls. What's happened? Figure skating IS boring when you don't know the rivalries and don't have the excitement of an emotionally charged performance that could be a game changer because emotions don't matter.

Maybe its just the circles I'm in, but the olympics don't seem as big this year. Where is that big surge of pride when the US gets a gold despite being the underdog? Are we all too wrapped up in the recession and the political tug of war to get excited and be proud of our country? I just miss the patriotism and the appreciation of the cluster of miracles that are the athletic performances in the olympics... but really just miss the appreciation of all of life's miracles like we used to have (we landed on the moon!)...

Rabbit hole.

Thinking put me into a rabbit hole today. I've been trying to be more self aware, and doing so has had both positive and negative consequences. When I know I'm facing an encounter where it will be easy to be rude I repeat in my head ("be nice") and remind myself of the unending torment for saying things a little less than sweetly...even when they deserved it. I recognize immediately my conversational flaws (interrupting seems to be the theme lately... I guess I got sick of twenty something years of waiting patiently for my turn and paying the price...) and have yet to speak up in apology (although, I am sorry to everyone I was sitting with today at lunch, for shamelessly interrupting you repeatedly and then my hesitancy to interject to say I am sorry).

I have been pondering things so much lately that I'm (at this moment at least) incredibly attuned to how I'm feeling about every little thing, and this brings trouble because I immediately know how I feel about something...and sometimes I feel like I'm drowning surrounded by all my emotions and I get distracted thinking about everything so clearly.

Sometimes, when I'm busy, I don't really know how to take things and decide on it later; a kind of delayed emotional processing... but not lately. I feel everything much more readily...and it's had an interesting effect. I feel closer to God. Rather than having isolated conversations with Him at the end of the day or when I need Him, it feels like we're conversing back and forth all day. I kind of like it, and wouldn't have expected it. It's a new thing, and I'm still learning the ropes of feeling so much more connected. It's what I've been searching for and I can't get enough. While I do at times feel overwhelmed with emotion, it is so much better than the way I felt last summer... like emotions didn't matter and feeling was unimportant. I was detached and miserable. I had a long way to go in my way to figure out myself, and still do, but in doing so I'm feeling so much more alive and connected.

Maybe I'm finally taking the next steps of this spiritual journey I first embarked on in 2005.

Two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen

Why is it that even when you like the water where you live, no water is quite as satisfying as the one that comes from your tap at the home you grew up in?

Judgment day.

When you worry about what other people think, every day is judgment day. I sometimes catch myself consumed with what people think of me. It's a dangerous cycle...because to a certain extent caring what others think of the things you do and say is a good way to make sure you are coming off the way you want to and are being a considerate person, a loving friend...but it can be easy to do this too much... and it rapidly becomes a maladaptive trait that has you striving to constantly to please everyone. Nursing has taught me more effectively than any other endeavor: you just can't please everyone, and your really shouldn't take everything personally because not everything is actually directed at you personally.

There are two kinds of people in this world: the kinds who replay encounters over and over in their head wondering if they could have expressed themselves better, and the ones who don't. I suppose we are at times (and with different people) both, but I really think we favor one or the other. I imagine that those who replay scenarios in their head also act them out ahead of time....or maybe that's just me.

The people who get on my nerves are the ones who aren't considerate. It's one thing to be a mean person or a bad egg, but those aren't the people I'm talking about. They aren't actively inconsiderate (and I do believe there is a difference), but they really just don't consider and don't realize things when it comes to others (as opposed to someone who thoughtlessly hurts someone repeatedly because they just don't care about others -- insidiously inconsiderate). They run late - not because they mean to be rude just because they had other things that were their priority when it came the time they needed to leave to make it on time. They don't think about how if you are coming to visit and they told you that you could park in their driveway to avoid a ticket that they will need to move their cars further in before you come. They do their own thing and seldom anticipate how the things they do might be perceived by others. They are reactive - once they see people being bothered they will usually adjust, but never proactively. It never occurs to them. If you bring up something they did that bothered you they just didn't realize that you felt that way. They aren't selfish people per se, but they do their own thing first.

