Come on Irene...

My experience with natural disasters only involves tornados and earthquakes (not the one from earlier this week).  I’ve not been in a hurricane and am feeling a bit uneasy about kill joy Irene.  I should also add that Colin McEnroe’s show on Wednesday on NPR has only escalated those feelings.  I don’t know what exactly to expect but I’m hoping it’s nothing like the tornado I experienced decades ago.  Let me tell you about it.

When I was five years old I lived in North Dakota and I can recall a few encounters with tornados (and moose stampedes but that’s a different post).  On one particular occasion I was playing at my friend Donald’s house when the sirens blasted through the air force base signifying a tornado warning.  I figured I would go down into the basement at Donald’s house and wait out the storm with his family.  However, my mother had other plans.  She called Donald’s mom and told her to send me home and Donald’s foolish mom complied.  She opened her front door to guide me outside away from the safety of sturdy shelter and into the wildness of a natural disaster.  I thought Donald’s mom was going to escort me home but, once again, I was wrong.  She simply gave me a pitiful look and pointed her finger towards my house.  As I turned away from my playmate and his careless mother, I looked towards a scene that reminded me of The Wizard of Oz (had the tornado part been in color).  The sky was crazy shades of pink, gray and green.  Papers and debris were swirling all around me.  I had to shelter my face with my arms as I treaded against the wind.  Turning back was not an option.  As frightened as I was by the thought of being swept up by a tornado, I was more frightened about disobeying my mother.  I don’t remember how many steps my short legs took during that storm but it felt like an eternity.  Still, I was determined to make it home.  At least Dorothy had friends and Toto to accompany her; I had to make my journey completely alone…and I was five!  I never let my mom forget the scars left behind from this incident.  Of course she doesn’t think it was that big of a deal and I’m sure she tells the story differently.  But I was altered that day; I had aged far beyond my five years.  I also blame that incident as the source of my determinedness, stubbornness, and superhero alter-ego.  

So, Irene, please just lay low, this year has aged me quite a bit already and I’m just not in the mood for anymore self-actualization right now.

...and we're back...

It was brought to my attention yesterday that I have not posted a blog since May.  Time seems to have gotten away from me.  Funny thing, time…

32 years = my life’s worth of experience

9 years = the length of my marriage (thus far)

15 months = enough time to earn a Bachelor of Science degree in nursing

2 weeks = the amount of time I have before starting my first job as a full-fledged nurse

7 hours = the amount of sleep I got last night (so glad school is over)

2 minutes = the amount of time it has taken to write this post

As for this blog, you best stay posted because I intend to make up for some lost time.

Peace...

...for now

Espresso, KC 101FM and 25 minutes to kill

Today I had my very first espresso.  Perhaps it seems odd that I’ve made it this far without having ever tried it.  I’m over 30 years old, I’ve lived in and visited other countries, one of my BFF’s is super Italian…still, never tried it.  In fact, I don’t even like coffee.  It’s been over 7 years since I last drank the stuff and even then I usually drowned it with sugar and milk until it was no longer identifiable as java.  I love the smell but the caffeine makes me a little crazy: I get jittery, I can’t sleep at night, I can’t stop my foot from shaking, my eyes start shifting left to right, I get hungry…oh wait, I might be recalling a different experience.  Anyway, the point is caffeine does weird things to me and I can never seem to drink enough to make myself get used to it. 

So, I bet you’re wondering what possessed me to have an espresso today?  Well, ultimately I was just being polite.  Earlier today I was in the home of an elderly Italian couple (most of the events preceding this moment have been omitted; different story for a different day).  Right, so, old Italian couple…I don’t speak Italian, they don’t speak English.  I was offered espresso and cake and I couldn’t figure out how to decline the espresso without breaking some social custom or hurting their feelings.  The couple’s daughter was there to translate but I just didn’t feel comfortable declining.  So, I drank up; thankfully it was a tiny cup and the visit didn’t last too long.  Oh, and the cake was delicious.  Between sips and bites I smiled a lot and nodded to a bunch of loud words I didn’t understand.  Lovely visit.  Really, it was fun…or funny…or that might be the espresso talking.

