Happy Halloween...

It's 9:45 on a holiday and I'm sitting at home. Little bit lonely, to be honest. I made some tentative plans to go downtown and observe (and perhaps partake of) the general debauchery of the bar scene with a few friends, but then I decided not to go. It's really cold outside, I had homework to do, and for a rare moment, a glimmer of responsibility overtook me, reminding me that I have several hours of class tomorrow morning, followed by five hours of clinicals later. I can't afford to be tired and/or hung over, and I'm already operating on a sleep debt... (More often than not, when I have to decide between fun and responsibilities, fun takes the cake, and responsibility the backseat... at least for a bit.) Anyhow, now the homework is done, and the bored me is wishing I had punched the responsible me in the kidneys and headed out for the evening. Luis is in Seattle with the orchestra, so the apartment is pretty quiet. I did go out this weekend, which was a crazy good time, so probably I should quit griping. Hm... yeah, I'm definitely done complaining. : )

On to other news briefs:

My second day of clinicals is tomorrow (we have them weekly). I had a lot to contemplate after my first day, and I'm sure there's a blog in there somewhere. I just haven't had the time to extract it from my jumbled thoughts. We're working in a nursing home, and I saw some things which made me smile, and some that saddened me. More to come on this one...

APA format is for the birds. I spent the first zillion years of my life using MLA, but APA is standard for nursing. Poo on that.

I love Wasa crackers - especially the rye ones. Luis says they look and taste like corrugated cardboard, but I think they're delightful with cheese. Of course, nearly everything is better with cheese on it...

It's cold here. Like, really cold. It was 12°F outside this morning when I left for class, and it's 20° right now. All I want to do when it gets cold out is take baths. I've worked out an agreement with myself that I can take a bath in the middle of the day, so long as I take a textbook with me and study. Multitasking... smart, huh? And so far I've only dropped one into the bathwater.

Okay, now I'm just stalling... but I feel loads more cheerful, so it was time well spent. I'm off to catch up on some much needed rest! Ta-ta!

Uh -

According to weather.com, it is FOURTEEN degrees outside right now.

Dang.

It's just a jump to the left,

And then a step to the ri-i-i-i-i-ight...

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and with it comes all the creepy delights of the season. Earlier this evening I watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show for what has to be the umpteenth time, and it just keeps getting better... Tim Curry is strangely attractive in a corset.

Last night I went to the Halloween Bash at the Green Room/Red Light Lounge downtown. It was a good time - some drinks, lots of dancing, and I met some fun people. Photos from the evening can be seen here (although I only took a few.)
I dressed as Dorothy again this year, mostly so I could get another wearing out of my fabulous ruby slippers. Last year I rented a really authentic Dorothy costume, but this year it wasn't available, so I bought one from a Halloween shop. This brings me to my one beef with Halloween: why is every ladies' costume made as the "sexy" version? Can't be just a policewoman, has to be a sexy policewoman. Sexy pirate. Sexy witch. And the costumes which are somewhat provocative by default - cheerleader, nurse, schoolgirl, french maid - are tramped out to the max. They've even managed to turn Rainbow Brite into a whore. My friend Sammy said to me the other day that one year she decided just to go as a prostitute, because really, most girls' costumes boil down to that anyway. I understand that a lot of people enjoy dressing a little more risque than they would in their normal life, but it's bordering on ridiculous. For me, I guess, the fun is mostly in getting to be someone else for a little while. (I suppose I'm sort of the pot calling the kettle black, because this year I caved and bought the sexy Dorothy costume - although I have to say that it's hard to feel very seductive while wearing gigantic puffy sleeves roughly the shape and size of chefs' hats...) Anyhow, I love costumes and dressing up, so I'm hoping to find another excuse to don a costume before the 31st.

Poo. On an unrelated note, I just checked the weather forecast. Tonight - snow. Tomorrow - snow. Tomorrow night - low of 18. Burrr.

I always wanted to be a cartoon character:

Nasogastric good times!

