What hurts the most is not hurting at all

Angel Alberto Gulden Reyes. My maternal grandfather, and a man I never met. A man whose name I have forgotten many times. A man I never once talked to, who never expressed any interest in this branch of his family tree.

Today I learned that he passed away on November 14. He was 95.

May he rest in peace. I wish I could cry for him, or even feel the loss more than I do. I know that he had another life that began shortly after he divorced my grandmother not long after my mother was born. I hope they are able to mourn him where I can't.

The most I can say is thank you for being my ancestor. My family wouldn't exist if he hadn't walked this earth. So, thank you.

Gracias, Abuelo.

Be still, stop chattering

I feel like the past week has been spent fairly well overall. Most often the end of my days off either feels like it came far too soon or, sometimes, like it dragged on to eternity. No, there was just the right amount of activity and idle time. Books were read. Movies were watched. Laughs were had. Terrorists were foiled.

A good week.

Not perfect. There are bitter drops in the cup, not much to be done about some of them. Others, however, will just take some ballsiness to get out of bad situations and into a better place. Kind of hard, though, until I find out some other information to know exactly what kind of leverage I'll have. Even if it's not what I'm hoping for, though, change for the better is possibe. We'll see.

Looking to the near future, the fair's in town, Ingrid Michaelson is playing Tuesday, the fall kickball season is underway, and it's a beautiful day outside.

Random link of the week: Love coffee? Do did Bach.

Rolling down the highway

There are days and times when I feel about as useful and wanted as a solitary left shoe seen on the shoulder of a road. Where the hell do those even come from? They're even sadder than when you see a pair of shoes slung over a telephone wire - at least those have their mate with them.

Every little thing is gonna be alright

So things on Tuesday probably didn't go as well as they should have. I'll know in 8 weeks or so. But at least I had some good laughs both before and after, as well as one more kickball victory for the record.

Hormones suck. To quote a line by Seth Rogen, "Fuck you, hormones!" Poor planning sucks. Cheap shots suck, too.

Been angry/frustrated/blue since Thursday with breaks in the funk thanks to getting out of my head (at least temporarily) secondary to the acknowledgement that other people's problems are worse than mine and they could use funkless friends. Advantage? Every step out made the funk, while still present, more manageable. Seriously hoping that the depression I usually get hit with during my night week doesn't drive the levels back up. Currently drawing on a good store of positivity built up since Saturday and stockpiled over the course of today, so keeping my fingers crossed.

Have absolutely adorable nieces and nephews. Thank you.
Have good, good people in my life. Thank you.
Have come a long way as far as personal issues, even if there's a long way to go. Thank you.

...

Kill me. Please.

Or, if that's not an option, tell me that everything is gonna be alright. I leave it to your discretion if you sing it to me Bob Marley style.

Oh, look! Youtube is doing it for me.

Random topics

Earlier this evening, I was chatting on the phone with Angel. Got updates on the new home situation, and shot the breeze for a good while.

We somehow can't ever have a truly serious conversation, though. Inevitably, we start to giggle like lunatics over... I dunno, anything, really. I believe tonight we started on the topic of feral vs. domesticated nerds.

Yeah, you heard me. We started delineating traits seen in nerds in their wild state and how, depending on the amount of socialization they receive, they can adapt to normal day-to-day interactions with others. She worked with several here in Dallas who were still feral, the ones who had trouble with mandatory "fun" days because it involved talking to people, the ones who maybe haven't discovered soap and showers.

We laughed for a long, long time.

Sink or Swim

It's wonderful to have time off. Granted, my sleep cycle hasn't fully recovered to it's baseline, but it's much better than the last post-night stretch from a couple of months ago. Suspecting that sticking to a daily exercise routine is helping a bit, although an overlong nap today has left me more wakeful than desired.

Studying? Been less successful in that area, with probably an hour at best since Monday. A plan is in place for tomorrow, however, and anticipating some productivity in that department. For the most part, been doing a musical immersion for the past few days. Not bad, but would be ideal to combine the 2, if possible.

Been a bit pensive on various matters over the past day or so. Not bad pensive, not "I suck" pensive, but been doing some hard thinking. Some conclusions have been unpleasant, but overall feeling like it should net good. Will see.

Currently, feeling very bummed that one of my friends is moving (albeit temporarily) to Cincinnati. She's someone you can almost guarantee will sing along with anything you toss out, be it at a restaurant, in the car, or even in a movie theater. Really. Not to mention the crazy giddy laughing that usually takes place whenever we go out, no alcohol needed. Angel, what are we going to do without you? Cincinnati better treat you right.

