Unconscious Mutterings 9/1

1. Girlfriends:: greeting cards
   
2. Here to stay:: you're stuck with me to phhht!
   
3. Call me:: "I don't have time for this now, I'll deal with it when it's more convenient"
   
4. Frustrated:: Me - now - nursing school!
   
5. Public school:: Education
   
6. Glitch:: Y2K?
   
7. Cheese:: Mmmm quesadilla
   
8. Director:: Chair
   
9. Pivotal:: You're important
   
10. Exclusive:: We'd like to think we're the only ones.
    

word list provided by Unconscious Mutterings.

Creepy

Eew... it just gives me the goosebumps thinking of it. I just found a silverfish/firebrat on my desk. It went running away so fast when I turned on the light, I couldn't catch it to kill it. So now, of course, I keep thinking it's going to crawl up on me. This wasn't a baby one, either. Sucker could probably eat my entire med-surg book! (and that's a big-ass book, by the way!!) I've got a million books and papers on my desk, so I'm sure he's been in hog heaven. Nasty creature. It's been hot here today, (digital thermometer in the corner of the porch registered 114!) and I'd like to think that he was only here because of the heat, and that there's no more of these guys around. ...i'd much rather see spiders than those creepy crawlers. Spiders at least eat other bugs; these nasty things eat wallpaper and books.

When Did I Eat Corn??

Yeah, I really did just say that. I don't know why I'm sharing it, either. Probably only because I cracked myself up. As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I actually thought, wow I can't believe I just said that... then I just laughed and laughed.

... Oh, the shit that I talk about on my blog... ha!

Why I Love My Life in SC

My last apartment before I moved here was in the ghetto. I mean it: no heat, no AC. Mold growing inside the walls. Couldn’t run a microwave and an iron at the same time because it would throw the circuits. There were about 21 apartments all facing a center pool/courtyard. They all had stories.

#1 was a 1br/1ba inhabited by about a dozen (maybe more) migrant workers. They picked apples and grapes. No women and children. The men crowded into that tiny place, and often took turns sleeping in shifts. When it got to be prime picking season, it seemed the population grew – and you’d often find people sleeping in cars in the parking lot. I’m sure they sent their extra money back to their families in Mexico. The extra money after they paid rent and partied, that is. On Friday nights you’d find them carrying cases of Corona back to their apartment, pissing everywhere, laughing, singing, and catcalling to young females like me. It can be quite intimidating when you come home from work to find there are 4 of them standing in your assigned parking space.

#7 was a meth lab. You could smell the distinct stench of burning bread on most days. I think even they didn’t like the smell. They almost never closed their door. Instead, they pinned up one of those woven Mexican blankets over the doorway. Their location was perfect, because right next door was the laundry room, which was a known drug dealing location. …and yes, everyone knew about it. Eventually the laundry room was closed & locked nightly at sundown ~ at request of the local police.

Upstairs lived Nim, a bartender about 4 feet tall. She could kick your ass, and will if you give her half a reason to. My roommate didn’t like her too much, but I always got along with her well enough. ... maybe that's because I never gave her any reasons. (I'll keep stories of my roommate out of this entry, but will say she was not great. She'll probably stay in the ghetto until she dies - if she's not dead already.)

Next door lived a woman with 2 of her children. Barely making it by. The apartments were so bad, and living conditions so awful that HUD wouldn’t grant section 8 assistance for our complex anymore. But she didn’t want to move. She worked hard, but was a shitty mother. She lost custody of one of her children, and was in a battle to keep the other two. There were rumors that her boyfriend may have molested her children. Quite possible, but it was only speculation based on claims from the grandmother, who wanted custody of all of the siblings. Her kids left a space heater on and burned their apartment down the week before I moved out.

The fire next door was the final straw. It was only icing on the cake that my truck was broken into the day before I moved. Kinda funny how the cops know exactly where you are. And the cop who came by to take the report was nice enough. He knew I wasn’t part of the ghetto trash I was surrounded by. And he said to me, “Well, aren’t you glad you’re on your way out of here? I’m sure you’re going to a much better place than this.” (or something to that effect). Yeah, he’s right. Sometimes I miss things from back home, but I don’t miss my old life.

I could go on telling stories about the shitty tenement I lived in, but why bother? You get the gist of it. The point is, I’ve been there – and guess what: I’m not anymore. Sometimes I take things for granted. And then I see people who have lived a truly sheltered life. There are tons of them here. They truly don’t know how good their lives are. Sometimes I share stories from back home with them – letting them know that they should be glad for what they have. And I’m grateful that my stories are only memories. I’m so lucky to have stayed long enough to gain insight – but not so long that I’d go down their paths. There are some neighborhoods I just don’t want to return to.

Karmic Brownie Points

There's something of a mysterious innocence with people who are slowly dying. Never ceases to amaze me. I revere them, and don't quite understand why. Cancer? End stage AIDS? Whatever you want... carte blanche in my book.

Found that I don't have much patience with people with dementia, though. Spit & swear words flying. I was the recipient of that, along with stray urine & some backhands – most of which I was able to catch midair. Don’t know how many people with Alzheimer’s get like this. I’m sure the numbers aren’t low, though. My experience left a sour taste in my mouth.. but I’m proud of myself for keeping composure all night. Yes, for a full 12-hour shift. Hopefully I earned a couple karmic brownie points.

