RandomRamblings

The biggest lesson I've learned in the ICU

2011-12-09T11:00:00.000-08:00

Life. Is. Short.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed.

Live for today.

Never in my life have I seen so many examples of the above statements. I recently threw a weepy tantrum over my husband's indifference to planning and paying for (mostly paying for) our long over-due honeymoon. He finally caved. It only took 6 months of identical tantrums at the same time every month (ladies, you know what time I'm talking about). He has no idea the examples I see of lives cut short...

I'm about to hit my first anniversary as a critical care nurse. I have a healthy respect for the intimate moments I share with my patients and their families, so my experiences largely stay off my blog. I hate to cheapen that level of intimacy by talking about a person or a family like my own personal case study. My life in the ICU allows me to lose myself in my work. For 12 hours, my life is no longer about me. It's liberating, and beautiful.

There are special families. You get attached. You cry with them, or hold them while they cry. I'm welling up thinking of a recent case while I'm writing this. While I'm much better at emotional restraint than ever before, there are still the cases that make me cry in the car on the way home, when I finally have a moment alone.

This career feels almost voyeuristic at times, as you watch truly life changing experiences. There's love, loss, hope for a better afterlife, and the occasional miracle. I feel blessed and humbled by being allowed in at these moments. I love what I do.

With the New Year almost upon us, and the 10 year anniversary of my first big loss, it's time for resolutions. I resolve to travel to see the people I love. I resolve to make plans with friends. I resolve to live life to the fullest. More hikes, walks on the beach, and bike rides. More game nights and less T.V. More weekend getaways with my husband. Tomorrow is never guaranteed...

Missing the seasons (except winter)

2011-10-07T17:02:00.000-07:00

I went out for a jaunt through my lovely, manicured, well-planned neighborhood. I wandered down a path with a little citrus grove. The trees are a little overgrown, giving the sidewalk a magical feeling. The air smelled like dry leaves and fresh cut grass.

On a side note, my husband doesn't share my love of fresh cut grass. He says it's "weird." He has no idea that this is the smell that used to mean spring was upon us, or that summer had lingered a little too long...

I am craving piles of leaves, apple picking, and spiced (or spiked?) cider. While it smells like fall here, it doesn't feel like fall. It was 80 degrees today, and everything is still so green (actually it gets more green here as we get into rainy season). I miss the threat of an early snow storm...with big fluffy flakes that cling to your eyelashes. If only that early snow storm didn't usher in 6 solid months of ice, I might have stayed.

I'm overdue for a visit....

Lipoma, go home-ah.

2011-09-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

Last week, at the acupuncturist of all places, I was informed that I had an unsual mass on my back. Awesome. Of course, I went into freakout mode.

I cornered one of the doctors at work who told me it was a lipoma (a benign fatty tumor), but I wasn't really put at ease until I heard it from my primary doctor.

So, today was my surgical consult. I've never had surgery. Well...I had my wisdom teeth taken out, but I've never had my exterior sliced into. My surgeon reminded me....repeatedly....that I will have a scar. Hmm...small scar vs. obvious mass on my back? I'll take the scar, thanks. He also informed me that I can have local anesthesia, but if I wanted any type of sedation I would have to have an anesthesiologist there. I'm sure it's not going to hurt, but I am an anxious person when it comes to my health. I'm not going to be too thrilled knowing that someone is slicing into my back. On the same token, I don't like the idea of being unconscious either, and all the risks associated with that. We bartered: A valium on the way to surgery (with the hubby driving me of course), and no anesthesiologist necessary.

I asked him about downtime, and was informed that there would be none needed! Yay! I'm not even going to require stitches, just steri strips. He even said, "I'm assuming you're going to go right back to boxing, so I'll make sure to take that into account."

All that stands between me and the removal of this annoying thing is insurance approval and scheduling. It's only a matter of weeks til my little fatty tumor is just a memory and a scar.

Boxing: The Next Big Thing?

2011-09-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

I have been on the hunt for the my next love, since giving up running to a back injury. I found nothing. I sneaked in a couple of short jogs, and paid dearly with sciatic pain...although those short jogs did help my mood.

I'm not even sure what made me start thinking about LA Boxing, but the other day I decided to do some research on the Lake Forest facility. It's close enough to home that I can't really use distance as an excuse not to go. People seemed to like it, and it was WAY cheaper than Pure Barre. Score!

A little background on Pure Barre, before I continue. It's basically pilates/ballet fusion. An unlimited month of classes is more than $200.00. It's almost the same workout every time. The times that I was able to go (noon-ish), it was me and the OC housewives. I felt like the ugly stepsister. All the kept women in their LuLu Lemons and perfume and me in my off-brand costco workout threads...Besides, it didn't even really make me sweat. I decided it was time to move on from Pure Barre.

I have limited experience with boxing. I used to do this Oscar De La Hoya Boxing tape (yes, before DVD's), which was kind of an ass kicker. I was also pretty sure he was sleeping with his co-star, but I got a good workout...and I felt like a total BADASS! Yeah!! When I tried to find a picture of this workout tape I used to own, this came up in my "Oscar De La Hoya Workout Video" Google image search:

Dios mio!! See?? Boxing can be feminine!!

Sorry...that wasn't helpful at all. The lack of Google images on my old workout DVD made me feel old. Oh, and his former co-star is now 40 (!!!), doing ads for hearing aids, and working on her master's in nursing. Go girl! I am getting old! *glances outside, sees grim reaper, closes blinds*

Back to LA Boxing...I drove my mild hangover to the boxing gym this morning (had a few too many beers after a tough day yesterday), where I was greeted by a pleasant fellow who was kind enough to wrap my hands for me and helped me pick out my first pair of boxing gloves:

They're PINK!!

I proceeded to take my shiny pink gloves to the beat down of my life. During the warm up, I felt an asthma attack lingering. *note to self: bring inhaler next time* Then, I thought I might vomit (coffee? hangover? workout? all of the above?). Then I spent the next 30 minutes punching the living eff out of a huge punching bag. Apparently I can punch lefty or righty (which was a surprise, because I was under the impression that my useless right hand was simply there for decoration). The instructor encouraged me to switch between the two, for surprise attacks in future beat downs I can only assume.

I loved the workout! I loved the other people in the class. I loved the instructor. Win win win. I can't wait to go back tomorrow, and maybe Friday, and for sure Saturday morning. Boxing is the my new distance running. I felt like such a tough girl. Look out for my "is she righty is she lefty" pink gloved sneak attack!

Don't expect to see me cage fighting, or joining the OC Fight Club, but this is a game changer for sure. I can't wait to try their kickboxing class.

**P.S. All you single ladies, there's also some fine eye candy there. You're welcome**

So this is chronic pain

2011-08-19T09:52:00.000-07:00

I've heard that nurses make horrible patients, and I'm inclined to agree.

6 months ago I had a little trip and fall. Nothing too serious. I was more worried that I had broken my hand (nope, only sprained it). What I didn't realize until a few weeks later, was that my little fall made a previously hidden condition symptomatic.

I developed crippling sciatic pain. It hurt so bad to sit that I would wedge a rolled up towel under my left butt cheek just to survive my 15 minute commute to work. I could not sit in the bath tub. I would stand up and sit down over and over while at restaurants, like a bored child. Everything hurt.

It wasn't long before I went to see my doctor. First he thought it was piriformis syndrome from my distance running habit, but an x-ray showed ominous narrowing between L5 and S1...the dreaded lumbar disc compression.

I had to give up my 20-30 mile a week running habit cold turkey. Worse yet, my physical therapist (after I threw a weepy tantrum in his office) told me that I COULD NOT EXERCISE until I started to improve.

Not to mention that I was forced to give up all "healthy" coping skills at the same time I was getting married and starting my new career as an RN. I felt like I woke up one day, and my entire world had imploded....and I couldn't do anything to comfort myself in the face of all this change.

I became depressed. Anxiety crept up into my daily existence, reaching a fever pitch that made me terrified to leave the house. I wasn't sleeping. I was gaining weight. But hey, my sciatic pain was getting mildly better. Whoopee.

For those of you that don't know my family, crippling back pain is a common theme on my dad's side. We have disc replacements, fused vertebra, permanent disability, pain pumps, early retirement, and overall declining health. Disc compression was a devastating diagnosis, because I have spent my entire life watching what chronic back pain does to one's quality of life.

Fast forward several months to today. It started out with a weepy tantrum this morning, because I'm in pain today. Two steps forward and one step back. While I'm emotionally in a better place (minus the tantrum), I'm still really mad about the whole running thing.

Switching to the elliptical after my former running habit is like going from dating Christian Bale to being Hugh Hefner's girlfriend...Yeah some of the same benefits are still there (like, they're both rich and famous), but the thrill is gone, baby...the elliptical doesn't make me drip sweat like running did. It doesn't make me feel powerful and superior. I'm not racing past men and women alike while I whirl away on the stupid elliptical.

So...today is the day that I take control of this BS once and for all! I'm going to see a chiropractor (which scares the bejeezus out of me), and I'm getting authorization for more PT appointments. If I have to see a chiropractor for the rest of my life, then so be it. I popped an ibuprofen, because I have too much stuff to do today to let a shooting sciatic nerve keep me indoors today, and I'm heading out. I set up appointments with my MD and a chiro for Monday.

I'm mad, and I'll find a solution for this! I'll be back on that treadmill one way or another...

What love is

2011-07-26T18:49:00.001-07:00

I have met more than a few families in the ICU that remind me why I became a nurse.

One family will stand out in my mind for the rest of my career.

I spent three and a half days with this particular family. It's hard not to get attached when you're working so closely with people. I see families in crisis regularly, but not all of them handle painful situations with grace and poise.

My husband once said to me, "Remember Emily, they have a loved one in the ICU. They're scared." I hear his words when I have family members that require more of my attention than I'm used to giving, or when I'm providing teaching about how or why something works. For me, the ICU is a job. For the loved ones of our patients, it may seem like hell on earth.

When I think of this particular family, I see light...I feel warmth. In spite of the gravitiy of the situation they were faced with, they remained loving. Not an unkind word was spoken amongst them. Health care decisions were made as a team. I allowed them space and as much time as they needed to make these decisions, only offering my opinion or advice when it was asked of me (which became more and more frequent in the second and third days with them). Each extended family member that I met was as graceful and kind as the next.

When it came time for them to leave the ICU, I gave them my contact information. I hoped they would stay in touch, and let me know how their loved one was doing. They have been in touch.

Regardless of the outcome, I saw what real love was. I think of that family as a reminder to utter only kind words (easier said than done), and that there is true strength in cooperation. I am reminded that what I do is so much more than a job. I'm an advocate and a counselor. I'm a translator for medical jargon. I almost feel unworthy of taking part in such intimate moments...

I don't know where this career will ultimately lead me, but I will always strive to be a better nurse.

Oh, RandomRamblings...how I've missed you.

2011-05-26T07:55:00.001-07:00

It has been a really long time since I blogged in this venue. Ironically, I started this blog in an attempt to tell witty stories about my wild dating life shortly after E and I split up.

Well, the break up wasn't permanent, and I ended up deleting all of those blog-gems in the likely event that Evan would stumble across them. Now those stories are stored only in my pea-brain, and come out for drunken girl's nights. At my last girl's night my friend said, "All of your really good stories start with, 'When Evan and I were split up.'"

That being said, wild stories don't always make for a happy life...

So, what has happened since I started neglecting my bloggy blog? Well...let me start with the excuses. I graduated from nursing school, which was a real time vampire.

Oh...and while I was schlepping my way through nursing school, I got engaged! So not only did I have exams to study for, but a wedding to plan.

Somewhere between exams and wedding planning, I started interviewing...for nuuuuursing jobs! Ohhhhhh....and I started studying for the NCLEX, just to add a dash of crazy.

Then my winter went something like this: Hired (yay). Graduation (and I was a speaker at pinning ceremony). Move in with Evan. NCLEX. Bachelorette party. New Grad Class. Preceptorship. Wedding. Whew!

Now that you're all caught up, I'll get inspired at some point today to start blogging in the present. I was placed on on-call, which means I got a very early phone call telling me that I didn't have to go in this morning. The call startled me awake, and I've been awake ever since...once the coffee kicks in I'll be in the mood for more blog time.

Loneliness

2009-08-06T12:19:00.000-07:00

Loneliness can turn people into monsters. We are wired to be social.

Last night, I was reading the unedited version of the L.A. Fitness shooter's blog. The last few entries become more rambling and psychotic than any of the previous entries. I find this scenario particularly unsettling because I spend plenty of my free time at the gym.

After reading his blog, I went on a frozen yogurt date with E. I had just started to discuss the gym shooting (E had actually not heard about it), when an older man in line behind us started up a conversation. Jittery after my earlier blog reading, I was initially apprehensive to start up a conversation with a stranger...but we started chatting with him about what flavors were the best. He mentioned that his wife passed away last year, and that is is just he and his dog at home.

It occurred to me that this poor man was just lonely.

I wondered how many times have I brushed off a conversation with a wounded soul?

I thought about love and death and loneliness...

I thought about my tendency to pre-judge someone.

I thought about those who have pre-judged me.

The online world is abuzz over the shooter's blogs and videos. People are saying that he was obviously a psychopath. I tend to disagree. Watch his video on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1ZQHrKQo5Q

I see his small dining room with his new dining table, set for two...It seemed almost hopeful that he would one day be sharing a meal there with someone. The dining room portion of his video nearly brought me to tears. How often did he eat alone? Who were his friends?

Don't get me wrong, this was a sick man who committed a sick act. I am in NO WAY justifying his actions. But...what if he had found the help that he so obviously needed? Who in his life missed the warning signs? He went to work, picnics, etc. Our society doesn't make it easy for men to seek treatment for mental illness. It's not "manly" to talk about feelings.

What will I take away from watching this horrible scenario play out? I like to listen more closely to those around me, and less closed off. What if the shooting at L.A Fitness (or any of the recent mass shootings) could have been prevented?

On the flip side, if you're taking an interest do you become the savior or the target?

Happy Caliversary! 6 years this weekend...

2009-08-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

My first trip to California was when I was 17. It was the first time in my painful teenage years where I felt genuinely happy. I wasn't the "weird girl." I blended in. There were so many people, that no one was scrutinizing me. I knew I would be back. It wasn't an "if," but a "when." 5 1/2 years later, I was packing to leave.

6 years ago on this upcoming weekend I was somewhere in Utah in my dad's tuck thinking, "Oh shit. Too late to turn back now." I specifically recall having this thought in Utah...had I been in Nebraska, I may have turned around and headed back to Wisconny. Hitting Vegas meant we were almost there. The desert heat was blistering, like stepping out of the car and into an oven. The air was so hot it literally took my breath away. This was the road to my new home, for better or for worse.

When I look back on my wild ride, I am grateful that I was only 23. I was fearless, and almost stupid, in my decision to leave for California so ill-prepared. I had about 400 bucks to my name, a car I could not afford, no job, and a room in a home that I had never even seen. I had one interview, on Monday, so we had to get there by Sunday night.

I still remember the twinge of pain in my heart as I said goodbye to my dad on Monday morning. I was dressed in an ill-fitting and cheap tan suit (oh, to be young and ignorant again), and was on my way to my interview in downtown L.A.

I was hired on the spot...I thought I was something special, but after three years in that business I know that they just needed a warm body willing to work a night shoot on a rooftop. I wore another ill-fitting suit...

I get anxious when I think of living paycheck to paycheck, and wondering how I was going to feed myself. My parents were often there to bail me out if my car broke down, or work was slow. Mom and dad were a key component to my initial success. Without them I would have been car less and homeless within a matter of months.

I left, briefly, for North Carolina (in a stunt that is now referred to in my circle of friends as: "pulling an Emily"). I had invested all of my time into one relationship...then we broke up...and I erroneously assumed that I had no reason to stay in California. My heartache for my girlfriends out west made me realize that I was terribly wrong, and I was determined to never let those friendships lapse again.

I had a great time in NC, but I was never a southern girl. I love the people in NC, and will have a life-long fondness for the south. But...I was a just Cali girl, far from home. My wild cross-country road trip was filled with kind strangers and a renewed respect for our incredible geography. That's another story entirely. If you think you know yourself, get in the car alone and drive for thee full days...then we'll talk.

I have my suspicions that I have always been a mis-placed Cali girl. As a child in the Midwest, I often drew pictures of beach scenes, palm trees, and cacti (things I only saw on nature programs and in National Geographic). The beach scenes, oddly enough, always showed the sun setting over the ocean. I wonder if a past life was somehow seeping through into this one, and urging me to head for the west...

After my brief stint away, and my resolve to maintain my friendships once I returned (even when it means sitting in 2.5 hours of traffic for a BBQ), I returned to a life that had become entirely mine.

6 years later, I can honestly say that I have no regrets. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy (E tells me this all the time when I start whining about my massive amounts of school work). I have a core group of girlfriends that are like sisters to me. 6 years ago I had no idea what I was getting myself into, 6 years later I can't believe how far I've come.

Home again...

2009-08-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

I arrived back in Cali last night and promptly went to sleep, and slept like a baby in my own bed.

I woke up at dawn (thanks, jet lag), hit the gym, and picked up the cats.

I returned to work today, as happy as I've ever been.

I love Orange County. I love the pink sunrises behind Saddleback Mountain. I love the dry heat, the blue sky, and the wispy white clouds. I love palm trees.

I was buzzed by two humming birds on my way back from lunch today.

I am spending next weekend with my beloved girlfriends in Palm Springs for bachelorette madness. The following weekend I will be in Catalina with more wonderful friends. A perfect ending to a hectic summer.

Sometimes you forget to appreciate what you have until you leave for a while. I love my home. Life isn't perfect, so find the place where your soul is sunny...

What inspires me...

2009-07-17T13:46:00.000-07:00

I got a lovely note from a friend this morning...now, this friend is a working mother, wife, and nursing student.

She's my hero. She didn't switch gears in the middle of the game...she is trying to answer a calling while keeping her family in focus. The women who balance themselves, their marriages, their children, and their dreams are the real heroes.

Far too many women get married, have kids, switch gears (out of some unanswered or newly discovered calling), and tear their families apart out of a selfish drive to accomplish something that they feel they missed along the way. I would have been one of those women...I am inherently selfish right now and completely incapable of taking care of anyone but myself. Sure, I love E, but marrying him is not an option until after I graduate.

My friends who found the balance between life's passion, marriage, and motherhood never cease to amaze me. Being a good mother and a good wife and a good student is remarkable! You are able to compromise and work as a team in a way that I find enviable. I'll be turning to you when my life takes a turn down a road less selfish...

Even the stong ones cry sometimes

2009-07-13T11:00:00.000-07:00

There's something that I love about family teaching and patient advocacy when it comes to the dying process. Hospice nursing is one of the front-runners on my list of future specialties. I see being given the opportunity to say good-bye as a special gift. Death is a part of life that we will face numerous times before our own parting from this world.

I was told on Friday that my grandmother is terminally ill. I heard the words...hospice...palliative care...prognosis...coming out of my mouth. I realized that my experience with personal loss is very limited.

I know what I'm going through. I'm experiencing anticipatory grief. My granny was one of the few constants in a chaotic childhood...let me say that again. My granny was one of the few happy constants in my chaotic childhood. Every time I talk to granny on the phone, she reminds me of my nights at her house as a little girl, when we'd watch the rabbits ("rabbies" we called them)...when we'd watch the "rabbies" in her yard. Her cards and letters always say how much she loves me, and misses me. My heart shatters every time I think of her.

Recently, when she started experiencing the symptoms that I now know we're as serious as I could have feared, she told me that she was scared and wished I could be there to take care of her. My heart shatters again...

Not many of the people in my life understand what a sacrifice I made in leaving my entire family behind. I left, for a life that I knew was good for me. I will never feel right about watching my loved ones deteriorate each time I return home. For all of my success and health and happiness it was a sacrifice worth making, but sacrifices are never easy.

This pain that I am feeling is the most solo journey I have been on to date. I don't really want to see anyone, or talk about it. I simply want to feel what I'm feeling...alone...It's indescribable, really. While I don't always express it outwardly, I feel heavy and breathless.

My entire childhood was filled with home made gifts from granny. She made me a poodle skirt, blankets, and countless stuffed rabbits. Granny was the best granny any child could hope for.

I occasionally send granny seashells. Last summer, while jogging at the beach, I found the most incredible shell. You're not really supposed to take shells from this particular beach, but I managed to hide it in my sweaty hand for the last 4 miles of a 7 mile beach jog. I saw a school of dolphins at the turnaround point of my run, and told granny all about the excitement that surrounded her perfect shell.

We'll always have our "rabbies" and our seashells. Maybe someday I'll be able to see a bunny without welling up, or think of gathering shells with no one to give them to...but today is not that day.

I am one lucky sucker

2009-07-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

I feel a little beat-up this week with the overlap of some of my summer classes. I had 12 petitioners for my ridiculous kinesiology class, so I keep telling myself that it's good to get this stuff out of the way. With the economy in the dumpster, the fight for class space is only going to get worse.

On days like today, when I'm cooped up and over-extended, I try to remind myself that I'm living my dream life. It's not perfect, but nothing is.

When I was a little girl I dreamed of:

Driving a convertible (check)
Living in a place where winter doesn't really exist (check)
Having access to the ocean whenever I pleased (check)
Great friends (check)
Working in the medical field (almost check)

I didn't have lofty dreams. E and I even have a big boat now...the beach access has gone from mainland coastal to secluded island. That's like a bonus tacked onto my dreams. Nice! Not to mention that E is a wonderful addition to my life.

I try to remind myself when I'm feeling tired and pissy, that my life in the present is all I ever really hoped for. How many people can honestly say that? I don't need anything else. I'm one lucky sucker.

Marriage...something I do not have figured out

2009-06-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

There will always be a tiny part of me that is inherently selfish.

Since my move to California 6 years ago my life has been the MLE show. All me all the time. I call my California life the "headshot" version of who I am...airbrushed to perfection. I don't have any old yearbooks or pictures of my awkward pre-teen years (hellooooo bad perm). My family never visits (not that my family is bad, but they know my skeletons and aren't above letting something slip). I am an 8x10 glossy with all of my past failings conveniently edited out.

When left to run amok, I am messy, chaotic, emotional, and lazy. Which had been fine up until recently, because I didn't have to invite people over. I could simply meet them somewhere.

I've reached a point in my life where I'm almost ready to share the MLE show with a co-star. My life will transition from a headshot into a candid...you know, one of those pictures that some bastard gets of you actively chewing something at a party (with your mouth agape) and then promptly posts to Facebook and tags? Yeah...no more glossy.

I'm scared to lose the grandiose cover that I've created for myself. This week I realized something huge: Marriage is a choice. Wow. Like weighing pros and cons.

Pro: Marriage is a choice between cleaning the cat box alone day in and day out, or sharing that responsibility with someone! Whee!!

Con: Marriage is a choice between standing in my kitchen in my underwear eating peanut butter from the jar (which I know E would really not go for....at least the eating out of the jar part), or eating a sensible dinner like a civilized human being at the table with most of my clothes on. Darn!

Now, marriage is one thing that I really don't want to screw up. I've tried to learn from bad examples while molding myself into a good partner...because (unlike the rest of my life) I don't want to have to learn from too many of my own mistakes in my marriage. One big mistake that I've seen people make in their marriages: Continuation of selfish behavior....when it's not all about me me me or you you you anymore.

For example, I want to get my advanced degree in nursing and E's going to be a big part of how all of that shakes out. Marriage will impact how quickly I can get through a master's program. Can I cut back on working? How much will it cost? Full-time or part-time program? I fully understand this going in. Life will become a democracy rather than my current (blissful) dictatorship. I'm going to have to start sharing and playing well with others. I'm going to have to put some clothes on and put the peanut butter away. It's not going to be me me me all the time.

I've started picking up after myself...which is a big step...

I'm in a foreign territory now, without a lot of room for error. I've decided that the pros outweigh the cons (hellooooo catbox helper, goodbye peanut butter container). When I cross over into a life that's no longer all about me, I'm going to be ready.

You're the fixer (and you probably don't even know it)

2009-06-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

I promised another blog on what to do if you're the fixer in your relationships, and here it is....

Do your relationships always end in a fiery ball, hurling through the sky? Do you find that most (or maybe even all) of your disagreements end in a screaming match? If your relationships are tumultuous, bordering on dangerous, 80 percent of the time...then, it's not them, it's you.

The problem with being the fixer, is that often you don't notice that you're the common element in your transient relationships.

Your girlfriends tell you that all your boyfriends are assholes....your guy friends tell you that all women are psychos...and the cycle continues.

Fixers bring with them a vast array of potential issues from the past that include both real and perceived ills. I'm going to pick a relatively benign example: Let's say you (the fixer) were cheated on.

I've been cheated on...as have many of us. If being cheated on is the worst of your issues, then you've led a pretty tame life. Like I said, I've picked this example because it is fairly universal and not too controversial. Think of the devastation of having been cheated on. It's a sickening feeling. I can't even watch the show "Cheaters" without feeling my heart race. It's that familiar anxiety that comes along with a breach in trust. The suspicious calls on the cell phone bill. Texts...secret emails....I'm getting sweaty just thinking about it.

Cheater = bad guy (or girl)

Now the cheater is long gone, but you carry that element of fear and mistrust into each subsequent relationship. You obsess over the lies that you assume your partner is telling you. You are jealous...and possessive...and volatile. You've hacked into your lover's email, checked the text messages, called obsessively while he or she is out with friends. Every relationship you have falls apart under the pressure of your neurotic behavior.

By allowing the experience with the "bad guy" to ruin all potentially healthy relationships, you give that bad guy power over your entire life! The bad guy doesn't deserve to control one single day of your life, let alone months or years.

Think about every time something has gone wrong and you've made an excuse for the behavior. Who did you blame? What past predicament did you use to justify your actions? You have just given that person or predicament complete control over your existence. Is that any way to live?