Flowers by the road

Night call weeks put me in a foul mood. I hate working 7 nights in a row. I hate feeling isolated from my daily pursuits. I hate feeling tired everyday. I hate feeling so hateful. It hasn't helped that I've felt like a black cloud has followed me around at work since Monday.

Enter one very nice lady (VNL).

Thanks to a couple of boluses of patients which included a couple of very sick ones, last night found me scurrying from floor to floor trying to locate patients. I finally tracked down VNL shortly after her arrival from the ER. Pleasantries were exchanged, history and physical taken.

Somehow, it turned out to be a much longer encounter than originally planned. See, VNL is 70 years old and looks more like a handsome 50. Raised Catholic, she made the hard decision to divorce her husband because she realized their worlds were out of sync and there was no other solution. The decision was made even harder since she had 3 children (8 months to 6 years) and not a lot of support from her church or most of her family. She has remained friends with her ex-husband all these years, as she is the first to say that he's a good man, just not for her.

Her life story reflects a character that is optimistic, practical, and full of faith. She is a survivor of ovarian cancer. She is a woman with a good sense of humor. She is a woman who has read hundreds of books and remembers them like friends. She loves good meals, but has learned how to temper her diet for her health as well. Even in pain, she is able to laugh. She moved to the area to help her stepson's family, as their young son was born prematurely and needs lots of extra love.

We talked about the importance of setting boundaries in your life, and the importance of telling the people you love that, well, you love them. We ruminated on how the smallest things we do can make huge impacts, for better or worse, on the people around us. We discussed how something as simple as a genuine smile can shed warmth in our lives and day-to-day adventures.

Walking out of her room, I didn't feel so hateful anymore. My smile stopped feeling forced, and I was able to move onto my last patient of the evening without wincing. Thank you, VNL. You'll never read this, but thanks.

Hey Love, how've you been?

I don't know whether life has a great romantic love in store for me, but you know what it has given me? Plenty of love in many other forms. I woke up today feeling a major rush of it that left me feeling like I could get run through the worst the world has to offer and I would still be able to keep going with a smile.

It was a moment of invincibility, immunity from hurt, all from the strength of love. Not sure where it came from, but I'm not going to question it.

"I don't think we should be friends anymore."

Let me just say this now, so I can move on.

FUCK!!!! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!!!!!!

For having such a great start to a day, what the hell?! I got pissed off, behaved like an ass, and managed to ruin my day thanks to an irrational burst of temper and what was essentially a tantrum. And I can't even lay blame on PMS, or really anything. All me.

6 miles of miserable heat helped sweat off any remaining rage and gave me the necessary time to think about it all and feel increasingly ashamed of myself. 3 hours later, and a friendship was formally dissolved. For the best? I hope so, and I think so.

Just Listen

I meant to write a deep, meaningful blog. Instead, I decided that youtube was missing something important, so I did a very hasty assembly job to get it there. Enjoy.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

As wrong as my life feels sometimes, all I have to do is look a bit outside myself and I find so many reasons to have faith that true beauty exists in our world. When some of those moments/events/occurrences and how they came to be are examined, I can see where, maybe, there is a purpose for being here. And the more you sit back and examine the past few years, it becomes evident that even the worst episodes lead you to take leaps of faith that land you exactly where you needed to be.

After all, how did I end up sitting in my apartment this morning listening to the latest BTE album? Ultimately, the first major event was probably the closure of my original residency in Fort Worth. But several other, smaller key events took place around the same time. After all, had I stayed in family medicine, everything would have been shifted differently, and Fort Worth may have remained my site of education. However, mere days before that fateful meeting where we found out, no, things are not okay and we don't have jobs for you, have a nice day, I had made the final decision to go into internal medicine. Thanks to the conversations I had in later days with friends and peers, I took a chance and interviewed in Dallas. That day, I walked into what would end up being my new home for the following 3 years, and also happened to meet some of the women who would end up becoming friends. I walked away from that interview after saying thank you, let me consider, and called back 8 minutes later while still on the road to say, "Actually, sign me up right now, if you're serious about having me."

Further events (which included a very nasty wreck 1/2005), led to moving out of Arlington and into my own apartment in 4/2005.

I was introduced to BTE shortly after arriving to my new residency, and went to my first concert in 2005 in good company.

Which is a small part of how my current position (see above) came to be. However, other current events that got my mind going this AM are also part of a longer road.