School starts back up Wednesday. I’ve been working my tail off last couple weeks. (Gotta pay those bills somehow!) Been reading a bunch lately, too. Patti lent me some med math & pharm books. I’ve been trying to gear myself up. Also read a handful of paperbacks. It felt downright decadent to read without serving a purpose!

Started feeling crafty & been working on about a zillion granny squares. Never made anything with granny squares before, but I like that the pieces are smaller & not so thick and heavy as one-piece afghans. I love working on the big ones when the weather is cold, though. Got into that back when I lived in the old ghetto apt that didn’t have heat. Anyway, this granny square project may take forever, & may ultimately look like crap, but it’s something new for me and I’m having fun with it.

Baby got ... backpacks?

Written a helluva lot last couple weeks, but really haven’t blogged much. Could name a dozen excuses why it hasn’t been published, but not a single good reason, so I’m not gonna try.

Listening to ((xm)) watercolors … just a great way to “relax, relate, release.”

How/why the hell did I wind up with an A in psych? Because the prof is on crack, that’s why. I’m done talking about that class now. It’s over, & I’m sure I’ll have new things to bitch about when the fall semester starts next week.

Forgot to comment on that Target commercial – oh yeah, that’s cuz my jaw was still on the ground. You know which one – the play on Sir Mix a Lot’s “Baby Got Back”. Wow, it takes a lot to shock me speechless. Did they yank that off the air or something? I only saw it once or twice. Was actually thinking I might hear “LA face with an Oakland booty” mixed in … if I did, I’m sure it’d be way past September before I’d be able to recuperate enough to comment!

Let me get political (or something) for a minute. Cindy Sheehan. The story raised my eyebrows because she’s from my hometown. (No, I don’t know her or her family; the town is not that small!) See here’s the thing: back in ’04, she had nothing but supportive, patriotic things to say. Now what? Is she trying to get something out of her story?!
Here’s my take: for just one second, set aside your feelings about the war. Now, let’s focus on joining the military. Let me remind you, our country is NOT drafting soldiers. The military is comprised of patriots who have dedicated themselves wholly to the service of our country. They know damn well that they are putting themselves on the line upon enlistment. They are able to sign and vouch for themselves & make the decision whether or not to join. I understand the sorrows of mothers whose children were drafted. I understand them being compelled to protest out on the streets & on TV. But Cindy, hon, your son enlisted himself. You come from a military town… you should know better. Please don’t tell the world that the president murdered your son. It’s an un-American, unpatriotic, & downright ugly thing to say.

A call for coping skills

This is a call out for some coping strategies. There's gotta be someone out there that reads this blog that can give a word or two of advice. How the hell do you deal with the ugly, down-low depressing dirty shit every day? Yes, there are some great days, where you know you've done wonderful things.. it's exhilirating. But it's the bad ones that linger. Leave you with the ominous unsettled feeling.

Spent the other night on the psych ward. (Gotta love the nursing office for floating me there... but that's another story!) They had me running "precautions" on about a dozen patients. By precautions, it means following the patients around to document their location & demeanor q15min. Had one patient wasn't but a kid (well, legal adult, but such a baby!) slit their own throat from ear to chin. Also sliced arms up and down. (Yeah up & down, not side-to-side.) Knew what they were doing.
Looked like Frankenstein with stitches all over. Don't know how the poor thing survived. But that one sunk in... kept seeing images of the kid every time I closed my eyes.

I talked with one nurse a few months back, and she talked about how she leaves her work at work. Said "you can't take it home with you... you just can't". I understand that. But what I don't understand is how you prevent yourself from seeing things that were really not meant to be seen. Some things really unnerve me. And while I get the chills from things like gaping wounds, that's just a fleeting feeling.. some things tear into your core, and you just aren't prepared with where to set them.

I sat and talked with one of the nurses at work, one who I hold in high regard about it. She's competent, caring, and she's got her shit together like nobody's business. I asked her, getting alligatory-eyed, how you do it and if you just get used to it. She said, "I'm not gonna lie to you. You don't ever get used to it. And sometimes, I stop for a beer on the way home."

I know I'm seeing the tip of the iceberg compared to what people in other departments see. I think I understand now why they say so many nurses, doctors, & cops have high drug addiction and alcoholism rates... I don't know how you guys do it, but if you have some secrets, I'd love for you to share them with me.

8/1 ~ updates & junk

Aced Psych test. Prof still crazy - he's dropping final exam, pushing next unit test off to final date in lieu of comprehensive final. Turned in 2 papers: reviews from AJP journals: "Racial & ethnic differences in utilization of mental health services among high-risk youths" & "Quality-of-life impairement in depressive & anxiety disorders" Yee haw... (*eyeroll*) I think I got the APA formats correct, but I'm not 100% sure. Hopefully I won't have to wait forever to find out how I did.

It's KC's birthday. Called & left another off the wall cracked-out song on her voicemail to brighten her day. I'm sure her husband worries about me... he should know by now it runs in the family. None of the Andersens are quite right. ....and I'm beginnning to think the Speeds didn't fare much better off. (... maybe a little, but not much!)

Off to get ready for work. I've signed up for a half-dozen extra shifts since most of my summer classes are over. Got to pay for fall tuition somehow. (Another eyeroll) I'm determined not to sign myself up for indentured servitude. The hospital I work at doesn't offer these programs, but the ones in Charlotte do. For every semester they pay for, I owe them 2 years of my life. (Trying to avoid that at all costs!!)