I've given plenty of experiences far too much control over my life. I was cheated on, therefore I am jealous and possessive. I moved around a lot as a child, teaching me that relationships lack permanence and I can walk away rather than try to work things out. That list can go on...and on....and on...I reached a point where I did not want my past to dictate my future happiness. When I lose my temper, I figure out why. I'm still sorting out what makes me tick, but I'm in a much better place thanks to my constant soul-searching, and by owning up to my mistakes (which sounds much easier than it is, so don't think that I am coming from a holier-than-thou pedestal...don't fear hard work if the outcome is worth struggling for).

At the end of the day, your past issues are yours to confront. If you have a common theme of failure in your life, find your scapegoat. Only you have the power to deal with the past, unless you like repeating your mistakes (and some of us do crave that drama...which is another blog entirely). See a therapist, spend some time alone, sober up (that's a big one...because you're not going to uncover anything if you keep a boozy, pilled out band aid on your wounds). I spent 9 months without a single drink (no wine with dinner, beer with friends...nada) because I was trying to figure out what was bothering me. I'm no pillar of self-control, so if I can pull off a stunt like that, anybody can.

Newsflash: It's not your ex, or your parents, or your friends...it's you. Don't blame, just fix.

You fell in love with a fixer (and why you're no substitute for a good shrink)

2009-06-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

First things first: many of us all in love with a fixer at some point in our lives.

That fixer may have been the drunken, tortured, dark and handsome artist that you met at a party...who...never actually stops drinking. Or the fixer may be that wild, hypersexual, beautiful girl who was coked out of her mind, dancing on the bar. The bottom line is that fixers are best left in their natural state of self-destruction, and you are wise to keep your distance.

I was pondering our reasons for seeking fixers (men vs. women...are there differences?). I mean one can only stay on the merry-go-round for so long before we jump off and vomit. Most of us leave our fixers out of exhaustion, and many of us serial date fixers out of some masochistic love of drama and control.

I hate to sound like a cynic, but there was one reason that kept jumping out at me for all people who date "fixers,"that transcends gender roles: People who date fixers are looking to have control over his or her relationship. Maybe you want to be the White Knight....or you want him to suddenly wake up and realize that you're everything he's ever wanted.

These are selfish selfish selfish reasons to be in a relationship. I consider myself to be a generally well-intentioned person, but I have dated my fair share of fixers. I carried a subconscious pipe dream of unconditional love borne out of being the savior...the one worth changing for...

What do you do if your dating history reveals a cast of seriously wounded characters? You fix yourself. Ask yourself why you're dating a fixer in the first place: Do you have low self-worth? Are you controlling? Are you afraid of loving an equal?

Now, if you're reading this and you're impossibly enmeshed with a fixer, then what? Therapy. Period. They need it, you need it, and you need it together. Enmeshed does not mean co-dependent. Enmeshed means owning a home with, having children with, being married to, etc.

If you are none of these, then leave. Cut your losses, sort out your own issues with dating, and learn to love as an equal. Again, seek therapy when necessary.

We all have a self-destruct mode. Maybe it's relationships....or drug abuse....or cutting...or eating...or whatever. This is why I'm a big fan of therapy (you are the only person you can truly change). All of the successful people that I know have therapists. Life success does not come without internal turmoil and tough decisions. An impartial party can help you figure out what your self-destruct mode is, and why you occassionaly come close to pushing that button.

Our society equates independence with strength, but our society is weighed down with people who seek to blame others for their unhappiness. That is laziness, pure and simple. If you're in an unhealthy relationship pattern with unhealthy people...guess what? You're probably unhealthy, too (it's not them, it's you).

Next time...what to do if you're the fixer (because many of us have played that role, too).

Scrubs Article...input anyone?

2009-06-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

You all know how I love to blab on and on and on...well this article has to be 400 words or less, so here it is...my first draft. I can't add more to it, but if it's lacking anything, let me know. Thanks!

Here goes (my article on my healthy habits in nursing school, and how they translate into my future practice):

When I made the decision to apply for nursing school, I put myself up to the task of building some healthy habits that I could ultimately bring into my career as a nurse. I have since enacted two simple rules for a healthy life as a nurse.

Rule Number One: Exercise. Walk, bike ride, treadmill, whatever.

Sticking to an exercise program was not a problem while I was working a 9-to-5 office job and had all the free time in the world. When nursing school started I had a part-time job, clinical schedule, lecture schedule, and a much-needed sleep schedule to contend with. Not to mention, the stress of starting an entirely new career caused my anxiety levels to skyrocket. Exercise has always been my primary method of controlling my anxiety, and I was determined to figure out a way to get out and move a few times a week. On clinical days, that meant hitting the gym at 4:45am. Brutal…at first…but I got used to it.

Rule Number Two: Don’t stop living your life entirely (just pick out the good stuff).

I was told at the start of my nursing program to, “Kiss your family and friends goodbye.” This was not a concept that I was comfortable with. I know from past personal and professional failures that all work and no play…makes me…mean, and crabby, honestly.

I made a deal with myself that I would not miss any of the “big stuff,” like weddings, showers, and birthdays. I had to be strict about my study schedule if I had agreed to attend an event, but I spent my first semester of nursing school without feeling like I had compromised too much of my integrity as a friend, girlfriend, daughter, or sister.

I recall something one of my patients said when I asked him about the qualities of a good nurse: “If you are going to be lecturing me on living a healthy lifestyle, you had better look like you live one yourself.” Like it or not, I have thrust myself into a career where I am a role-model.

We are not given a superhero cape when we pass the NCLEX, so our health has got to be a main priority. One thing I’ve learned during nursing school is that I am a much better nurse when I’m a healthy nurse.

Happy birthday (tomorrow) to my sweet E...

2009-05-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

There are those rare people in your life that make you want to be the best possible version of yourself...for me, E is one of those people. All that I could have possibly asked for in a partner, I have in E. His birthday is truly a cause for celebration.

Here's a few of the bazillion reasons that I love E:

E loves me with an extra 5 pounds (shoot...he didn't even notice a 25 pound weight gain when I quit smoking).

E doesn't notice all the plastic girls at the gym when we're there together.

E makes me laugh, often.

Sometimes we agree to disagree, and that's alright. He challenges my way of thinking.

Every day with E holds the potential for a shared adventure. Thanks to him I mountian bike, boat, and snorkel...soon I will add SCUBA dive to that list, and who knows that else?

A day on the boat with E is the most perfect day possible...the "sharks" seem less scary when we snorkel together.

E is a great cook.

E comes over, cleans the cat box, and takes out the trash...now that's love, people.

E does not put up with my tantrums.

E brags about me on the downlow...which I think is really cute.

E's presence in my life makes me want to be a better woman...not that I wasn't already pretty fabulous, but there's always room to improve.

E believes in me, and is never surprised when I get an A, or score in the 99th percentile, or am praised for my achievements.

As much as I love to play the lone wolf card, and believe that I am a self-made woman...I would not have been spurred into action without E's gentle prodding. Nursing school, and my decision to go back, was prompted by E's concern that I would settle for mediocre comfort and live a life full of regret. E took me to IVC to scout out the location of my anatomy course (my first class back, and to date the most difficult), because he wanted to be sure that I knew exactly where I was going. It was one of the most comforting gestures anyone has ever offered me. I realized that the road I was about to embark upon was not going to be a lonely one...

Happy birthday, E. The world (and not just my world, but the world in its entirety) is a better place with you in it.

Why the Revlon 5k?

2009-04-24T13:51:00.000-07:00

Alrighty peeps...what is the point of a blog if I do not use it for the greater good of mankind?

I am doing the Revlon 5K in May. I could run a 5K in my sleep....but that's not the point.

I used to do some events with the Los Angeles Fearleaders as an honorary member. Now, these girls made me believe in good people during a pretty lonely time in my life. I was single, unemployed and directionless. While I fought on my own for my new path (ultimately nursing school), I was fortunate enough to spend some time with an amazing group of girls who accepted me unconditionally.

I am a better person for knowing these ladies, and it's not often that you meet one person, let alone a group of people, that make you feel that way.

Last year one of these wonderful ladies was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent treatment, fought like a trooper, and is now cancer free. I have joined her team, team Fearleader Ginger for the Revlon Run/Walk for Women in Los Angeles.

For these girls I would run a marathon....hell I'd run to Vegas if I felt it would make a difference.

Now all I need are your pledges: https://www.revlonrunwalk.com/la/secure/mywebpage.cfm?pID=506139

It's for a good cause, and I'm out there donating my life to health care through nursing school ...all I ask of you is a few dollars.

Kisses,
MLE

Don't ask if you don't want to know...

2009-04-20T10:46:00.000-07:00

Think of all of the questions that we ask that we might not want to hear the answer to....I have a few:

"Does this dress make me look too 'hippy'?"

"Does my tan cover up my cellulite?"

"Do these jeans make me look fat?"

Now, I am my own worst critic, so most people don't think I look as bad as I think I do. But....when I ask these questions, there is always the possibility that I won't like the answer.

Last night on the Miss USA pageant, Perez Hilton (a guest judge and one of my favorite gossip sites) asked Miss California where she stood on Gay marriage.

Now, I voted No on Prop 8. I have always believed in equal rights for gay couples...for health care, tax, adoption, and all legal issues that are not mentioned. I was a founding member of the Gay Straight Alliance in my high school, and have always felt that love is love between two consenting adults, regardless of orientation.

That being said, I have friends who voted Yes on Prop 8. I have listened to their arguments, and in many cases, am willing to comprehend their reasoning. I can understand for religious affiliations (other than my own) that this may not be something that they believe in...I even have some friends who believe in the right to same sex civil unions, but want to reserve the term "marriage" for a union between a man and a woman. I can respect opinions other than my own.

The truth of the matter, is that regardless of how I feel (and I voted pro-gay marriage in both elections that it was on the California ballot, and if that makes you think less of me then stop reading this blog), the majority of voters in the State of California voted against same sex marriage...twice. The Prop 8 vote was close....far closer than it would have been 10 years ago, that's for sure.

Last night, when asked about her opinion on gay marriage, Miss California said it was not something that she believed in.

Wow.......

Needless to say, today she is being crucified.

While I don't share the same belief as Miss California, I applaud her for being honest. Being against Gay marriage is not the "feel good" response that Perez Hilton (an openly gay man) was looking for. I don't feel that the Miss USA pageant was an appropriate platform for such a divisive subject, and if Perez didn't want to hear an answer that didn't jive with his then he should not have asked. You cannot force your beliefs on to others when they are likely as passionate as you are.

E and I differ on several political platforms...and there were fireworks initially (and not in a good way), until we both learned to respect one another's opinions. I have learned a lot from my spicy differences with E....mostly that people have educated opinions that differ from mine! What a concept.

What I have noticed in the media....and cynicism is a non-partisan issue here, people...is that we really are spoon fed the "truth."

Take the Tax Day Tea Parties: I was planing on attending the rally in Santa Ana, but was unable to leave work that day. I am not happy with the government, the spending, or having to choose between the flaccid liberal Democrats and the overtly religious conservative Republicans. It's like trying to select a how you're going to die: Would you like to burn to death or die of an incurable illness? Oh what a wonderful land of choices....

The Tea Parities were meant to be a non-partisan rally, for people like me...who genuinely feel that they lack representation. That's non-partisan, not conservative extremist like CNN wanted us all to believe. It enraged me that they hand-picked coverage at the most podunk rallies that they could find to further the false belief that this was some group of gun-toting, uneducated whack jobs.

I implore you, blog readers and friends of mine, to question reality. Question what the media spoon feeds you...I'm asking you to stop talking, and listen (really listen), to opinions that differ from yours. Gain a healthy respect for the passion in other people, as it is passion that truly drives all of us.

When we all start to think exactly the same, oh what a dystopia it will be! Our differences truly define our freedom.

What is ugly, really?

2009-04-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

I watched the Youtube viral video of Susan Boyle singing a piece from "Les Miserables," and effectively stunning the judges and audience of "Britain's Got Talent."

I watched her confidently walk onto the stage, and sass the judges. Where some saw ugly, I saw adorable. I my mind, confidence and personality will always be the most attractive qualities in a person. A bright spirit outshines all exteriors...

The camera cut to a girl in the audience, rolling her eyes. Who does she think she is?

Then, Susan started singing...and wow can she sing!

Watching this video play out struck a cord with me. What is ugly? The behavior by the audience when she walked out was ugly...

Here's a woman, from what I gathered through a quick search of the internets, who was taunted by her classmates because of a learning disability.

I have been called ugly more times than I can count. As a matter of fact, if you take my middle school years alone (awkward and chubby does not mesh with such a cruel age), I was probably called ugly more times in those three years than I will be called beautiful throughout the rest of my natural lifespan.

Ugly is truly on the inside. We call each other ugly names...I've have called them, and been called them. I'm not perfect. Who am I to say hateful things? What is this thrill that we get out of making ourselves feel better than we are at the expense of others?

What do I think we can all take away form Susan Boyle's Youtube video?

Beauty is fleeting...An ugly soul is eternal.

"Should you marry her?"

2009-04-10T14:24:00.000-07:00

As a follow up to a previous blog regarding sex on the first date, I felt it noteworthy to mention that I just read an article listing sex on the first date as one of the top reasons you should marry the girl you're dating.

Interesting....

What I also found interesting is that I matched every....single....one....of the traits that a guy should look for in "the one."

Exercises regularly? Check. Has outside friends and hobbies? Check. Pursuing a career that I am passionate about? Check. It was pretty much check check check right down the list.

It was refreshing to discover that I'm not crazy for thinking that there should be a ring on my finger sooner than later. It was also nice to affirm something that a male friend said to me: "When you're done with school, you'll be Orange County's most eligible bachelorette."

I'm "the one," universally speaking...nice.

More Gym Weirdos...HUGE boobs, Gas Mask, and Superman

2009-04-06T09:46:00.000-07:00

Alrighty...I know my blog has been sorely neglected, but I have been crazy busy with school. Then, like some sort of cosmic punishment, I developed these weird dizzy spells shortly after my final last week that I can't seem to shake. So, I have not been much in the mood to blog.

That being said, it's almost summer...which means boating and bikinis. Dizzy spells be damned I plan on taking advantage of my increased gym availability. The added bonus is that the more time I spend at the gym, the more gym weirdos I get to observe, so let's get started...

Let me start by saying that I have the gyms from LA to South Orange County mapped out along the 405 and the 5. My "usual" gym as of late is the gym that I go to with E. Out of all the gyms that I have been to on a regular basis (and I can think of at least 8 off the top of my head) this one has the highest rate of insanely gigantic breast implants per capita. Not only do these women have huge mambajambas, but they are dressed so skanktastically that I often think that I took a wrong turn into the strip joint. I'm going to have to start slathering up in body glitter before heading to this gym. E claims he "didn't notice" until I pointed it out. He now worries about getting his eye poked out while on the elliptical. This gym, for the purpose of all future blogs will be known as "boob gym." I'll be at boob gym tonight. Hopefully I won't get knocked off the stairmill by a wayward implant. Pray for me...

Next, there's the gym after my own heart...my new favorite for my morning jogs. There's a tv on every treadmill, which is horrible for people watching, but great for my distance running. How can I get off the treadmill while I'm waiting for Judge Hatchett to reveal the identity of the babydaddy?

This gym was perfect until the appearance of gas mask. While jogging one morning last week, I spotted him. A man, wearing a full gas mask, on the row of ellipticals. There was one girl beside him and another man got on the elliptical next to him. I know it's not very open-minded (or nursey) of me, but I would have jumped right off the elliptical if that guy got on next to me. That shit is creepy! I was far enough away from him to not be too bothered by his presence outside of a slight feeling of uneasiness.

Then...yesterday...I spotted gas mask as I was getting off my treadmill and accidentally made eye-contact. I tried to leave the cardio area as inconspicuously as possible, but gas mask was right on my heels! I kept telling myself not to run because I would really look like an asshole. I fast walked to the car, leaving my ipod on, and lost gas mask along the way. Whew!

I asked about him at the front desk this morning. Apparently he's in mixed martial arts and trains with a gas mask because it makes it more difficult to breathe. Gas mask mystery solved. Gas mask man is still creepy, though....

Now, I have truly saved the best for last on my most recent installment of gym weirdos...like blog dessert...

Superman happened to get on the elliptical next to me. He sauntered up in a Superman t-shirt with the sleeves cut off (classy) to show off his shoulder tattoo of...wait for it...the Superman symbol. He had dirty blond hockey hair, was kind of stocky, and seeing him in a cut off t-shirt was like the male equivalent of muffin top jeans or camel toe....just not right.

After I went through my judgemental assessment of the unknowing victim next to me, I told myself that perhaps I was being too harsh. A certain MLE wears a hummingbird hoodie and has a matching hummingbird tattoo, so perhaps I am in the same category of douchebag as this guy. I heart hummingbirds and maybe this guy hearts superman. I pondered starting my life over as a kinder, gentler MLE...and then he answered his cell phone.

If there's one thing that drives me nuts, it's someone on their phone at the gym. I overheard him say, "I've never been into NASCAR," and that's when I subtly turned off my ipod so I could eavesdrop on his conversation. I did it all for you, blog readers, because I knew this was going to be good...

Initially I could not tell if he was speaking to a man or a woman. There was the whole NASCAR thing which made me think it was a dude on the other end, but his mannerisms led me to think it was a girl he was speaking to. Then I heard him say, "What do you wear? Like daisy dukes and a bikini top?" Bingo...and I am assuming that they were still on the topic of NASCAR racing because having attended one NASCAR race, the standard race uniform is bikini top and cutoff shorts. I did the bikini and cutoffs thing...I wore my redneck loud and proud damn it. Go big or go home is my motto.

"What's wrong with me fantasizing about you?" he said...on the elliptical...in full range of all the other gym goers during peak hours. "You looked good the night that I saw you. I mean it was dark and I was drunk, but you looked good."

Wow...that would have won me over in a second. You looked good through my tinted beer goggles. Nice.

Then, and I have no idea why the conversation shifted, he started talking about skin care. He went on and on about how he was getting older and didn't like to get a real tan because it causes wrinkles. He then full-on admitted, to a woman that he was apparently attempting to woo, that he spray tans. The spray tan conversation (which was one-sided...Superman was quite the talker) went on...and on.....and on...He talked about how natural it looks, how people compliment him on it, and how he looks younger than his roommate.

**Side note: This guy was way too old to have a "roommate."**

He then proceeded to talk about how the Neutrogena Spray Tan is the best one, and how evenly it covers and how natural it looks. He mentioned that he uses gloves to apply it to prevent orange hands (good idea!!! I am actually going to try that one this weekend). He said, "The only thing that sucks is that you have to walk around naked for a while. I stand in front of the fan to get it to dry faster." Oh, and thanks, Superman, for the visual of your naked, chubby ass, soaked in bronzer and standing in front of a fan. I imagined him with a tiny penis flapping in the fan breeze...My imagination is my best friend and worst enemy.

Ladies, correct me if I'm wrong, but spray tans are not a new concept. Although, I'll give him props for Neutrogena (I have some at home, best fake tan by far), and am grateful for the glove idea. If I had been on the receiving end of this conversation, I would have been equally bored and mortified. I am not into dates that require more beauty maintenance than me. I wanted to grab his phone and scream, "Run NASCAR girl!! RUN!!!"

His conversation ended with how he had to work soon (this was at about 7pm, BTW). He was vague about what "work" was. I would have initially guessed bouncer because of his stocky physique, but after the 45 minute spray tan convo, I'm going to go with gogo dancer...

Unfortunately, Superman is not at one of my regular gyms so he will not become a regular gym weirdo. *Sniffle* Thanks for the memories Superman...well always have that image of your bronzed, naked, chubby ass burned onto our imaginary retinas.

Life in color

2009-03-20T13:25:00.000-07:00

I really have no idea to convey what has been going on inside my head over the last 10 weeks or so.

I do not know how to describe myself other than saying that I have been profoundly changed.

I went into nursing school with the (arrogant) idea that I was going to change lives. The harsh reality is that each patient has changed my life and outlook far more than I have theirs.

I am an arrogant, cynical, borderline atheist…or rather I was all of those things. To say that part of this journey is a spiritual one is an understatement. I find myself reading the multiple diagnoses of my patients, and hoping for miracles. Nurses and doctors don’t play God; rather they play by God’s rules. God…the universe…whatever you want to call it. I have found myself pleading in my mind for something beyond this life, because there are times when this life feels impossibly cruel.

You are part of a patient's health care team that includes about a dozen people. You are one tiny piece of a much larger puzzle. The assumption that you will somehow stand out as something exceptional is arrogant…and really not the point at all.

My sister (also a nurse) warned me, “You don’t get a superhero cape along with your nursing school pin. Even if you were a superhero, you would not be able to save everyone."

What things about me have changed, besides the obvious soul searching?

I don’t get easily rattled in my personal life (like...I didn't cry after my car accident).
I find myself living a consciously healthy lifestyle (even more so than before).
I am able to be an emotional rock, where I was previously seeking rocks for my own emotional frailties.
My ability to think on my toes has increased times a thousand.
I am far more introspective than I used to be.
I will not let fear dictate how I live my life (like my fear of sharks and cold water did not keep me from snorkeling this past weekend), because I have come to realize that each day is truly a gift.
I am not nearly as self-centered as I used to be and have developed an almost uncanny ability to see a situation from all perspectives.
I am not afraid to question what is in front of me, especially if patient safety is the issue.
A bad day at the hospital redefines everything I had previously come to know about bad days.

I don’t feel that I can truly do justice to this shift in consciousness via my blog. It’s like seeing life in color for the first time…It has already been an interesting ride, and we're only just beginning.

Randomness

2009-03-16T21:32:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else find it ironic that there was a stampede at the casting call for "America's Next Top Model?" I can't imagine that anyone was injured...I'm just sayin'.

Also, back by popular demand...gym weirdos:

I had two in one day...two singers. First, there was a guy on a treadmill singing and slamming his hand against the treadmill for emphasis. Then another man singing opera on the way to the locker room.

Then last week a girl got off the stairmill and proceeded to walk directly in front of my treadmill row to stretch by sticking her ASS up in the general direction of the treadmills like she was putting on some sort of show. I started to wonder if I should start throwing bills in her general direction. Now I know why they have separate areas for stretching.

E and I saw a woman upstairs stretching on an ab machine (??) like she was working the pole. It was uncomfortable to watch. For me...maybe not so much for him. I'm not sure.

This weekend E and I went to Catalina and I was literally cold for 36 hours. In an effort to live my life rather than live in fear, I convinced myself that cold water and sharks be damned (according to E...the whole "sharks" fear is "childish" but he told me not to "thrash" while kicking...so I'm thinking that my sharks fear was not too off-base) I was going snorkeling. It was cold...WOW was it cold. I have a very thick wetsuit, so my body was warm, but we weren't able to put our heads in the water for very long because it was painfully cold.

We hiked to the top of the hills...

And we spent the night on the boat....which is no task for wussies.

So that's it for now. Not much to report. I'm trying to keep nursing school out of this blog, which leaves me with little material left...and I don't have much time for blogging at the moment. I am looking forward to April, when I switch rotations and hopefully get a little bit of my life back.

Westlake Financial = bunch of assholes

2009-02-20T14:04:00.000-08:00

Here's the deal...my office has had some major layoffs. It sucks. The economy sucks...

Apparently one of my former (hopefully to be re-instated eventually) co-workers is late on his car payment.

These loan sharks (their website touts the fact that they're subprime lenders...so thanks...assholes...for this lending mess that we're in) call day and night and leave messages. I have told them, numerous times, that my co-worer doesn't work here right now.

Apparently "Joe" didn't get the memo.

"Joe" called me today and accused me of lying about my co-worker's employment status. How am I lying when they verified employment several months ago...and...ta da....he worked here and now...the econmoy is in the shitter...and....ta da...he's not here anymore?

I hung up on Joe three times because Joe was being an asshole.

I eventually told joe, "Give me your fucking number and your boss's number, please."

Joe would not give me his last name or his boss's name. Joe did, however, give me his number:

"Joe"
Westlake Financial
323-602-5145

I called Westlake Customer Service and filed a complaint. I have a feeling that Joe will escape from this unscathed. That is why I am asking you, dear blog readers, to feel free to call "Joe," and accuse him of lying about his name and his title at Westlake. Feel free to tell him he's a bully and an asshole.

Sorry that our guy owes you money, Joe. That's not my effing problem. I pay my bills. You accuse me of lying, and then it's fair game.

The office pisser

2009-02-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

I had a stressful week. Car accident, midterms, more clinical days. Yikes! Not to mention that E and I temporarily lost the ability to speak to one another in a civil and respectful manner, and we spent a few nights hashing out our issues (I'm happy to report that all is once again well in the land of MLE and E).

So, because my stress is simply annoying to talk about and listen to (and none of it is really a big deal)...I am going to tell you an amusing and disturbing story that has been playing out over the last few weeks.

It starts with some beer bottles...

E and his brother started discovering beer bottles behind their office building about 6 months ago. The annoying part was that the bottles were 10 feet from a dumpster, where the beer (and eventually the drinker of said beers) would have gone unnoticed.

About a month ago, I went to E's office to photocopy some school shiz while he was working late. While talking to him in the warehouse we both heard a noise in what I am going to now call the "Beer Spot." We ran outside but the Beer Bandit was too fast! We had missed him entirely.

This moment inspired E to purchase a camera for the exterior of their office, and he mounted it facing the Beer Spot. The first night that it was up and running we saw him. I convinced E and his brother that we needed to go chasing after the guy so we hopped in E-bro's Jeep and raced after him. We found him driving away from the office, and he refused to roll down his window as we pulled alongside him. He was in an old black Jetta and he was a gray-haired man with a mustache (soooo not what I pictured, and totally registered sex offender material). If it had been me at the helm, we would have chased that asshole to Mexico, but E and E-bro were not in the mood for chase games.