Karaoke, something which I'd often been curious about but never tried, happened for the first time in a dive called the Maple Point, again in good company. A love for it took seed, but the smoky atmosphere leads something to be desired, and return visits are infrequent. Thanks to a habit of singing in the halls of the hospital, a reputation/impression is formed by many within its walls, and several mentions of an Irish pub called the Tipperary Inn are made, particularly it's Monday night karaoke. Duly noted, but no action is taken for many months. An introduction to the Tipperary Inn takes place sometime in 2005 under the influence of some hastily consumed Irish car bombs (not a karaoke night), and a few sporadic visits occur over the following year. It isn't until 2007, however, that Monday night karaoke becomes a fairly good place to look for me on any given week, often in good company.

In 2008, we met our future kickball captain on a Monday night that he came in to get a T-shirt from his bartending friend. Thanks to a remote resemblance to his celebrity crush, he makes conversation with me (again, in good company). Later that year, he takes command of the Tipp's team, and we are invited to take part.

So is there a point? Yes. Today's screw ups and actions can have amazing results years afterward. Also, just because we aren't privy to the game plan doesn't mean there isn't one. I have faith in that game plan.

Stupid is as stupid does

My behavior is leaving much to be desired.

Renouncing humanity

Being human sucks. I think I want to be a dog. A country dog.

I want to have a farm to run around in, I want to howl at the moon without being too big a pain in the ass. I want to sit by my people on a porch when it's a nice night, and to eat the hot dogs and burgers that get burnt or dropped on the ground during cookouts. I want to roughhouse with kids and chase them on their bikes or follow them when they're playing in the fields. I want to ride in the back of pickups. I want to chase rabbits.

Of course, that would mean giving up a lot of good stuff, too. I don't really want to be a dog that bad, but, right at this second, I'm so tired of the drama of being a person, and it's not even my drama.

Baffling

Overall, not a bad day. A few peculiarities here and there, some good conversations, a fun game of kickball, a couple of ideas for upcoming karaoke nights mulled over.

In spite of a good day, though, feeling restless. It started while we were at the Rose post game, and just hadn't gone away in spite of a quick jog around the block. Upon arriving home, went for a quick sprint down Ross Ave to the Guadalupe Cathedral, sat in one of the alcoves for a while, then sprinted back. No change. Ran on the treadmill for another mile or so. No change. Really?

I was debating doing some planks vs. heading back out to Ross when the phone rang.

Hanging up the phone after close to an hour, I am perplexed and frustrated. Will shit never stop happening to good people? Why are relationships so fucking hard even for the ones who have made a commitment and kept it?

So I guess that made my decision for me. Back to Ross St.

Consulting Death

A long time ago, I wrote an obituary for myself.

It was part of an assignment back in college related to some now forgotten book. As I recall, the purpose of the exercise was to have us consider what we would want to be remembered for by the people in our lives.

I don't have that particular paper anymore, and I'd forgotten about it until tonight. While perusing some random sites, I came across a thought exercise that asked what you would want to be written on your tombstone. What impression do you want to leave? Probably not "They never missed a day of work." Or "They had an awesome car." Not even "They rocked at karaoke."

An interesting question, and useful to sort out what is truly important to each of us. Do I know the answer for myself? No. But I'm working on it.

Boys

There are so many things I fail to understand in life that sometimes it's better to just shake my head, shrug my shoulders, and move on to something that doesn't give me a headache. Sometimes those kind of moments make me smile, others make me sad, and some just really piss me off.

Of course, some topics trigger all of the above responses at some time or another. Can you guess one?

Personally, I don't have a lot to complain about, I suppose. I'm usually pretty happy being single, after all, and have learned the truth behind something my mom has said for years: It's better to be alone than to have bad company. (Wise words, Mom, although I like how they sound in Spanish much better.) Relationships I have had with boys run the gamut of excellent friendships that have stood up to the past decade or so of neglect to, of course, that whole dating thing.

Dating. A word I managed to have nothing significant to do with up through my mid 20s, it now keeps popping up. Often fun, frequently a source of annoyance, it's been interesting. Beyond my own experiences, I've had the advantage of a circle of friends that have contributed their own stories, not to mention getting to see things firsthand. And you know? I don't understand. I just don't understand how things end up the way they do.

Growing up, I got to see my brothers' side of the whole dating thing. Granted, I was way too young to fully appreciate most of what went on with the older 2, but I have some recollections from way back when that have lingered. And you know, my brothers aren't perfect, but I do recall that they were honest and didn't screw around with people's feelings. Overall, they are good guys. Granted, their influence on me is at least part of the reason I'm such a screwball, but I digress. They are good guys. They are loyal guys who love their families. They are guys who work hard and believe in honesty. So, they can't be alone out there. Where are the other guys like them?

PMS and night shifts

This week can't end soon enough.

I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being over-sensitive about really, really ridiculous crap. I'm tired of feeling mean. I'm tired of acting bitchy. It's like being in a nightmare where you can see exactly how everything is about to go to hell and you can't stop it - I feel my mood plummeting, have an "oh, shit, stupidity is about to ensue" moment of clarity, and it happens anyway.