Today in my clinical skills lab I let Courtney, a fellow nursing student, give me a nasogastric tube. An NG tube is a flexible hollow tube which is inserted through a nostril and then down through the esophagus into the stomach. They can be used for tube feedings, or for removal of stomach contents.
I always carry my camera with me, so another student took some pictures during the "procedure". (To see a few other photos from class click here.) It wasn't the most pleasant experience I've ever had, to be sure. However, I wasn't the only one who did it - several of my friends in other groups did the same thing in their labs. My instructor thinks we're all crazy, because this certainly wasn't required of any of us. We have dummies in our skills lab to practice on, but I figure the more real life experience we get, the better. Now we've all gotten to see what it looks like on a real person. Plus, I'm sure that now I'll be able to nail it on our skills demonstration test in a few weeks...

Mess of a post.

Sleep has been eluding me some recently, probably at least in part to the inordinate number of thoughts tumbling around in my little head. I find that the thoughts which bring a mixture of emotions are the hardest to escape. (One that does it to me every time is the thought of going back to my hometown - excitement at the thought of seeing my family, but dreading the whole flying thing. Ick.) One of my current mixed-emotion mind-bogglers is the fast approaching start of my nursing clinicals. I've been excited about it for a long time, but now that it's nearly upon me a little bit of trepidation has creeped in too... Also, I'm starting back in my old job at the urgent care this week, and although I'm relieved to have a steady source of income again, I'm hoping that I haven't taken on too much... In class this past week we learned how to do an abdominal assessment, which rereleased torrents of thoughts about my uncle, who died in February from peritonitis and sepsis caused by a horribly botched gall bladder surgery. I drift between lividity and aching sadness at the memory... Last night I glanced at the clock for the last time at about 1:30, while thinking to myself how much 6:00am was going to hurt. I'm not gonna lie - I hit the snooze for 40 minutes.

Phew. All better. Perhaps now that it's all down in print I can dismiss the thoughts from my head for a bit.

For all my restlessness last night, I still had a really good day. I filled in at the reception desk on the internal medicine floor at the clinic, which is always fun. Most of the patients there are older adults, and I get a kick out of them. For lunch I went to the bagel shop, which is one of my favorite places in town. This afternoon I got to chat a bit with my old boss, who I love but rarely see anymore. After work I made a brief shopping stop and bought (another) gray cableknit sweater. Yay for big cozy sweaters... When I got home a couple of fun emails were waiting for me - one from my friend Heidi from high school, who is working on putting together our ten(!) year reunion, and another from my friend James, who is kindly consenting to hang out with me this weekend for the Halloween festivities, since Luis will be busy... All in all, a lovely day.

Eegad, this is a jumbled post. Sorry for the lack of paragraphical orderliness. Oh, and sorry for the emotional flip halfway through. I've actually felt very bouncy and cheerful today (as is often my disposition), but somehow when I started writing my worries down they just wooshed right out, so I went with it. Free therapy, I guess... thanks, I owe you one. :)

Do I know how to party, or what?

It's 9:45 on a cold, rainy Friday night. I'm jammie-clad and ready for bed. Took a long bubble bath with a glass of wine and a Harry Potter book (I'm classy, no?), and now I'm ready to be done thinking for the day. Turns out this week was a little exhausting, and now I'm hoping to turn my head off for the next 10-12 hours.

Goodnight.

Bliss?

Follow your bliss.

Hm. An old adage adopted by hippies and peaceful people everywhere. Here in the liberal oasis that is Missoula, you get this advice from the bumpers of Subaru Outbacks and from the free spirited folk who wander the streets by the river. But these three little words have a lot packed into them. Follow (v. - to go or come after) may sound somewhat happenstance, but the trick is that the phrase instructs you to do it. No one else can do it for you. In a world full of people looking for someone to blame for their lot in life, this simple imperative statement stands up and says, "no, you follow your bliss." In my head, this would imply that the outcome of one's life his or her own responsibility. Not happy? Okay, well what would make you happy? Now figure out a way to do it. But perhaps it's easier said than done...