The camera showed us that this guy cam back every....single....night....at 9:15 and 11:15 pm. he jumps out of his old black Jetta, tosses his beers in the planter, takes an extended pee on the side of the building (classy), gets more beers out of the trunk, hops back in the Jetta, opens a beer and drives away. Now the pee part is disgusting, but the drunk driving part really pissed me off (no pun intended). You should see him hop out of the car. I've never seen anyone pee for such an extended period of time.

E, being the optimist that he is, decided to try to get the Irvine PD on the case. How easy is this DUI bust? This man is there every night at 9:15 and 11:15 almost on the dot, we have his license plate number, and he's on video driving with open beers in his car. Irvine is one of the safest cities in the country, so it's not like Irvine PD has much to do on any given weeknight.

Were they able to make the bust? Of course not. Irvine taxpayers, you should be furious. They never even showed up.

Finally, after bickering over E's obsession with watching for the pisser every night (rather than spending quality time with meeeeeee), I offered to go to the Irvine police station all tarted up. I know how to get things done when I have to.

I don't think E liked the idea of me in a police station looking like a dude magnet, because he refused to give me the case info. This was the day of my accident, ironically, so my focus was eventually turned elsewhere.

Then, last weekend, E-bro took it upon himself to go face the pisser at the Beer Spot at 9:15pm. The Pisser drove up, saw E-bro, and bailed...E-bro proceeded to run off camera. After E and I watched all of this go down, we went to see if everything was alright. After several phone calls to Irvine PD, E-bro on a chase with the pisser down the 5, and the Irvine PD transferring E-bro to the CHP automated voicemail system (way to go Irvine PD...keeping the streets safe again), E-bro gave up the chase.

E-bro is not one to be deterred so Irvine PD got it the next day, and he complained to MADD. Apparently this inspired the Irvine PD to do some actual work and, after almost a month of this, we have ID'd the pisser.

Pisser Stats:

Mid-forties (I thought he looked older, actually)
Lives with Mom in South County
Apparently mom was furious when she found out sonny boy was drinking
Pisser is not employed
Pisser was driving to E's office to drink behind his mom's back (as a 40-something man...awesome)
Apparently Irvine PD is going to make the pisser go to see E and E-bro to apologize (I love that the Irvine PD was inept at catching this guy in the act, but will make him show up, elementary-school style, to apologize)

What a sad life the poor pisser leads. Hopefully mommy will send him to rehab, and he'll re-enter society as a productive member. Oh, and nice work, Irvine PD....

I am an asshole

2009-02-06T23:27:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you a little something. I have the love of my life, E, who is currently in my life. If I continue to act like an asshole, that will no longer be the case.

Ok..on to what I was going to discuss...

Lately I have been stressed out, trapped in my own little world, and shrouded in uncertainty. With so many things feeling so uncertain, my instinct is to push everyone away, because if I'm a lonely little island then I'll never get hurt. I push people away by being an asshole...I have been pushing E away by being an asshole.

If I push E away, and pretend that I don't care about him, then when he ultimately leaves me it won't hurt, right?

Now, because I am in the danger zone of losing E over my atrocious behavior as of late, let me make a few things clear. This is like putting my true feelings out into the universe (and out to my darling blog readers), and making myself, in one simple blog, as vulnerable and terrified as I have ever been.

Every place I look, there are reminders of the impact that E has had on my life. There's my laptop (a Christmas gift last year for school), my car, my new printer, my watch, my jewelery, even our cat.

As a matter of fact, E came over to my place today while I was at work because the cats were acting out, and while he was here he lined up all of my shoes at the door. Seriously, this guy is amazing...

I'll admit it...E has been a huge influence on my life, and I would not have had many of the opportunities that I do now without his help along the way.

I'd love to say that I did it all myself, but that would be a lie.

It pains me that he doesn't think that I appreciate him...because I'm too terrified of my own feelings to simply tell him the truth. I'm too fucking arrogant to come down off of my high horse and say, "You know what? You're often a better person than I am and you make me want to be a better woman."

E even took me the the IVC campus before I had to petition to get into anatomy almost two years ago. He felt so strongly about my plan to get into nursing school that he drove me to campus and helped me find my way around.

E drove to San Diego the night of my first exam in physiology and put money down to hold the car that I currently drive (my previous car was hit while parked on my street and totalled).

E held me all night long the night that my dad had a heart attack, and that was the first night that he told me he loved me.

E makes me laugh when the sky feels like it is falling.

E has always believed in me, even when I don't believe in myself.

E makes me want to be the best possible version of myself, and I love him unconditionally. He's a best friend and the love of my life all rolled into one.

It makes me sad that everyone knows how much I love this man...everyone but the man himself.

In my fearful attempts at becoming an island, I have only succeeded in becoming an asshole.

Hey, you...gym guy

2009-02-06T16:01:00.001-08:00

GYM GUY #1:

I wasn't looking at you in the weight area while I was on my treadmill, I was watching the high-speed chase on the 10 freeway that was being televised. Unfortunately, you were positioned right under the TV.

Then you walked over to the water fountain and took a drink while peeking around the corner at me on my treadmill.

I'm used to this little game (and you thought you were being so clever), so I did not make eye contact...

Then 2 minutes later, while I was still watching the news, you came over for another drink.

Then 2 minutes later...another drink and a peek...

And two more minutes later another drink and a peek....

I'm genuinely sorry that you thought I was looking at you and felt it necessary to expose yourself to public drinking fountain gym cooties (have fun with those herpes) not once, not twice, not three...but four times in an attempt to get me to make eye contact while you stared at me on the treadmill. I'll give you an A for effort.

As an FYI, just because I was wearing an obnoxiously loud pink running top did not mean that I was there to grab attention at an almost empty gym at 2:30pm, it simply meant that I needed to do laundry, and was out of my usual black.

Go talk to the cougar with the muffin top, red short shorts, and red sports bra on. Now she's there for some attention.

GYM GUY #2

Yelling, "Hey No Neck!!" at your buddy across the weight room is not in the least bit charming.

Oh, and as a quick FYI: If you're yelling that at someone, you had better make sure that you're in damn good shape. I don't know if you got the memo, but your neck, consisting of a fat roll that meets your shoulders (and compliments your beer gut quite nicely) does not count as a "I work out all the time look at my thick, muscular neck," neck. Just as I would not be screaming, "Hey cellulite ass," to another girl in the gym due to my own unfortunate genetic predisposition to lumpy fat on my behind.

Spend more time in the weight room and less time in the land of delusions, ok buddy?

I hope I did not help inflate your delusion by looking at you when I was starteld by your hollering. My look was that of annoyance and judgment...it was not a look of attraction.

A new era of ethics in medicine?

2009-01-30T19:55:00.000-08:00

Ethics in medicine...Do no harm. I got it.

Now...where do we draw the line with ethics in relatively new medical interventions?

I'll start my case by asking you to take a look at Michael Jackson's face. I can't imagine that any surgeon would be able to do that to a man's face in good conscience. Case in point (it actually grosses me out to look at this picture):

This is an extreme example of body dysmorphia gone horribly awry. There's also the cat lady...or any woman over 50 in the high end grocery stores right here in Orange County. At what point do you, as a medical professional, put the monetary advantages aside and say, "This is doing more harm than good."

Now...here's the biggie. In the extreme cases of plastic surgery, at least the patient is really only affecting himself (or herself or whatever).

What about multiple births and in vitro fertilization? At what point do you look at a patient and realize that things have gone too far?

There's a mystery woman in California who recently had octuplets. The part about this that makes me so angry is that she already has six children!!! SIX?? That's 14 children. Why would any doctor in their right mind find this to be even reasonably acceptable or remotely ethical is beyond me. The woman lives with her parents, is 33 years old, and may have actually used a sperm donor. That's 14 children with no father. Are you kidding me? I grew up in a lower middle class house with three kids and there was barely enough to go around, and we had two working parents.

Perhaps we are looking at a whole new type of pathology: extreme baby making. Like body dysmorphic plastic surgery it will go on and on until the patient either dies from a complication of the extremes or is rendered completely infertile.

I might be able to understand that you had one via IVF and try for another and...ooops...you get sextuplets or whatever...But this woman has 6 children. How can someone even effectively parent 14 children, let alone 8 tiny babies?

It was more difficult for me to adopt a pet from the Humane Society than it was for this woman to be implanted with an obscene amount of babies. At least the Humane Society wanted to make sure I had a job and a place for the pet to live. Why shouldn't it be the same for IVF? Just because you can afford the treatment doesn't mean you should be considered automatically eligible.

How about a psych evaluation for someone in her situation? At least that would be a start. Whatever happened to "Do no harm?" What about those 8 babies and 6 existing children that will be living in squalor for their entire childhood? That's causing harm to 14 individuals in one shot.

That doctor should have his/her medical license suspended. This is a case of greed over reason, and that is completely unethical.

Masajes? My day with the pervertidos.

2009-01-23T15:21:00.000-08:00

I arrived in the office on Thursday morning (after my exhausting but successful week in school), and answered a phone call. The man on the other end was speaking Spanish and saying something about needing my services. I told him (in shamefully broken Spanish, I'm sure) that he had the wrong number. As soon as I hung up my co-workers told me that there had been men calling all week, and asking for "Diana's (pronounced "Dee-Anna"...for those of you Wisconnies that read this and are not used to hearing the Spanish pronunciation of that name) Masajes." Apparently one of our back lines had been mistakenly published in a Spanish-language classified for "Diana's happy-ending style" massage.

Through Google translate I managed to figure out how to ask where the number was published. Apparently El Aviso was given our number by Diana mistakenly. Here's the ad (and yes...one of those numbers is ours):

"Masajes la Sirenita"

The girl that I spoke with at El Aviso and I got a good laugh out of this when she realized the nature of the ad. 24 hours, huh? I'd suppose so because I had 8 middle of the night hang-up messages on the voicemail. In case you were wondering, I blacked out the numbers because I don't need any jokester blog readers pranking me at work.

Now yesterday...after answering these calls all......day........long......the novelty started to wear off. I could only hear, "Ahhhhh....Diana? Masajes?" from breathy, sweaty-sounding perverts for so long before I had to get creative. That, and I have PMS so bad that I feel like I'm wearing a fat suit, and I'm perfectly willing to take out my hormonal rage on a man that is not my sweet E. How could I get to these guys? I turned to Google translate...

Here are a few little phrases that I learned to say in Spanish (thanks, Google):

Do you have a wife?...actually I already knew that one already. Thanks, Srta. Werner.
You should be ashamed of yourself
You need to go to church (I love that some of these guys thought that they were possibly getting a message from a higher power to change their ways)
AND....the ever effective: Pervert...or should I say, "Pervertido?"

I have no idea how much Diana charges, but her phone is ringing off the hook. It's probably not much because her potential clients don't exactly sound like Newport Harbor yacht owners. Even at 25 bucks and hour I had probably $2000 plus in potential business calling for Diana. Not bad for a couple of days.

Recession? What recession? I have got to ask Diana about her business model. Maybe we should put an ad in El Aviso...or hire a happy ending masseuse on staff. **Insert "staff masseuse" joke here**

I tried calling the other number on the ad with the girls in the office next door, but alas...Diana hung up on us.

There is a silver lining, however. I have decided to bite the bullet and take some Spanish classes online this summer. I've been kind of hesitant to undertake any more than my nursing classes, but I think I can handle it. I'll take them as "pass/fail" so they don't screw up my nursing school GPA. I miss speaking Spanish. I used to be quite good at it. Besides una enfermera que puede hablar español gana más dinero.

Google that...

Winter Reflections (and Pink's new album makes me want to give her a hug)

2009-01-14T17:17:00.000-08:00

I have been listening to Pink's new album, "Funhouse," and wow...it's so emotionally raw. It has been a long time, but I can remember feeling all of the anger and desolation and pain that she expresses in her music. Her songs move from liberated, to pleading, to sad and resigned, to almost giddy. I want to invite her over for ice cream and booze and more ice cream (a break-up staple), and then booze on top of ice cream (yeah...Kahlua on top of mint chocolate chip to be exact).

Who can't relate to a broken heart? This album was a welcome addition to the gym music.

My favorite line thus far? "This used to be a funhouse, but now it's full of evil clowns."

This time of year will always remind me of personal pain...death and a love gone awry all in one season. I felt like someone had shot me and left me for dead. This season will always remind me of a fierce desire to move forward...because I would have laid down and died if I didn't keep on moving.

The winter will always be a sad season of reflection for me, although the climate is different from the winters of my youth. 80 degrees and sunny can't mask the tell-tale short days...

I told E the other day, "The days are getting longer."

"You can tell?" he asked.

Oh boy, can I? The light returns eventually, and life goes on.

Finding my empathy...

2009-01-14T16:39:00.000-08:00

I am feeling raw and emotional after my first week in my nursing program. I'm sure part of this is due to the stress of starting something new, and the fatigue that I am experiencing because of the long days. Thankfully, after lecture today, things started to make sense.

One of the topics in today's lecture was the importance of psychosocial care...and the losses that people go through as they are rendered helpless, even if only for a brief period. We discussed the fears and anxiety associated with no longer being able to work, provide, bathe, walk, losing a body part (in the event of an amputation or mastectomy), the social isolation of being hospitalized...all things that I was aware of but never really spent any time thinking about.

The lecture topic humanized everything that I have been learning. I recently wrote an email to my dad's cardiologist and said, after feeling like I was being belittled over my concerns, "This is not simply a faceless patient or a clinical study that you're dealing with, this is my dad."

My patients will be someone's daddy, or someone's wife, or someone's soul mate...

I realized how cold I have become in recent years. We wall ourselves off to get through life's trials, and we end up never letting our walls back down. It's so much safer inside.

All of the cases that I have read about suddenly have souls, lovers, families...faces that didn't exist before. While I'll have to find a balance between raw emotion and empathy (I can't sit and cry at my computer every night while I blog), I pray that I never lose the insight that I gained today. I am learning more than a skill...I am learning to be a better human.

My entire day of nursing videos

2009-01-10T17:14:00.000-08:00

Alrighty. I'm going to start out by saying that those of you who read my blog and actually know me...hang out with me...and all that good stuff. I'm sorry. I won't be seeing any of you until June (with the exception of two weddings that I will be attending). My nursing procedural videos took ALL DAY. Granted, I will start becoming more efficient as this stuff becomes more and more routine, but seriously...

That being said, let me fill you in on the content of the vids. The videos are actual RNs practicing the various skills on a live person with a step by step narration.

Then I got to the bathing section of the videos....I wondered: Will they still use a live person for the bathing videos? What about the perineal (that means the "private parts" for you lay-folks reading this) portion? I thought...maybe they'll use a dummy.

Nope...

Now what I want to know is: Who the eff would actually volunteer to be the vagina on the perineal video? Now...I suppose the same question could be asked for the guys on the peen washing vid, but who am I kidding? Most guys are closet flashers.

Alright...they were informative...I will give them that.

Then...the dude in the "Male Perineal Care" video got...ummm...excited during the instructional video. What the hell?

Alright...I know this happens, and it is highly likely that I will witness this in a hospital setting, but on the instructional videos? Really? Anyhoo that was the most excitement I had all day.

This whole nursing school is going against the grain of who I am inherently, with my desperate need for organization (and total lack thereof), and having to find my assignment materials in three different binders (yeah...those three binders contain my course syllabus...my course syllabus has three different volumes).

That being said, I have been cooped up with my various study materials since 10:00AM, and did not stop until just after 5. That's 7 hours, folks...and I'm going to go put on some make-up, change out of my shorts and hoodie, and go to a movie with E. I may end up writing a separate blog about my adventures in nursing care if this one becomes too school-heavy. Right now I need to go drool on myself in front of a movie screen for a few hours, and maybe eat something that is not peanut butter out of the jar or popcorn.

Sex on the first date: Marriage material or not?

2009-01-08T10:58:00.000-08:00

This blog is inspired by the recent trials and tribulations of one of my closest friends. My friend was informed that she was not marriage material by a (I was about to call him a "man," but that is totally inappropriate considering the subject)...sociopathic little boy that she had been seeing...because she had sex with him on the first date. He said that no future wife of his would do the nasty on the first, second OR third date. Nice.

Does his partaking in sex on the first date eliminate him from the running for potential husband material? Not in his mind...His double standards make me think that this guy should be removed from the gene pool, as our planet has met its "Douchebag Quota" through at least 2050.

Now, I'm just going to say...that you can find love with sex on the first date.

I decided (having several personal examples proving Douchebag's theory on marriage material quite false) to defer my questioning to an informal survey of my male friends. So far it's 3/4 men think that sex on the first date DOES NOT disqualify a girl from the "marriage potential" category.

Here are four opinions from four very different guy friends:

1. J - Sex on the first date = fling NOT marriage. His opinion was that a girl who puts out right away would be fun for a few months at the most, but most likely too unstable for the long term. He then sort of back tracked saying that if she looked like the type you could bring home to the parents, then maybe she was marriage material.

Consensus J: Absolutely not marriage material, unless she can clean up into a J-Crew girl (like me...I was given as the "All American Girl" example in this case).

2. C - He said that the "sex on the first date" excuse was simply Douchebag's exit strategy. A direct IM quote from C: "yeah if i got laid on the first date, i was happy, if i continued a relationship that was based on how i got along with her i would either date her, booty call her or dump her it's that simple."

Consensus C: Sex on the first date is what men are looking for.

3. M - Apparently M and his current girlfriend did the nasty on their first date. According to M, sex on the first date is cause for concern about cheating initially, but that concern can be proven wrong over time. M says that if a girl does "everything" (which I'm assuming means...bondage gear and handcuffs...haha) on the first date, then there's minor cause for concern.

He gave two examples. One where a girl at a party ambushed him coming out of the bathroom and they had a wild old time. She was not marriage material due to the surprise nature of the sex attack. His current girlfriend apparently was more restrained on the first date, and was going with the mutual flow of things.

Consensus M: As long as your not swinging from a trapeze on the first date, then you're probably ok for the long haul. (So...If you're looking for a ring AND a ride, hide the trapeze the first time, ladies)

4. JV - I have too many J guy friends...JV says that it depends on if she seems like the monogamous type and if they fall in love.

Consensus JV: Sex on the first date only precludes getting to know one another, and JV does not cast any initial judgments. Good boy, JV. (Ladies, I'll give you his number if you're interested)

What have I learned from my informal survey, beside the fact that I have some brutally honest guy friends? While sex on the first date does not eliminate you from the running for marriage material 75% of the time, it's best to keep your freaky side on the down low for at least a few more dates.

Consensus MLE: No handcuffs on the first date, and Douchebag's theory on marriage material has been proven false.

Oh, and Doucehbag, I hope you find that girl that won't f&@# you on the first date...or the second...or the third. Hell, I hope you find a girl that holds out until marriage. Then, I hope she totally lets herself go (after a few of your hideous demon spawn), and won't let you touch her due to her existing laundry list of sexual inhibitions...thus leaving you in a sexless marriage for the next 50 years. Have fun with your hand and your internet porn, Douchy.

I'm perfectly happy to hear and respond to any opinions on this topic that may appear in the comments section of this blog.

Kisses,
MLE

**UPDATE** according to another guy friend, sex on the first date does not eliminate a woman as marriage material "unless she sucks in bed or has a penis." That means that 4/5 men agree that a woman who sleeps with him on the first date is not out of the running for marriage material.

2009 a year of "lasts"

2009-01-06T09:12:00.000-08:00

2009 will bring many things to a close. Essentially, 2009 is my year of many lasts...

2009 is my last full year as a non-nurse. I'll be studying for the boards as an LVN in less than a year and taking the NCLEX for my RN in less than two. I have 23 months left of school (well, this part of my education anyway...then accelerated BSN and then my NP license...BUT let's not talk about that right now, ok?).

2009 will be my last full year in my 20's. I wish I had known ten years ago all of the things that I know now. According to my charming brother I'll be eligible for cougar status after this year. Dude, at least I get to keep my hair! I'll always look younger than Dan, cougar or not.

2009 might possibly be my last entire year as a single (unmarried woman). Those of you that followed the tempestuous first few years of Team E know that we were like fire and gasoline. How we ended up so complimentary remains mystery to me. I think we're both happy individuals living happy lives that just happen to fit together. All I know is that I am very very happy, and that's all I need to know.

2009 will bring lots of change to my life. I'm starting nursing school, reducing my full-time job to part-time, and gaining two new sibling in-laws.

I wish that I were more positive and up beat, but I have been slammed with assignments that have to be complete by Monday...I'm mourning the loss of my (relative) freedom and financial comfort, and I am really effing tired.

I shouldn't whine. I'm living the dream. 2009 will be all about my hopes and aspirations. 2009 is the first step into a better life. It's going to be completely exhausting (it already is and we're 6 days in...), but totally worth it. I'll try to find the time to blog my experiences as they shoot past me during the next few crazy months.

For me, this is a bigger commitment than moving in together...

2008-12-28T09:51:00.001-08:00

I joined E's gym yesterday. I left MY gym of three years for E's gym!!! I'm still giddy and nervous about the commitment to leave my gym after three years...but...it was only 10 bucks more a month than my renewals (eff you, Bally's), and I have way more options. That, and with Bally's filing Chapter 11 (again) they have cut their cleaning budget, and I have now been to two gyms where I very well may have been exposed to hepatitis via the horrendous locker rooms. Dis-gus-ting.

So....with a heavy heart I bid adieu to the cougar and the bitch that runs like a robot and never smiles...In theory this will mean working out with E, but I have already had my first E-less workout (today) less than 24 hours after signing up...

I'm totally freaked out about this. No more cougar? No more robo-bitch? All of the characters that I have come to know and love are going to fade into oblivion, only to be replaced with entirely new characters.

I am a creature of habit...leaving Bally's for E's gym was a HUGE step. Yes I'll have more options to feed my workout obsession (and I won't have to pay extra for pilates!!! Whoo hoo!!!), but it's simply one more thing in my life that is changing.

Nursing school starts two weeks from tomorrow (breathe breathe breathe). I am alternately thrilled and terrified. Part of me feels that I am too cavalier about all of this. Can I really continue to rely on the kindness of others for two whole years? I am about to be borderline destitute...living on apple slices and peanut butter...the cats are going to eat better than I will. All of this madness, living on the periphery of comfort, for one goal that I am determined to see through.

I'm sure it will be over before I know it...until then I can focus my blog-energy on the new characters at the gym (tattoo guy who was flinging weights around so furiously that I wondered if next time I should wear a helmet...fake boobs skank who really should sue her surgeon for doing such a hack-job, and put those things away because they're not pretty...and all of the exercise bulimics with insane abs). Not to mention that they had, "A Walk to Remember" on TV in the gym today...now there's a storyline that makes me want to off myself. Eff you Nicholas Sparks...for ruining my run. Nothing says, "Love story," like a terminal illness and a child bride.

It's going to be an interesting switch...no more full-time job...no more Bally's...Oh, and I'll be running IV's in like 6 weeks, so there's a whole new skill set that will be coming to my life.

Hold on, blog readers...things are about to get crazy.

"2008: The End of Emily?"

2008-12-18T13:57:00.000-08:00

That was the headline that startled me on MSN before I realized that they were talking about the most popular girls name. Oh...that. Thank God!

I have grown to love my name. It's classic...I also did not know many other Emilys in my age bracket.

Not anymore...my name was the top girls name for 11 years, only to fall to number 3 this year. There are hordes of Emily's now...I'm certain that there's a tween Emily army.

Emily is the new Jennifer which was the new Heather. I don't want Emily to be the new Jennifer! I loved having a name that was reasonably uncommon, yet easy to spell (unless I'm calling an overseas call center, or the occassional misspelling: "Emilie").

How is it that so many people ended up giving their little girls my name? Granted, I have had two Emilys named after me, and that is totally understandable. There's even the cartoon character, Emily the Strange, with her army of black cats. Am I being followed? Have you seen that cartoon?

Every shopping center I'm in there's a parent hollering at his or her misbehaving little Emily...God, it's like my naughty personality comes with my unassuming name. When I worked at an elementary school a few years ago there were three Emilys in my classroom! One of them even had my weird middle name (which I am not sharing with you).

I'm going to propose a movement to start the new Emily/Jennifer/Heather. What name should we choose? Maybe Molly...that's a cute name. Or...Maureen (almost my name, before my parents agreed on Emily). It's time to pick an alternative name, because the world is about to be awash in naughty little emo tween Emilys. Don't say I didn't warn you.

You can sugar coat it all you want, you're still a fucking bigot.

2008-12-16T14:18:00.000-08:00

I read a Newsweek article that started out with the writer describing her understanding of the African-American plight, and describing herself as an "avowed liberal." This is to somehow justify her racial profiling of another passenger (a man who appeared Muslim by descent alone)on a plane and getting him kicked off the flight.

Ok...so let me get this straight...This white woman from San Francisco feels that the racial profiling of another passenger was totally appropriate, because she's a liberal and understands (mostly) the plight of minorities in this country.

I thought of a friend of mine from a few years ago who had immigrated from Afghanistan as a child, and his stories of being harassed at the airport every time he tried to fly. The funny thing is that he was an assistant DA, fighting the good fight, and keeping Racine County free of crackheads. He was as likely to take down a plane as Paris Hilton...possibly even less likely.

The "I'm a liberal," mantra in this country is incorrectly synonymous with "open minded." I grew up in the liberal hotbed of Madison, Wisconsin. I recall coming into my own in my very early twenties and watching some aging hippies rave over some piece of shit tin can art. I recall wondering if any of them had ever seen real art, or if any of them had ever left Wisconsin.

Madison, in all of it's glorious, socialist ideology...is nothing but a sham. These aging hippies who "understood" the plight of minorities, did everything they could to get their kids transferred from the elementary school where I was an educational assistant (with a polarized mix of affluent kids and honest-to-God crack babies who absolutely broke my heart) to a predominantly more upper class public school that was newly built. With the mass exodus of all the "good kids" came the mass exodus of all the "good teachers." I was insightful enough at 21 years old to be thoroughly disgusted by what I was witnessing...Ironically the "new" super school ended up with black mold and some of the students and teachers that transferred over there ended up with permanent lung damage. I wonder about Karma when things like that happen...