I sometimes wish I could be like that and I wonder if that is why they get under my skin so much... but at the end of the day I'd like to be bothered by being overly considerate than be thought of as inconsiderate.

Teeming with Seeming.

Things aren't always what they seem.

Sometimes how they seem is better than what they are...because to me uncertainty brings hope... Yet I am never able to fully embrace it.

Is it worse to believe something is a better something than it is (but be tortured with not knowing for sure), or to find out that something is as you thought (but hoped it wasn't) and be tortured by dealing with it? Is ignorance bliss even if you know you are ignorant?

The worst is when you are sure things are the way that they are, until you innocently find out they are not. Really, blissful ignorance is just not knowing that you've got it all wrong.

Worry.

Worries come to me like words to a poet.

I worry about homeless people. I worry they might get sunburned. I wonder if they would be offended if I gave them sunscreen. Sure, I worry about them starving and freezing, but I try to at the very least worry about things I'm less sure other people are taking care of.

I worry about how I'm going to feel if I discharge a homeless person. I have to discharge them...they can't stay in the hospital forever. Except that part of me wishes they could.

I worry about discharging someone I know won't be compliant. You can only do so much, but at least when they are with you there is much you can do.

I worry about my future grandchildren and the kind of world they stand to inherit. I want to have several children and many grandchildren, but I also feel guilty. There already is not enough to go around. Except, there is, just not everyone gets to have it.

I worry about our country. Having spent some time not feeling the love, and then learning more and loving our country more than I ever did, I get scared because I don't know how things are going to turn out. I don't expect life to be fair, but I don't like enabling the suffering of others. I don't know how to fix the problems we have and that overwhelms me.

I used to stay up at night worrying, but when I adapted a que sera, sera approach I no longer dig worry holes that give me panic palpitations and insomnia, I ponder. I wonder, what can I do? At what point do I have to stop doing and put trust in the larger system? Is doing enough, enough?

Why?

One million times a day, I ask why. I ask it of myself, I ask it about others. Why did that idiot almost run me over? Why did I say that, I sounded like such an idiot... Why is she being so mean? Why didn't I think of that? Why me? Are these rhetorical questions?

I ask too many questions and I want to many answers. Maybe sometimes knowing isn't the best thing. Do I want to know why I was rude to the check-out lady, or is it because I assume the answer is that I'm not actually a mean person, I just was frustrated and didn't mean to take it out on her? I think we only want answers when we think we already know the answers. Answers can make us feel better, or vindicated. I want to know that the idiot who almost ran me over is not as smart as I am and a real jerk. But then, when we do get our answers, sometimes we were better off assuming we knew the answer, even if we end up being right. Reality doesn't change, but our innocence does, and sometimes knowing opens a whole new can of ponder-worms to torture us.

Symbolism.

Should we take the classic symbols of valentine's day as true symbols of love? I think if we look cynically at the classic gifts of everyone's favorite superficial commercial holiday we'll see that the objects we exchange perhaps aren't the best symbols of our love. [Dads -- this doesn't count for you. I love it when my Dad gives me these things :) ] All the below gifts were spotted at hotel check-out on 2/15/10 by women 18 and up.

A card

They say: A carefully chosen card can help a non verbose romantic express his feelings.

I say: You didn't want to try to verbalize your feelings so you overpaid for a card that will get lost in the mail pile unless you wrote a nice note in it in which case why did you spend money on this card in the first place? Unless it's funny. Funny cards are always worth it.

Chocolates/ Candy

They say: Everyone loves sweets. Give a sweet to your sweetie.

I say: Short lived symbol of love. Should I infer that your love, while delicious in the moment, is actually, in large doses, contributing to my untimely demise and making my body unhealthy and fat?

Flowers

They say: Give a vibrant bouquet that's as beautiful as your love.

I say: It's an expensive symbol of your love that makes me sneeze and will wilt too soon. Again with the positive symbols. Flowers are best served unexpectedly.