I'm looking forward to karaoke, kickball, good music, good friends, good books, and sufficient sleep. I'm looking forward to spending some time making my apartment livable. I'm looking forward to doing some running. I'm even looking forward to studying. ANYTHING to get back to "no drama" zone.

About 4.5 more hours tonight, and then down to Sunday. Let's kick it.

Exercises in calm

From starting out the evening with 3 admissions at 7 pm on what is supposed to be a light call night, to having to re-dictate a discharge summary because it's somehow gone missing, to dealing with a 6'5" 350 lb confused and angry man, to being unable to find my flash drive with all my call music, to getting paged every 5 minutes, to pages that lead to being put on hold for 5 minutes as other pages keep buzzing away, I feel so full of hate!

Seriously. No joke. My generally happy nature can only take so much of this, after all, but I'm trying hard to glean every bit of goodness I can. For example, at least my 1st patients of the night had all been very nice people - it's nice to talk to people who are pleasant and willing to laugh at my silly jokes, and it's very nice to help them feel at ease with what I'm planning to do as far as their care. I had an interesting conversation with some of the ER nurses regarding online dating, and was able to make some appreciated suggestions on places to meet. And, of course, there's the welcome relief of instant pictures and texts courtesy of my friends that make me laugh. All those things combined are what's keeping me sane for the moment.

And just think, only... 31 more hours left spread out from now through Sunday night.

...

Ok, done crying. Gotta say, though, I really wish that the group I work for actually did things like, I dunno, honor contracts. After all, I signed up for 5 on/5 off, but was then made to choose between 7 on/7 off vs. M-F with weekends. It wouldn't be so bad, but the fact that there's often pressure to take extra shifts on my off weeks makes me a bit angry. This anger increases even more when I think that, if the original contract were honored, I'd be on my off days by now.

Oh, wait, anger building again. Thinking happy thoughts, taking deep breaths... and a little better.

Oh, angsty solitude!

Because it's the middle of the night, and because I'm sitting in a dark office on an empty floor of the hospital with nothing else to do, I find myself thinking.

As usual, my thoughts are of the best left unsaid variety, but, hey! It's my blog. My space on the great world wide web. My soap box. Hurray!

Primarily, I find myself currently thinking about the kind of person I am and the kind of person I wish I was. Now, overall, it's become a lot easier over the past few years for me to recognize my good points. Low self-esteem is a bitch, but she's been minding the leash a lot better these days, and thank heaven for it.

Of course, good points notwithstanding, there's a lot of room for improvement, especially since there's at least a couple of models for what I consider well-balanced people that can serve as a guide. Among the people I admire the most, several key points stand out:

• Confidence. Be it professional, social, self, or moral, the folks I admire the most have a lot of faith in their abilities grounded in reality. These are people who know their limits and are able to act with assurance within them and are able to ask for aid if necessary without qualms.
• High social IQ. In other words, the ability to interact with others from all walks of life and be able to find common ground, not to mention strong, healthy relationships with people of significance in their lives.
• Strong sense of self. Boundaries are necessary, and they know where their's are and are able to enforce them firmly yet kindly.
• Loyalty and sense of duty. They go above and beyond for those they love and/or are responsible for.
• Coherence. They can make a point or argument clearly and are able to defend their viewpoints intelligently.
• Organization. Both internally and externally, they've got their stuff in order.
• Style. Hey, I didn't say that everything here was deep. The shallower stuff needs improvement too. And interestingly, among the people who have a lot of the other traits I admire, they've got style, too.
• Independence. They aren't afraid to make their own path, even if there is a lot of muttering and naysaying from the peanut gallery of life.

Is there overlap in many of the above? Yes. Is it a complete list? No, but my pager keeps going off and interrupting my musing. But it's a start.

The curse of facebook

Is it just me, or is there an inverse correlation between amount of time spent on facebook and amount of time spent blogging? Especially if there is a Blackberry thrown into the mix.

Somehow, the myspace thing never went very far with me, but facebook... it's a monster. You casually log in to change your status, and suddenly it's 18 quizzes, 3 chats, and 2 pillow fights later. Most disturbing.

Swine flu safety

"Bad flu epidemics can hit young adults hardest because they provoke their powerful immune systems into overreaction, so to stay healthy spend the next few weeks drunk and sleep-deprived to keep yours suppressed." --xkcd.com

Sounds like good medical advice to me.