The final straw of hippie hypocrisy in my hometown was after a tasteless and sensationalized news story that ran in the Wisconsin State Journal, and went wholly unnoticed.

First a back story: There was a white boy killed in a tragic car accident shortly before the incident that I'm about to tell you about. The State Journal ran a picture of his sheet covered body laying in the road and emergency personnel on the scene. The city was up in arms over this picture. How dare they print that image, leaving it to haunt this poor boy's grieving parents? I do not disagree with this sentiment...it was despicable.

A few months later there was a shooting (a relatively rare occurrence in Madison) in one of the tough neighborhoods on the south side. I actually remember the day vividly. I was driving up Park Street and I noticed hordes of people surrounding one of the homes in the "rough neighborhood." There were police officers, guns drawn, behind police cars. Barricades had been set up with city buses to prevent stray bullets from hitting civilians. It was quite a spectacle.

I learned later that there was an armed standoff between a man and the police. I have no idea what made this man go over the edge, but he killed one of his step-children inside the home and shot another, fatally wounding him, as he ran from the house. All of this happened while his wife (and the mother of the murdered children) was away...she was either at work or out of town...I don't recall the exact details.

The following day the Wisconsin State Journal ran a story about the shooting with a picture of the fatally wounded boy on the ground outside of the home. I was horrified! Hadn't they learned their lesson? What about the boy's mother? She lost her husband and her children in the same day. Did she deserve to be haunted by this photograph? Some things are better left to the imagination, and not sensationalized for perverse public consumption. I was sure that the community would be up in arms over this.

I waited...and waited.......and nothing. Not even a letter to the editor.

Why the lack of hoopla over this inappropriate image? Because the boy was black, and it was in a black neighborhood, and according to Madison, Wisconsin, isn't that what black people do? Shoot each other? It was my final taste of disgust before leaving the city for good.

I will whole-heartedly admit to my moderate, often unpopular political beliefs, but I have also lived in "tough neighborhoods" and know what it's like first-hand to be poor. I fundamentally believe that good people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I know that money does not buy class or make you a good person.

You can call yourself a "liberal" if it makes you feel good, but if you're scared of someone based on their ethnic background you're still a fucking bigot.

My gingerbread house is glued together with all the materialism of Christmas

2008-12-16T13:18:00.000-08:00

This was going to be a rant on racism....but I was side-tracked. You'll get the racism rant later, and it will be a good one.

This Christmas I have had to get creative. With the economy in the shitter, a Christmas bonus unlikely, and nursing school starting in January, I have made gifts, mulled over gift purchases and really thought about the recipients. It took forever to pick out something inexpensive and thoughtful for E this year. I'm not used to thinking about gifts, damn it. I wish I could do more...when I'm getting my swanky hospital bonuses, then I can give like effing Santa, but right now, I'm gifting my weird art and thoughtful presents.

I felt a little thrilled with myself when I spent Sunday covered in acrylic and spray adhesive. I felt a little sheepish giving my homemade gifts, but they were received with gratitude and I was even called "thoughtful."

Let me reiterate that I would buy the moon for my family if I could afford to, and look forward to a better time in my life than this.

Then I came across this (on another friend's blog, which I adore reading): blog about materialistic bastard teenagers.

This mom actually "bought back" her shitty kids' gift cards because they were not good enough!!! What the Hell? I was wondering where teenagers these days get their sense of entitlement, and now I know. I'll file this under: "What not to do as a parent."

Money was tight for my family while growing up, but my mom always had something for us to open on Christmas morning, and made sure that we sent out thank you notes to every single family member that bought us something. This is a practice that I still try to carry on in my adult life, although I'm not great at my follow through (File that under: "New Year's Resolutions"). I would never have dreamed of insisting that my parents buy back a gift. A gift is a gift...not a right. If those were my children, I'd send those thankless little bastards to volunteer at a children's hospital on Christmas day in lieu of gifts.

Ahhh....GOD!!! My train of thought keeps derailing, because I am absolutely sickened by that blog that I linked you to.

Ok...anyhoo. My parents have put forth a massive effort this year to help me with my start up costs for nursing school, and help both of my siblings with their weddings. To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure where the money is even coming from, but I'm making a list of what they've given me so that I can repay it eventually. I appreciate what they are doing for me right now, because things have never been easy for any of us. I am getting cat toys from my mom and dad this Christmas, due to the family expenses, and I'm way more excited to watch the kitties roll around with their new toys than I would be about some electronic piece of shit that I could probably afford for myself if I really wanted it.

I have a friend who gives his wife Tiffany's for every occasion...he knows who he is and will most likely read this blog...sorry to out you in my public forum, buddy. It's at the point where a gift from Tiffany's is expected. How is that thoughtful? I expect Tiffany's...you give it...no fights during the holidays. It's like buying peace for a day. I know I would get bored with Tiffany's for every occasion. I accused him of taking the easy route...he says it takes "at least an hour to pick out the right item," therefore it's thoughtful. Not buying that one, sorry...If an expensive gift is expected, then it's really not fun anymore.

I look forward to a time when I can be a little more spendy gifts for both E's generous family and my own, but until then all you get is my love and good intentions tied up with a little bow. Oh, and if your intentions are all you can offer me, more power to you. My love comes without condition or a price tag.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should (AKA...why I buy my pants too big)

2008-12-13T21:29:00.000-08:00

I have had a denim fiasco in my life. It all started with my love of the fancy embroidery on the back pockets. Then I was on the hunt for the perfect skinny jeans to go with my perfect black boots. Of course, said skinny jeans had to have the perfect embroidery on the back pockets. I now have three pair of skinny jeans, one of which is simply too big, one that is really tight in the legs and big in the waist (WTF??) and the perfect pair that ripped in the knee, were repaired and then ripped again. Sigh...It's like Goldilocks and the three jeans.

This recent denim obsession has led me to blatantly stare at people's butts, looking for the next fancy design that I will wear on my own ass. Often if I notice that a woman is carrying an expensive purse, I check out her jeans to see if there's anything fancy about them...

Yesterday I noticed a woman's jeans and her purse simultaneously...

She had the worst muffin top I have ever seen in my life. I mean, this thing looked painful. I started to wonder if the circulation to her lower half was dangerously reduced. Were her feet asleep, like when you sit in one of your legs for too long? It was insanity. It actually looked quite a bit like this:

Now before you get all up in arms, let me tell you that this woman was teeny tiny. Smaller than me by a long shot. Which leads me to a philosophy that every man and woman should live by: Just because you can doesn't mean you should. I should also mention that she was carrying a $1200.00 purse, so why she would carry around something like that and wear such ill-fitting jeans is beyond me. I actually often end up buying pants that are a size too large because (aside from my raging case of body dysmorphia) I am terrified of the muffin top...or even worse...the camel toe!! AAHHHH!! I'll spare you the google image search on that one.

I can probably squeeze my own muffin top into a 24's, or 2's depending on the sizing of the brand...but there is no effing way that I would. Would it really give me that much of a thrill to have a size 2 pair of jeans in my closet if it meant that I had zero circulation to my lower extremities? Nope...Oh, and it would be painful, and I'm not really into that.

A few more examples of just because you can doesn't mean you should:

The flabby girl at the gym wearing tiny little white terry cloth shorts that said "Pinch Me" in rhinestones on the butt...no kidding.

Leopard...it's an accent not an outfit...mmm kay?

Lucite heels...unless you're working the pole.

Loads of perfume or cologne (if you can taste it in the air you're wearing too much).

That's it for tonight, peeps. I found E's most perfectest (but not expensive, because he didn't want me spending money with nursing school starting) Christmas gift ever. I had to go to two different malls to find it. Two malls two weeks before Christmas...now that's love. The malls were a disaster. I was a woman on a mission today (and I left my muffin top at home).

Communication comes to a grinding halt...

2008-12-11T15:00:00.000-08:00

Men and women. Do we ever speak the same language?

I have a close friend who was seeing a guy...they were seeing one another three times a week...then...the "I'm not feeling like myself," conversation starts, and three times a week together turns into, "let's play it by ear," and then...silence (and he's a Gemini, so that really comes as no surprise).

Today, I called precious E, because we have a backup plan for the above mentioned friend. Apparently E is uncomfortable with our boat parade plans next weekend, and rather than acting like an adult and saying, "Hey...MLE. You know, I'm not comfortable with next week's plans," he acts all weird and vague and distant. Is it that hard to open up? What does he think I'll do?

I was going to, you know, stand on his lawn and light my hair on fire if he decided to flake on the Boat Parade, and then maybe pee on his comforter...but I don't really see why my reaction would be a problem.

Serioulsy?? If he had told me he was uncomfortable, I would have been more than happy to change the plans. The Boat Parade has not been well thought out on our part, and the boat's not going anywhere. There's always next year...and the year after that and so on...

This brings me to my issue. Breakdowns in communication like this make me loony. Women don't deal well with vagueness or the old "I need space" conversation.

I've had a rough week. I certainly would not mind taking it easy next Saturday (and resting up before Baking Beauties debauchery next Sunday..whoo hoo). I'm certainly going to be getting plenty of girl time in this weekend with E gone to a bachelor party. I don't mind a change of plans. I do mind being treated poorly because of a failure to communicate ones needs.

So...darling readers of my blog, take note: Communicate with your lover/friend/husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/partner when something doesn't seem right. Or I'll do this to you (identities have been changed to protect the innocent):

Treadmill Epiphany

2008-12-09T10:36:00.000-08:00

I read something the other day that I apparently processed in my brain and stored for later...The article was about the ever-increasing size of engagement rings, and the pressure on men to pop the question with a gigantic sparkler. The article then went on to say that the size of the ring is for the women to ooohhh and aaahhhh over. It's basically a, "I have a better man than you do," showpiece.

I read this article, and recall thinking, "Hell yeah it is!" and left it in a wrinkle in my brain to be reopened and processed later.

The contents of the engagement ring article popped back into my head on the treadmill this morning. There was a commercial (on ESPN, so the intended demographic is men) for Jared jewelers. The scene opens with two women reading a text, presumably from another female friend, that reads: "Roses." They oohh and ahhh, then a picture message pops up of some big blingy diamond earrings and the text: "He went to Jared!!" The scene cuts to the couple sitting at a table, and the girlfriend showing her boyfriend a response text asking if he has any brothers.

Immediately my mind snapped back to the article(I'm not sure why I'm so much sharper on the treadmill...perhaps it's all of the oxygen flowing into my brain)...it is all about showing off to your girlfriends!

Suddenly...my recent jokes about being able to see my engagement ring from space seemed grossly inappropriate. Who do I think I am? An Orange County housewife? Here is the image that I had of myself in my head:

I started to think about my love of all things material. I wear expensive jeans and carry designer purses. Granted, I'm thrifty in my purchases, but why do I buy these things? My biggest thrill comes from being able to provide those things for myself periodically. Yeah it's to show off a little, but it's showing off my independence (and my butt in a pair of True Religions, who am I kidding?) I don't like the idea of perpetually having things bought for me like some sort of prized pet. Gifts are fun, but the ability to do things for yourself every once in a while is even better!

The only reason I would want a monstrosity of an engagement ring is to prove something to all of the other bitches out there....that's not who I am. What would that prove? A gigantic diamond doesn't mean you've found a prince. How many girls out there have been given the perfect engagement ring, and never actually made it down the asile? How did I let my thinking become so occluded?

In reality I'll probably only wear my wedding ring once I'm actually married, and save the engagement ring for special occasions. A diamond ring of any size would be a liability and a hassle while working at the hospital.

I pondered this for a moment and realized that I would be happy with a sparkly little wedding band, and nothing more...

I have a partner, right now, who has pushed me to be the best version of myself. I will be very successful, thanks in part to having someone in my life who truly believes in me. When I don't feel like I can take any more, it's nice to have a reminder that I'm simply whining and that I'm no victim of circumstance.

What I have is way better than a diamond. I will have a successful and happy life with someone worth sharing it with! How could I have missed that before?? Oh, and maybe some day I'll get myself some giganto diamond Tiffany earrings, because material things are so much more fun when it's your own hard work finally paying off...

We have a repeater, folks...

2008-12-08T14:53:00.001-08:00

This past weekend I bought the new Killers album, "Day and Age" on itunes.

Quickly, the back story on my love of The Killers: The first Killers album came out right before I met E. I had "Hot Fuss" playing all summer long, and when I listen to it, I am riding around with my friends during a perfect California summer, and falling in love all over again. Then, "Sam's Town" came out shortly before my cross-country adventure driving from North Carolina to L.A. When I hear "Sam's Town," I see the Southwestern desert through my windshield during one of the most uncertain times in my life. I will always cherish my risky, cross-country adventures.

Now, back to "Day and Age." I was worried that I might not be in a Killers frame of mind while listening to this album. I'm not feeling particularly emo lately, and my life (while about to change big time) feels happy and comfortable.

I had the album playing in the car while running errands, and I believe I may have found a repeater.

A "repeater" in the life of MLE is a song that gets played over and over repeatedly.

The repeater is, "I Can't Stay." The lyrics, I'll admit, don't make much sense...but the song is happy and pleasant to listen to. I must have been smiling in my Killers lala land because I noticed the man in the car next to me staring and smiling and totally ignoring his green left-turn arrow.

I have a feeling that my alternate-repeater is going to be, "Neon Tiger," more because of the lyrics than anything:

"Run, neon tiger there's a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don't you let 'em get you
Away, away, oh run
Under the heat of the southwest sun"

I'm a southwestern desert girl all the way. There are pieces of my heart all along I-40....From Flagstaff to Amarillo.

Embracing my inner pop tart and finding inner peace

2008-12-06T21:41:00.000-08:00

Through my late teens and early twenties I lived life according to other people. I felt that if I did not have the dark, sullen inside with the worldly exterior, that I would never ever ever...ever............ever be cool.

Moody = artistic = cool.

As a confident (bordering on arrogant) woman in my late twenties, I have learned to appreciate my guilty pleasures. I'll admit to them freely (Britney Spears on the treadmill...reality dating shows...perezhilton.com).

Yeah...so I'm not carrying around Descartes in case I get a free moment from learning the workings of the human body inside and out. Sorry. Me = not cool

I will never be one of those pseudo-intellectuals sitting in a coffee shop, wearing a ratty cardigan, and ranting on and on about the injustices of the world while bitching about living in the United States. I actually love it here, and have seen much more of this big, crazy, beautiful country than 99% of the people who complain about it. If you do catch me in a coffee shop, I'll probably be wearing leopard high heels and reading some pharmacology/pathology/nursing text book.

I can't get truly passionate about art, but I am passionate about medicine. My art consists of painting daisies on anything that doesn't move...whatever makes me happy in the moment.

I am much more inclined to put on good old Britney over Snow Patrol on my ipod. Sorry...I am not cool, but I'm honest. I'm happy, because my honesty has set me free.

I genuinely believe that people are good.

I want to live and breathe and feel this life with a happy soundtrack and an open heart. You can't win over everyone, but there are soul mates in the most unusual places.

I would much rather be a bolt of lightning than a cloud.

I have a trunk full of fortune cookies

2008-12-04T13:01:00.001-08:00

I ordered a bunch of fortune cookies for my Christmas art project that I hope doesn't suck...I'm intentionally leaving the deets of my art off of this blog because some of my readers may be getting said project for Christmas gifts.

I didn't feel like bringing in the box of cookies last night (and the real trick is breaking them all open and pulling out the fortunes and throwing the cookie bits in the trash before I EAT all the cookies). I had my bridesmaid dress box, my gym bag and my school books all to lug in last night, and the walk to my apartment from the car is not the shortest little jaunt.

So...I had fortune cookies for lunch today thanks to the fact that I only have two arms and the cookies stayed in the trunk (well fortune cookies and sushi, so it was an Asian themed lunch). I had about 12 of them before I put the kibosh on my fortune cookie feeding frenzy. I would eat more right now if I were not feeling too lazy to walk to the car (and it's kind of chill out there, too). I'm not getting a lot of usable fortunes out of these guys, either. The Ralph's down the street has provided me with the best fortunes thus far, and the grocery store closest to my house had bilingual fortunes!! Bilingual!! Which is totally awesome for my bilingual friends. Only, those fortunes get stuck in the cookie and tear very easily. I am becoming quite the expert in fortune cookies....

So my idea of ordering cost-effective bulk fortune cookies off the internet was not a good one, because I have a trunk full of cookies that I apparently have no self control over...and not too many wonderfully worded fortunes.

I also have a scratchy throat this afternoon, which is never a good sign. At least I have tomorrow off (thanks again to the shitty economy) so I can veg out, not study for finals and work on my Christmas art therapy.

Love love love

2008-12-03T11:07:00.001-08:00

I am exactly one week away from being done with my prerequisites and on to nursing school.

What has this journey taught me?

1. I can do absolutely anything I put my mind to...it make cost me more than a few tears and some borderline nervous breakdowns but overall it was easier than I thought it would be.

2. I was able to do all of this and still maintain a balanced social life. I was not able to accept every fun invitation that I got, but I was certainly not a hermit (with the exception of summer Anatomy).

3. I was able to maintain a gym routine. I worked very hard to lose the 25 or so pounds that I gained when I quit smoking, and I was not about to gain it all back. If nothing else, having such a strict schedule only allowed for me to be more disciplined about going to the gym. I don't believe people that say they are too tired to go to exercise. Spring semester (my toughest semester by far) I was on the treadmill every morning before work, worked all day, then went to class from 6-10 every night. Oh, and I pulled a 4.0 that semester.

4. Good things are worth waiting for. I'm not getting married until I'm done with nursing school. That will be the ultimate graduation party.

5. I have learned to love the process. I have met some amazing friends through the last 18 months. Looking back, I would not have done a single thing differently. Each semester offered a new life lesson, new friendships, and taught me new things about myself.

6. Timing is everything. I would not have been able to accomplish this if my mind were not in the right place. I started this journey with a clear and focused mind. Five years ago I am convinced that I would have tried and failed. I have no regrets.

7. There are a lot of things that I do not know. Medicine is built around minutia. All of my classes thus far have been broad strokes of general knowledge. I look forward to picking apart a specialty. I have a feeling that I will end up in a very specialized field because of my desire to know something inside and out...

8. I'm just along for the ride. If I were to say that I know exactly what I plan on doing once I graduate, I would be doing myself a disservice. Interests: Psychiatric care, oncology, pain management, surgery...I look forward to figuring out which of those I like best, or if there's something new out there that's even more interesting.

9. What is meant to be will be. How much of this is will and how much is fate? I was the last of 4 people randomly selected by lottery off a petition of 25 people trying to get into summer anatomy. I had no control over that, and it put me one semester ahead of my game plan. The class started with 30 people and ended with 16...I was one of the last ones standing, and that was sheer will. Will and fate have worked hand in hand through this entire process.

10. If I won the lottery tomorrow, I would still go to nursing school. That realization came a while ago..I am absolutely certain in my direction and my passion and an excess of money would only fuel my drive to learn more and more and more...

I am much more excited about the journey ahead than I am fearful about the unknowns. The next 2 years are going to fly by.

Why (RED) makes me see red

2008-11-26T10:49:00.001-08:00

I heard an ad on the radio this morning about one of the companies that participates in (RED). I don't recall which company. Then, later this morning I noticed a Facebook ad for Starbucks (RED) participation. The problem with (RED) is that the funds, and they have a generous number of companies participating, are focused solely on treatment and prevention in Africa. Focusing on treatment for one country is short-sighted and ineffective.

According to the Unites States Center for Disease Control: "At the end of 2003, an estimated 1,039,000 to 1,185,000 persons in the United States were living with HIV/AIDS, with 24%-27% undiagnosed and unaware of their HIV infection." Many of the AIDS patients here in the US do not have the financial ability to pay for their treatment. I know, for whatever reason, local charity is not the cool thing to do. Donating money to fund research and prevention will help globally, if helping the United States is not a "trendy" enough cause. India has between 2 and 3 million people living with HIV and AIDS. Latin America has approximately 2 million...

I understand the greater societal implications of treating a large population, such as Africa, that is being wiped out by an infectious disease, so don't accuse me of making an ignorant rant. But why funnel a majority of the funds into treatment, when research is the obvious key to ending the AIDS crisis worldwide? According to http://www.avert.org/ (a worldwide AIDS charity), the "average life expectancy in sub-Saharan Africa is now 47 years, when it could have been 62 without AIDS." That's only 15 additional years! We are funneling money that could be used for global research into treatment for a small population that would only increase life expectancy by maybe 10 to 15 years. To me that seems nonsensical. AIDS is a death sentence no matter which way you look at it. We have made great strides in the pharmaceutical advances against HIV and AIDS, but the treatment only remains effective for 5, 10 or 15 years depending on how soon the virus mutates, and renders the drugs useless.

I agree with the portion of (RED) that funds HIV and AIDS prevention through education and condoms, but in the right here in the US (at home...it never ceases to amaze me all the people that forget this is home) there are cultural, educational, economic, and language barriers that are preventing MAJOR segments of our population from being adequately informed about HIV and AIDS. I love this country. I have driven from coast to coast and witnessed first hand the kindness of strangers. I've driven through the tribal lands of my ancestors, through major cities, through tough neighborhoods, and through one-truck-stop towns. Everywhere I went I was met with kindness by at least one perfect stranger.

Why wouldn't an American corporation want to give back to our beautiful home? Or at least expand their vision to the global greater good? I find major corporations with a feel good mission suspicious in nature. I can't imagine that The Gap wouldn't love to get AIDS under control in sub-Saharan Africa so they can safely set up a sweatshop where they will manufacture their shitty khakis for $1.oo a day. Sorry. I had to throw that in there, as nothing corporate lacks an ulterior motive.

Oh, and while HIV and AIDS is a major worldwide killer, google Hepatitis B and C infection rates if you really want a good scare...Maybe our focus is misdirected entirely.

My gym, where the cougar runs wild

2008-11-25T10:27:00.000-08:00

One of my biggest adjustments when I moved to South OC was changing gyms. Granted, the "new gym" is less crowded, a newer facility, and closer to my apartment than the last one was...but change is change, and change can be the kiss of death to a good exercise routine.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a cutie working at the front desk. I made some off the cuff comment to J about how it was nice that they were finally getting some eye candy in there for the girls to look at (because if I have to hear about one more hot chick...sigh). And E, if you're reading this, he's NOT hotter than you! No one is. Not 30 seconds after I commented on the new eye candy, this short, kind of stocky cougar with shoulder-length silver hair (I'm being kind using the word "cougar" as she's well into granny territory) wearing a matching sports bra and bike shorts walked over to said eye candy, hugged him and planed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. WTF? That's the way that attractive women are frequently treated by strange men. Grabbed, hugged, kissed on the cheek. It's nice to see the tables turned once in a while. Go coug!

J and I have noted that when she's there, and the young eye candy working the front desk, the coug seeks him out and plants one on him before she leaves EVERY TIME.

Today...eye candy was working, but was not near the front desk when the cougar was prowling. I have never actually seen the coug exercise. Maybe prowling burns enough calories? Perhaps we're on to something, and I should start a line of "Prowling With the Coug" workout DVDs. She walked over to another trainer who was actively stretching a client (which would have pissed me off if I were the client) and started leaning over on him and whispering something in his ear. At this point, I am taking notes on the coug's game...seriously. Then eye candy walked into view and she was instantly all over him. Arms around his neck, flirting and laughing. I want whatever she's having! Wowser. Is it hormone replacement therapy? Viagra? What??

Eye candy effectively rid himself of her advances after an uncomfortably long time...and, as she was leaving, the coug was approached by a middle-aged, age-appropriate man (who hits on all of the cougs in the gym). While I watched their interaction, she got his number! The coug is slinging some serious game...

No wonder it's not the end of the world when my Ipod battery dies. Watching the coug is like a soap opera...

Thrifty Christmas

2008-11-22T18:02:00.000-08:00

I sat on Saturday, listened to music that I don't usually listen to, and painted. I painted little daisies all over clear glass containers. I bought a few little art supplies this weekend as part of a bigger plan. The containers are meant to hold the scented bath salts that I will be making for my friends as Christmas gifts. Now that I'll be taking a substantial financial ding (thanks George W, what a fantastic way to leave the country after a useless 8 effing years)...homemade gifts don't sound too bad. Besides...I need a hobby that does not involve compulsive exercise...or studying.

I was also inspired in part by our upcoming Baking Beauties party where we make gift baskets of baked goods, and I usually conjure up something totally (unintentionally) unedible. It was idea borne out of our mutually empty bank accounts, and has since become an annual tradition. At least with bath salts, nothing gets burned or politely nibbled at before being tossed in the trash.

I am not an artist and I am a perfectionist, which is a bad combo. My perfectionism has kept me from taking up anything artistic as a hobby because I will drive myself insane. The last art hobby that I had was hot gluing seashells to anything that did not move. I'm amazed that the cats never ended up seashelled. If you see a black cat with white daisies painted all over him, call me...he's not supposed to be outside.

Is this a stupid idea? I am trying to de-program myself of materialism. I live in the center of one of the most materialistic zones in America. Everything has a label. I have Coach purses, speaking of materialistic biotches. Granted, I was thrifty in my purchases, but even thrifty Coach is a thing of yesterday's budget. I am worried that if I do not have some flashy gift to show off with then I'll be ridiculed. Who really wants my little glass bottles with daisies hand painted on them and filled with homemade bath salts?

While I am nervous that people will think I'm stupid, I'm excited about my little project...I'll freely admit that. I'm so excited to have some outlet for my buried artistic side (I have an artistic side, it simply lacks any artistic skill). I wish I were at home right now, painting my little bottles. I have the little baskets all planned out. I'm even going to paint the daisies on each bottle to match the color of the bath salts. I'm excited like a child with a school art project. I ordered the essential oils that I'll be using, and should have the final ingredients by early next week.