Here's the rub for me: At twenty-effing-seven years old, I feel like I should have a better idea of what my bliss is. In some ways, I'm approaching the proverbial crossroads. I'm on the path to a profession which excites me, and I'm at the beginning of the end of my overlong school career. But what next? I've got two problems, from what I can tell. First is my age. As I've mentioned, I took - oh, we'll call it the "scenic route" - through school. Turns out it was a necessary evil, because I'm pretty sure that back in 1997 (oh, shut it - it's not that long ago) when I first started college, I didn't have the drive nor the confidence to take the path I'm on now. I would have failed spectacularly, I imagine. Anyhow, fast forward to a few semesters from now - I'll be done with school and ready to unleash myself upon the world. Trouble is that I'll be 29. I'm sure it's a lovely age, but it seems like a late start on all the things I'd like to be doing, which brings me to problem two...
I love life. I'm a pretty content person, by and large. But there's so many things I'd like to do, and so many ways I can see myself being happy, that I just can't fathom actually choosing. Sitting here, I can see all sorts of future Mandis - there's the me that picked up all of the paperwork for the peace corps a couple of years ago, in case I didn't get accepted into the nursing program. There's the me I always assumed I'd be, which is a wife and mother. There's the me who would love to take a traveling nurse position, and work all over the country. There's a me who dreams of living in a big city, and still another who loves living in Montana. I like the view from where I am now, looking out at all of the possibilities. But I don't like the idea of giving any of it up. Once I decide on a path, some of these alternate identities will ultimately die. That makes me sad.

I suppose that instead of fussing about my lot in life, I could take a moment to be grateful for the fact that so many options are open to me. Unmarried, no children, no strings and only a little baggage. I can do pretty much anything I please, which to me is a rare and beautiful thing. At some point I'll have to pull on my big girl panties and make some real decisions, but for the moment I think maybe I'll sit and enjoy the blissful possibilities...

Roll call!

Hello! It's that time again where I beg everyone who has stumbled across my little blog (and stayed for at least a few sentences) to chime in for a hello. I've enjoyed some wonderful dialogue with several people I've met through blogger, and I'd love to know who all is out there... C'mon, don't be shy!

Thanks!

Many thoughts, one blog.

Assessment of the respiratory system involves some of the most fun terminology I've come across. For example, diaphragmatic excursion has to do with locating the lower lung border during both inhalation and exhalation, and noting the distance between the two. An even better one is whispered pectoriloquy, which is listening to the lungs with a stethoscope as the patient whispers words. Whispered pectoriloquy - it just gently rolls off the tongue. Fun to assess, more fun to say!

I'm ashamed to admit that one evening of dancing (albeit very enthusiastic dancing) has left me with sore quads. I'm a runner, for chrissake! Yes, I had on heels, and yes, I'd had enough drinks to lead me to believe that I should dip clear down to the floor, but no matter! Self punishment for poor physical condition will ensue tomorrow...

Diet Pepsi makes my world sparkle. I'll admit it - I'm a full-on addict. You know you've got a problem when you're visiting multiple convenience stores daily, so as to downplay the amount of soda purchased. I had cut waaay back for a few weeks, but once again I'm consuming more bubbles and aspartame than can possibly be good for one medium-sized human. Must work on this as well.

Since this post has turned into a parade of dirty laundry, I might as well out with this one as well: I love "tweenage" movies. Especially anything with Anne Hathaway in it. Yesterday I watched Ella Enchanted, and I've seen both of the Princess Diaries several times. Freaky Friday? Love it. What a Girl Wants? Sigh. Oh, wait - Colin Firth is in that last one. Better make it a *double* sigh...

It's unfortunate that alcohol leads us to believe we're much funnier than we actually are. It is fortunate, however, that it also compels others to laugh at our jokes.

I was reading through random profiles on myspace the other day, which is always a good waste of time. Most profiles include a response to the question, "who would you like to meet?" The funniest response I saw was from a wholesome midwestern gal about my age, although I'm pretty sure she wasn't joking. Her answer? Jesus and Oprah. OH!... Oh, I love it! (wipes tears of laughter from eyes) I don't have a problem with Oprah, nor Jesus, but somehow the combination of the two... oh, wow.

My mom always said, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Yep, I must say I agree.

