2. finish my zen organizing project

We all remember what my living room used to look like, right?

Oh man. Looking at that makes me feel kind of dizzy and queasy. I can't BELIEVE how I used to live. And if you are thinking that perhaps I purposely took a photo of my living room when it was at its PEAK of messiness, you are sadly mistaken. That was just a regular day in the life of 2009 Julia. Cleaning and organizing were very far down on my list of priorities. Very far, indeed.

This is what my living room looked like post-zenning:

And, over one year later, here is what my living room looks like TODAY:

May I take this opportunity to recommend a book to you?

One Year to an Organized Life by Regina Leeds (I had a link here but I couldn't get it to work for some reason. It was affiliate, though, so I guess you can buy it with the knowledge that I won't see ANY kickbacks from it. So if that's what was holding you back from buying it then you're in the clear now).

That BOOK! It changed my life. Seriously.

The book encourages you to make your home into a sanctuary, a haven, a place of comfort, style, function, and happiness. Your home is where you spend most of your time, right? So why not make it somewhere WORTH spending most of your time?

I took that philosophy and ran with it. Let's turn back time a little and have a look at the transformation, shall we?

My kitchen counter, before:

My kitchen counter, post-zenning:

My kitchen counter, TODAY:

My bedroom shelfy area, before:

My bedroom shelfy area, post-zenning:

My bedroom shelfy area, TODAY:

My closet before:

My closet post-zenning:

My closet TODAY:

NOW DO YOU BELIEVE ME?

Okay okay. I do recognize that while this book worked wonders for me it may or may not do the same for you. Approximately one year and six months ago I found myself with an exceptionally messy apartment and a lot of mental energy that I needed to focus on not having a nervous breakdown and dropping out of school because The Crazy Ex was harassing/stalking/threatening me. My sister sent me the book, I opened it to "January" even though it was October, and I started organizing my kitchen. It was the perfect combination of planning, shopping, therapeutic self-care, and Getting Things Done.

And the book worked its magic on me. As you can see, I didn't used to mind clutter or chaos or, OMG, LIVING OUT OF BOXES. The book helped me clean up my act by not only telling my HOW to be more organized, but by changing my PERSPECTIVE.

I lived in the same home from birth to age 17. That house was my HOME. And I think that I felt like my college/grad school/etc. years' homes were "just temporary." Which, I mean, they were. I bounced around from various apartments to rooms-in-a-house to more apartments. And I felt like none of these places were really my homes, at least not compared to my childhood home. I guess I thought that my HOME home would come after I had a career/family/[whatever nebulous other things I wanted]. I suppose I figured that I shouldn't bother making some temporary apartment HOMEY because I wasn't going to live there forever. Which, well, now sounds pretty ridiculous. I feel like I need to clarify that this wasn't a CONSCIOUS thought-process. This is the reasoning that I came up with right now to justify my previous slovenly behavior.

Anyhow! I think the book helped me realize that it doesn't matter that the apartment in which I am living now will not be my home forever. I may have to move soon after I graduate, depending on where and when I find a job (assuming I do find a job). So I'm inevitably going to have to pack and unpack and weed through and reorganize alllll my stuff again. But that doesn't MATTER.
Just because I will have to put everything away again in some new apartment eventually does not excuse me from putting my stuff away in my CURRENT apartment. Eureka!

So. I'm crossing this item off my life list because I realized something the other day: ZEN IS A LIFESTYLE. I don't think I'm ever going to be FINISHED organizing my home. I'll always be getting rid of stuff and accumulating stuff and trying to fit things better and playing around with shelves and boxes. I'll keep working on making my house nicer and prettier and homier and better. The difference is that now I ENJOY cleaning and organizing.
ME.
I enjoy cleaning and organizing.
You win, Universe.

Now when I have an afternoon free, I want to spend it by gathering things to drop off at the Goodwill or organizing my important papers into a binder.

Or finding a new function for the little wooden basketty thing I got at the flea market.

Just yesterday I had a few hours to myself (I say that like I don't live by myself and don't have plenty of time by myself, but what I mean here is that I had free time. Which... I guess I could have just said in the first place) and I decided to hit up TJ Maxx. I bought some boxes for my bathroom shelfy thing, and then I came home and organized it.

I actually find it soothing to work on little organizey projects.
I did not used to be like this.

ZEN IS A LIFESTYLE. A lifestyle I am totally on board with now. A lifestyle I will share with you with crazy-eyed enthusiasm.

S-U-P-E-R-J-U-L-E-S-Y

I often find myself having to spell out my email address. Super. Julesy, I'll say, ess you pee ee are jay you el ee ess why. I have come up with an anagram, inspired by Avitable. But a lot less... dirty. Here it is:

S as in Snark.