I excitedly showed off my first two projects to E (a bud vase and a kitchen jar) . He seemed impressed...too bad he's not a girl. Then he could get some daisy-bottle bath salts for Christmas too! haha E is always impressed with my skills...if he's not cheering on each gutter ball when we go bowling, he's supporting every real and measurable success in school. He is wonderfully supportive, and he was very encouraging of my "art."

I mean, isn't love and support what the holidays are all about? I have a lot to be thankful for this holiday season. I get to spend the holidays with my wonderful boyfriend and equally wonderful baking beauties (you ladies know who you are). While my hours were cut at work a little earlier than anticipated, I was assured that I'll be able to keep my job part-time while in nursing school. I'm actually starting nursing school in January, a goal that I've been working toward for 18 months. I'm healthy and active. I love my home...

Someday I'll be able to afford flashy Christmas gifts, but until then all of my good energy will be bottled up along with my homemade baskets. Don't laugh at my silly gift when I give it, just know that all of my good intentions are wrapped up inside.

A million little pieces

2008-11-20T14:22:00.001-08:00

I know I have been pretty light on the blogging this month, but I am feeling sort of blocked. I alternate between being violently happy with my life and completely paralyzed with the fear of the unknown...

I'm over stimulated with possibilities for the future.
I don't know who I am anymore.
I want to be all things at all times.
I want to be reckless.
I want to be calculated.
I am entirely lost.
I have never been more focused on a goal.

See? My head is a jumbled mess, and while I am teetering on the edge of criminally happy, I have faint rumblings of fears and doubts.

I want to be successful. I have so much passion. Passion that does not involve sitting behind a fucking desk for the rest of my life. I would be ignorant to say that I know exactly what I want, and what specialty I want to focus on...I am trying to enter nursing school with an open mind, while weeding out the absolute "nots." Gerontology...Nope!! Obstetrics....Nope! That's about as far as I got with the nots...

I want an advanced degree (N.P., PhD, PharmD?? MD?? What do I want???), but I can't imagine that I'll be much fun while working toward that goal. I worry about what kind of a spouse I'll make...but I worry more about selling out for an uncomplicated life.

Life feels certain and uncertain all at the same time...

Oh, goody!! A rant!!

2008-11-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

My mind has been wandering all over the concept of monogamy in relationships. Deep down I wonder if humans are meant to be monogamous. I am actually surprised that I spelled "monogamous" right on the first try...

I feel that through harmelss flirtations I am clinging to the last shred of my twenties before I hit Cougar Town.

Why do the lives of my single friends sound so glamorous and exciting? I was invited to a "Mingle All the Way" singles holiday party. I entertained the idea of going just to feel like I still have it! Oh...martinis and flirting...those days are long-gone. It's the old grass-is-greener syndrome. I have a million dresses and nothing to wear them to. Wasn't I miserable when I was single? Didn't I spent most of my time in the boozy urban jungle of Los Angeles seeking out my Mister Wonderful (and the rest of the time nursing hangovers)? He's not in the boozy jungles of LA...fyi

Let me give you an example of what I'm afraid I'll become:

Look at Jennifer Aniston...hunched over and self-conscious on the cover of Vogue. Her hair and face look tired, and mismatched with the glamorous (I'm using that word loosely...one more cut out in that thing and it's a total stripper gown) dress.

Am I going to be uptight and thin lipped and dried out while my marriage crumbles, only to chase much younger pseudo-intellectual douche bags? John Mayer...I'm talking about you...Emphasis on douche bag.

Jen had the opportunity to rock some post-divorce fabulosity...instead she chose doughy playboy Vince Vaughn (sorry, Vince), and has slowly evolved into a bitter old shrew.

I mean, "Happily ever after," is a long fucking time. Jennifer Aniston thought she had happily ever after and now she's the poster child for miserable cougar while her ex and his younger-girlfriend spit out babies and spread rainbows all over the planet. Maybe I fear the better-faster-younger version of myself will come along and replace me (and for that, there's plastic surgery to fight time just a little bit).

I am going to plan a date night in a hot little dress right now! Someone at the Post Office yesterday did ask if life was easy being as young and beautiful as I am. Use it or lose it. The time fighting has to start early...and my ego could use the boost.

See you this weekend, E...Look out.

I humbly ask for your prayers...

2008-11-06T11:43:00.000-08:00

I'm not a fan of being sick...not because I can't handle the occasional sniffle or sweaty fever, but because illness almost always accompanies a migraine. Migraines are my living hell. Last night, my body was fighting something fierce! I had a fever, sweats, sinus pressure and a headache.

Today, I have been admittedly feeling sorry for myself (and I'll admit I feel pretty shitty, even now)...until I came across a post on Myspace, quite by accident. It turns out that an acquaintance of mine is fighting a very aggressive form of breast cancer.

Let me give you a little back story: Last summer, when E and I were separated, Kat introduced me to The Fearleaders. They're the cheer squad for the LA Derby Dolls. While my residence in OC kept me from being an "official" member, I went and did a couple of charity things with them as an honorary Fearleader. The charity work was with the Fire Hogs, a group out of the LAFD that raises money for the widows and orphans of firefighters killed on duty. Good karma and a day with a bunch of firefighters? Ok...twist my arm...

The first event that I did with the Fearleaders was on a day where I had one of the worst hangovers of my life. Damn dollar beers at the Hollywood Park horse races! I knew that this event was for a good cause, and being a woman of my word, I showed up at the Hollywood Fire station really early in the morning. I was supposed to ride on the back of a Harley from Hollywood to Calabasas (Google it if you don't know how long that ride would have been with a nauseating hangover), but I managed to bum a ride with two of the Fearleaders, Tracee (AKA "Ginger") and Nessa (AKA "Cherry Baby").

Tracee and Nessa took care of my wounded spirit that day. You know the feeling when you meet people that make you believe in humanity again? These two ladies were it...I was heartbroken and hungover. Lost and lonely. Totally confused about what lay before me in my life...single and wondering if I should be dating again, starting my nursing prerequisites that following Monday, and generally feeling the chaos of a life different than anticipated. Tracee and Nessa, hardly knowing me, shared experiences and advice that you only typically find in life-long friends. During this car ride from Hollywood to Calabasas, I started to believe in the inherent goodness of people again, and in the concept of soul mates. I felt assured that no matter how topsy-turvy things were in the moment, everything was going to turn out alright.

Tracee and Nessa are the kind of girls that immediately make you feel loved. They're both stunningly beautiful, and their kindness only adds to their physical beauty. I left the event still a little hungover, but feeling the energy charge that you get from meeting truly amazing people. My ride back to Long Beach with Kat was the punctuation mark at the end of a rejuvenating day. I talked to E on my way home that night...I wonder if he could tell there was something different in my voice. I wonder if I sounded as colorful as my world felt that day? It was not too long after that weekend that E and I cautiously started seeing one another again. I have no doubt that my renewed confidence and zest for life that began with The Fearleaders played a major role in my now-successful relationship.

I don't see nearly enough of The Fearleaders. Kat "retired" from the group, and school has eaten into most of my free time. That being said, I think often of Tracee and Nessa. I wonder if my impact on them was as great as their's was on me. I long for the feeling that I had that day, where anything was possible and fate had everything under control.

I learned today that, at 35 years old, Tracee has an aggressive and advanced form of breast cancer. She has already undergone 6 months of chemo, and is having a double mastectomy today. She will be undergoing radiation after the surgery to try to knock this thing out. So, I respectfully ask my avid blog readers to keep Tracee in your thoughts and prayers. She's a fighter, and I'm confident that she'll make it through this.

I want to remind you: Life is short. Make sure the people who impact your life in a positive way know how much their influence has meant to you. Life should never be too busy to let your loved ones know how much you care.

You can visit Tracee's blog site: http://traceestreasurechest.blogspot.com/ to learn about her treatment progress, and leave her words of encouragement. She is truly a bright spirit in this world.

I will let this day serve as a personal reminder that I want to be a part of the solution. I have no idea what my specialty will be as an advanced practice nurse...All I know is that I want to be right there, helping people who are facing a life-altering diagnosis. This is why I go to class after a full day of work when I'm tired and crabby, why I sacrifice weekend after weekend to my GPA, and why my desire to be successful overpowers the anxiety and uncertainty I feel about being a full-time student in less than 2 months. I would also like to remind everyone to take their health into their own hands. You know your body better than any clinician, and if you're unsure of a diagnosis, please seek a second opinion...

Here's a pic of Tracee, Nessa and I at the event. Note that I am drinking water (damn hangover).

Don't google your past

2008-10-30T15:45:00.001-07:00

So, I had this huge crush on a boy when I was in high school. So huge, in fact, that I was terrified to tell him. This was the only crush in my entire dating history that ever caused me to retreat.
Now, I'm a very lucky girl. I'm dating a handsome, wonderful, charming, generous man. I am carving pumpkins and making caramel apples with him tonight, actually. Not only is he all of the wonderful things that I just listed, but he's also going along with my messy Halloween activities without a single whimper. Just thinking about how sweet he is makes me want to run home and smoosh his face and snuggle with him. E blows all past crushes and relationships out of the water.

That being said, E has all of his ex-girlfriends on his myspace. So, I don't feel quite so bad about what I'm about to write...

Out of curiosity, I googled my mysterious high school crush. I have heard that he's reasonably successful, so I knew I would be able to come up with some info. What I did not expect was to find an image....

Let's just say, he's not exactly how I remembered him. No, that's not a good thing. I actually closed the Internet Explorer window quickly, shocked and horrified at what I found. I should have left him in my foggy memory with my high school heart all aflutter. Now the image that I have of him is beady-eyed and kind of ragged. So much for that wistful memory.

Next google: my ex boyfriend, Chris. He's also quite successful so I anticipated finding some info. I did this a while ago, actually, because the novelty of figuring out what that asshole is up to has long since worn off. The story, however, fits in with my moral of not googling people from the past.

It turns out that good old Chris was on the local morning news show in the town where he lives. Why was he on said morning show? Because he was getting a "make-over." No kidding...right down to the frosted hair. I just about pissed myself. Those of you who knew me during the Chris days know that Chris was one of the most self-absorbed people on the planet. He told me once, "I only date the most beautiful women, you should be happy to be in that category." That was his idea of a compliment. He actually had concealer for the occasional blemish, which I eventually stole from his bathroom. No man of mine was going to be wearing make-up, god damn it!

Lesson learned. Leave your decade-old memories alone. Don't google your past when you're blissfully happy in the present.

My thoughts on the times...

2008-10-10T13:09:00.000-07:00

I keep mulling over what I will eventually tell my children about this election, and the economic climate of the country. How do I feel in the midst of all of this?

I will have to tell them that this election made me feel completely hopeless. That each of the candidates were as bad as they were good. I will have to admit that I, one who was always so steadfast and vocal in her political ideas, realized somewhere along the lines that I was simply echoing the sentiments of my parents, and had no political voice of my own. This would be my first election as an adult.

I will have to admit that the political deal breakers that I once had were replaced with new deal breakers. For the first time in my life I listened to a democratic candidate talk about taxing the "wealthy" and realized that once I was finished with school my joint income with my spouse would be in that tax bracket. I will have to admit to my kids that this was the first election where I could not give two shits about the little guy, as I was far more concerned with building a nest egg for the family I would eventually start...For the first time ever, "they," being my unborn kids, weighed heavily on my politics.

I will tell them that I watched the financial report at the gym each morning and wondered about the future...the country...the people. They will know that my heart raced constantly, and I felt like someone had their foot on my gas pedal all day, every day. They will know that the whole world seemed cloaked in a shroud of desperation and fear, and with every major drop in the stock market I pictured someone leaping from a high rise.

The present day will be historic in its turbulence...The outcome remains uncertain.

Exhausted

2008-10-08T21:28:00.000-07:00

I'm falling apart today. Studying for my entrance exam put a kink in studying for my pharmacology exam, and I feel that there is a lot to do in the next week. My life is out of balance for the moment, and it feels like a too-tight pair of jeans. I feel unkempt and self-conscious...and hermit-like in my lack of contact with others.

I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. I want to be all things at all times...

I need a break...a real fucking break. My "vacation" to Wisconsin this summer turned into a disaster. I vowed that the next time I spend that kind of money on a trip it will be to Hawaii.

I'm going to need to be whisked away from my routine, because I'm certainly not going to be the one to break this cycle of studying and secluding myself. I need to be stolen away to the beach or to an intimate setting. I'm like a machine right now...only the more reclusive and depressed I start to feel, the less efficient I am.

This self-imposed misery...this prison of my mind...will eventually fade.

I really want to like Sarah Palin, but there's this fundamental difference...

2008-10-03T09:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if I've had enough coffee this morning to write this blog, but here we go...I also fully realize that I am putting myself out there politically. I am not pro-anything but pro-education. I'm also anti-STD...

Those of you who know me personally know that I love feisty women. On paper, Sarah Palin sounds like my kind of girl. She's attractive and successful. She has hacked away at the Alaska budget, which I feel this country needs as a whole. Hell, she even sold the governor's plane on Ebay (and I looooooove all things Ebay). I'm from a small town with working class parents. I have a weird accent (that I have effectively buried unless I'm really tired or really mad). I love shooting guns. On paper, Sarah Palin and I could have a very happy life together.

Then, there's the issue of abstinence-only education...and an image pops in my head of me crying while ripping up a picture of Sarah and I together on a hunting trip. Why, Sarah? We could have been so perfect together! Why do you have to hold this ignorant and Puritanistic point of view so closely to your heart? We had so much potential, Sarah...we could have been so happy...

Now, time for my soap box. The issues of reproductive education (or lack thereof) transcends grade school health class. Cost-effective health education and birth control is non-existent in this country. While preventing teenage pregnancy is an obvious goal, there's the much larger issue of STD infection rates. Health and reproductive education needs to extend beyond grade school and into the community (colleges, poor and rural areas).

In Southern California we have a large immigrant population that is predominantly Catholic (so is over half of my family, so don't think that this is being said in total ignorance). While the teachings of the Catholic church are strictly against birth control, they're also against premarital sex (and many people choose to follow the former while ignoring the latter, for reasons which are beyond me). When there is a large population without any access to reproductive education, then the cultural teachings are going to dominate the decisions being made by the individual. In the south with its numerous rural, evangelical, and uneducated communities, the HIV infection rates have far surpassed the CDC's projections. Ignorance is deadly. Knowledge breeds empowerment. It is in human nature to question our beliefs when presented with a clear and concise opposing viewpoint. Our country is founded on free thinking, and challenging the status quot. This is nothing "new" or radical."

Under served populations need to be educated on the importance of effective birth control...Birth control is even the wrong word for what I'm trying to convey. Effective STD prevention. I am talking about condoms, specifically, as the most effective means of STD prevention. Birth control has too strong a religious connotation (Perhaps we should start calling it something else, permanently?). Many of these under served populations are very male-centric, which leads to uneducated women who are at a substantially increased risk for STDs. These women are not educated on the possibility of an unfaithful partner, and the health risks that are associated with infidelity and multiple partners.

Abstinence-only education would work if every single couple were strictly heterosexual (at least 10% of the population is not), virgins at marriage, and faithful throughout their entire married lives. The likelihood of this ridiculous dream of relationship "utopia" (or should I say "dystopia?") is the same as my going home tonight to discover that elves turned one of my cats into a unicorn.

Abstinence-only education will never be a viable option. There are simply too many variables. An effective means of dealing with this is by starting in the schools, and then taking health education into the communities...deep into the impoverished and at-risk communities. This education needs to be available in every language spoken in America and in every single community. Condoms need to be readily available for free in the low-income regions (those suckers aren't cheap, but they sure are effective). I said it before, education is power. If you can save one person from making a poor decision, the society as a whole reaps the benefits.

One woman opts to use protection, does not get pregnant, goes to college, and is eventually able to support a family without government assistance. Or another point: one woman uses protection, does not contract HPV, does not develop cervical cancer later in life. If my kids are eventually going to rebel against me (and if they're my kids that will be a given based on karma alone), I'd rather they see the entire picture, and not simply one small piece of it. Oh, and for the record, the entire picture includes abstinence as an option, because it is an option and I am pro-education. If we can help slow the infection rates of STDs in an under served population with poor access to heath care, the entire community (state and country) benefits.

Sorry if this blog seems a bit scatterbrained...As I eventually become more educated on this topic, I'm sure there will be more passionate (and better informed) rants.

Sorry, Sarah. We could have ruled the Wild West, you with your shot gun and me with my .45...but I will never be able to get behind your socially irresponsible ideology, ever. I'm breaking up with you, Sarah. Maybe I'll run into you some day while I'm fighting for my non-partisan, pro-education ideas, or maybe you'll be back on the news station in Alaska by then...

Be afraid for the future of medicine

2008-10-02T09:46:00.000-07:00

Ah...my peers. If you're reading this blog and are a classmate of mine (past or present), this is NOT about you. My darling collection of nursing buddies are all intelligent and hard working people. This blog is about the other nursing students...the dumb ones.

There is a sense of entitlement in some of my peers that I find baffling. I am astounded by the online posts for my pharmacology class. They usually start out: "Dr. Egan, Can you please double check the answer to question 4? It was marked wrong." Well, genius, that's because it was the wrong answer!! Until last night, my experience with the ignorance of my classmates was limited to the online posts. Then I stayed after lecture to ask a question...

Alright, I'll be honest. I stayed to ask a question about minutia that had been bothering me all day. I'm also vain and cocky, and I love the fact that my questions make me look like I actually read, study, comprehend and analyze the material. That...and I wanted to get a closer look at Dr. Egan's ginormous diamond ring. I waited while all of the panic-stricken students asked her questions. Did they study the same material as I did, because after a few repetitions it all makes perfect sense...like something that was part of my knowledge base all along.

One student was angry at the professor for closing the online assessment before midnight last night. Well...all of the answers to that assessment are given in class on the day it's due, so closing the assessment before lecture when the answers are discussed is in line with conventional wisdom, right? Besides, we had two weeks to do the assessment. Mine was done on Sunday. Then another girl complained because she "has a full-time job." Really? Where? I have plenty of friends that have "full-time jobs" and are managing their studies. Did I mention that I happen to have a full-time job?? I also happen to have no life when I see the need to up my study time. There are times (like now) where I'm so stressed that I don't know what to do with myself. I get skinny, my systems get all out of whack, and my attitude suffers. This class has a lot of legwork, so my free time is painfully limited right now. Then another student chewed out the professor for not finding her a tutor! Uh, post a Craigslist ad for one, rocket scientist. Last I checked it was your responsibility to learn the material by whatever means possible.

We are not going to have professors guiding us in emergency situations. I understand that I have chosen a career path where someone may die if I screw up. It's not a career to enter into lightly. This may sound like a terrible thing to say, but I hope that some of these people never make it into nursing. While there's a shortage of nurses, it's sad that this is the applicant pool that some of my very capable friends are mixed in with. I'd rather there be a shortage of nurses than an influx of lazy assholes who slacked their way through school. Who do you want caring for you when you're sick? A hard worker or a whiner? I sincerely hope this is not an indication of the future of nursing...

I'm happy dating...there, I said it.

2008-09-30T13:24:00.000-07:00

This morning was a boo hoo, poor little me pity party on the treadmill. I used to have so much fun. I used to be such a wild child. I used to work in the movie business and drive onto a studio lot everyday! What have I been reduced to? A nursing student with three cats and no social life...All I do lately is study. E has become the only other resident on Planet MLE, and this morning I was not sure how I felt about that. What happened to my single girl mantra of independence and freedom? I don't drink, don't smoke, exercise daily...what am I a nun? Is this what it means to be an adult?

Before leaving for work, I listened to the voicemail that E left on my phone late last night. He got caught up in a project at home and called without realizing how late it was. His message was sheepish and slightly apologetic, like he realized how late it actually was when my voicemail picked up. He also sounded a little disappointed that he was not going to say good night to me. Hearing his disappointment in calling later than anticipated was oddly comforting.

This afternoon, after my monthly accounting nightmare (why are there so many clients with funky billing requests??), I actually left the office for lunch. I called E, because I knew he was out running errands. I had every good intention of making a cake last night, but failed to realize that I did not have the right sized pan. I admitted that I ate part of the chocolate bar (for breakfast...take THAT PMS!!) that was supposed to go into the cake that didn't happen, and we laughed about how I was now farther away from my cake than I was last night. We laughed about other stuff, the details of which escape me.

My afternoon phone call to E made my day. I was so grouchy earlier....While I loved the wild times a single girl in LA, I'm happy with the latest transition. It's easy to look back on your wild single days with rose-tinted glasses...but I don't really mind growing up. If growing up means that I'm working toward a career that I'm going to love, and a built-in partner in crime, then I'll take it. It's going to be the rainy season before I know it, and in E I have a built-in rainy day buddy.

Ladies and gentlemen, Peter Pan has left the building.

"You will always live in interesting times"

2008-09-22T12:01:00.001-07:00

The title of this blog was the fortune in a fortune cookie that my co-worker left on my desk for me. I think it's a whole lot of awesomeness.

The times don't feel as interesting these days as they do stressful, but I like to reflect on the days when my life was anything but ordinary...

This blog is inspired by a wedding we went to this weekend. One of the bridesmaids at the wedding was one of E's "worst dates." On the date, E tried in vain to engage this girl in conversation...when she finally spoke up, it was to say, "I'm bored." HAHA Who does that? I have been on some bad dates, and never have I said, "I'm bored." Besides, this chick was not anything to write home about (pig nose *cough cough*)...she should have been thankful that someone had actually asked her out.

This made me think about all of the dates that I've been on (at least the ones I can remember...I have been on more dates than I can count, and there's no way that I'd remember all of the details of all of them). There were the dates that were bad because of the dude I was out with...and I can think of few where I would have qualified for the guy's "worst date."

I'll start with the dates where I was badly behaved. I love painting a picture of myself with horns and hooves, because I exude such a good girl image these days.

Worst dates - My fault:

1. I was 19 years old, and went on a date with a guy who offered to make me dinner at his place. Before you think that I am a nutcase for going on a dinner date at a stranger's home, let me say that Madison is a much safer place to date than Los Angeles. I wasn't really too into the guy, but he seemed nice enough. My cell phone rang, and it was Audra. She had just broken up with someone...I don't think that she actually needed moral support, but I told her that I'd bail on my boring date and I'd bring some booze. I told the guy that I had to leave because my best friend had just broken up with her boyfriend and that I needed to go console her...I also convinced him to let me take all the booze from his house. Audra and I got trashed that night, and Bachelor number 1 never heard from me again. 19 year olds are assholes.

While this is not nice, it is funny.

2. Shortly before I met E, I was going on dates pretty regularly (thank you, Yahoo personals). Before one of these dates, I had been hanging with my friend, Rebecca, at the bar she worked at and trying in vain to learn how to bartend. Of course, we were drinking our concoctions...of course I had not eaten all day...of course I had to go straight from the bar to my date. I showed up wasted. It was so bad that it wasn't even funny. I should have cancelled, but I had started to pre-judge my internet dates based on their profiles and then acted out on my dates according to my preconception about them. This guy was a personal trainer, which in my vocabulary was synonymous with "douche bag," so I felt (in my bitter little single world) that my behavior was justified based solely on this guy's profession.

I don't drink anymore, just for the record....

Now, on to the dates that were bad by no fault of my own:

1. I went on a date with this guy once...we went out for a glass of wine, had great conversation, and decided to head to a wine bar. His friends showed up, and I was getting along famously with them...when I realized that my "date" was nowhere to be found. He was in another part of the (now very crowded) bar hitting on not one but two girls (bimbos...ahem). I said to him, "What's the deal?" His response to me was, "There is no deal...this would only be a problem if you and I were dating." I grabbed my things and walked out. His friends begged me to stay, saying that he was going through a rough break-up and was acting all sorts of crazy. I told them I was in the exact same place emotionally, and I was not acting like an asshole. His friends called and texted me for months...I walked out of there with my dignity intact. It was the last date that I ever went on with an attorney or a law student or anyone in that category.

2. There was one date that I went on where the guy went on and on and on and on.........about how much better looking, more athletic, more successful, and more driven I was than him. Jeezus. Let me tell you, 20 minutes of that gets really old (and I do love hearing about how great I am). At the end of the night I was backing away to my car (you know...like let me get the hell out of here), and the dude tried to kiss me. One more thing about me that was better than him? My breath. He had the nastiest breath ever. FYI guys, if she's backing away toward her car with keys in hand, it means she wants to leave. Don't move in for the kill. He's lucky he did not get punched.

3. I went out with a friend of a friend who had hotly pursued me. I wasn't looking for anything serious, and I knew what I was getting myself into. He was casually dating a married woman (a cougar dentist with a long-distance husband). On my date, I got a little tipsy and said to him, "You're dating a married woman because you have an inherent fear of commitment...and I drink too much on dates because I don't want anyone to really know who I am." We had a good laugh over my brutal honesty. It was my only date with him...I asked myself later why I would think that dating someone in that predicament was acceptable. I had no good reason, aside from looking for a little fun.

Then there was the best date ever:

E...picked me up at my place for our first date. He brought me a huge bouquet of stargazer lilies and red roses. I had never been given flowers on a first date...Which I think is sad, looking back on it. We went to dinner, and had a table overlooking the ocean. We split a bottle of wine and talked like we had known one another our entire lives. It was the perfect date. No awkward pauses. I was definitely not "bored."

Lessons learned from the bad dates:

Don't take the booze from your date's house and bail. That, I'm sure, was terrible karma.
Don't show up wasted based on a preconception of douchebaggery
Guys, don't hit on other women on your date. It makes you look like an asshole, not a player.
Girls, don't date a guy who is simultaneously seeing a married cougar....even if he is a friend of a friend.
Guys, don't let your poor self-esteem dominate the conversation with your date.
Don't go for the kiss if she's backing away from you (much as one would back away from a scary animal).
Don't ever, under any circumstances say, "I'm bored." It is far more acceptable to show up drunk and/or take your date's booze than it is to be outwardly cruel.
Even skinny dudes (especially skinny dudes who have lost a lot of weight) have moobs or schweebs or whatever you want to call them (that was a little extra tidbit for ya...like a bonus...and if you're wondering who I'm talking about, I went to high school with him...that's the only hint I'll give).
And Finally: If you want to make a girl crazy, show up with flowers (Or a gift! I love gifts!!). You'll probably be her only first date that begins that way.