Driving home from my espresso encounter I found myself listening to pop radio, yes, I said pop radio.  Normally KC 101 makes me want to gag but not today.  Today I sang my heart out to the songs I knew and made up words to the ones I didn’t.  Is this caffeine and if so no wonder the youngins love coffee, red bull and bad music.     

Pensive

I believe that life is what you make of it and death befriends us all.

I seek clarity, contentment and peace.

My guess is someday I will neither feel defeated nor triumphant, I will just exist and that will be fine with me.

I see myself as still as air.  Whether I am moved or not, whether I blow cold or hot will make no difference.

I think the origin of the tree parallels that of humankind only they know something that we don’t.

I cannot control the love or hate that exists around me.

I only know my thoughts and feelings so that is where I look for truth.

I understand the mind acts as both key and trap; perhaps honesty is the only way to tell the difference.

I don’t feel the need to strike back if I don’t feel threatened, and I don’t feel threatened when I remain calm.

I used to think that the environment influences the man but what I see is the other way around.

If energy can neither be created nor destroyed, then life (in general) must go on forever.

To My Friends and Family

I apologize if this post seems a little intense but there are a few things that I feel the need to share right now.  I also apologize if some of you are sick of hearing me talk about nursing as if it’s the greatest thing since smart phones.  Well, it is.  I’ve chosen the profession because I care.  I also work hard, play hard, love hard and fight hard and I would fight to the end of days for each and every one of you.  I know I don’t get to see most of you as often as I would like and I know my not being on Facebook doesn’t make it any easier.  But please know that I am here for you, I care, I always have, and I am blessed to have you all in my life.

A superhero in the making

My question is this: are there superhero training camps for adults? And if so, how do I sign up?  I’m talking legit training though not those lame self-help workshops that pop up on Google search (yes, I googled it).  It seems to me any legit camp would be underground and off the military’s radar.  But then how do you find them?  Ah, I know what you’re thinking, you don’t find them, they find you.  Crap!  That can’t be the only way.  I’m supposed to wait around for some cloaked, masked figure to spot me in a brief act of selfless bravery layered with master-mindful badassness?  Come on, I do that every day (Ha!).  No, seriously, I have the heart and the courage, I just need the proper training, a killer outfit and an enhanced ability.  Ok, so if I’m going to talk seriously, then maybe I should look for something more like a vigilante training camp. Eh, that just doesn’t sound as cool.  Sounds more like a beefed-up neighborhood watch filled with pissed-off moms and ex-marines.  Hmmm, that could work actually.  I will continue my search.  

Fear not fellow citizens, soon I will be extraordinary and there to preserve your safety and freedom. 

Some Help from Mr. Frost (The poet, not the guy from Batman, oh wait that's Mr. Freeze)

Soon I will have a decision to make; two separate paths…"two roads diverged…"  For me the road not taken isn’t labeled thus because no one else has followed it, but because it has been less traveled by me.  I rarely chose the path that others expect me to.  I’m sure to them my logic seems flawed or unplanned and maybe sometimes it has been.  But I’ve yet to regret my choices, most of which have enriched my life a great deal.  The fork in the road before me now seems different somehow.  One path seems obvious and ordinary, the other odd and unpredictable.  It is the second road that I would normally choose, the one less traveled by others.  But perhaps it is time to choice a path that has “wanted wear” for my lack of having trodden there.  Maybe I’m changing because I’ve aged (or because I’m tired). 

As you acknowledge that both roads seem “really about the same” I imagine you making a list (as I often do) of pros and cons to weigh each option.  They really are the same.  Which leads me to wonder when you say “I shall be telling this with a sigh…I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference” if that is a good thing?  Or is it with a heavy sigh that you look back on what your path could have been, what you might have missed?  Maybe “all the difference” it will make is based on ones happiness with his decision.  Ah, happiness, something much harder to gauge than power, advancement or money.  Yet, much more satisfying, I think.  I suppose it will make all the difference when I do finally decide.  I think, perhaps, I already have.             

Thanks Bob.