Balloons

They say: Happy Valentines Day

I say: Balloons? What am I, six? Unless its a bicycle made by Vince Vaughn, forget it. It's not even going to float for more than a couple of days and then it is going to slowly poison the environment.... just like your love for me and your thoughtless spending?

Stuffed Animals

They say: a cuddle bunny for your cuddle bunny.

I say: I love stuffed animals, but I only need one, and it needs to be durable so I can squeeze it when you aren't there... but a bear with a red tshirt that was bought at a drugstore that you saw in your peripheral view and made you remember to get me something, it's going to end up kidnapped by my dog*, and I'm not going to fight her to save it.

No, I'm not a total valentine's day hater.... I do think it is a good opportunity to be romantic with your special someone...but I do inherently dislike a holiday that alienates a segment of the population on purpose (single people?). I have actually never gotten any of the above mentioned gifts, either, so perhaps I'm not qualified to comment... I just think thoughtless presents are almost worse than no presents at all, and I wish everyone agreed. Valentines day should be about true romance, making new memories and strengthening your bonds, and so I guess if those things help so be it...just please let's not allow them to be symbols of anything other than a holiday fabricated by ingenious capitalists?

*Ok, I don't have a dog, but I do have an imaginary one until it would be fair to get a real one. I'm going to need more space than an apartment and a non-busy roommate/significant other.

Like a Pheonix from the Ashes...

It's Ash Wednesday, and I'm prepared for Lent. Well, I didn't exactly get the DC Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday experience thanks to new due dates for school assignments, but I'm still ready.

What am I giving up?

1. Swearing

2. Doing the dishes any time but immediately after I'm finished eating

3. Being lazy about putting my things away

4. Not flossing.

As good as going without is, wouldn't it be better to take the glass is half full* approach and take the opportunity to better myself rather than deprive myself? Perhaps I'm missing the point, but I think I should take any opportunity I can for self improvement.

I kind of see Lent as an opportunity to renew my vows with my already forgotten new years resolutions...

*That is, assuming, your glass is half full of something good. If it's half full of poison, I think you're screwed either way...

Nocturnal

I've been going to bed early lately, and this past weekend I pretended I was living the life of a gainfully employed twenty something and went out. I stayed out past three and I forgot how good it felt. I tend to sleep in either way... so it didn't really make a difference until the exhaustion of Tuesday at 5:55am (I slept in for clinical today by an hour and a half!).

I am nocturnal by nature, I don't function well in the morning....my body aches and I'm exhausted, so I find it hard to work done in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or the evening. My best work comes out between 9pm and 3am and my body rapidly adjusts to staying out late. It took me a year to train myself to go to bed before 10, and in one weekend I've ruined it.

I get this rush of self-made stimulant and my ability to focus turns on late at night. This is perhaps why when I read to fall asleep I stay up until four reading, or when I journal without a template I'll go on forever. It's already 1:30am, and I'm not tired. I got a rush from completing my presentation for tomorrow, along with another group project and then did the dishes and cleaned this kitchen. I would let myself stay up later too, if I knew I wouldn't pay so dearly in the morning. But I will pay. Even sitting here my mind is forming a list of things I could do now so I won't have to do them groggy in the morning when they will take twice as long. This is clearly why I'm a proponent of the concept of getting everything out and together the night before.... but some days I long to be the kind of person who gets all six cylinders running before eight in the morning.

Carpe Diem? Sure, but only after nine pm. I like to seize tomorrow ahead of time.

Mama always said...

"Life isn't Fair."

Yep, I know. That doesn't make it right or any less frustrating.

"It's always better to leave when you are still having fun."

Sure thing, ahem, SNOW. Time to go now or I'm not going to want to play with you again.

"Tis better to light a candle than curse the darkness."

Cursing the darkness is definitely more fun.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

What if I'm usually only right twice a day? And, that is only true if it has stopped. If it's working but keeping the wrong time the intervals between it being right are going to be rare and far between if ever.

"Don't cry over spilled milk."