It's like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer

2008-09-17T15:39:00.000-07:00

Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me...

I can't help but wonder why some of us are so inclined to make the same mistakes over and over into infinity. I completely understand that you don't always learn your lesson the first time, and mistakes get repeated. It took me a while to figure out that dating musicians was inherently a bad idea for the type of lifestyle I was looking for (Musicians are broke, and I like things! HAHA). It also took a couple of tries before I realized that red wine will put me in the hospital with a migraine that lasts for days and days.

Here are three lessons that I have learned that I am watching some friends repeat over and over. I love the people in my life dearly, and hope some of my hard-earned lessons come in handy:

1. If he's cheating (and you're not married), leave...There is nothing worse than trying to overcome fractured trust in a relationship while there is nothing legally binding you. No kids, no property, no problem. We're young...twenties and early thirties. My friends are successful, attractive, and driven. My local friends live in the same heavily populated area that I do, and trust me, there is no shortage of potential dates around here. It may take a few frogs to find a prince...but there are plenty of princes out there. I spent a year trying to overcome cheating in a relationship that never should have happened. Why did I stay? In my case, I was afraid to be alone. What did I find out when I left? That being alone was awesome and I loved my year of being single and finding myself. I gained the confidence to walk away from something that wasn't right, learned to accept that I may not be right for some of the people I was dating, and that there is no sense wasting someones time when something doesn't work.

That said, I learned in the same relationship...if you're cheating, walk away. My justification was spite...I knew my boyfriend was fucking around, and I felt like my cheating was vindication. It wasn't...I wasn't happy. If you're cheating, you're not happy...and if you're not happy and not married then leave. Life's too short.

2. Speaking of not right, here's another lesson I learned: You can't make someone love you. It sucks, and it hurts, but sometimes you have to walk away. If someone is telling you that they just want to be friends, and talking about the girls they're interested in...listen up: you're not the one. You may be fabulous and independent and a quintessential fun fearless female...but trying to force a relationship is emotional kryptonite. God! When I think about the time I wasted in my early twenties on guys that weren't in to me, it makes me crazy. They weren't bad people. It's not your fault or my fault if you don't want a relationship with me. Lucky for me I learned this lesson early enough to spare myself some real heartache. I met a guy that I really liked, and we dated pretty casually. Turns out he was dating another girl at the time (we were not exclusive so this fact does not make him a shithead), and decided to date her exclusively. He was TERRIFIED to break the news to me. Too bad so sad...we both went on our way. No big deal. It was almost exactly three months later that I met E, when I was least expecting to find someone.

Here's a little factoid about being an attractive woman (and this applies to the friends of mine that seem to get perpetually stuck in this rut): The world is your playground. You are a date-a-thon waiting to happen. You can date until you're so exhausted that you can't see straight. You can have a different date every night of the week. Being strung along by a dude that's not that into you is self-esteem suicide. Buy a new outfit, get your nails done, and hit up some guys on myspace or facebook or match or yahoo and line up as many dates as possible. Get out there and act like the vixen that you are. If I can do it, anybody can. I'm not really that exciting, but I act like I'm a big deal and that's what draws people to me.

3. This one is off the dating subject, but it's a lesson that I've learned (and luckily, some of my friends have learned as well): If drinking or casual drug use is affecting your quality of life, then stop. If you're moody and unstable and sick with a hangover more often than not, then it's time to re-evaluate. You perpetuate bad things in your life if you are perpetually feeling bad. I'm a nut when I have more than one drink. I have no idea if it's my Native American heritage or a poorly functioning liver from all of the migraine drugs I had to take as a kid...whatever it is, I have a very hard time processing alcohol. The last thing I need is to spend a day moody, anxious and feeling sick. There's too much to do. I understand that there are a million excuses to get shitfaced...I'm depressed...work was stressful...I got in a fight with my boyfriend...whatever. I am living proof that you can survive ALL of the excuses I just listed without having a drink. I do other things...like cook, shop or go for a run.

I hope this was helpful. It's a random rant today, because I'm feeling rather salty. I'd love to get shitfaced after my exam tonight, but there's too much to do tomorrow. Besides, I like working out early in the morning much better than laying in bed with a headache. See how easy that was?

The day that changes your life starts out as any other day...

2008-09-13T16:32:00.001-07:00

I sort of knew this was coming, but it was a bit early. I had a dream last night that I received my acceptance letter into nursing school, and was trying to figure out who to call first...I was disappointed that it was only a dream when my alarm went off this morning (yes, I had to set my alarm for the gym because today was going to be action packed with exercise and studying and underwear shopping).

I went to the gym and did a shortie run of about 4 miles...which is funny, because I can remember when 4 miles felt like a big deal. Now 4 miles feels like a sprint.

I planned to go shopping at Frederick's because they were having a 10 pair of underwear for 10 dollars sale (I know!! That IS exciting!!). I swear that there are underwear gnomes in my new apartment that are stealing my underwear...that or I inadvertently put them in a wrong drawer...but the gnome idea is more exciting, so I'll stick to that. So, the gnomes have been happily pillaging my unmentionables, and Frederick's had a deal!!

As I was leaving for the mall, I noticed that the mailman comes really early on Saturdays. I made a mental note to check the mail for my letter when I got back....

10 fabulous undies and 10 dollars later, I was home again. What was in my mailbox? One lonely letter. It was my acceptance letter into the Saddleback Nursing Program.

My entire life for the last 18 months has been centered entirely around this letter. The rest of my life has been placed on hold, waiting for this final green light. By the rest of my life, I mean: formal plans to marry E (the love of my life), starting my career, buying a home, starting a family, and taking real vacations.

This feels like the first day of the rest of my life.

How did I celebrate? I took the letter to E's house to show him (seeing how proud he was of me made this moment even more amazing)...I ate ice cream out of the container...bought a new sweater...called and texted all of the people I love...and spent most of the day studying for my pharmacology exam on Wednesday.

To top off this great day, I came back from my shopping excursion/letter discovery to find a HUGE cat condo, sneaked into my apartment by E. That guy is like a gift ninja, because I was not even gone that long. While the dudes were resistant to it at first, Starski eventually warmed to the new toy, and has spent most of the day napping next to the window.

Late night surprises

2008-09-11T13:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, between the late night with the naughty new kitty and the early morning at the pool (I swam a mile yesterday!!), combined with a full workday and class that night, I was exhausted.

I went to E's house to pick up some flea meds for my cats (new naughty kitty had some...um...hitch hikers), and he made dinner for me. Before I left his house he asked me to let him know if there was anything "different" about my apartment. E has a spare key to my place because, let's face it, he's as welcome there as I am...and I have an uncanny ability to do stupid things with my keys.

I noticed that the floor had been vacuumed. Ok...that's a really nice gesture, and a magical one at that, seeing as I don't have a vacuum. I looked in the closet, and E had bought me a really nice new vacuum, and actually used it in the apartment. It's a reeeeealllly nice vacuum.

How lucky am I? First this guy comes over on Monday to take care of me while I'm retching and crawling around and looking like Hell and cleans the cat box while I'm on my death bed...then, he adopts a stray kitty and takes him to the vet to make sure he's in good health before we introduce him to my kitties...then, he buys me a vacuum and vacuums my apartment while I'm slaving away in class.

Sorry, I know this blog is not nearly as cynical as my usual blogs...but I'm feeling very spoiled and loved.

Oh Hutch, such a terrible houseguest

2008-09-10T13:05:00.000-07:00

So, a few weeks ago, E and I found a stray cat. We think he may have been left behind at one of the foreclosed homes in E's neighborhood. I worry that E and I will end up with 10 cats between the two of us when we finally buy a house...

How did I know he was the one? His inability to say "no" to a kitty....

The stray, or "Hutch" as we have been calling him (my cat's name is Starski and we swore that the next cat would be "Hutch"...it's a long story), was taken to the vet yesterday to determine if he has a tracking chip and to check for diseases. No chip, no diseases, and now current vaccinations...E and I had a new cat on our hands. He's a black cat, and I have a weakness for black kitties. Between the two at my parent's house and the one at home Hutch makes 5 black kitties for me. Starski is the odd man out as a silver tabby (E's weakness happens to be tabbies, and he has one of his own...so there you go).

E brought the new kitty to my place to introduce him to my cats, which did not go very well. My cats were fine with the newcomer, but Hutch was not fond of them at all. He hissed and spat while my cats looked at him like, "Who is this asshole playing with our toys, eating our food, and being so rude to us?" We shut Hutch in the bathroom for the night...

Today E took Hutch back to his place and set him up outside. He has an outdoor litter box, food, and a little carrier to sleep in. We're not sure what the next step will be. We'll either build a cat door in E's garage so Hutch has a safe place to go at night, or we'll bring him back over to my place for round two of cat introductions...

I'm not sure what is going to happen with the new cat...between the drama on my vacation to Wisconsin, the moving fiasco, school starting, and now the new cat...I'm ready to relax for a bit. As long as Hutch is safe from coyotes, I'm happy.

Now...I'm ready for a good night's sleep.

As much as I love my independence, it sure is nice to have someone there when you're sick

2008-09-09T13:39:00.001-07:00

My single girl mantra that I have been singing for the last 4 years has kept me moving in the right direction. No husband or babies until I know exactly who I am and what I want in this life.

As I have moved closer and closer to my goals, E has become a bigger part of my life.

It's funny...I've watched my friends pair off, get married, start families...While they have drifted into their partnerships, I have started to drift into mine. It's like having a built-in playmate. My snorkel, boat, frisbee, tennis, movie, dinner buddy is never more than a phone call (or a mile) away.

I could write a million blogs about how I knew E was "the one." How I knew it from the day I met him...how happy I am that we worked through our differences and grew together.

Yesterday another "how I knew he was the one" story came about, and I feel the need to share it:

I was so sick...dry heaving, sweating, hurting, and laying in bed all day...napping between violent bursts of illness. E knew I was sick, and offered to bring me whatever I needed later that evening. He brought three kinds of soup, Tylenol PM, two different beverages (which he mixed together to make me some sort of fruit punch concoction), and an ice pack. I hardly ate anything before I was really sick again. E made me promise that if I was still that sick in the morning, that I would go to the doctor (I woke up feeling much better today). He rubbed my neck for a bit...I'm still not sure if I had the flu or a really bad migraine.

I took some Tylenol, and while I was drifting in and out of consciousness I could hear E locking windows, playing with the cats, and cleaning the cat box. Seriously? This guy came over with an arsenal of stuff to nurse me back to health, rubbed my neck without fear for his own health, and then he cleaned the cat box??

He's the one...if there ever was one. He was not scared off by my puffy makeup-free face, or my pathetic retching. He even cleaned the cat box, and kissed my forehead on the way out.

I wouldn't be feeling half as well as I am today if I had not been nursed back to health. What a lucky girl I am...

Dan...

2008-08-27T12:56:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning, disoriented in my new apartment. My bedroom is massive and there's a mirror on one side. In the morning twilight, missing my glasses, my bedroom was a gigantic fuzzy cavern. There was one cat on the bed and one making noise somewhere out of sight...

I got up, and made some coffee (I may not have a fridge or food, but I have a coffee maker and coffee damn it), and noticed something on the kitchen table. Mind you, my "kitchen table" is a plastic folding table and two folding chairs. This move has been brutally expensive and E had a nice little table that I could borrow. I tossed a cute table cloth on it last night, and reminded myself that my ghetto table in no way affects my kick ass cooking.

The vase that I put on the table last night is what caught my eye this morning...

It's this tacky white depression glass vase that has been around since my childhood with a single red silk rose in it. I have dragged this vase/silk rose combo with me all over the country, and have always subconsciously placed it somewhere in sight. With all of the moving that I have done and all of the purging of silly "sentimental" things, this rose made the cut every time.

Why? Why would I keep a dusty silk rose and a tacky vase?

At Christmas in my early teens (14 or 15 years old I think), my mom pulled me aside and said, "Your brother got you a gift from his school store and he's very very proud of it. I want you to be very gracious when you open it."

That Christmas I opened the little silk rose that has been with me ever since. He had wrapped it himself. Dan was so proud of that gift. The crazy wrapping job, and his beaming made me love him and his little gift more than I thought possible. That little rose has been to Minneapolis, Flagstaff, Los Angeles, Winston-Salem and finally Orange County. When my entire life was consolidated down into a VW Cabrio, Dan's rose was one of the few possessions I refused to part with.

My brother and I had a tempestuous relationship while we were growing up, but I was always willing to fight for the death for that kid...

I recall Halloween 1999. I went to my parent's house to hand out candy that year. I think I needed a break from my own internal strife and rather than stir up drama out on the street, I opted to dress up and hand out candy in rural Wisconsin. I even remember what I was wearing. I had on red shiny pants, and a fitted black vinyl jacket. I had on really tall red sparkly Maryjane's that put me at about 6 feet tall. I wore red lipstick my hair was dyed jet black and cut in a severe bob (a far cry from the toned down version of myself that I have evolved into almost a decade later). I had vampire fangs that you molded to fit your own teeth, so when I spoke while handing out candy, I flashed a little fang between blood red lips. Subtle, and creepy. It was a great costume.

Some middle school aged kids came to the door and asked if Dan was home.

"Dan you have some friends at the door," I called upstairs.

"Oh. We're not his friends," the girl at the door sniped.

I whipped around, horrified by the audacity of this little bitch at the door and grateful that Dan had not heard me calling for him. I bent forward from my 6 foot stature down to her 5'1" and put my face close to hers. "That's...my...brother you're talking about," I said in a slow and menacing voice, "and you should be careful what you say to people you don't know..." flashing a little fang as I glared at her. She and her friends ran off, and I don't think they were a problem for Dan after that. All I recall of her was that her name was Megan, and the look of terror on her face was so empowering.

It crushed me knowing that my brother had to endure the same torture in the same town that had caused me so much pain. I wanted to save him, where I had been unable to save myself...protect him from the "popular kids" and the over abundance of wannabes. I wanted to chase that little bitch down and scream at her in the name of all of my own personal pain. I hope she's still scared of me, and that she learned a lesson that evening.

The silly little silk rose reminded me that there will always be a subconscious connection to my brother and my past. I still feel that ass kicking urge when I feel he has been wronged. Be it his friends or ex-girlfriends, or the small town mentality that he still finds himself caught up in from time to time...you can mess with me, but if you mess with my little brother I'll make you wish you were dead.

My little Dan...he's marrying a good girl and moving to a big city. If he ever needs back-up I'll be there in a heartbeat, and the little silk rose in its tacky vase will remain on prominent display (regardless of home decor) everywhere I go.

Understanding my own fears about marriage and cheating

2008-08-12T22:19:00.000-07:00

This whole Edwards affair has come at an interesting time for me. Lately I have been doing some soul searching with regards to my jealous nature. Jealousy is not a healthy thing for relationships, and I suspect that I am currently dating the man I will marry.

I am inherently jealous...

While digging through my subconscious, I ruled out the fear of being alone as the main contributor to my jealousy and suspicion. I'm at a point in my life where the only reason I would be alone is out of choice. I'm a date-a-thon waiting to happen. I'm attractive, intelligent and independent. I'm the OC's most eligible bachelorette. If he's going to cheat, she can have him...

Ok...so I'm not afraid of being alone...

The cause of jealousy is not my lack of self-esteem (well, not usually). I'm typically pretty confident. I'm athletic and kind of exotic. I'm approached by men on a daily basis.

Then, while thinking about the Edwards affair, I thought about Elizabeth Edwards. First, she's intelligent and gave up a fair amount of her life to stand behind her husband (no good husband I might add)...stand behind. There's one part of my fear...standing behind. I'm a stand alongside, or run ahead kind of girl. I'm supportive if it's mutual. You support me and I'll support you and we'll be an unstoppable team! Like superheroes...

Second, Elizabeth Edwards was a bit frumpy during the 2004 elections. Before you go all crazy on me, this was before she was diagnosed with breast cancer. This highlights my second issue fueling my jealousy: my vanity. If I do not have enough time to exercise, pick out the right outfit after changing half a dozen times, and make my hair and make-up flawless, then I am one moody creature. I am terrified by the idea of being some over-worked and exhausted frumpy sexless mommy. It's in my nature to be vain and seductive. Am I always going to have the energy to maintain myself like I do right now? I would rather die than fall into the frumpy mommy category (good thing I don't have kids...or plan to have kids anytime soon!).

Third, Elizabeth Edwards has terminal cancer. Those of you who are close to me personally know my fear of terminal illness. John Edwards basically wrote his wife off...she's dying and he's cheating. Cancer runs in my family, so this was a sore spot for me. I am very diligent about exercising and eating well. I try my damnedest to control things that I ultimately have no control over...

Finally, and I see this in many of the cases where the husband has been caught cheating, there's the public affirmation of the marital relationship. "Oh...we're so happy together and perfect." It's the Kathi Lee Gifford syndrome where she talked and talked about her perfect marriage only to have a very public cheating scandal with her sports announcer husband.

How does this relate to me? I'm terrified of being made to look like an asshole. I'm in love right now, and I've talked about that. There's part of me that would sabotage this partnership that has the potential to be a good marriage out of my fear of being made to look foolish. "I'll get him before he gets me." Now, what if my next blog were about a nasty break-up because E cheated? Wouldn't I look like a chump? I will not be made to look like a fool.

Most of my fears relating to infidelity stem from my own vanity and how others perceive me. This was an interesting discovery to make, as it will allow me to grow and change the aspects of myself that are unhealthy. I must learn to be comfortable with my feelings (being in love) and talking about them without assuming the worst (he'll cheat and I'll look like an a-hole). I'm not always going to be a picture of poised perfection...like right now...in my glasses and a hoodie.

E happens to like me with less make-up and a little sloppy. The pessimist in me wonders if this is because he doesn't like the attention that I receive when I bring my A Game...the reality is that E fell in love with the low-maintenance part of me that will help work on the cars or the boat or go on a full day adventure exploring new trails. I'm not afraid to pick up a hammer, and that is as sexy to him as my closet full of stilettos.

I need to accept that I'm pretty fabulous (even in my hoodie and glasses)...I'm always going to be active...I'll never truly be frumpy (even as my future career puts me in scrubs day in and day out, there's always room in my closet for sexy shoes and a tight sweater)...and E loves me for me.

Hopefully that last paragraph will remain true for decades.

A little more ranting on the Edwards scandal

2008-08-12T15:44:00.001-07:00

It takes two to tango...

According to her friends, Rielle Hunter (who freely admits to being a former New York "party girl" and is far too old and haggard to go by "girl" anything), the mistress of John Edwards is being "demonized" by the media. Oh...poor thing. Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences of dating a married man in the public eye.

Let's start with the obvious...Reille Hunter is a man-faced banshee. She has scraggly hair, and a look that screams, "rode hard and put away wet." She looks like a dried up old party girl who tried to find spiritual enlightenment...and failed. Enlightenment does not involve shagging married men. You're destined to come back to this world again to seek enlightenment, Reille...and it won't be pretty.

This goes into my first fear of being cheated on: the mistress. She's not usually that pretty, simply aggressive. The one time that I was cheated on (that I know of HA!), the other woman could not hold a candle to me in the looks department, but I'll be damned if that bitch wasn't persistent. She also claimed to be "spiritually enlightened." It must be some sort of cover. Ladies, if there's an new agey woman hanging around your man, kick her ass on principal alone. They do not have a good track record.

Next, John Edwards is a weak man. Some men can't say no...persistence pays off and the mistress snares her adulterous lover.

This is frightening to me because I see this in OC all the time. Women out there who have something to prove and men who feel that they're lacking the luster of their twenties and thirties. It's a lethal combination for marriages.

I wonder in my own life how this will work out. Will the man in my life love me for me until I'm old and falling apart at the seams? Will I be traded in for a newer model? Will I botox and collagen and silicone and lipo suck and jog my way to the glory of my twenties in 15 years? I am pretty sure I have a good one...I hope I don't eat those words.

Ladies, if you're even thinking about getting involved with a married man, or a man who is in a serious relationship (if you go anywhere near E, I'll cut you! haha)...think twice. He doesn't really love you, and if you're stupid enough to think that he does then throw yourself in front of a bus. Your genes are of no use to the human race.

John Edwards...fuck you.

2008-08-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

John Edwards was my man initially during the Democratic Primaries, until I heard the rumor of his affair. It was run initially in the Enquirer months ago that he had fathered an illegitimate child, and his mistress and bastard were being holed up in North Carolina.

The Enquirer...I know...but I had a tingle of women's intuition on this one, and knew it would come out eventually. I talked to E about this months ago, bitching about politicians and their lack of morality.

Infidelity is something that terrifies me. It's not so much the idea of being cheated on, but the loss of power. I like to be in control. The very thought of being a woman who is married to a man of power and simply fading into the background as a frumpy housewife TERRIFIES me. It is that fear coupled with my drive for personal notoriety that will push me to be a success in my own right.

Politicians often marry women of their own ilk. These are well educated and intelligent women. How they can stand being these pearl and cardigan wearing plastic figurines is beyond me. I would rather be strangled by my pearls than become a smiling cardboard cutout behind some man. I would be the one having the affair if I were turned into some sexless, powerless, stay-at-home-while-daddy-travels mommy. I can hear it now, "Oh pool boy..."

The other major issue that I have with this is that his wife has terminal cancer. She's healthy now, and many people live for years and years with terminal cancer before falling seriously ill, but I can see the "stress of the illness" as his upcoming excuse. Either he'll claim that she's too ill to have sex, or that the stress of eventually losing her pushed him the affair. I recently attended a community health seminar about intimacy after a diagnosis of cancer. Anything is possible if you are a loving and compassionate partner. I heard one story about a man who was able to get doctors orders to lay in bed beside his terminally ill wife while she died in the emergency room.

To that I say, Fuck you, John Edwards. You were not man enough to stand by your wife when she needed you the most. She put her entire life on hold so you could try to achieve your lofty political aspirations. Her health came second to your presidential bid, and this is how you thank her? You are disgusting and weak. You deserve nothing good from life or this country. May everything that you touch turn to dust...

Perhaps part of the beauty in life is the uncertianty...

2008-08-08T10:51:00.000-07:00

Today I felt totally comfortable with my topsy turvy life. Yesterday I rented a U-haul and a storage unit for my temporary move to the beach. Today, after much strife over what to do with the cats while I'm in Wisconsin next week, I called the vet and made an appointment to have the cats made current on all of their vaccines and boarded for a few days. It was a huge weight off, knowing that they'll be cared for and loved (yes my vet's office is full of loving people, which is why I pay a premium for their care). I'll be able to enjoy my vacation knowing that I have made everything as comfortable as possible during my personal firestorm. Nothing in my life is uncomplicated right now, but I feel completely at peace with everything.

I'm a planner to my very core. I even told E recently that I have picked out our wedding date and how we're going to do it (E and I have been dating for three years, so this assertion did not shock him). I'm itching to find out if I have been accepted to the Saddleback nursing program, so I can plan things in my life until my little heart sings. Plan a schedule change at work...plan my financial aid...even plan to finagle meetings with some of the hospital nursing recruiters so that I know what I'm in for when I graduate. I'll plan grad school (yes...while I'm getting my RN), and what prerequisites I'll take on top of my nursing classes. Plan plan plan.

While I may be content to plan my life out for the next decade, I'm content to also go with the things that I cannot control. Like last week, when I found out I had to move from my condo...I was not pleased with the circumstance because I hate moving, but I wasn't really happy where I was either. My condo is constantly dirty because of the freeway dust, and the neighbor's car alarm goes off randomly (and far too often). The crime has started to increase thanks to the crappy economy, bored local teenagers, and the close proximity to the freeway. When all of my stuff is out of there, I'll honestly be happy to say goodbye.

I thought I had the next step planned by looking for an apartment with a friend. When she found out that she was unable to get out of her lease early, I realized that I was going to have to move into her place for a couple of months while we look for a place together. Initially I felt like panicking, but after mulling it over, I realized that I would have the time to save some money and will be living with someone that I truly enjoy. I will not have to hunt down an online stranger for a roommate, or live in a tiny studio apartment on my own. A studio is too small for 2 cats anyway, and I ultimately want what's best for them.

If there's one thing that I've learned in my life, it's that chaos has always brought about great things. Last spring was chaos (no job, separation from E), and I ended up having one of the best years of my life as a result of the decisions I made during that time. My car getting totalled while I was out of town was a bit chaotic, but it brought E and I together as a team and I have a more reliable car with no car loan. Moving to California was the ultimate chaos, and it was the best thing I've ever done.

While I love to plan things, I welcome the excitement of forced change. What's next? A couple of months at the beach with a good friend will put my head on straight just in time for the madness of preparing for nursing school. A couple of months jogging in the sand will do wonders for me both physically and spiritually. January will bring the next big phase in my life of planning and having my plans changed suddenly and against my will. What do I say to that? Bring it on.

This is a random rambling if I ever saw one...

2008-08-06T14:40:00.000-07:00

First, an update: I am moving to Seal Beach temporarily while my girlfriend E's lease runs out. Then E (I know I know...I have an over-abundance of "E names" in my life..I'll call her "Girl E to clarify between she and boyfriend E) ...Girl E and I will be looking for a place that is closer to school and nicer than my current condo. Her place is tiny, but it's one block from the beach (hell yeah), and two months of morning beach jogs won't kill me.