U as in Unicorn.

P as in Pie.

E as in Enthusiastic Anti-Douchebag Activist.

R as in Rump.

J as in Jazz Hands, of the sarcastic variety.

U as in, again, Unicorn.

L as in LOUNGE PANTS.

E as in Emotions. I haz them.

S as in Sparkles!

Y as in Yesterday was Thursday Thursday, today it is Friday Friday. We we we so excited. We so excited. We gonna have a ball today.


Easy, right? YOU'RE WELCOME.

Diagosis

Me, to S, my neurobiologist friend: My brain seems to have turned to mush. Is there a technical diagnosis for this?

S: I believe they refer to it as jello encephalitis.

Fresh from the Faucet

This is apparently what happens when two people have been spending most of their time doing stressful, boring things like homework, study work, housework, work work, and OMG GIANT PAPER DUE IN SIX DAYS GIANT PAPER work.

sailboat

i told them not to wait for me, i wouldn't return for years
packed a compass and my father's watch, ignored my mother's tears
climbed aboard my masterpiece with a bag of just-hatched newts
hung them over the starboard side, donned my anti-salmon boots

six miles off the coast and drifting, wishing for a change in tides
my prison of hammered and painted wood, water grabbing at its sides
i'm ready with my funnelscope to find singing red-horn whales
-- i built myself a sailboat, but i forgot to bring the sails


(Some people were talking about not liking poetry on Twitter this morn so I thought I'd post this. It's from a magical realism-ish collection I wrote it back in 2004 for the final project in one of my classes. I was a Creative Writing major, dammit.)

Oh baby.

The other night I dreamed that I had a baby.
The main focus of the beginning of the dream was logistical. I was worried- how will I squeeze in going to the hospital go have my baby when I've got all these meetings and other things to do? There was a big chunk of time (dream time, that is) in which I dithered about and tried to figure out my schedule.

And then the baby was there. It was a girl. She was really really cute, you know, as babies are wont to be. She had dark hair and big blue eyes and little pink cheeks. She was pretty interactive, so I suspect she was more of the movie-age newborn rather than an actual newborn-age newborn. I named her Fi0na.

The rest of the dream involved me taking her home and realizing, huh, it's not easy to carry all my school books and this here baby at the same time and maybe I'll just put her here on the couch and gaze at her for a little while.

When I woke up I felt kind of disappointed and sad about my baby's name. Not because Fi0na isn't a lovely name but because it is an off-limits (already been chosen by someone close to me) name.

So I lay there feeling bad about that for a moment but then I rationalized that I could change her first name but keep Fi0na as her MIDDLE name. Handy solution! Especially since I had really just been calling her 'Baby' because this whole situation was rather new to me.

And then I realized it had been a dream and that there was actually NO BABY AT ALL and so I got to feel disappointed all over again.

The following sentence may or may not sound completely insane, depending on your feelings about babies in general and dream babies specifically:

I kind of miss her.

Crunch Time. With Lists.

Currently and for the next couple of weeks my life is going to look a lot like this.

Oh yeah. You're jealous.
Big Giant Don't-Pass-and-You-Don't-Graduate Paper is due in just a couple short weeks (!!!!) and in an obnoxious turn of events I have to pause my frantic work on that and focus on class tomorrow. Because I am leading it. In the interest of full disclosure, I did volunteer for this. Because! Everyone has to lead class once this quarter and I picked tomorrow for the following reasons:
1. I definitely don't want to lead class next week, when my Giant Paper due date is even CLOSER.
2. I DEFINITELY don't want to lead class the week after that, when my Giant Paper is due.
3. I definitely don't want to lead class the week after that, when my Giant Paper has been turned in and I'm mentally checked out.
4. It will be nice to get it over with.
5. I feel like sometimes things like this are a little less structured and intense when you go first...?

I am slightly nervous since I emailed the professor asking her several questions about how tomorrow will go and what exactly I am supposed to do to prepare and I haven't heard back from her. So. I guess I'll be making it up. I'm not TOO nervous since my class is full of my friends-- gals I've known for 2 years now,  most of us in our final quarter of the program.
Well my class is full of my friends, except for this one lady about whom I have a bad attitude because the first day I met her she cornered me and gave me a list of reasons why my specialty shouldn't exist. MY SPECIALTY. Geriatrics. Shouldn't exist! I stood there, mouth hanging open confusedly as she explained that it would be better if I were an Adult Nurse Practitioner because then I'd be able to treat more people. I was so taken aback and confounded that I wasn't able to articulate an eloquent response, let alone ANYTHING AT ALL. I basically said "Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man" and walked away and have since vented my rage at anyone who will listen. Because?
1. Hey! Shut up!
2. My specialty shouldn't exist? How about YOUR specialty shouldn't exist? HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?
3. Seriously! Shut up!
4. The population is aging. Yes, I do indeed think that Ger0nt0logical Nurse Practiti0ners are necessary. Step off.
5. WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY CLASS? My class full of Ger0 specialty students. Explain yourself or get out.
6. Better yet, explain yourself AND get out.