Not a problem. You would never see me crying over spilled milk. I hate milk. Unless you are making me start over in drinking an entire glass. Then I'd cry.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

Why not?

"Don't shoot the messenger."

He should have known better than to deliver bad news to me. Besides, he probably derived some sort of sick pleasure in being the bearer of bad news and did it to get a rise out of me.

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

What about those of us who have brick houses?

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade..."

That reminds me of the game lemonade stand that they had on those computers at after school care. What a great game. I made a pretend fortune selling pretend lemonade to pretend construction workers.

And probably only my mom used to say....

"...The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese" / "There's always free cheese in a mouse trap."

...Does this mean I get to sleep in?

Gratifying gratification.

Delayed gratification. We are told this is the best thing to strive for, are we not? Well, when it comes to me and my roommate, we're too good at it.

We've established my love for snow, but allow me to elaborate why these days off haven't been all that and a bag of chips. I'm getting immediate gratification. I hate immediate gratification. I LIKE looking forward to things, planning for things, and our conversation from midday could not be more clearly illustrated by the situation at hand. We love the idea that we have a day off coming. You can tell yourself to work hard so you can enjoy it. You can plan to do fun things, and get all the things you need to do out of the way. This was president's day weekend for us... And now, they've taken our Monday back. I traded my delayed gratification for instant, and I'd much rather have it be the other way around. Also, haven't we always been told that you can have something good now, or something better later? I'll take my chances on something better every time.

If I'd known that I would have had Monday - Thursday off, I would have done things differently. But I didn't. I'm not a spur of the moment day off kind of girl - I will waste it not knowing what to do next. Call me a control freak, but I like getting the most out of my day, and for me that means planning it out to get the most out of it. I don't need to micromanage every minute, and there really are some things where I enjoy going with the flow.... I just don't like missing a second of anything. Life especially.

Pause.

I keep thinking about spending an hour or so outside at the start of the first storm with C. We sat, attempted to sled using the tops to the giant storage containers, freed keeling trees of their weight and explored our neighborhood in all it's novelty.

We sat on a little hill in a pile of snow and just looked up, and relished the moment. It gave me pause. I love nothing more than the things that give me pause.

Chemical Reactions

Our apartment produced some interesting culinary creations this week...all in the name of productive procrastination. While studying produces no tangible results, C and I made up for it with some creative meals...

Thursday Day:

Alice's Chocolate Chip Cookies

AAAmazing. She's not kidding, beat the butter and sugar for a full 5 minutes.

Thursday Night:

Sweet Potatoes, Broccoli and Black Beans (400 degrees, 20 minutes with Olive Oil, the Simon & Garfunkle spice bunch -- parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme) over white basmati rice in the rice cooker

Friday Lunch:

Fried Rice -- leftover basmati rice in the frying pan with olive oil, terriyaki sauce, peas and corn. Crack an egg over it and stir!

Friday Dinner -- Smells to die for, thanks to C's work...

Short ribs with tagliatelle

Saturday Lunch:

Leftovers <3

Saturday Dinner:

Coconut Curry Chicken Fingers courtesy of Fitness Magazine

All went well considering this recipe was an audible and we happened to have all the ingredients (when you are cruising for recipes in the blizzard of the century you can be limited by your inventory)... except we didn't exactly have cornflakes, but since I had the coconut milk, coconut, cashews, spinach etc, I used the flakes from C's Blueberry cluster Total Cereal. Not the best idea.....but it turned out fine...just with a hint of blueberry...I like blueberries...

Sunday Lunch: Left overs!

Afternoon: Made my superbowl contribution, cupcakes

Pumpkin Cupcakes

I used 2 T of pumpkin pie spice in the cupcakes (more would have been great too) and 1 t in the frosting (heavy on the cinnamon). Not going to lie, I'm getting adventurous enough to make alterations to recipes and I'm pretty psyched about it.

Sunday: Out at a friend's who made lasagna TO DIE FOR. I ate my own weight in it and if my body hadn't been shutting down I would have eaten myself to death on it.