We're playing Cranium next, izzle

Things I learned or reminded myself last night:

Quelf would benefit from having more players than 4 at a time. That being said, it was still pretty funny with just four.
Catchphrase is all it's cracked up to be.
Drinking a bottle of beer as a shot is not.
Sopapilla cheesecake is absolutely delicious.
Coleman lanterns are as effective as labeled.
Concrete is hard.

I enjoyed game night as a whole, but will in the future make some key changes to avoid some of the less fun points of the evening. After all, I'd like it to become a regular event, and for that to happen, the following must be true:

Fun > Not Fun

Here's to the next night, hopefully not too far into the future.

A dead log

Despite many stories about my ability to function on minimal to no sleep, there are times when it all catches up on you. I got home yesterday after stopping at Norma's for some chicken and dressing (covered in gravy, and oh so good!) for my breakfast/dinner after work and proceeded to take a nap from about 8 pm to 7 am.

May I say, I feel great! It's been a while since I got up without wanting to go back to sleep.

Game Night!

I'm excited about the upcoming game night we've got cooking, and while at the mall today I picked up a game that sounds promising: Quelf. I hate to tell everyone, but Autumn has already staked out Super Ninja Monkey, so don't even try.

Sushi!

About a week ago I noticed that one of the big corner retail lots in my apartment building had some activity going on within. This makes me happy, and idly I hoped for something good to pop up. Previously, it had housed an Italian restaurant, and I think one other short lived business. I'm still sad about the closure of a Cold Stone Creamery last year (it was in a different unit, though).

So yesterday, a sign had sprouted: SUSHI WORLD. What? I'm going to have sushi available to me downstairs? This might be the best idea ever!! I just hope it's decent stuff.

Return of the Keys

Finally found my stupid keys. And look! I have a whole 3 hours before my alarm goes off for work tomorrow.

Good night.

Where the hell...

So it's 2:15 in the morning, and I can't go to sleep. Not because of lack of fatigue, no. It's because my car keys (necessary for things like getting food and going to work) are gone. MIA. It's actually getting borderline ridiculous at this point. I mean, I drove home and got in my apartment this afternoon. They're in here. But WHERE?!

Hearting the Flannigan Crew

Can I say, the show on Saturday was a blast! Flannigan's Right Hook, for those who are unaware, is a great band from KC that combines traditional Irish music with some contemporary songs and bluegrass touches mixed in.

We got to chat with the band a bit throughout the night, but were unable to convince them that breakfast at 2 AM was better than an after party involving copious firewater. Oh, well. But I am happy to say that Shane (the fiddler) is now my Facebook friend! Why am I so happy? I dunno, but it makes me smile.

The dark side of Facebook

Earlier today, I gave my parents a call to see how they've been doing. Mom picks up the phone, and it's immediately obvious that she's not happy - anytime she calls me anything other than Gigita, I know that somewhere, sometime, a crime has been commited by me.

The question is, what was it this time? And the answer: Facebook.

There are several pictures of me participating in St. Patrick's Day festivities over the course of the weekend. In several, it is obvious that there is drinking going on around me. And I did drink a couple of beers over that week. But I was never drunk over those days. Not even a hint of a buzz. I nursed one beer for 2 hours, come on. Nevertheless, I was informed that in several pictures I am obviously intoxicated. Really? No. I just look stupid in several, and I don't need alcohol to help with that. That's just me.

I think she was eventually assuaged, but times like that I wish my parents weren't on Facebook. Oh, well.

Boo

Recently, my group has moved to a new set of digs in the hospital. We now have a small kitchen/bathroom area that we share during the day with the chaplains, a small call room with a bed, and an office where all our paperwork and computers are situated. I have a few gripes about the whole thing, but the main one is the fact that ALL of our computers are highly visible through the multiple glass windows facing the hallway, and for some reason there are random people that roam up on this otherwise empty floor all night long. Sometimes they tap on the glass to ask where someplace is, and sometimes they just stand there watching you inside. It creeps me out, especially when I'm alone up here at night.

So, I've found a couple of spots where I can sit where no one can see me in that particular zone. Problem is, there's not really room for a chair, so I often sit indian-style on the floor while I read or write. Weird? I don't think so. I do this at home a lot, too.

While in my corner tonight, I heard our door beep open and one of the cleaning guys came in to sweep and tidy up. When he came back to the spot where I was, I thought he was going to jump out of his skin -- he gasped, clutched his chest, and stumbled back a few steps. Apparently, his first impression was that I must obviously be injured or otherwise ill to be crouching in a corner in a semi-darkened room (to be fair, I do the semi-darkness thing at home too. What, you don't?). It took me a few seconds to calm him down, and then he left in a hurry. I guess he gets creeped out easily late at night, too.

Well, back to call.

