Math

Rice + Veggies + Meat Sauce + Cheese = Not A Good Breakfast.

I was in a hurry. I had several containers of leftovers in the fridge. I thought that rice could maybe be substituted for pasta in a pinch? Nope.

NCLEX Application + End Of The Quarter Approaching = Running All Over Town.

I turned in a transcript request to the registrar on Monday ($10). I went to the police station last night to get fingerprinted ($71). Today, I went to the mailboxes store and got a passport photo taken ($10ish). Now all I have to do is turn in a transcript form to the administrator, finish filling out my application, and mail it in with the appropriate fees ($130ish) and I'll be done! Done applying to take the test, that is.

Birthdays + Borders 75% Off Section = Awesome.

Swistle is always talking about the fabulous 75% off section at Target but I went yesterday and couldn't seem to find it. Was I just not trying hard enough? Probably. But, is it actually not ONE specific section but rather nooks and crannies within the regular sections? I have bought things on extreme sale at Target before but I can't seem to recall and this time, when I was LOOKING for it, I couldn't find it. And I was kind of disappointed because I had ideas about buying cute Valentine's day stuff that was marked way down. But I probably missed out on that anyhow since Valentine's day was 2 weeks ago. Okay, so, fail. However, I stopped by Borders on my way to the mailboxy place because it's my sis's birthday in a couple days. And Borders also has a great little 75% off section with pens, pretty notebooks, cards, bags, bubble baths, lip balms, and other cute gifties. I got her a bunch of stuff that she can either use or re-gift and, let's face it, my sister is decidedly non-sentimental so it could equally be one or the other.

Ash Wednesday + Brain Malfunction = Lent Fail.

So last Wednesday was Ash Wednesday and I am giving up... uh. I'm giving up, uh.... I'm, uh... Okay. What is the matter with me? I have given up Pepsi. I have given up ALL Soda (this was when I was a confirmed soda addict). I have given up marshmallows, bacon, chocolate, and... uh... something else I can't remember. Why can't I think of anything this year? There was also one year when, instead of giving something up, I pledged to exercise every day. And all of these times? I've done it. So what's the matter with me? This year I'm, uh.... I'm... uh....

Saturday Night + Milkshake = A Happy Jewels.

I know it's lame but I am seriously looking forward to puttering around my apartment for awhile, taking a hot bath, and then snuggling up in bed. And I washed my sheets and bought two new pillows and pillowcases yesterday at Target, soo *claps hands excitedly*!

but back to me again

So I took my laptop to school with me on Monday and got a surprising amount done, um, in between taking notes for class. I finished my financial aid application, started the NCLEX one, and looked up a bunch of stuff I had kept meaning to do but hadn't gotten around to. So it was good.

This week has been pretty tiring because clinicals are Tuesday thru Friday. They are short days (7-1) but for some reason it feels exhausting because there is no break from getting up superearly and we are working with psych patients who tend to be rather exhausting in and of themselves. But the thing about having an instructor who never ever everevereverever lets your class out even two minutes early is that when he ends clinical postconference 20 minutes early, PRICELESS. Oh my God, YES!!!

I like the unit where I am working, though I am still getting used to it. It makes me sad to see so many people with chronic mental illness. I used to work in an adult day health care center and, yes, it was sad. But it was different. Our program was based around activities and helping the clients live as satisfying, full, independent, and dignified lives as they could. Most of them had families and belongings and, most importantly, they went home at the end of the day. I am still learning about the unit where I am now, but it seems to be a place where people go to try and stabilize. Many of the clients were homeless and have no family. They have few posessions and recieve a $10 stipend from the program. I know it is good that they are in the program and being cared for. But it just makes me sad to see these people and know that they could easily be on the streets and also that there are hundreds of people with the same illnesses and situations who still are.

Okay, I'll get off that subject now or else I'm going to have to do some serious weeping. Something else that is kind of... odd... about the unit is that, because of the specific lisencing for the program the run, they have to provide a space and opportunity for their clients to smoke. I find it, um, horrifying? Here are these people with, like, heart conditions or COPD or asthma and we have to hand them cigarettes??? Yikes.