Now...for the experiment: This whole moving thing has me thinking about how I spend my money. I was thinking that I would have to scrounge together my rent and security deposit by the end of the month...and I was a little nervous. It would have been do-able, but tight. What the hell have I been spending money on? Well...I had a couple of big money drains (car and cat) earlier this summer, and then there was the trip to Wisconsin that we're taking this month. It's not the big expenses that I'm worried about...I'm worried about the fact that I dribble money all over the place.

So, my proposal is this: I'm far more careful when I spend money on my credit card. I am vastly opposed to spending money on interest that I really don't need to spend. Yeah, my checking account has a way to track all of my spending, but it has never really kept me in line for long. I'm going to start making every purchase on my credit card. Gas...groceries...clothes...necessities...everything. I can guarantee that I'll think twice about my purchases if I'm dreading the monthly balance payoff.

Now, for the next experiment: My eating habits have been horrible lately (damn weddings, parties and whatnot). It's time for another Mexican food hiatus. 6 weeks, no Mexican food. Now, I've done this before and it worked out nicely...so here we go again. I have PMS, feel like an elephant and am probably going to come back form WI in a couple of weeks 5 pounds heavier than usual. Damn cheese. I should probably start logging my calorie intake (I'll start that tomorrow and let you know how my progress goes). I already log my workouts.

So that's it...time for cleaning house mentally, physically, and financially. I'm excited to see how the credit card experiment goes. I'll be making updates on my calorie logging and credit card revelations...

Caught the bouquet, biotches

2008-08-04T11:14:00.000-07:00

E and I went to a wedding on Saturday, and I must mention that it was so amazingly beautiful. It was full of love and laughter and good feelings. I had a wonderful time...until the end, when all I wanted to do was unzip the back of my unholy dress.

During the bouquet toss, I snatched the thing right out of the air (I must admit, I had quite the height advantage). It is currently hanging form the knob of a cupboard, and I am hoping it will dry nicely.

While it will be years before I get married, I feel pretty certain that it will be with E when it happens. We're very different people, but we put forth a nice effort to try and understand one another. While I don't think that love is all you need for a successful marriage (good finances and being on the same page about money, kids and time lines are crucial), I feel that having a good foundation of loving and respecting one another is imperative. I'm understanding this more and more...when I am frustrated with our differences, I remind myself that I am in love with a good person. I'm never going to be 100 percent in agreement with any one person, and I certainly don't want my clone as my husband! haha Our difference, while exhausting at times, keep me in check. I love being made to question what I have always assumed was fact.

That said, I have a killer idea for my own wedding. It's already planned out...right down to the date...I'm not going to share any of the details on my public blog, but if you know me personally feel free to email me and ask. Obviously a lot can change in the next 2 years, but nursing school will do a good job of making this all whip by in a flash. E's on board for the conceptual ideas, and it should be pretty inexpensive...so he's on board with that, too!

Oh, and if it's not E, there's some lucky guy out there that's going to have a killer wedding.

Sometimes you just know something is up...

2008-08-04T11:01:00.001-07:00

My intuition is generally pretty good, and something told me a couple of weeks ago to put my feelers out for roommates and cost of living info in my area. Nothing was said...but I felt that something was about to change.

Well I found out on Thursday that my roommate is moving. While this was an inconvenience, it was a welcome change. I was considering moving out with a girlfriend of mine and wanted to live in a place that looked like girls lived there. I also found out that my roommate was over charging me for my portion of the rent because I, "never asked," and he gladly took the master bedroom, while I paid $2000 more to live there over the course of my stay. Needless to say, I'm less than pleased about that revelation. I have not discussed it, as I'm not in the mood to be constructive about it. I'm much more in the mood to scream and throw things, so I'll simply keep to myself until I settle down.

I'm going to look at some places this afternoon, and am genuinely looking forward to living in an apartment community. There will be new appliances, regular maintenance, and a clean roommate. We're also going to get a place with 2 bathrooms...thank god...

So, between the end of the month accounting, and trying to sort out this new personal issue, I have been MIA from the old blog. I'm hoping that my mood will improve after this afternoon's hunt, and I'll be back tonight to report some good news...

Told ya...

2008-07-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

CHICAGO, Illinois (AP) -- Deaths from medication mistakes at home, such as actor Heath Ledger's accidental overdose, rose dramatically during the past two decades, an analysis of U.S. death certificates finds.

Prescription drug abuse plays a role in the rise in fatalities, but it's unclear how much, researchers said.

The authors blame soaring home use of prescription painkillers and other potent drugs, which 25 years ago were given mainly inside hospitals.
"The amount of medical supervision is going down and the amount of responsibility put on the patient's shoulders is going up," said lead author David P. Phillips of the University of California, San Diego.

for the rest of the article:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/07/28/fatal.drug.errors.ap/index.html

Looks like I'm going to have my work cut out for me in my career path...

That cartoon shark is waiting for me, I know it!

2008-07-28T14:23:00.000-07:00

E and I took the new boat out this weekend. We braved the choppy water and less-than-optimal temperature to anchor, have lunch, and swim up onto a semi-private beach (private beaches are illegal in California, but the Emerald Bay community tries their damnedest to keep peons like me of their beach, but with our boat access there's nothing those rich bastards can do about it...nah nah nah).

Here's the deal with anchoring and swimming to a beach: We didn't want to run the boat aground (duh), so we anchored about 100 meters from shore. I had a mask, snorkel and fins and was totally prepared to swim like a dolphin over to the beach....or so I thought. What I did not have was a zanex to deal with the anxiety attack that was triggered by jumping into the 30-40 murky feet of ocean churning beneath me.

I know that you're probably thinking that I used to swim in murky Wisconsin lakes, so what's the big deal? Well, first, I was a fearless child...then as an adult I always had a little liquid courage on the boat before jumping in. Second, there are no sharks in Wisconsin lakes.

I was afraid to look underneath me. E said there were some cool fish under the boat, but I started for shore as soon as I hit the water (and the Pacific Ocean is not warm...ever...). Every time I'd glance underneath me with my mask I'd feel myself starting to panic. In an act of self preservation (mainly, preventing myself from drowning during one of my little freak outs), I swam with my head out of the water, and ripped the mask off when I reached the shore.

The 100 meter sprint back to the boat was even worse. I was fighting against the waves, swallowing water and imagining what horrible things were swimming right below me. I put the mask around my neck, which effectively choked me all the way back to the boat. I threw my flippered, choking, exhausted body over the side of the bobbing boat so haphazardly that I am covered in bruises (looks like I'll be wearing the long dress to the wedding this weekend). "Take the fins off first," Evan yelled to me while I flailed into the boat with my legs over my head. Eff that. More time for the sharks to find me.

What was it that I thought I would see while looking under the water? I'm a really strong swimmer, so making it to and from the shore didn't really bother me. I was afraid that, if I looked under, I would see a cartoon shark grinning up at me.

He would say, "Emily! I've been waiting for you," right before he drags me to my underwater death. I'd probably see some creepy cartoon stingrays pointing at me on my way to my doom....

I tried explaining my fear to E. While I was telling him my story, he almost spit out the soda he was drinking. Apparently he does not share my fear of cartoon sharks. He did not completely disown me after hearing about my imaginary exchange with the cartoon shark, god bless him. I'm pretty sure a lesser man would have written me off.

Yes...this is what I'm afraid of, people...talking cartoon sharks. I'm pretty sure they're quite common off the coast of southern California. Maybe someday I'll get over my fear of cartoon sea creatures. In the meantime I'm going to practice in the pool and close to shore with the mask and snorkel. 5 feet of water is far less intimidating than thirty.

Wait. Why am I here again?

2008-07-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Heath Ledger's death had strange timing for me, personally. It was within a matter of days that my had a close call with an accidental overdose on his pain meds. Ironically, I had said after Ledger's death, "My dad is one accidental dose away from pulling a Heath Ledger," and those words came back to haunt me.

Prescription medication, or rather, the misuse of prescription medication is something that I feel very passionately about. I'll preface this by saying that I have many friends that have benefited greatly from medications for depression and anxiety, and there was a time in my life where I was grieving and was helped by anti-anxiety medications. When used properly, prescription medications are lifesavers.

On the dark side, medications are frequently abused. Many of the pain and anxiety medications are very addictive. I know this firsthand. I was prescribed vicodin for my migraines and I wanted more and more and more...the headaches would go away and then come back in a vicious cycle of medication and pain. I don't take any prescriptions for my headaches anymore, as I identified some of the triggers and almost eliminated my headaches with the elimination of the triggers.

My dad suffers from chronic back pain, and he takes more medication than I care to think about. I thought he was on the road to pain management recently, until my brother confided in me that he was back on vicodin for "break through" pain...on top of his narcotic patch and all of the heart medications he's on.

I read somewhere that prescription abuse is rising faster in 20-30 something women than in any other age group. My age bracket...It doesn't help that drugs such as adderall (an ADHD drug that is classified by the FDA as an amphetamine...like cocaine, only in a bottle with a label) are being prescribed off-label by unscrupulous practitioners as a weight loss drug. This drug is particularly dangerous because of its potential for cardiovascular effects (for example, stroke and heart attack) and addictive nature. Oh, and if you're taking someone else's adderall, you'll fail a drug test...it's just like testing positive for cocaine. Fun! The thing that sucks about being a woman is that we hear "weight loss" and we say "give me," without thinking of the long-term side effects. There's no easy way out of the good old diet and exercise.

I can't help but feel that I have some sort of higher purpose with this passion of mine. It hurts me deeply when I hear of accidental overdoses, or people who are so addicted to prescriptions that they doctor shop and die as a result of the deadly cocktail. With Heath Ledger's image plastered all over right now, I'm constantly reminded of what I feel is one of my purposes in this life. If I can find a way to change the system and educate patients on the true dangers of hiding things from their doctors, I would feel that this life of mine had some success.

I sincerely believe that people want to live healthy and happy lives. I understand that with chronic pain management and depression you are always going to be dealing with medications. Finding the right medications (and giving someone their life back) without overdoing it is where the medical community is lost...We will see more accidental overdoses before this gets better. Someday I'll be armed with the education to make a difference. That someday is coming...

Nothing says, "I love you" like a carnivorous plant.

2008-07-24T16:56:00.001-07:00

I saw E at lunch today, which I should have done a few days ago when I started feeling iffy about our relationship. The problem with busy lives is that when things are hazy or confusing, you can't always patch up in a phone call what you can patch up with...say...a hug. I had the most perfect hug for lunch and am feeling much better.

Also, without the extreme pressure of horrendous bio classes following me everywhere, I feel a bit directionless and lost. I wish I were able to enjoy my precious time off, rather than fret over living a purpose driven life.

So, I decided to get E a little gift, because we're all stressed and loony in our own right. I was going to get him some bamboo, but ordering it online is like 50 bucks, and I live down the street from an Asian market (where bamboo is like 2 bucks). I racked my brain for something that might be even cooler than bamboo...A Venus Flytrap! I googled it and poof! there were several sites for the little buggers.

I ordered one and am having it shipped to E's office as a surprise. What is cooler than a plant that eats stuff??? The Venus flytrap kicks the bamboo's ass (which I will most likely go purchase this evening from the Asian market anyway, because it's pretty). Nothing says, "I love you," like a carnivorous plant. It's a pet and a plant all in one!!

Maybe storm chasers don't make good husbands

2008-07-23T19:45:00.000-07:00

While my life has settled into a routine, I can't help but recall the less disillusioned times. The times when skinny dipping and driving to the country to see a meteor shower were as normal as going to work in the morning. The times that I am referring to were innocent and exciting. I was so curious. I wanted to explore. Everything had to have a taste and a touch and a feel to it. My life was in technicolor. I loved with the passion of a thunderstorm. I was fearless. I had visions and dreams. Massive road trips were a common occurrence.

I can't help but wonder if my life is not missing something...a spark...a light. I feel more hollow and empty than I have in a long time. While I'm pleased with my direction (and would not veer off course for anything), I miss the spontaneity that my life used to hold.

I want someone who will cater to my whims ...I want to drive to the mountains or the desert when the forecast calls for storms. I want to drive to the middle of nowhere to watch the meteors. I want to spend one day a month doing something completely irrational. Am I lacking something in my life or am I experiencing growing pains? I'm comfortable, but not necessarily happy.

I want to be swept off my feet, and loved passionately. Am I loved? Is this right?

Maybe I'm questioning for the sake of questioning. My first love has been married for a year now, and I feel like I am so far away from that point. Does he know, or does he question the way that I do?

Perhaps growing up means trading passion for comfort. Besides, storm chasers probably don't make good husbands...do they?

Ocean therapy

2008-07-21T15:50:00.000-07:00

I spent a good portion of the weekend working on E's new boat. It was relaxing to polish away on the new little boat, and dream of all the adventures that lay on the horizon. It will be a little while before the boat is Catalina ready, but I'm more than happy to help get it to that point.

I've been feeling unusually dark lately and having the little boat to divert my attention was really good for me.

This morning was a classic Monday morning. It was nice to remind myself that on Friday I'll be picking up goodies at Trader Joe's for the weekend at the harbor. Sorry if I'm MIA over the next few weeks. I'll be polishing away my anxiety at the harbor, and putting myself back in the right frame of mind. The retail therapy did not work (although I do have some fabulous new purses, dresses and shoes), so it's time for a little ocean therapy. After this weekend I can tell it's going to help.

A moment, reflecting on the relationships that changed me...

2008-07-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago, I dated someone who changed my life. Writing that..."seven years ago," astounds me. How the time has flown. It seems like yesterday in some respects and like a million years ago in others.

This boy was everything I wanted to be in my life. Driven, compassionate, athletic, and adventurous. He was a med student, and I was taking some GE's after overcoming some pretty hefty demons from my late teenage years. There were times that I hated him for his ease in life (what I know now is a comfort within yourself that comes from surviving your early twenties, and not necessarily being born with a silver spoon in your mouth). Simply put, we were the right people at the wrong time.

I loved him, but I also walked away. I told him that I would not accept waiting around for a maybe, and that the world was too big to put my life on hold. He understood. It was the most painful thing I have ever done. I walked away from that, I can walk away from anything. That move took more self-control that quitting smoking, drinking, or losing thirty pounds. Leaving that relationship was a true test of strength. Sometimes loving someone means letting go.

He mentioned looking at residencies out in California about 4 years ago, and I told him not to expect anything from me as I did not want my life to be anymore complicated. Eight months later I met Evan. My ex is married to someone else now, and living in LaCrosse, Wisconsin...My idea of Hell. We don't speak. Everything happens for a reason.

What I gained from knowing him was a healthy appreciation for my mind and my athletic prowess. While I still had a long way to go, and several more personal demons to face, I grew immensely from knowing him. I am driven, compassionate, athletic, and adventurous...everything I saw in him and wanted in myself. I have surpassed many of my personal goals and am on a path to becoming a version of myself that I didn't even know was possible. I set the bar higher every day, and I'm thankful for how far I've come.

Without knowing my ex, I don't think I would have been prepared for meeting and falling in love with Evan. Evan has pushed me beyond my preconceived personal limits, and has inspired me to constantly break my personal records. He puts up with way less of my bratty behavior than my ex did, so I'll say that most of my recent emotional growth stems from Evan's refusal to put up with my tantrums. While my ex made me want to be a better individual, Evan makes me want to be a better partner. My strength comes from my past, but my motivation is from the present.

A spirit told me once in a dream, "Everyone comes and goes from your life for a reason." Truer words were never spoken...My ex was the love of potential, Evan is love in the moment, and everything else was practice.

A small gesture of resect

2008-07-13T09:02:00.001-07:00

Last night my boyfriend went to a bachelor party...he told me that it was a barbecue for the bachelor, and assured me that there were no strippers. While I was at my own party last night, my friends and I joked that he was at a "barbecue" and not a strip club at all. We laughed that he was covered in glitter somewhere rather than roasting wieners on the old grill. Noooo...strippers at a bachelor party? Never!

He called me last night on his way home, and told me that he had actually skipped out on the stripper portion of the evening, and headed home.

In my eyes, this was a small gesture of respect on both of our parts. He knew I didn't want him going to some shady strip joint in the valley, but it was a bachelor party and I was respectful enough to avoid pressing the issue. I let him off the hook for my party (he was actually supposed to accompany me to the party that I went to last night), and knew that he was headed out for some bachelor debauchery. He called it a night when all of the guys left for the strip club, which was very respectful...I don't think he realizes how impressed I am by that small gesture. I would not have been mad if he had gone...

I am heading out to see him this morning, and he has no idea the good things that await him today. His small gesture of respect will be repaid a million times over. Besides, I can do to him things that no stripper is capable of. Oh yes...he's going to have a very very good day.

Weapon of choice? My stiletto...

2008-07-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to LA for a birthday party, and in typical LA party fashion (and thanks to the random construction on the 405 at midnight), I wasn't home until almost 1. My roommate told me that he was going to be gone all weekend, so I made sure everything was locked up and went to bed.

Around 2:30 a noise woke me up. While I laid there in my daze, it occurred to me that I should probably figure out what that noise was, since I was pretty certain it came from inside the house. I don't live in a bad neighborhood at all, but the shitty economy has caused a rise in car break-ins and minor thefts in my neighborhood.

I started by turning on my bedroom light. Then I searched for a weapon...the stilettos that I wore that night were perfect! I grabbed one in my hand, fully prepared to gouge the shit out of any intruder with my adorable strappy heel (I would have mourned the shoe casualty, though). I cursed the fact that I know how to shoot a firearm, but don't even own a taser much less a gun. I turned on the upstairs hall light, and the bathroom light. Then...out popped my roommate. Thanks for the heads up that you were coming home at an ungodly hour, rather than being gone all weekend....

"You scared the living shit out of me," I scolded him, "and you're lucky I don't own a gun." He almost met his death by stiletto.

It's like a fog is lifting...this week has been a wake-up call of sorts

2008-07-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

While I dealt with the typical PMS stuff (which was not as bad as usual, because I have been exercising like a fiend), I was also dealing with a rather nasty illness. While visiting the doctor for said illness, it was uncovered that I have borderline high blood pressure. That, my friends, was a wake-up call.

My mismanagement of stress does not always show on my exterior...my stress is the personal kind. The kind that keeps me up at night. I'll wake up with my heart racing, my head hurting and blazing hot (it doesn't help that the upstairs of my condo is a raging inferno on most nights). I'll be dreaming of failing tests and a cheating boyfriend. I have joked that I'll be startled, and while I remain totally cool on the outside, my insides feel like I just let out a blood-curdling scream. Like when Evan took me sailing on one of our first dates and the wind literally blew the little boat so far over I thought for sure I was going in the ocean, and I did not let out a peep...I took 5 years off of the life of my internal organs, but convinced the boy I was trying to impress that I was a sea-worthy creature.

I also eat a lot of salt. Evan is constantly pointing out that I salt everything. Now I know that sodium causes you to retain water, and increases your blood volume. An increased blood volume causes increased arterial pressure...thank you physiology class. The salt thing is going to be a tough one to break.

My nurse practitioner actually scheduled another appointment for me to see a doctor and talk about taking something to control my blood pressure. I'm not certain that this can't be changed with a few lifestyle modifications. I'm not taking drugs as my first line of defense, that's for damn sure. Evan offered to dig out his stress management book for me (awww...sweet boy), and suggested that I start taking a yoga class once in a while.

Either way, I can't afford to have my internal stress raising my blood pressure and periodically knocking out my immune system. This week was eye-opening. I quit smoking AND drinking...I most certainly can quit salting my food!

How to ask for my number (and get it if I did not have a boyfriend).

2008-07-11T08:22:00.000-07:00

I get hit on quite frequently. While most of the time I want to scream, "Do I look like a budget girlfriend to you??" and throw something, this morning I was actually taken aback. I went into the store to grab a cup of coffee (I had to be at work earlier than usual to get one client a cup of coffee in a meeting that I otherwise have nothing to do with...) and there was a guy in the store staring at me in a rather obvious fashion.

I feel like an elephant today. I can finally go back to the gym tomorrow and I'm bloated as hell. I kept thinking, "He's staring at me because my pants are tighter than usual today. Great!"

I paid for my coffee and left the store and sure enough there was my new boyfriend, waiting by my car. Now, here's where he actually did something right. This guy was not my type (he was driving a nice car, which made him a little closer to my type, and makes me sound like the superficial bitch that I am capable of being). He was tatted up on both arms (Kat, my twin, if you're reading this...he was YOUR type...I should have grabbed his number for you). When he approached me he took his sunglasses off. This little gesture actually impressed me, so take note boys. When he asked me if I had a boyfriend and if he could get my number, he was visibly nervous and his hands were shaking. Again, boys, a little humility goes a long fucking way. Finally, when I told him I had a boyfriend but was flattered, he LEFT ME ALONE!! There are so many men who are not thwarted by the "I have a boyfriend" line...

There you have it, guys. Take off your sunglasses, show a little humility, and if the answer is, "No," walk away. Follow the first two steps and believe me, you're going to hear a lot more yes's than no's.

It's also nice to know that I am still able to make men visibly shake when approaching me, even when my game is a little off. Today is going to be a good day.

I'm pretty sure the Devil is a woman

2008-07-10T16:26:00.001-07:00

Let me clarify that the Devil is a woman with a chronic hormone imbalance and a pair of stilettos that are a half-size too tight. You know...the kind of stiletto that gets you laid. The shoes that are so hot to look at, but leave your feet bloodied and blistered after a couple of hours. Yes...that is the Devil, wearing her hot-ass shoes, if the Devil exists.

My capacity for evil, once a month (you know what I'm talking about here), astounds me. I never really act on my evil thoughts, but I wander around thinking horribly nasty things about perfect strangers. Like today, at the Irvine Ranch Market....there was a gaggle of women standing around the sushi like deciding between the California roll and the spicy tuna roll was fucking rocket science. Morons. I had an overwhelming urge to spew something hateful at them, but resisted. I reached over them, rather obviously, and grabbed what I wanted. It wasn't rocket science. It was spicy tuna for me all the way, baby.

I wanted to throw things at the guy in the Escalade because he was trying to turn where I was walking. My sentiments for the day consisted of an overwhelming desire to throw, scream, kick and break things. Spewing hate and venom would have made me feel so much better, but my tact and social graces kept my inner demon only lapping at the surface...she occasionally shot daggers from my eyes, but that was the closest she got to breaking through.

I can feel the estrogen fueled she-devil retreating within me. The "no gym, doctor's orders" this week has not helped matters. I get to feel like a bloated elephant, and I am NOT allowed to exercise! Good God! I'm so desperate for a good sweat on the old treadmill, that I am almost at the point where I would break doctor's orders and risk a systemic infection for a drippy sweaty run! Saturday...I can go back on Saturday if all continues to go well. I'm going to attempt to divert myself with a manicure tonight (yes...I'm getting weekly manicures now, so I'm a bit of a diva...eff off), or a visit from the boyfriend. I'm at my shopping quota until next month (sadly), so I can't buy a new purse until the beginning of August. I'm one of those painfully responsible people who actually pays their student loans and zeroes out the credit card balance every month. Damn responsible nature...

At least today was a good day at work. My hormone fog lifted, and I was able to concentrate on work tasks. I had to re-write something for a magazine article that was shoddily written by the editor of the magazine where it is going to be published. It's on creating an illusion of intimacy in a large space. I'm not sure what this woman was thinking when she was writing this, but it was all over the place. I'm no English major (HA! Not even close!!), but this article was a hot mess! My boss seemed pleasantly surprised...well, actually he seemed astounded by my mad writing skillz. I tried to place myself in the home, describing the details and views...it wasn't rocket science.

Tomorrow the hormone fog will be further lifted and by Saturday I'll be back on the treadmill (I hope).

Next week will bring health, happiness and wealth (a girl can dream, right?). More nursing school applications...more time for the gym...maybe I'll get to start reading the SCUBA manual so I can start diving sooner than later. Yes...Next week I will no longer feel like an elephant, and the Devil within me will retreat for another month.

What not to do when your girlfriend is sick...

2008-07-09T15:19:00.000-07:00

When my other half gets sick, I do whatever I can to make sure that he knows that he's loved and cared for. Perhaps it's in my nature, seeing as I'm heading to nursing school shortly.

This week, I had a little cut (a tiiinnnnyyy cut) that turned into a nasty infection. I'm going to blame stress and over exertion for this one...taking an three and a half week intensive class after my Spring semester from Hell was not the wisest decision I have ever made. So on Monday, I went to the doctor and had already developed a fever. For those non-medical people out there, a fever is a pretty bad sign with a skin infection.

Needless to say it stressed me out. How could this happen to me??? I'm fucking Wonder Woman!! I can run a mile in high heels, hop a fence and then break a door down. I eat well, get enough sleep and exercise daily. There are days when I am surprised that I have not yet learned how to fly....

I have not slept in three days, laying awake every night wondering if I'm getting better. I have a million things to do, and no sleep, no time, and now no health...I could not help but wonder what I would do if I had to go to the hospital. What about the cats? My enormous PPO co-pay? My job? I have been so depressed that breathing felt like too much effort.

My boyfriend thinks that he's being supportive by acting like nothing's wrong and saying helpful things like, "We're all stressed out, Emily." I think that he has an allergy to random gifts and sending flowers. Seriously...he'll go into anaphylactic shock if he does something spontaneous...I am sure of it. Get the boy an EpiPen...he bought his girlfriend flowers on a day that was not Valentine's Day.

Further adding insult to injury, I have cramps today. Good times. I am going to sign off and go break some stuff...

I don't need your help feeling like shit...

2008-07-02T09:39:00.000-07:00

I do not feel like myself lately. I'm exhausted from my 4 week summer course. I'm stressed out over the cost of gas and food. The money worries will be alleviated by some reorganization of my budget. June was terribly expensive. By the end of this month, I'll be back on track. I have 4 more applications for nursing schools (and don't even get me started on worrying about all of the financial ramifications of being a full-time student!!).

Last night I was on the phone with my best friend, and actually laughed. I can't remember the last time that I laughed like that...which is sad...I said something crass that was out of character for my usually restrained self. I startled myself by saying it, and laughed even harder. Then, I laughed again this morning. These very real bursts of laughter remind me that over the next few weeks my personality will creep back, and I am reminded that I am making the right decision to take it easy with school this fall.