Shoelace Mastery

Having fun hanging out with my nieces currently, and so far it's been a typical memorable day. The youngest one demonstrated the death throes of a cockroach for our viewing pleasure, very accurately, I might add. We also learned how to tie shoelaces - my middle niece is quite proud, and will now be able to help out her friends at school. The youngest, while speaking to her parents on the phone, stated, "Surrender! I can tie my shoes!" I don't know why, but it was pretty hilarious.

Naked Pizza? Sounds good to me!

While eating some lunch at Cafe Brazil, I was flipping through the Observer and came across a short segment regarding Mark Cuban's stimulus package. Basically, he's looking at various different business ideas or current small businesses that have potential for growth and investing. The article was discussing Naked Pizza, one of the first to benefit. This sounds like a great concept: all natural crust, green restaurants (part of their model is to use rooftop gardens to provide as much of their supplies as possible), and an addictive product, apparently. They arose from a firm belief that pizza should not and does not need to be junk food. It sounds like Cuban sampled their fare and believes they've got a winning product. Well, here's hoping to try this out in the future.

Sigh

In a moment of not paying particular attention, I found myself earlier today turning left under an overpass, the last in a line of cars. I realized as I was turning that the light was going from yellow to red. I also noted a police car at the intersection, right as the camera on the stoplight flashed, sending a commerorative photo to be paid for by me. The officer pulled me over, shockingly.

However, here's where it gets even better. I handed my license and registration to him. My license which was, incidentally, renewed 5-6 weeks ago. SO, despite the fact that the city of Richardson is already automatically processing a ticket from the camera, I got an additional ticket from the officer for the same offense, and he also gave me one more ticket. Why? Because the address on my license is still for Arlington and my insurance is for my home Dallas address. The annoying thing being that I inquired about this at the DPS office, they said that I could still count my Arlington (aka parent's house that gets the bulk of my mail)address as permanent and didn't need to change.

So that makes 3 tickets in one stop, 2 for the same offense. Interesting, but mainly annoying. At least my registration and inspection stickers were current, one thing to be grateful for.

Forrest Gump in One Minute

Awake

Perhaps spurred on by reading a blog posted yesterday, my brain was apparently in overdrive last night. I woke up at 5 am with several phrases pertaining to an idea for a book that's been rolling around my head for a while. Unfortunately, 3 or 4 good lines aren't going to cut it. Still, it was nice to capture them before they winked out of memory.

Of course, now I've been lying awake for the last 4 hours, dreading going to work. Maybe breakfast would help...

By request

When We Have Faces

While cruising through Half Price Books the other day (in search of The Secret Life of Bees), at one point I found myself sitting on one of the stepstools somewhere in fiction P section. I had found my quarry, and couldn't help flipping through a page or 87, after all. In front of me was a push cart with books waiting to be shelved, and I found myself staring at the name C.S. Lewis on the spine of a book I'd never heard of before.

Interesting.

I pulled it free and found myself looking at an illustration of a woman's face. What I'd found was a retelling of the story of Cupid and Psyche, as told by her oldest sister. Do you remember that one? Aphrodite, pissy as usual, gets angry that a mortal girl is being worshipped for her beauty. Thus, she sends down her son (Cupid) with orders to make her fall in love with the basest of men available. Instead, Cupid falls in love with her himself. Cupid, most handsome of the gods. Except, she didn't know that, as he never let himself be seen and warned her not to try. His love was returned by the girl, and she espouses him.

As tends to happen in these kinds of myths, the downfall of their love came from outside sources. Psyche's 2 sisters are invited to her new palace, and they seethe over the riches she has around her. They begin to tell her she is likely married to a monster, the true reason why he won't show his face. They convince her to look that night after he falls asleep, using a candle.

Reader, that night the face she illuminated was perfection. Beautiful. Enchanting. She could not stop gazing at her husband. Then, she is betrayed by a drop of wax falling on his shoulder. He gazes at her sadly, and all around her disappears. Now more in love with him than ever, she embarks on a series of impossible tasks to reunite with him, and succeeds. The sisters perish.

This book is written by her half-sister, Maia. What she sets out to write is a formal complaint that she wishes she could take before the gods. She accuses them of lies, treachery, and robbing all that is most dear to us. She accuses them of interfering and meddling in the affairs of mortals, of speaking in riddles and then punishing us when we misinterpret the signs, and sometimes even if we read them correctly and following faithfully. She accuses them of stealing away the love of her sister, the one she loved above all else. She accuses them of changing the past and perpetuating a tale of infamy.

Interesting.