I've always thought I was relatively bright. Not a genius, by any means, but pretty smart. Somewhere above average. But for some reason (or perhaps that reason), I tend to keep company with some insanely intelligent people. The conversation is always good, but once in a while I wind up feeling like a kid sitting at the grownup's table (often times while reading said smart people's writings). I don't understand how these people retain all the information they do. I've probably taken many of the same college courses, and even read some of the same books, but somehow I've failed to keep hold of much of the knowledge. Drives me crazy, and worse than that, it starts me questioning myself. Am I just a big dummy with a lofty self-image? I never thought so. I hope not. On the other hand, not knowing something usually triggers an information quest for me, in which I research the hell out of something until I understand it, so perhaps feeling dumb on occasion is a good thing. Mrs. Muelenberg, my gifted teacher in grade school (sort of worthless program, by the way) had a mantra: "Being smart is knowing where to find the answers." If she was right, then maybe I'm a little bit smart after all.

The saying, "why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free?" has been used for years. But recently, females have discovered that "there's no need to buy a whole pig in order to get a little sausage." (teehee, I love that joke.)

Okay, if you're still reading, STOP! (Although I appreciate your attentiveness.) Seriously, this much random information can't be healthy for anyone. I'm going to stop writing and start homework now. Ta-ta!

Paxilback

If for some reason you haven't heard Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back (whether it's because you have good taste in music, live outside the US or under a rock, or you are my mother), go visit iTunes for a listen and then come back for this video.




I hate to keep posting videos, but this is good...

Sleepy

I have several little buds of posts started in my head, but for some reason I can't get them to develop into anything coherent today. Tired? Hormonal? Mildly gloomy? Yes, all of the above...

Today has been a cold, rainy day. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I spent most of the day watching silly movies and laying on the futon. Lack of sleep tends to affect me more emotionally than anywhere else. I have a harder time shaking off the ick when I'm exhausted. Of course, if I stay in the sleep deprived state long enough, I move from the emotionally drained stage into the delirious, uncontrollable laughter stage (anyone who has lived or worked with me can attest to that.) At least at that point I'm entertaining.

Probably the best thing for me now is bed. So I think that's what I'll do.

Goodnight.

How to enjoy a cruddy, dreary day:

• Bundle up in an enormous sweatshirt, crank up some obnoxious rock on your ipod, and go for a run.
• Spend some time in a hot bubble bath.
• Wear either something waffle knit or cable knit. Both work equally well.
• Go to the mall and buy polka-dotted panties and a striped camisole, preferably in outrageously bold colors. Then spend some quality time in the cosmetics aisle. Contemplate new lipcolor for fall.
• Have something carb-licious, like pasta, for dinner.
• Change into jammies, get a glass of pinot noir and a fuzzy blanket, and plant yourself in front of a period film (after, of course, you finish blogging about your day).

_______________________________________________________

(Missoula has been swathed in a thick, hazy mist today, with temperatures hovering in the upper 40's. Ick. Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny and in the 50's, though, so that's something to look forward to...)

Free Hugs Campaign

My sentiments exactly.

Miscellany.

I just was out to get the mail, and it smells amazing outside. We had a pretty strong storm blow through an hour or so ago, and now it's cool and damp. I love the smells of fallen leaves and thunderstorms.

Last Saturday was a lot of fun. In the evening Luis and I had some friends over for food and games. What little domestic ability I have tends to show itself during the fall, so I took advantage of this rare mood and did some cooking. I made chili, cornbread, banana nut bread, pumpkin dip (served with gingersnaps - yum!), and homemade caramel corn. Our guests left a little before 11:00, and after cleaning up I headed over to my friend Ben's house for his 25th birthday party. I have to say, I can't recall the last time I was at a kegger - I felt like a teenager again for a few minutes! I stayed for a drink and a chat with some friends and then headed home.

On Tuesday we had a guest of the university stay the night at our apartment. A tall, handsome, classical guitar-playing Englishman with a penchant for high quality chocolate stayed in my apartment. I kept it together, never openly declaring my love for his accent. I did, however, stay up and listen as he and Luis talked shop about the classical guitar world. The information itself was, for the most part, lost on me. The words themselves, however... everything just sounds so lovely with a British accent. (Lame, I know. I just can't help it. Guys with accents make me weak in the knees, and particularly guys with a British accent. On the occasion when I do finally get to visit the UK, I may spontaneously combust.)