Okay. Nap time for me now. And then I've got big plans for this later involving going to Target, maybe readingish for class, and hitting the hay early.

To Whom it May Concern,

I was going to post a comment, but I have a rather lot to say in response to this post and the heated flurry of comments it has generated. Jenny is one of my dearest friends so I cannot possibly be unbiased but I have a few things to say to Sir Anonymous/K. Dot.

1. I remember when Jenny and you first broke up. I remember that she was sad because of what it meant for her son. But I also remember her telling me (and Molly, from what I've read in the comments) that you are a good father, that your relationship with Gabriel is special and wonderful, and that she wanted to make a life for herself in Chico. I remember how hard it was for her and how much she agonized about it. Events transpired and she ended up back in Santa Cruz. And, as you say, you do not see Gabriel as often anymore. Here's the thing, though. Gabriel is your child. It is your right and responsibility to persue a relationship with him. It is not Jenny's responsibility to drive him up to Sacramento even though she made the decision to move to Santa Cruz. Gabriel and Jenny live in Santa Cruz. You live in Sacramento. Feeling indignant about this won't bring him any closer and treating Jenny with disrespect won't make her want to bring your son to you any more often. Even if she did "promise" to bring him to see you (which I doubt), it does not matter. If you want to see your son, see your son. That is the bottom line.

2. Why do you constantly feel like you have to mention that you left Jenny 4ish times before she moved out? From what I know of your relationship, I don't believe you. And even if it is true, WHO CARES? You care, apparently. But I can't understand why. What is your point, exactly? Why is this so important to you? And, just so you know, that scenario doesn't make you look any better... saying you broke up with Jenny several times before you officially broke up just makes it sound like you were too wishy washy and douchebaggy to shit or get off the pot. Whether you left her or she left you, nobody cares anymore. The relationship is over, so let it go.

3. I believe there are two sides to every story. And I don't necessarily agree with Jenny's decision to post so much of your interactions and disagreements on the internet. But your response of calling names and pointing fingers does not help your case. You say you don't care what she writes, but you appear to get very heated and angry about it. If you truly don't care what she writes about you, then don't read it. It clearly pushes your buttons, so maybe you should just try and stay away from it. And also, don't get all high and mighty about how Jenny blogs about her personal life and you wouldn't ever do that because, um, what's this?

4. I think it is interesting that you also feel the need to point out what a superior person you are becasue of your career, education level, money, etc etc. It is very nice to have those things. But there are fascinating people who are poor. There are brilliant people who are uneducated. There are successful people who do start out in crappy jobs. Some of the best people I know have held minimum wage jobs or been to jail. Remember, a true man is not measured by the weight of his purse.

These are my opinions. I know they will probably not change how you feel or act, but I do hope that you take some of it to heart. When I knew you, I never thought you were a bad person. Relationships are complicated and none of us will ever truly know what happened between you and Jenny. And, really, none of that matters now. All that matters is Gabriel and providing a stable, loving, consistent environment for him because someday he will be old enough to judge you for himself.

Sincerely,
Jewels

It's not over.

Remember my rant about how long and obnoxious my week was? Well, the madness continues. Readings! A quiz and homework due before our 8 hour long class tomorrow! A three hour long test after class! Homework from my other class that needs some serious attention! Financial Aid application for next year due very soon!

Reaction: Headache. And/or tears.

Solution: Get back in bed and pretend it's still Friday afternoon when I was feeling all triumphant and exhausted from getting through my week. Get out readings, stare halfheartedly at them, and feel overwhelmed. Think warily about the two more years of school I have after this one is over. Think about NCLEX exam and how I really need to get my application in and start studying for it. Try not to cry.

Better Solution: Shower. Dress and feed self. Drink lots of water. Get out readings and skim, er, read them. Tackle homework and Financial Aid application. Tidy house. Try not to cry.