Monday Lunch: Kale. I could eat my weight in kale too.

Monday night: Z Pizza with some Columbia Heights boys... The Sante Fe and the Mexican with my regular substitutions on wheat. mmmmmm... that and their homemade irish amber was perfection!

Tuesday lunch: leftovers. I only eat leftovers for lunch.

Tuesday Night: Crunchy Chicken Finger recipe I'd been dying to try foreverrrr. It was flaky and juicy and delicious and EASY. I did feel like I'd eaten KFC afterwards, so it's a little greasy...

I also made Honey Whole Wheat Biscuits . I winged it on adding the honey, I just threw in 2 Tablespoons and it worked well..anymore and I think they would have been too sweet. I may have messed up with the cutting butter step because my dough was "drop only" - it was too mushy to roll out. They were good, except I burned the bottoms because I was too busy finishing the chicken.

More chocolate chip cookies (Alice's of course) for dessert. Except they were totally different this time... weird...

Wednesday Lunch: leftovers. duh.

Wednesday Dinner:

Homemade tomato sauce on gemelli with pillsbury breadsticks and spinach and artichoke dip. Winning combination. Although for the dip, I thought less cream cheese could have been used. Also, I used garlic salt in place of garlic powder and salt, and added actual garlic. Instead of all that mayo and sour cream, I used a heaping teaspoon of each and that was completely sufficient. Light versions of all ingredients! Also, fresh spinach and canned artichokes worked like a dream.

For the sauce, I definitely think her suggestion regarding the tomatoes is best - puree lacks that je ne sais quoi.... and it needs some pepper flakes. personally, I think the sauce is MADE for lasagna (and it was crucial in my friend's to-die-for lasagna!).

Things I've learned this snow week:

-You eat more when you're home all day.

-You eat more when you do nothing than on days you do.

-C and I have incompatible vegetable preferences... that and if we aren't using fresh we don't agree. I loathe canned vegetables (except artichokes and black beans) and she loathes frozen. Fresh it is!

-C is amazingly reliable when it comes to stocking salad supplies. If it weren't for her, we wouldn't have had many vegetables this week. Don't get me wrong, I love vegetables, just not the mainstream ones... thats why I'm becoming best friends with Washington's Green Grocer...

-Milk powder is a snowed-in girl's best friend. Despite my trekk to the shady safeway to get milk and a few other things, the only milk was lactose free. CVS and the gas station mart both laughed when asked if they had any milk... luckily, milk powder easily reconstitutes for recipes and works perfectly when baking. I also learned all you need is a little vinegar and you can make your own buttermilk. Quelle surprise!

I don't get how smells happen. How does something that doesn't smell like much go in the oven and chemically react to the sudden heat to become something that smells (and become something new?!). How do little particles of that reaction float out of the oven to your nose? Amazing.

Sliding Scales....

Have you noticed that morality--like insulin-- seems to have a sliding scale...? The roommate and I just watched "Mad Money" in a quest for a fluffy, superficial movie. We found it. Where the characters seemed to act like their movie would be in the leagues of Oceans 11 and clever bank heist movies, it obviously lacked depth in several categories.... that and Diane Keaton and Katie Holmes top the list of my female pet peeves.

It brings up interesting thoughts after a conversation I had about "time theft" with some friends. It's funny hearing people justify what is right and what is wrong. Personally, I find the idea of the occasional conversation with a co-worker more an investment in office morale, but the things people do while they are on the clock raise interesting ideas about where acceptable gains an "un"...

Snowmaggedon and Snoverkill roundup:

Movies watched this week:

The Hangover (*****)

The Ugly Truth (**1/2)

Miss Congeniality (***1/2)

Post Grad (***1/2)

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas (*****)

Sunshine Cleaning (****)

Mad Money (**)

TV Shows watched this week:

Charles in Charge

Friends

Keeping up with the Kardashians

Sex in the City

Seinfeld

The Office

Family Guy

Saved By the Bell

Reflection in the Snow.