Anyhow. I hope you enjoyed this disjointed, vaguely insane rant of stress and misplaced anger. I think it paints a rather accurate picture of my current status.

RIGHTNOW

I am currently:

- wearing my GREEN SHIRT.
- fine with the fact that my hair is a bit mussed. I'm not flat ironing it on such a beautiful day.
- not sure why the weather being nice influences my decision to style my hair BUT IT DOES.
- about to leave for a meeting with my advisor about my Giant Paper Thing that is due in a couple weeks.
- nervous about said Giant Paper Thing.
- looking forward to being done with said Giant Paper Thing but at the same not feeling good about the approaching deadline.
- drinking a real sugar Pepsi.
- attempting to summarize and critique an article for my Giant Paper Thing.
- enjoying the fact that some of the authors names include: Lautenschlager, Cox, Flicker, Greenop, and Bockxmeer.
- thinking I could really go for some Lautenschlager right now. That's a drink, right?
- apparently procrastinating.
- wishing I hadn't tripped and fallen the other day resulting in a huge bruise on my knee, nicely coinciding with the gorgeous skirt-wearing weather.


What are you doing?

Shirt

I have this shirt.

I like this shirt. I like many things about it. It is a pretty color, it fits like a dream, and it is very soft.
I would like to buy this shirt in EVERY COLOR but the problem is that I don't have any idea where it came from. I got it a couple years ago at a clothing exchange party in the East Bay that was hosted by a friend of a friend. Even if I could track down the hostess I'm not sure she would remember which clothing exchange I attended (since apparently she is an avid clothing exchanger) or who was there and even if she could miraculously figure out who brought the shirt there is no guarantee that the previous owner would remember where she got it. The previous owner obviously didn't care for the shirt like I do or else it wouldn't have ended up in her clothing exchange bag. Which, I mean, I'm glad it did so I can't really shake my finger at the person for not appreciating THIS AWESOME SHIRT.

My only clue is this label.

No brand. No size, even. Just a... heart besweatered girl weeping? My internet search results for THAT were interesting. And unsuccessful.
So I'm pretty much SOL. Unless one of you out there can tell me where my shirt originated?

just a couple days

A couple weeks ago I had a rather... surreal few days. It started in clinical. I don't mind telling you now that it's over that my last rotation was on a cardiac unit. For my second-to-last day my preceptor arranged for me to observe open heart surgery. I got to assess the patient beforehand and then go with him down to the PACU and then into the OR.
I got to watch as they prepped the patient and anesthetized and intubated him. I watched the physician assistant harvest the saphenous vein and the doctors saw open the chest. And then they told me to walk around to stand with the anesthesiologist at the patient's head. I peeked over the drapes, and THERE WAS THE MOTHERF*CKING HEART. Pumping away as they worked on and around it.
Mind. Blown.
I have never in my life tried so hard to just NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. I kept having nightmarish thoughts about what if I accidentally touch the sterile equipment? What if I trip and fall over on something important? Or what if I trip and fall on the patient?
I didn't, though.
Everybody was super nice and welcoming to me. One anesthesiology resident even draped me with a warm blanket because the OR is, well, freezing. And the doctor preforming the surgery gave me a running commentary on what he was doing "Now I just attach the vein graft so the blood can flow freely through. I'm basically like a plumber, I suppose." Um. Dude. If you are comparing yourself to a plumber you are seriously the most humble doctor I've met in a great while. Because, no offense to plumbers, but HE HAD THE GUY'S HEART IN HIS HANDS.
I know it is surgery that they do every day but I was impressed at how the doctors and physician assistants and nurses and techs were all steady-handed-chilled-out-ho-hum-just-another-day-at-work meanwhile I'm standing there having an internal existential crisis Is he alive? Is he dead? THE MAN'S HEART IS STOPPED AND HIS BLOOD IS GOING THROUGH A MACHINE. What does this MEAN?
Seriously. Mind. Blown.
The PA had taken me aside before everything got started. "Look," he said. "it's going to be really intense in here. There are going to be sights and smells that you aren't used to so if you need to faint then step away." He explained that I needed to stay loose and comfortable and not lock my knees and meanwhile I was thinking PSHHH I've seen surgery before I'm all over this. Seven hours later I could barely stumble through the front door before I collapsed and passed out on my couch. It was INTENSE.