What it ends up being about is love. Love, which at its best can bring out the strength and courage to face the ugliness in life, and at its worst can lead us to cling on to those it's best to set free. It's a story of how it can lead someone to hurt the ones they love the most, but how it can redeem us in spite of ourselves. I couldn't put it down once I started. It was exactly what I needed to read just then, and I'm glad.

Computer conspiracy

I think it's very interesting that 2 of my 3 active computers decided to crash at nearly the same time, one in the middle of a game and the other in the middle of the song. I think they may be trying to get me to leave the house. Good thing I have the netbook, which is behaving well at the moment. Guess it's time for coffee.

Lovely day

February is a big birthday month in our family. Back before our family started to grow as my brothers grew up and got married, half of us were February folk. Myself, brother Mel, and our dad. 8, 22, and 23. I don't remember ever having a party for Dad outside of singing Happy Birthday and maybe having him pick what he wanted for dinner, but he's never been the kind of guy to make a big deal over anything that was about himself. Now, Mel and I always got some kind of party growing up. Despite the fact that we were dispersed on opposing ends of the month, usually it would be one big bash for both of us. I don't know how he felt about it, but I always liked it that way. We'd get to do the roller rink, or have a big pool party at home. Plus, considering that we (mostly) shared all of our toys and books, it was neat to see what each other got in anticipation of heavy negotiations on terms of use.

Sunday I spent the night at my parent's house where we watched the Oscars, fielded birthday calls from my brothers and uncles (one of which is named Oscar, of course), and ate barbecue that I picked up in honor of the day. We sang happy birthday to Mel a day early when he called, as otherwise he has a bad habit of not picking up the phone. I've already told him he is not allowed to make any lame jokes in 2 years since he didn't let me pick on him at all when he turned 30 last year.

Eating dinner together while listening to salsa music. Mom pulling out some treats she's been hoarding for over a week. Singing Happy Birthday long distance. Staying up watching movies, eating leftovers, and drinking coffee until 2 AM. Sleeping in curled up with my mom. Getting a good back scratch. Drinking coffee with evaporated milk (instead of cream) with a breakfast that includes barbecue, beef and veggie soup, and bread pudding while reading a book. Dancing in the kitchen. Getting fussed at because my coat is old, I haven't been to the dentist or optometrist yet, and I haven't been sleeping enough. Being waved at as long as my car is still in sight. These are just some manifestations of love that I know and love dearly myself.

Despondex

Warning: This clip is funny.

Oh, and it has foul language, so don't watch it around children or at work. Or do it at your own risk.

CrookedTree

It's been a few weeks since an article in one of the many free weekly papers here posted an article about several different coffee houses in the area and reasons to stray from Starbucks. A couple I already knew about and visit sporadically, but one has become my preferred place to go when I need to get out of my apartment and sit somewhere. Crooked Tree is right off Mckinney, not far from my apartment. It brews organic, free trade coffees (although they do use conventional dairy, alas) served by friendly people inside a spruced up little cottage full of mismatched furniture and equipped with wifi. Which, of course, I appreciate much more now that I'm hauling my latest gadget everywhere I go. The current artwork on display is... hmmm. Circley? I don't know how to describe it. It's very colorful.

It's nice in here. Not sure where I'm going next, though. Was hoping to catch a movie today, but I dunno. Should probably get something to eat, but, again, not feeling it right now. Exercise was planned, but the treadmill was taken and I don't like doing the trails alone. Hoping inspiration will strike soon.

My netbook and me

For years, I've idled through the laptop section of any major electronics store. For years, I've been able to remind myself that, really, I would never use a laptop as a portable device, so it was much wiser to spend about half the cash on a desktop with twice the power and upgradable even with my general wariness of hacking around with the innards of an expensive device loaded with years worth of information. Yet, somehow, after years of laptop chastity, I have now thrown myself into a torrid relationship with a behemoth of a machine that now resides on my kitchen table. And if that's not bad enough, a couple of days ago I walked into a store with the intent of getting a phone number to a restaurant and walked away with a midget.

I refer, in case you're wondering, to the Acer Aspire One. It's tiny. It has both wifi and 3G connectivity. It has Microsoft Office preinstalled, albeit a trial version that will require another payment of blood. It's everything I didn't need but have secretly craved to fill my need to Google any time or place. Yes, a smart phone would be more compact, I know. But come on, I carry around a big-ass messenger bag everywhere I go. Might as well have a real keyboard and a screen I can read, right? Yeah. I pretended to get lost on my way to my brother's house in Houston yesterday - "Darn, I guess I should check Google maps and make sure that this is, in fact, the right Spring Cypress Road... yup, it certainly is." I played sudoku and pulled up sheet music while at my niece and nephew's piano lesson and entertained whoever's turn it wasn't. Ah, connectivity.