Hmmm, can you tell I'm snowed in? Time is of the essence when you're in school after school so I have to go with it today...

For snowpocalypse 1 (12/19/2009, in case you aren't from around here...tagline: PANIC!!!), I reluctantly appeased my season-worn worrier of a mother and came to Delaware early, missing the snow in DC, much to my chagrin. I enjoyed a nostalgic snowy weekend with my family (only now that I'm in nursing school I was slightly more uptight watching my Dad and trying to making sure he didn't over exert himself with the shovel and give himself a coronary spasm... but thats an aside. They are in that age group you know....). Anyway, we got our big snow storm to relive our childhood and give us a blizzard to talk about for the decade (the 2000s were decidedly lacking in the snow department...). Despite missing the action in DC (did you hear about the U-Street snowball fight?), I was contented with this winter's precipitation. Imagine my excitement when, upon my return from South Africa week two in January, I find out I've missed a storm, only to have another little one come our way on the weekend. Perfect handful of inches and it gave me an excuse to hole up and get some work done (and really there was no plowing). Then, on the following Wednesday we get another couple inches. Season complete? No, there is more, and Snowpocalypse 2* was born, forecast and arrived. My excitement was palpable (and not just because I am reading about complex cardiac care...) but these storms are almost better than travel because they bring the new, exciting experience to you.... and, like travel, what an interesting cultural analysis this has turned out to be.

[* I prefer the name snowpocalypse. We can't use all the good names in one year... and Snowmaggedon just shouldn't happen yet. Sorry 'bout it, I can't call it snowmaggedon.]

Inevitably, people were mad ("It's going to ruin my weekend plans!" "I HATE SNOW" "Dear Snow, I love you, but my life was planned and it didn't include you"), people were excited ("More snowww!"), and people were just sick of being inside and wondering about the backlash of missed things. One thing that amazes me is that truly, everything is negotiable. We work around "set-in-stone" deadlines, but snow, with all its magic, shows us everything is flexible. In some ways, I guess, it turns stone into water?

We've always joked how panic sets in around DC at the site of a raindrop let alone a snowflake, but this is unlike anything else I've seen. Let's throw all common sense to the wind in a city that threw all their resources to the first storm of the decade (a few weeks ago) and see what happens. SNOWPOCALYPSE: THE SEQUEL.

I have a cute little volvo s60 with 4 wheel drive. My beloved J.Lo (she has some junk in the trunk...) is the closest thing I have to a pet so it was decided ahead of time (by me) that she would not be going out, so I prepared to spend the majority of the weekend indoors. Over the 3.5 feet of drifted snow on our balcony I watched pickups with plows on the front get stuck and have to pull each other out -- leap frogging down the road because inevitably the tow-er would become the tow-ee. I watched a near 4 car crash (in my parking lot!) as they slewed through our street -- at the amazing speeds of 2 miles per hour, each overly confident and completely impatient to get to their destination, getting exasperated at the "asshole" in front of them. There is most definitely a formula for good snow driving, it combines experience, confidence (but not arrogance), respect for the road (and the snow), and sense.... apparently a rare combination in your run-of-the-mill DC driver.

Suddenly, snowpocalypse part 2 hits and all these people who normally can't stop whining about their lack of free time can't get out of their homes fast enough...and most of them don't have more than 6 inches of clearance under their cars or four wheel drive. Calamity ensues. The storm hit Friday and Saturday and I didn't venture out in a vehicle until Monday evening (I did make a few attempts at pedestrian activities which left me feeling quite mortal and a tad bit ruffled, all of which had to do with aforementioned drivers and an overall ignorance of the importance of pedestrian pathways). One would have thought that by rush hour Monday - 48 hours after the last flake had fallen - things would be passable in a 4 wheel drive vehicle that is one class below a hummer in the "tank" category. It was harrowing to say the least. Luckily my driver had a winning combination of confidence and experience, although I admittedly had moments where I doubted his sense, respect, and reverence for mortality, we arrived safe and sound. On our journey we were bumped around, slid (slewed), and often were stuck behind suddenly disabled vehicles. Pedestrians were walking in the middle of the streets (I'm their biggest advocate, but even I was miffed about their reckless endangerment of others as I noticed --jealously -- their nicely shoveled sidewalk), and cars would pull off to the "side" (aka stop in the middle with hazard lights flashing). Some of these people run our country -- what is going on? By all accounts it was a rapid fire of those absurd life moments, one after another. All we could do was laugh and hope for the best as we barreled over ice and through drifts to dodge obstacles.