Most Likely Solution: Some combination of the previous two. Try not to cry.

The Longest Short Week

For some reason Peds and Psych are crammed into the same quarter by making each one go halvsies which meant that I had my midterm Peds evaluation in the second week of clinicals. But Peds class ended last week and Psych started up this week. I thought it was kind of nice to have Peds end over President's day weekend so we had a little time to rest up before starting another new class.

I was wrong.

It started with the barrage of emails about Psych nursing class starting. This program is sort of known for being accelerated and tough and quick and crazy. And the people who sign up for it are also a bit... accelerated and tough and quick and crazy. So most of our classes have started with a general feeling of "this class is going to be fast-paced and you might have some trouble with it because we are going over a ton of material in a very short amount of time. But we're all in this together and the professors want to help you out so let's all just take this one day at a time okay? Hugs!"

But our Psych professor emailed us about seven times before class had even begun: Your syllabus is posted! Your readings are posted! There will be a reading quiz online after the first day of class! Go and get fingerprinted! Make sure to do your readings! Psych is starting! Psych is starting! Get ready because psych is starting!!!!

Since Peds had just ended, I had been planning to take a little time off. So I spent some time with my mom and dad. I went out with Miss Jenny. I celebrated Valentine's day with my man. I cooked and cleaned and grocery shopped. And then on Monday I started to do the reading for Psych.

Turns out it was a lot of reading. So much that it cost me about 50 bucks to print almost all of it at Kinko's which I did because my printer has this cute little idiosyncrasy wherein I must stand next to it and feed it each and every sheet of paper and the thought of doing this over 200 times was daunting. And also, I assumed I would run out of ink and/or paper. So I printed the articles and then I looked at them and it was a lot. And when I say a lot, I really mean it-- I have been to college and grad school and I KNOW that there is a big difference between "a lot" meaning a reasonably doable amount if you would just put down the remote and "a lot" meaning so much that it makes you nervous and jittery to think about and you can't even start it because you know you can't finish it in time for the quiz that is coming. It was A LOT, in the sense that every time I sat down to do it, I would start to read and then find myself flipping through the pages with an increasing sense of disbelief and anguish and eventually giving up.

Tuesday was a 9-5 lecture day with a professor who has a rather different style from my preference. Whereas I am a person who likes her teachers to be concise and poignant, he is apparently of the "more is more" school of thought and (in my opinion) manages to say quite a lot of words without actually bequeathing very much information.

He also reminded us that the "exam" (apparently it wasn't a quiz anymore at this point... somehow??) would be the next morning. Class was supposed to start at 9:30 but since they could not figure out how to put the quiz up online, we should all come in at 9:10 and take the quiz then. Because in the EIGHT HOURS we were going to be together, they could not possibly fit in a 20 minute quiz. Excuse me, EXAM.

And so on Tuesday night, I found myself spontaneously bursting into short fits of tears as I tried to complete the homework assignment (also due on Wednesday) and study for the quiz (EXCUSE ME, EXAM) and prepare for another 9-5 day of Psych. I feel like I should maybe mention that a lot of the reading was actually interesting and that if I had felt less stressed out it might have been enjoyable.

On Wednesday, I actually had a group project meeting at 8. Then we started the EXAM at 9:10. And it was... um... detailed? We actually went over the answers in the afternoon and it was clear that many of us had not done as well as we expected. Which led to a forty-five minute discussion with the professor wherein the students might say something like "I did the reading, but the questions asked for small detailed points and not overarching themes, like you had said it would" or "Maybe next time we could have the quiz after discussing the readings so we understand them better." And then the professor would say "I hear what you are saying. LOOK OVER THERE! BEHIND YOU!!"

Thursday was clinical orientation and Friday was the first clinical day. I would write more about them but this post is already overly long and I think I'm out of steam. Suffice it to say there were some moments when I was tired and frustrated but overall they were fine. In fact, they were good because I am in what I believe to be a good clinical rotation site. I have experience working with mentally ill adults so it's actually a place where I think (hope) I might feel comfortable. But it also made me kind of upset because I have spent so much time and energy feeling stressed out, frustrated, and anguished about this class when, really, I WANT to like it. Psych is interesting. I sincerely hope the excessive reading, minutely detailed exams, and inability of our professor to let our class leave on time do not crush my fresh buds of curiosity and desire to help people.