The next day I had my site visit-- the director of my program came to see me show off my mad history taking and physical examination skillz. It was nervewracking but it went just fine. Apparently they think I'm doing an okay job at this nurse practitioning stuff. I mean, that was my last site visit and they're going to let me graduate, presumably. Anyhow after that stressful couple of days I was in serious need of some R&R.
My friend D invited me to come with her and a group of gals from her program (I won't say what specialty they are but here's a hint: it has a lot to do with lady business and wee, brand new people). Anyhow they were all going to this spa so I tagged along. We headed over to Japantown's Kabuki Springs & Spa which turned out to be JUST what I needed. I paid my $22 bathhouse fee, stripped down, and spent the next couple hours feeling like some kind of goddess.
Bathing in the heated pool, dipping my feet into the cold pool, cooling my face and neck with icy-cucumber cloths, exfoliating my skin with salt in the steam room, lazing on a wooden lounge. It was just lovely. "Wait what?" KC asked me later when I told him about my day, "I was at work all day and you were in a spa full of naked ladies?" YES. And then I went out for drinks with D and the other gals.

And then the next day we had our last palliative care class. The last hour was dedicated to student presentations. People talked about their relatives or friends or patients who had died. Someone read a poem she had written about her father who had died and their tenuous relationship. Someone played a song they had written about a patient. One woman, a pediatric oncology nurse, presented a collage she had made of things that reminded of her of the kids she had taken care of who died. It was basically an hour-long sobfest. It was a nice way to end the quarter (and I mean that sincerely).

I told all my friends in class about the open heart surgery. I'm still telling people. I told my new preceptor yesterday. It STILL blows my mind.

Old Jerusalem Cafe

Why is it that here I am just a few short months away from gradumication, and NOW I finally find a cafe in which I can stand studying?
Woe is me.
I pretty much always study in my apartment (no distractions here, no siree!) with a few rare jaunts down to the lobby with free wifi. I hate studying at Starbucks and Peet's and other similar coffee shops. They're always so damn crowded and the SMELL IS OVERPOWERING. My friend D and I had been trying to study together (or, rather, parallel study since we are in different specialties) but she often goes to Starbucks and I often, well, stay home.
But! We recently met up at the Old Jeruslem Cafe in the Inner Sunset. I almost feel like I should tell you not to go there because then it might not be as spacious and empty but, no, you should go there because I do want their business to thrive.

Things I liked:
Spacious and empty (for me less people = less distraction).
High ceiling that I thought was kind of ridiculous at first (until I noticed there was a bonus second floor nook area).
Bonus second floor nook area.
Yummy vegan lentil soup, hummus, and pita triangles (I'm no vegan but that soup was delish).
GLASS BOTTLE COKES.
When I was there they were playing brain-stimulating classical music.
Wifi (with $5 purchase).
Pleasing atmosphere.
Right off the N, also in an area with less-horrible parking.
Oh, they serve coffee too. If you're into that sort of thing.

That's D in the foreground, playing the part of the smartypants little student. Which she totally is.

Anyhow, I liked the place and I've been back a couple times since then and probably will go back for further study adventures as my career as a student comes to an end.

Oh, and apparently the cafe is also a hookah lounge by night. Huh.

This song is stuck in my head.

Everybody's lookin forward to the weekend.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Partyin' Partyin' Yeah

I keep forgetting that today is Friday. If only there was some sort of catchy song to help me remember that yesterday was Thursday, today is Friday, tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards.

White Elephant Sale

So I'm pretty much failing at keeping up my flea market and flea market-related posts in a timely fashion, but I also don't want this to be an entirely flea market-focused blog so I have been attempting to intersperse my flea market posts with other things which means I'm a little behind. Anyhow. A couple weeks ago I went to the Oakland White Elephant Sale. This is an annual event that started in 1959 to raise money for the Oakland Museum.
The sale is held in a gigantic warehouse in the, uh, giant warehouse section of Oakland.

We arrived just before the doors opened on Sunday, ready to rummage. There was already a big line of people.

Just another gorgeous Bay Area day.

That's his game face.

The warehouse was seriously huge but everything was organized and categorized and labeled and there were lots of helpful volunteers available for answering questions.

There was quite a VARIETY of stuff....

There was also checkstand where they would hold your stuff until you were ready to leave.