One thing I didn't realize until this morning was the logic behind the lawn chairs. Last night and today, everywhere I looked there were fold out chairs. Are those for people to take breaks while they are shoveling? I thought idly. No, silly girl, they are people staking out their spot. They carefully shoveled their spot and they plan on it being there for them when they get back. Is this chair an effective flag for staking one's territory? Would I respect it? If I was looking for a spot, and my only option is one with a chair, or one I have to shovel, either way I have to exit my vehicle to park. Personally, I love JLO too much to put her in harm's way via a scorned shoveller, but I'm wondering just how well it works...

I'm back here at home and waiting for the first flakes of yet another storm that has promised to bring 8-10-12-18-24 inches to DC-Baltimore-Delaware.... this one has decided to come late, apparently. I'm not entirely sure what is going to happen if the recent 10-20 inch predictions come true. As one friend put it: "30+20=50... and that's only 15 inches shorter than me. What are we going to do with all that?"

We'll just have to see...

Childhood revisited.

People pay a lot of money to relive their childhood. We all have a "rosebud" moment, some memory we cherish, or object that represents a memory. It is funny how young it starts too, I know teenagers who are nostalgic about their childhood, which amuses me for two reasons... 1) I definitely starting getting nostalgic around the old age of 16 and yet roll my eyes a bit and 2) I still feel like childhood is in progress. When does this so-called childhood end? Is the seven year old I know who refreshes her county's website every minute to see if school has been called off any different from my 20-something friend checking her blackberry for the official word on the federal government's status? I STILL have my elementary school's main line memorized because I would dial it rapidly (redial wasn't quick enough) to hear the recording. Just last night I was told to "cool it" with my incessant university website checks....and truth be told I wanted to go to clinical so I wouldn't have to make it up, but the drama in the potential closing was too much not to feed into it.

The recent "Snowpocalypse" has me thinking a lot about the irony of childhood memories, and those who seek them... among other things. I can't imagine what is a better way to re-live your childhood than snow. First of all it's FREE. Second, it is straight magic. Sure beats paying big money for that original 1984 Optimus Prime action figure, eh [although, a rosebud sled sure would have come in handy so I didn't have to use a cookie tray...]? When it comes to snow, I think a lot of people would agree with me too, except that it seems like as soon as it comes down everyone wants it to go away... why?

In case you can't tell, I happen to love snow...probably more than the figurative "next guy"... and it seems like most people who don't hate winter love snow too. Snow is one of those polarizing things that has a hyperbolic effect on people -- they either LOVE it or HATE it. This winter season of '09-'10 has been a gift for snow lovers, at least in the Mid-Atlantic region. As a former Delawarean and current resident of the DC metro area, my roots are firmly in the midatlantic region - Delmarva will always feel like home. I spent a remarkable amount of time participating in winter sports... [perhaps why I am partial to the Winter Olympics--3 days!]. I remember the big blizzards of '92 and '96... and looking outside with wonder that has been unparalleled except when I'm traveling. Aside from the memories of sled ramps down front stoops, a golden retreiver making a maze as she trapses nose down in squiggles through the backyard, drifts bigger than me, snowmen and angels, hot chocolate by the fire, what else are the golden childhood memories made of? Snow comes, sometimes out of nowhere, and covers our world. It makes everything it touches more beautiful, edible, and coats the world with a sort of silence and peace that you don't get any other time. The passage of minutes slow, and even in an urban setting, being outside feels just a bit closer to nature. It takes something we see everyday and makes it look unrecognizable. It adds excitement and danger. It enables us to stay home and do the things we never set aside time for. We have no control, and at first we like it that way. It beats us a little bit, until we make it ugly and dirty and get rid of it to let life resume. Amazingly, towards the end, we want life to "resume" (but a fews days back in and we have lost all appreciation for "normal life" again). I can't speak for others, but those 60 minutes late Friday night where I sat in the snow with my roommate made me feel more alive than my normal routine, so I can't believe there are people who don't relish this storm. Although my snowed in experience has been different thanks to school (no five straight season of Lost watching on my Roku, closet organization and alphabetizing the spices/DVD collection for me, unfortunately...except I did bake some somewhat more adventurous things than usual), these snowed in days have been nothing short of wonderful. Yes, EKG analysis and complex cardiac has been the name of my game, but still, I got to take the time to make my note cards pretty, and perhaps a little overacheiver-ish... not something I get accused of much these days.