I feel like there are situations in my life that are needlessly stressing me out and making me feel bad about myself. I really put forth an effort to keep from taking my stress out on the people that I love. Unfortunately that sentiment is not reciprocated in all of my relationships.

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut. It's hard to be my happy self around someone that makes me put up more and more walls. I'm tired of feeling like I'm on the defensive. It's exhausting to be snapped at during an otherwise lovely day through no fault of my own. I am tired and detached right now...

I am not feeling well today, not well at all...

You can't please everyone

2008-06-27T10:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not really sure what's going on today. Is it the cosmos? Burnout? Character flaws? Regardless of the source of my discomfort, this day did not get off to a good start.

First, I'm stressed out about money. I just had to pay for fall semester, my flight to Wisconsin was not a cheap one, and June was generally full of money flying out of my wallet.

Second, my brother was on me about being "too skinny." I'll admit that in the picture that he saw, I look pretty thin. I could not convince him, however, that I have made no significant changes to my diet other than cutting out alcohol. I'm allergic to wheat, so no bread or products containing gluten. I run maybe 5 miles a week further than I used to, but that is to be expected considering how consistently I run. I'm also fucking stressed out, so I'm sure that my increased heart rate has something to do with my minor weight loss.

Third, this day started with vague and non-descript uncertainty about my future. It's starting to sink in that nursing school is a matter of months away. What am I going to do for money?? I'm also generally uncomfortable in my relationship. Sometimes I feel like through my boyfriend's constant barrage of reminders about my vast array of intolerable habits he's simply giving himself an exit route.

Am I not deserving of being loved for who I am right now? I'm a little chaotic with nursing school and squaring away my finances...but I have a good heart. Why doesn't anyone see that? Is there anyone out there who loves me for me?

To top that off, I have a group of acquaintances that were less than happy that I went back to my ex last summer. I'm fucking sorry for doing what I felt was right for ME!! It certainly wasn't a decision that I entered into lightly. I'm still weeding through my feelings with that one. Some support would be nice...

Nothing in this life is simple, and I'm doing the best I can to make sense of it.

To my brother: I'm sorry that I am, in your opinion, too thin. You'll see me in a couple of months and you'll realize that it's much ado about nothing.

To my boyfriend: I hope that you learn to love me for me before it's too late.

To my friends: Please understand that I make decisions based on my life, and what's best for me. Respect me for that.

The lunatic screams within me

2008-06-19T10:49:00.001-07:00

I have good days, and ugly days...Today I feel ugly on the inside. Spiteful and hateful and jealous and petty. When will this stop? What feeds this? It's exhausting, constantly fighting with myself. I hate myself today. Not for my physical appearance, but for my dangerous potential for self-destruction.

Where the Hell is this coming from? I want to run outside screaming...begging for help with the invisible monsters that haunt my psyche.

These tendencies tend to creep up when I have no time for myself. Taking a 4 week intensive course two weeks after the most trying semester of my life was a terrible idea. I had two cruel weeks of reminding myself what a normal life is, before going back to a more restrictive schedule than before. One week...one week left of this class, and I'm free...God help me.

When your house is a mess and your hair is a mess and your toe nails need to be painted and you don't see any of your friends for almost a month and you can't do all of the things that make you you and your car is dirty and you're feeling more broke than usual and all you need is a night of laughter...it's really hard to see the forest for the trees. On days like today it's hard to say "this is why I'm doing this..."

I keep pushing forward, knowing that tomorrow is a new day. The weekend is almost here. One week left of this self-imposed isolation. So...I'm having a bad day. I'll climb the walls and pray for the end. This will all be over soon.

Where's my bridge? I feel like an island...

Happy cracked out anniversary

2008-06-18T14:47:00.000-07:00

It was three years ago yesterday that Evan and I started emailing one another (We met online for those of you who didn't know that...yes...a hot piece like me had a tough time meeting quality men in the LA bar scene. Go figure). While we have both decided that, due to the on and off nature of out relationship, we can't really call it our "anniversary." Not for dating at least...

Three years ago I met someone who pushed me to become a better version of myself. I met a person who saw my potential...

It has been three rocky years of getting to know myself on a much deeper level. Three years ago I learned what love at first sight was. I lost my marbles over this beautiful man who made me feel like I could conquer the world. I could not eat...could not sleep...I thought I blew it in the beginning...I'm so glad I didn't.

My sweet, love...these have been the best of times as well as the most trying times. I did not know love before this. I did not know love of myself or love for another. Evan made me want to be a better woman. He helped me realize the potential that I had been afraid of for most of my adult life.

We are not perfect. Neither of us are infallible. We went from being a great love story to a not quite right story to a love story once again.

Not many people understand our relationship. We broke up twice...We are waiting to live together until we're married, and we are waiting until I'm done with school before even considering marriage. We see each other twice a week, on a good week...While this is confusing and appalling to some, I think it's perfectly delightful. Every time I see him, it feels new. He still gives me butterflies. We talk every night, just to say good night...I share all of my daily successes with him like a joyful child. He makes me laugh like no other...it's a liberating, youthful, uninhibited laughter. I will be forever young if I continue to laugh like that.

What would my life have been without three years of Evan? It would have been different, that's for sure. I dread to think of living my entire life never knowing that love like this could exist. I love myself and my life and he fits in so perfectly.

The third year was a charm...finally it all clicked. It was not always easy, but I would not change a single thing. Three feisty, beautiful years and counting....here's to 100 more.

I love you, and I hate you for it.

2008-06-17T13:37:00.000-07:00

I have an inherent mistrust in men. One too many bad things at a tender age can do that to a girl. Many women use these bad experiences as an excuse to behave badly to boyfriends and husbands though out their entire lives. I do not aspire to be one of those women. My excuses stop today.

I had a beautiful weekend. I felt like a member of my boyfriend's family. We found a new hobby that we enjoy doing together. The weekend was, in my mind, as perfect as possible.

Then, Monday. Fucking myspace and facebook sometimes serve more as vessels for my blistering insecurities than a means of communication with my friends.

Blistering insecurities. I feel the need to repeat that phrase, because it describes what rages though my body when the insecurities start to rear their ugly heads. My body feels blistered both inside and outside. I am hot all over...hateful...anxious. I plot, like a little devil, my exit strategy for when I'm eventually left for something that I perceive as better than myself.

Better than myself. That's the problem. In my eyes, my world, my relationships, there should be no better than myself; only equal to myself. Fear should not be synonymous with love. Somewhere along the line, and I can venture a guess as to where, my emotional thesaurus got reset. My emotional vocabulary lists synonyms of love as: fear, mistrust, angst, anger, and hate. Yes, even hate has become synonymous with love. "I love you so much that I hate you for it."

How much validation do I need for this madness to stop? The only validation I need is my own, and I'm a tough crowd. I'm my worst critic and own worst enemy. My reckless pursuit of perfection has decimated my love of myself. I have the highest scores in all of my classes. I am athletic and energetic. I'm healthy. To most, I'm pretty. I'm often referred to as "exotic," which translates into uniquely pretty...far better than Orange County cookie cutter frou frou blonde.

My insanity stopped yesterday...well, this morning after my run, I'll be honest. I'm in love with a wonderful, loving, compassionate, incredible man. He would not be in love with me if I were not something exceptional. It's time for me to understand that he's dating an equal, not a lesser-than. For once, I have met someone who is worth slaying my inner dragons. He is much needed love and laughter and light in what is otherwise a very focused and dry existence.

It's time to push the little green-eyed devil completely out of my life. Anyway, she's a terrible wing man...and who needs that?

On days like today, life is most confusing

2008-05-07T13:01:00.000-07:00

My little brother is getting engaged. My little sister and her boyfriend have picked out a ring. My parents are totally comfortable with the idea that love is all you need.

Here's the situation: My parents have always operated under the assumption that love is all you need. It's not.

I recently went back to school. Marriage is (with my current boyfriend) contingent upon graduating from my program. That leaves us approximately 2.5 years before marriage will be an option for either of us. I'm not interested in being a kept woman. I want our kids to have tons of opportunities. I want a home in California (a two income aspiration) before we even think about procreating.

I look at our potential marriage as a business. We are going into a financial partnership as much as we are an emotional one. I grew up poor, and do not wish that on my future children. If I can't afford them, I won't have them. I want the vacations that I never had. I do not want my children to be guilt-ridden over activities like sports or music. I was a National All-Star cheerleader, and was offered the opportunity to be in the New Year's Day parade in London, England. At the ripe old age of 15, my parents co-signed my first loan. I chose to play the French Horn, and was reminded every fall, that the instrument that I chose was far more expensive to rent than a flute...it was THE MOST expensive rental out of all of them. I do not wish that on my children.

I spent my entire childhood moving around with my mother's whims. She always operated under the assumption that moving away from one's problems would make them better. This transient mentality inspired my reasonably unsettled early adulthood in several different states. I knew what I was looking for: warm climate (the Midwestern climate never suited me, as is evident by my complete incompetence in all winter sports), mountains, desert, and ocean. I sort of picked up these requirements as I travelled the country. I stopped at California. My home...the place I will raise my children without ever uprooting them.

I think my family is crazy for assuming that love is all you need. Not in this economy. Not in this housing market. They think I am crazy for being so conservative. How is it that I, the "wild child" of the family ended up so grounded?

Here is the one similarity between my siblings and my relationship: all of our significant others grew up in a comfortable financial setting, and stayed in one place while growing up.

For me personally, I can see how difficult it is dealing with in-laws (or potential in-laws) on a regular basis. It's like walking on eggshells constantly, even when the relationship with them is good. I'm not interested in expecting them to support us in our early years as a married couple. I understand the emotional ramifications of dealing with that, and it's not pretty. I'm looking for financial equality, because finances are synonymous with power. I want no imbalance of power in my marriage.

Then....after all of my theorizing over the perfect financial marriage...my girly subconscious creeps in. Maybe all of this financial and emotional re-conditioning has been my boyfriend's way of delaying commitment. I guess only time will tell, and I'll make one hell of a spouse for someone else if that's the case.

Frivolous malpractice lawsuits...my rant

2008-02-15T11:09:00.000-08:00

John Ritter's family is seeking 67 million dollars against the Radiologist that they say is to blame for John Ritter's death. This figure is based upon what he would have made over the course of his natural life. The grandiose assumption here is that he would have been alive and well if this had been discovered in a timely fashion.

Before I even get into the variables involved in this presumption of a "natural life," let's take a quick look at aortic dissection. It occurs in roughly one out of 10,000 people and affects men more often than women (the ratios vary from study to study but are anywhere from 2:1 to 5:1, men to women). About 20% of patients with aortic dissection die before even reaching the hospital. The aorta takes the brunt force of the left ventricle's contraction as oxygenated blood is pumped from the left side of the heart through the systemic circut. A look at the aortic tissue under a microscope reveals a large amount of elastic tissue, and by design the aorta is built to withstand huge amounts of pressure. A small tear in the aorta can increase in size very rapidly, due to the force exerted uopn it with every contraction, making the window of opportunity for repair to this blood vessel very small. The symptoms that patient will present with mimic the symptoms of a heart attack...sweating, cool skin, chest pain, nausea, and shortness of breath. Unless there were risk factors like Marfan's Syndrome, sustained periods of high blood pressure or pregnancy (I'm assuming that John Ritter was not pregnant) a 50-ish man presenting with the above mentioned symptoms would have appeared to be having a run-of-the-mill heart attack. Aortic dissection is a unsusal occurence. The chest x-ray that the family is claiming would have discovered it only sees an aortic dissection "sometimes."

Now let's look at the astronomical figure of 67 million dollars, shall we? This is based on several assumptions: First, the assumption that John Ritter's comeback would have lasted for several more seasons and translated into movies, more TV shows, etc. Second, the assumption that his wages with his increased popularity would have continued to rise. Finally, the amount stated in this lawsuit is based on the assumption of a long, natural life.

How does one quantify a natural life? Who's to say that John Ritter would not have had inoperable, untreatable cancer a few months down the road? What if he were hit by a bus and killed? What if he were involved in a fatal car accident the following day? The idea that we are all going to live a long and natural life (something that is technically not quantifiable) is only an assumption, or a hope if you want to call it that.

There's a line in a song by Simon and Garfunkel, "So I'll continue to continue to pretend that my life will never end, and flowers never bend with the rainfall." We live this life with only the assumption that we will be granted another day. Doctors are not Gods, nor are they omnicient. Every day is a gift, not a guaranteed paycheck. This lawsuit brought about by the Ritter family is blaming a radiologist for not being able to play God. This lawsuit, in my opinion, is frivolous and spiteful.

There are lawsuits that should be filed, and there's laziness and complacency in medicine. I completely agree with that. I have personally called my dad's doctor's office and let them have it for not taking care of some routine things. I have heard horror stories about major symptoms being over-looked with the worst possible consequence. How sad for the families that are afraid to pursue legal action when it is legitimate to watch this disgusting display of greed and spite over something that was a medical anomaly. It hurts my heart that the Ritter family will get an undeserved settlement out of this, and that cost will be filtered through the public via the loss of good doctors and increased healthcare costs due to rising malpractice premiums.

A Life Very Different from my Parents

2008-01-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

It is equally liberating and terrifying to realize how different you are than the people that raised you. I adore my parents. They love me unconditionally, but unconditional love was not what I needed to be a successful person. I needed pushing and prodding...reminders that I am my best friend and worst enemy at the exact same time.
Things that set me apart from my parents (and ideas about life that I have fought hard to undo over the last several years, my thoughts on their teachings):

1. Unconditional love is a wonderful thing.

I love my friends and family and love being in love, but unconditional love coddles your weaknesses. I want someone to love me for my potential and drive. For my ability to make the best decisions for my life and future. I want someone to love me for my ability to walk away and survive without them. It seems only fair to give the person that I love the best possible version of myself. The best version of myself is athletic, educated, articulate and refined. She is not drunk, lazy, wild or cruel. I used to think that my borderline madness and occasional neediness was part of my charm...I was wrong.

2. It is okay to spend money you don't have, because being broke is a forever thing. AKA "Instant gratification always wins."

I bought a car that I could not (under any circumstances whatsoever afford). My parents did not even attempt to discourage this. That effing car payment was the bane of my existence. A 5-year loan with a shitty interest rate sucks. After about three years the car starts to fall apart, and then you have a car payment AND repairs. Fun!!! I took out more money than I needed for school. Take take take...or should I say Borrow Borrow Borrow? At the end of the day it was my debt and my creditors. Who was going to pay that off? Me. My thoughts now? I have a car that was paid for in cash (and regularly maintained to avoid future issues), I'm devising a plan to pay off the rest of my student loans, and I'm planning on paying cash for nursing school with my savings. Then I can use my hospital sign on bonus as part of my down payment for a home. I'll take nice vacations...when I'm done with school. I'm really going to be happy with this adopted spending plan when, a couple of years from now, I'm spending my summers on my boat tooling to and from Catalina.

3. Life sucks for good, hardworking people, and that's just the way it is.

This one was a big one to overcome. When I finally turned this part of my attitude around, lots of things have started to work in my favor. I lost my job and my boyfriend dumped me and I was determined to make lemonade out of lemons, even if it killed me godamnit!! I started school almost immediately, and hung about waiting for the perfect job. I reached out and made some new friends. It was the best summer of my life, and wow was it off to a rocky start. I could have rolled over and cursed the universe for my continued misfortune or I could have taken the events as a sign that I needed to dramatically change things. Now I have a 4.0 GPA, a great job, friends I adore, a career path that makes me happy to be alive and I got into phenomenal shape. Oh, and the guy came back. I proved to be the best possible version of myself, and a happy person makes for a successful partner.

4. If you're feeling bad, see a doctor and get some meds. Pills will fix you.

Again, another big one. When you're finally forced into your own version of primal scream therapy without a pill for a band aid, that's when you really start to see the world in color again. **Disclaimer: I'm not saying that there aren't people that need drug therapy for all sorts of reasons. I am not one of those people, and never was. I would be an ignorant f$% if I did not believe that there have been many people helped by a combination of drug therapy and psychology** I was always told to take something to fix me. If I had a headache (I've had migraines since childhood due to a car accident), take something...that something ended up getting stronger and stronger and stronger until I developed some pretty bad drug allergies (at the ripe old age of 17). In early adulthood, I was tired of the pain and the medications and figured out what the triggers were for my headaches (weather, alcohol and PMS), and made some significant life changes (moved to California 5 years ago, quit drinking only fairly recently, but I was never a big drinker in the first place because...ta da...it gave me headaches, and cut out my ovaries...just kidding!!). Aside from the occasional Advil or Excedrin my headaches are in control...no prescriptions necessary. Even recently when I mention feeling anxious or overwhelmed my mother asks me, "Have you thought about seeing someone and taking something?" No!! I figure out what is bothering me, run a little more than usual and typically feel better in a week. The last time I thought I needed to take something for depression I ended up in my car driving across the country. Obviously that did not go so well. I feel anxious just thinking about taking something for anxiety. It was that bad. Besides, it makes me feel good about myself to overcome my stress and anxiety on my own, and who doesn't need more self-esteem?

5. If something sucks, move.

After three different elementary schools and three middle schools I ended up in the most horrendous town for high school. It was a miserable place and I bolted as soon as humanly possible. When things got tough, my parents packed up and moved. This was my mother more than anything, and back to the unconditional love thing, my dad never challenged her. He told me that he knew what he was getting in to when he married her and it has never bothered him. I have lived in 4 states as an adult before I finally recognized this get-up-and-move thing left over from my childhood, and made things work where I was. I love California and no matter what, I'm staying here. This is my home.

I'm sure there are more things. I can't blame my parents for being very very very different from me. I love them, unconditionally. They are the only people who get that free pass in my life. I hope that they figure out how to make lemons out of lemonade (my dad has figured out how to make smoothies, and that's a start). I've had my wild times, I've had some very bad things happen (as candid as I am there are things that I will not discuss in my blogs, or really to anyone), I've figured out how to be my own best friend rather than my own worst enemy...I've learned to quit blaming others for my faults. I'm a walking construction zone of self-improvement. I like who I am, and I'm far different than I ever thought I would be.

A pill won't fix you

2008-01-23T09:49:00.000-08:00

In our over-medicated society, I have spent my adult life fighting off my inner demons with old-fashioned hard work. With anything that involves work, a quick fix can be extraordinarily seductive. Why diet and exercise when you can take a diet pill? Americans spend more than 40 billion dollars annually on diet related products. I spend less on my monthly gym membership and I would on a 30 day supply of diet pills (in many cases, my gym fees are half the cost of a 30-day supply of diet products). My gym membership has allowed me to maintain an almost 30 pound weight loss for 2 years. Oh, and there's scientific proof that exercise alone contributes to a better quality of life, decreased risk of cancer and elevated moods. You can't even get the FDA to regulate diet products, let alone any conclusive evidence that they actually work. My gym membership does not make me feel like a speed addict, but every diet pill that I have ever tried made me feel like I was doing something really really bad to my body. I'm a girl, and I was a chubby teenager, if I said I haven't tried to take the easy road to being as thin as possible I would be a liar and a hypocrite.

Speaking of elevated moods, moving to a better climate and taking good care of myself physically was the answer to most of my aliments, both real and imaginary. Again through hard work, I have overcome many of my emotional demons. I have little patience for those who think that they can fix themselves with a pill. Don't get me wrong, when someone is really hurting themselves there is a time an a place for drug therapy, but drug therapy should not be the first line of defense, as it is in many psychiatrists offices today.

I could walk into a psychiatrist's office right now, and convince them that I need Xanex, Prozac and Ritalin all in one shot. Oh, then I would probably need something to help me sleep, so maybe Ambien as well. Anyone with a desire for a band aid for their emotional issues can fake just about any mental illness that they want. A Soma vacation is cheaper than sorting through the mess in your head. If you haven't read "Brave New World" you should. It was almost prophetic in the ideas of over-use of medication in the "future." Staring down your demons is a daunting task. When your skeletons come knocking it's far easier to hide behind a prescription.

This blog is not a result of Heath Ledger's untimely death. That is simply ironic timing. The "accidental" overdose is a frightening reality for those who take multiple prescriptions, use multiple pharmacies and hide things from their medical practitioners. Many of these drugs are new to the market. The 10 - 15 - 20 year repercussions of these medications are still very much unknown. The incresed suicide risk in teenagers taking SSRI's was not known in my teenage years. We were all on one SSRI or another back then. It's frightening to think that only 10 years later that very same class of drug is no longer approved for use in adolescents. Spontaneous deaths and suicide risks? Count me out.

There, that's my PSA for the morning. There is nothing more tragic to me than a wasted life. We've only got one shot at this existence. It is what you make of it. I prefer to exist with a clear head...My success is directly related to my determination, and my refusal to take the path of least resistance. Hopefully someday I'll be in a position to help restructure what I see as a real medical crisis. Until then, I can only share my personal stories of overcoming obstacles.

Anxiety...PMS...and generally being tortured by my mind.

2008-01-15T11:40:00.000-08:00

Ever have one of those days? Today I am expereienceing anxiety worse than I've felt in years. This too shall pass...

I feel like a prisoner in my own head. I'm frozen and frightened. I'm drinking my Kava tea and praying for a miracle. My mind is racing with all of the upcoming commitments. Birthdays and friends and school starting this month. Tonight...I will organize and mobilize and feel better. There's my credit report to review, the TEAS testing to schedule, the nursing school application deadlines to review and take note of, books to buy for the spring semester, thank you notes to write, hospital training tonight, meeting about working as a trainer at Ballys tomorrow....jeez. Busy girl.

My job has been more stressful than usual lately. This is not a common occurrence. Generally I'm happy and stress-free. Doing the end of the year accounting for the fist time ever and on a system that I did not set up has taken its toll. I have a lot sort of hanging out there, and I'm in a holding pattern until I get some answers from the accountant. I'm not used to loose ends. Loose ends make me miserable.

There is light in my life that keeps these brief moments of anxiety short and relatively painless. My friends make me feel wonderful. I'm going to a book signing on the 23rd. I'm jogging with Kat this weekend, E! and I are going to see Nat perform in San Diego. There's a silly email from E! that made me laugh, and I have to find this weird gift that I'm going to order for Caryn's kids.

I'm starting to feel better. Is it the Kava or the love in my life? Perhaps a little of both...

I'm not right, I'm a little crazy and I'm not alone

2008-01-14T21:30:00.000-08:00

Tonight I got some much needed time with one of my best girlfriends. It's been a while. She started dating someone. E! and I went away for a weekend. Where's did all of the time go? It started with a simple text message: "I am bringing food. I have PMS. See you 7:30ish." The response: "I have PMS too." Perfect!

It's nice to have a friend that is equally as sane and crazy as you are. The topic of conversation (over a variety of street tacos and chips and salsa) turned to trusting after you've been hurt. Her situation and my situation are similar. We are both dating someone that hurt us. I'll continue on referencing only to my situation, as her's is not my business to discuss...

E! and I met almost three years ago. We were crazy about each other but a bad match on so many levels. We struggled with the back and forth, and he broke up with me twice. Both times were for good reason. We weren't right together. Then, this fall, something changed. We started seeing one another again (at the time, against my better judgment). As things have progressed, I have had a difficult time living in the moment.

There is no indication whatsoever that things would fall apart like they did in the past. I jokingly told my girlfriend tonight that E! has an entire alternate reality that he lives out inside of my head. This is the guy who kissed me while he thought I was sleeping on our weekend away together. You can't fake love like that. While I have a million reasons to be happy and confident in my relationship, I allow my insecurities to poison my happiness.

It was helpful to know that I have a friend dealing with similar emotions. I'm not right in my behavior sometimes, but I'm not alone in my insecurities. Friend time was part of what I needed to straighten myself out. A laugh with someone who love me just as I am, and understands my often painful behavior. As I get older, and my life gets more hectic, I find that the balance between girlfriends and E! and alone time to clear my head is crucial. I have to love my friends and my life as passionately as I love my boyfriend. Everything in balance (is it a coincidence that I was hanging out with a Libra tonight and that also happens to be my moon sign?). Balance balance balance...Who knew the key to happiness was so simple.

How do you resolve to finally leave the past in the past? It's far more difficult than it sounds. Yes, all of the soul searching while E! and I were apart led me to my current career path, and gave him time to think about how he could have handled things differently. The past is the past...and my boyfriend kisses me when he thinks I'm asleep. What more could a girl ask for?

Lifestyle Changes

2008-01-14T10:09:00.000-08:00

I am perfectly capable of self-sabotage...especially when it comes to love and relationships. There this voice inside me that wants to push people as far away as possible. I convince myself that no person is honest or faithful and I start to push, or act out. Fortunately pushing is as far as I've gone. Acting out comes in the form of cheating, and I never want to go back to the place in my mind where that is an acceptable form of protecting myself.

This undermining version of self-reliance I'm sure stems from a childhood that I am constantly working to undo. It was a chaotic existence with relationships that lacked permanence. I have undone a lot of the past, but when my undermining tendencies surface (as they did yesterday) I am reminded that I still have a long way to go.

What is love without fear? I am trying to figure that out...the puzzle of unconditional love continues to perplex me. Every move in my life feels so calculated. Nothing about love feels scientific or purposeful. How do you define something by feelings alone?

How do you deal with the fear of loss? My situation is unique because I have been hurt by this person before. Where do you pick up and move forward, leaving all past injuries behind? When do you accept today as a new day while wiping the slate previous incompatibility completely clean?

I find myself wondering how the fuck I ended up so compatible with someone that I was so incompatible with only a year ago? Why is this working? Why can't I simply let go of our past mistakes and be happy in the moment? I know this will be another learning curve...letting go...The answers will come to me. I will move forward, and quit my self-destructive tendencies.

Will love conqure all? Is this happily ever after? We will have to wait and see...