Does Vodka Go Bad?

I feel like I should answer the questions generated by this post wherein Miss Grace details the goings-on of our night out.

So I was getting readyish to leave my parents' house and head over to Jenny's when she sent me a text saying that if I were to stop by the store on my way and pick up something to drink, she wouldn't be upset. I opened the front door, looked out at the driving rain and realized that no I would not be stopping. So I asked my mom if I could take something from the liquor cabinet.

I found a bottle of vodka that was about 3/4 full. I held it up and asked my mom just how old it was. She tried to tell me some story about how she buys vodka in the summers because she likes to sit by the pool and drink gin and tonics. But vodka = not gin. And also, I cannot remember a time when her preferred beverage was not a glass of wine. So that makes my rough guess around 14 years because I'm 26 now and I probably started noticing what my mom drank when I was about 12 because that's when I became all bratty and irritated by everything my parents did. But that's just a guess. It could have been older, since no one in my parents' house drinks vodka on a regular basis and my mom also pulled out a bottle of Jose Cuervo that she knew for a fact was from my sister's wedding (13 years ago) and a bottle of cognac from when time began. Also, the vodka was probably not the cheapest bottle available, but it had been opened and was living in a cabinet (not the freezer) for who knows how long.

And so I presented it to Miss Grace, "I didn't want to stop at the store since the weather was so crappy, so we're just going to have to participate in a little experiment called Does Vodka Go Bad? Sound good?"

"Um??" said Jenny.

And it turns out that yes, yes it does. The vodka smelled like rubbing alcohol and then nothing. As in, it smelled potent and abrasive and then the potency and abrasiveness apparently shoots into your nostrils as you take a sniff and kills off your smelling ability so the next time you smell it, it smells like nothing. And it tasted like, well, rubbing alcohol. Or what I imagine rubbing alcohol might taste like. In a burning, been left sitting out, kind of way. So there you go. Vodka, in case you were wondering, does go bad.

MUST BE PRODUCTIVE

Bowie vomited all over my new "hand wash only" sweater. All over it. On the bright side it was from the thrift store. But still! New sweater! Hand washing! Cat vomit!

And I start my psych rotation next week but apparently I have to get fingerprinted to do so. I called and the first appointment for this is Thursday. I told my instructor. He told me to go hang around there and try to get in sooner than that. And I think, maybe, if you want it sooner than Thursday, then how about not emailing us about this LAST NIGHT? Not that it's his fault since it's a new policy and all but, ya know, a slight heads up might have been helpful.

I spent a good chunk of time at the library today trying. to. finish. my. paper. Which is not yet finished. And I'm not going to bed until it is. I refuse to believe that I just can't finish it today so that is my plan. The plan involves the following:

1. Type
2. Research
3. Caffeinate (except according to blogspot that isn't a word. And apparently blogspot and isn't aren't words either. Neither is aren't.)
4. Agonize over APA guidelines (APA is also not a word).

until it is done. That is the plan.

This weekend, I:

- did NOT bring my old teflon-shedding pots to donate to the thrift store. So now what? I had moved them from the kitchen counter to the living room/only room floor because I thought they would be leaving soon. But I felt too guilty to inflict their poison on others so they are still there. Can I just throw them away? It feels dirty and wasteful and cliche-edly American to just toss them, but what am I supposed to do? They're not some old blanket with holes in it that I could cut up and fashion into a series of throw pillows. And even if I wanted to get creative and make something pretty out of my pain, I lack the artistic talent. That, and the appropriate welding tools.

- DID park my car at a meter that was apparently a very poorly marked commercial loading zone and I got a $70 ticket. AND they were about to tow my car. Thanks, San Francisco! And also- ticketing and towing seems like overkill, shouldn't they just do one or the other?