If I could have one wish with all this snow it would be maybe that it not be clustered into two weeks. If I didn't have an impending sense of doom (pulmonary embolism?) that school is going to be all the more miserable because we're going to have to make this up, I would be relishing it 100% as opposed to my current 95% relishing. We're supposed to get more snow now and again I can't sit still with excitement.

Thanks to Hurricane Schwartz/The Capitol Weather Gang and modern technology, we see this storm coming, but we never know exactly what we're going to get and what it's going to be like until it arrives (sounds like Christmas...). In my lifetime I've been built up and let down so many times by these snow storms, back in December I thought were were going to get an inch followed by the paradoxical heat wave to melt it all and leave it a thing of the past. Even the big storms seem to attract the warmth and before you can blink the snow is gone. Not 2010. This year, things are different, and I couldn't be happier. It might as well be the early '90s again....

To Blog or not to Blog...

...Certainly a question I've been pondering. On the one hand, I believe it would be a nice way for me to compose my thoughts as opposed to the word vomit that is my journal. I've been guilty of judging others as being a narcissist for believing what they have to say is worthwhile and chatting away on their blogs, but the truth is, I've come to see it as just the opposite. I have been getting so much perspective from tuning into some blogs (and mindless entertainment from checking in on others...). Most of the people I know who blog now that it's become more mainstream do it mostly for themselves, and perhaps their friends and families. Clearly, today I stopped pondering and just went ahead and made one. Perhaps some of my impetus is I want a way to post my thoughts for others to see, but in a slightly more anonymous way. At least I can choose my audience, to a certain extent.

I chat up a storm, but when it comes to things I write I'm very private...so it surprised me when I started thinking about having a blog. In the recent past, the statement, "she has a blog..." has always accompanied an eye roll... Certainly then, I'm a hypocrite. Maybe, for me it is a more attainable way towards becoming the author that my eight-year-old self burned to be. Maybe it will give me the courage to write that first book. At the very least, I'll continue to hone my writing skills which have been getting rusty since the kinds of papers I've been writing these days require a different set of skills. While care plans and logs to hone clinical nursing skills are an exercise in brevity -- something that has never been my strength -- the times I've tried to wax poetic have gotten me pulled aside.

One of the hurtles I faced was a clever name; there is no higher compliment than being told you are clever. I strive to be considered a clever girl, so it stands to reason a clever name is a necessary endeavor. It shall be a work in progress, like this very blog... So where do I start? I definitely already have my second post brewing. Is back to back posts frowned upon in this blog world that is so new to me?

Am I allowed to be filed in the miscellaneous blog category, or do I have to have a niche? I like eating, and I'm always cooking. I like to talk about restaurants. I love to travel. I also have random thoughts. What about ruminations about life? I have crazy dreams.... What about those random moments in life where things are just too funny not to share? Well, I can't be put into a box about anything (religion-misc, politics-independent), and I guess my blog just won't be any different. Sometimes I get comments on things I write saying, "you lack direction". I disagree. I have many directions and I refuse to pick just one...