This was a good thing because we managed to find a few things we liked....

We went on the second day of the sale which meant that nearly everything was half off the marked price, except for the book section where you could buy a grocery bag for $5 and just fill it to the top.

I think we spent the most time in the book section and the bric-a-brac section.

That candy dish was probably the most expensive thing I bought at $5.
We also got some planters.

Now, I believe I have mentioned that KC's family likes to give each other joke gifts? Gifts that eventually get blown to pieces by shotguns out in the desert? Well he bought these for 25 cents (total) specifically for that purpose. He also pointed out that the White Elephant Sale is a good place to look for White Elephant gifts, and I had to agree.

He also bought this which I believe he intends to put up in his apartment.

I found some old classic videos and a game that looks to me like a more fun version of Jenga.

I also picked up this little dollhouse thingy. I'm thinking I'll attach some brackets on the back and hang it up as a shelf (or, rather, I'll get a handy gentleman to do that FOR me).

That little green box? It contains a teensy nativity scene.  One of Joseph's arms needs to be glued back on but it was only 40 cents. I had been wanting a nativity scene to round out my Christmas decorations even though, yes, I do realize that this is March and Christmas is not coming again for many months. The bric-a-brac section had a whole subsection of holiday decor. I don't make the rules, people.

I'm also going to need my handyman to put up this key rack for me. I mean. Not that I can't DO it. I just would rather somebody else did.

For awhile now I had been wanting a set of furoshiki in order to be more eco friendly when I wrap gifties but I hadn't pulled the trigger yet. The sets I've found have all been a bit too pricey for my liking, plus there's going to be that awkward moment of "So can I, uh, have my wrapping sheet back?" So when I saw these pretty (and inexpensive) scarves I decided they would work for that purpose.

Ooh, this is probably my favorite thing that I bought. It is a Christmas decoration box... thing. I think it must have been somebody's Christmas craft. All those little figurines are glued in place and I believe the box itself is also glued together. I don't know why I love it SO MUCH but I do.

And now I have to wait a whole year before the NEXT White Elephant Sale.

Planbook

Because of an emailing snafu I recently found myself fishing out my old planbook and using it to piece together my clinical experiences from last summer.
I buy my planbooks in the summer for the upcoming academic year because I'm a student and I've been a student for a long, long time and now it's just habit so I do wonder what might happen if I switch to some other planbook-buying pattern. The point here is that I was looking for information from June 2010, which is the last month in that particular planbook. But I confusedly opened the FRONT of the book first and quickly realized I was in the WRONG SECTION-- Summer, 2009.

There are weeks and weeks and weeks with nothing written in them. Weeks when I was in LA or when I was traveling back and forth between LA and SF. Weeks when I was still wrapped up in an emotionally abusive relationship. I vaguely remember feeling like I was waiting for something. Waiting for the Crazy Ex to get his life figured out so that my life could be figured out. Because at the time my life was essentially an extension of his life.
I have jumbled, dim memories from this time. I see that I blogged, there are indeed archives. In July I nebulously talked about being unhappy, in August I avoided any difficult subject altogether. Huh. Nebulously unhappy and avoiding difficult subjects. Yep, I'd say that about sums up the summer of 2009.

There are also some photos from that summer. This is my favorite.

I think it is the most accurate-- no fake smile, no cheerful pose. Just me. Lost and confused.

As I mentioned, the pages of my planbook are largely empty from that time. I started writing in it again around the end of August. The things I wrote then? Oh, just normal things. But my handwriting is big, scrawling, shaky, dark. CALL HEALTH CENTER my planbook seems to scream at me.
GET NEW STUDENT ID
4:15 APPT 4761 1431 1414 RESCHEDULE
DO CLINICAL PPWK THURS FRI

Regular school stuff but written frantically, chaotically. Deep indentations in the paper where my pen was pressed hard.

What I see now when I read those words?

I'm trapped.


I'm afraid.


I have lost myself.


I was getting organized for school and clinicals but at the same time I was drowning.

I once had an English professor in college who told my class that the literary concept of foreshadowing is basically a load of crap because you only notice it when you look back on it after the big foreshadowed event has already taken place. When I look at that photo and page through my planbook I feel chilled and dizzy and anxious because I know what was about to happen. My tenuously balanced life was about to come crashing down; the masked monster was about to reveal his true form.
And, spoiler alert, we know that I made it out alive and well. But looking back at the things from that time is chilling. It reminds me of just HOW lost and confused and in fathomless denial denial DENIAL I was. And it makes me, for the hundredth, or thousandth, or millionth time grateful for the chain of events that wrenched me away from the dismal path on which my life was set.