- bought two pairs of boring workey pants (one by Marc Jacobs) at the thrift store for $3.99 each. I had to buy boring workey pants because in our Psych rotation were aren't supposed do wear our scrubs and we can't wear jeans and I'm not about to wear the same pants for 5 days in a row. Normally, I wouldn't have anything against that but after seeing what goes on in a hospital and coming home with pee/poo/lice/scabies/pus/blood/MRSA/CDiff/vomit on my clothes, I tend to like to boil and pray over them before wearing them again. I also bought a water jug and a set of those cute little kitcheny jars where I'll keep my rice and pasta and such.

- tried to pick Bowie up for a snuggle. He kicked me in the chest.

- hung out with my mama. She took me to Macy's to get some nice layering basics and out to lunch were she told me to order a steak. Apparently she's worried that the Bay Area health food craze might have gotten to me. She doesn't realize that it would take threats of force and violence to convert me to a vegetarian in any sense of the word.

- took a sip of milk that I thought tasted a little funny. I took another sip, thought it tasted okay, and drank the whole glass. Then I opened the fridge and smelled the milk in the jug and realized that, yep, it was bad.

Further evidence that the Bay Area is rubbing off on me

As part of my new plan to avoid poisoning myself through food preparation, I've also decided to not bring anything to school in my plastic tupperware that needs to be reheated because of the possibility that the micro-waves break down the plastic into tiny, poisonous fragments. Even though the tupperware says "microwave safe," I'm not so sure. Because, really? How do they know?? And also, at the hospitals we only use IV lines for 3 days because after that the plastic starts breaking down. I'm thinking it's not such a stretch to believe that heating my food to scalding hot (the only temperature I like to eat it) might invite some amount of dangerous chemicals into my food. See what I'm sayin? This kind of logic got me through grad school.

My plan has proven tricky because I usually would bring some kind of pasta and veggies to school. It was quick. It was healthyish. It was tasty. But I can't quite justify buying glass tupperware because it's kind of expensive and, well, heavy. So I've started bringing sandwiches and salads to school. And that's okay except that I usually make the sandwich the night before school and the bread gets staleish from being in the fridge all night. I think I've solved this problem by lining both slices of bread with cheese, which moistens the bread but also renders my "healthy lunch" somewhat... less so.

So I think I've solved the lunch and cooking issues. But I also think I need to replace my water jug since it's really an old milk jug that I washed out and fill with tap water. Sidenote: I'm a big fan of tap water, I drank it in LA (which may not have been the wisest choice... sometimes it came out brown) and I'm definitley getting spoiled by the San Francisco tap water. Anyhow, I've been daydreaming today about buying a glass pitcher to keep in the fridge, full of crisp, cold water. I'm going to go get one from Thrift Town tomorrow, I think. And maybe I'll drop off my old pots there, too. I mean I don't want to cook teflon into my food anymore, but that doesn't give me the right to deprive others to do so.

In class today....

I've changed some of my classmates' names on the off-chance they don't want me quoting them on the internet.

Rachel: Remember last year around this time when we were waiting for our acceptance letters? When we felt like March first would NEVER EVER come?
Damian: Yeah, I remember calling my housemates twice a day to ask if they had checked the mail since I was out of town.
Rachel: We were so excited. Who knew we'd be so exhausted and jaded after a few months?
Damian: I think I knew after the first few hours on Orientation day.
Me: I went home and cried after Orientation.
Rachel: I went home and drank.

Prof: .... so when the fluid slips up and down like that, what is it called?
Lana: Communicating.
Prof: Yes, communicating.
The people sitting around Lana stare at her.
Lana [quietly]: I did the reading, motherfuckers.

Katy [noticing that she had spilled Andrew's coffee on the floor]: Shoot, do you have a napkin?
Me: No I don't have a napkin. I just spilled cottage cheese all over my crotch. If I had a napkin don't you think I'd be using if for that?

We're a delightful bunch.