I'm a happy girl. This has been an excellent first week of being 28, starting with the kicking fondue party hosted by my friends on the actual day, having the week off, reading, eating grapefruit and Reese's Pieces, getting to visit one of my brother's home, and overall being in a good mood. Thank you, guys, for everything. After all, the bulk of the people who read this also happen to be the ones who brighten my days just by being my friends. I hope this year is a great one for all of us and that I can be a part of making it lean heavier to the good.

And yes, this was running through my head when I titled this post.

When it rains

I don't like tornados. I also don't like having a peaceful night at home being interrupted by tornado sirens in the middle of the night and not being able to clarify exactly why they're going off - is there one anywhere close to me, or are they trying to get me to listen to the weather report? Hence why I'm writing this while sitting in my closet. I mean, I don't really have anywhere else that's any safer.

Times like these I really miss one thing about Plainview, TX, and that would be basements. Both our house and my dad's office had gloriously large basements; the one at home was filled with a sleeper couch, ping-pong table, and many toys, and the office one was stocked with supplies bought in bulk from Sam's Club. Either way, when the skies looked nasty, you just grabbed a pillow, blanket, your favorite stuffed animal, a book, flashlight, your favorite pair of socks, a package of doritos, some sodas, the portable radio, Monopoly... well, the essentials, you know?

Tornados freaked me out as a little girl. And still do, admittedly. They come out of freaking nowhere, do whatever the hell they feel like, and can either skip around merrily in their destruction or just plow through. My nearest encounter with a tornado happened in Plainview, when I was about...7? One started forming over our house, ripped off some shingles, but never touched down. And there was that one that rampaged through downtown Fort Worth while I was at TCOM. Since then, I think the nearest I've been was Thanksgiving 2007 while en route to Ville Platte, LA. In that case, I was driving through the absolute worst weather I've ever been through alone on the road for, but it's hard to say whether I was actually anywhere near a tornado that time or not. It was the middle of the night, after all, but the feeling that at any moment a flash of lightning was going to illuminate a funnel of destruction coming at me and wiping me off the face of the planet was, shall we say, unnerving. I seem to recall a couple of panicked phone calls made while on the road that night.

Now back in my living room. If I ever own a house, I want a basement. It's a security blanket that I want back. Even in Wichita Falls, our house didn't have one, but the Fords (the nicest neighbors you could ever want) had a basement that was accessible to all the neighborhood in the event of foul weather. So, yeah. Sign me up for that.

3 grapefruit and counting

I knew there was a down side to going to bed early. Namely, waking up ridiculously early. And for some reason, I've been eating citrus like it's going out of style. I had 2 grapefruit last night for dessert before going to bed. Upon waking about 40 minutes ago, I ate the last of my stock, then moved on to the oranges (2 of those, so far). On the bright side, last night I was feeling un-well-ish. Perhaps the massive vitamin C infusion has helped me overcome whatever it was, because I feel pretty darn good right now.

Commitment? What?

I love reading random self-help articles. Today's topic: fear of commitment. I learned interesting facts: in Japan, 54% of women age 25-44 are single, and it pisses off male politicians to the point where they say things like the following:

"Welfare is supposed to take care of and reward those women who have lots of children. It is truly strange to say that we have to use tax money to take care of women who don't even give birth once, who grow old living their lives selfishly and singing the praises of freedom."
--Yoshiro Mori, Japan's former prime minister

I bet he doesn't feel the same way about bachelors. And since I also enjoy top ten lists, this one is courtesy of the author of Kiss and Run.

Top 10 signs you’re commitment-phobic:

1. You have a long and elaborate list of requirements for your ideal mate.
2. You go from one short-lived relationship to the next.
3. You have a habit of dating "unavailable" men.
4. You consider your married friends’ lives boring and think they settled for less.
5. You stay in relationships that are rocky and offer little hope of commitment.
6. You back out of plans at the last minute and have trouble setting a time for dates.
7. You cultivate large networks of friends at the expense of a single romantic relationship.
8. You have a lot of relationship trauma in your past.
9. Your career is very important to you and you often choose work over relationships.
10. You are constantly blowing “hot” and “cold” in your relationships.

Massacre at MCMC

It's 0430. Since 1900 on 1/24/09, I have had 13 admissions, 3 of which were critical. Someone please shoot me, or I will have to suffer through 2.5 more hours of this.

Sigh.

Really, it's not that bad. I know other people out there have crappier, busier jobs than I do. But, damn it all, that doesn't really make me feel any better. One more night, then some blessed time off.

Wasting Spaces

Been feeling funky today, and not exactly sure why. I'm willing to blame it primarily on insufficient sleep for the past 3 days. Whatever the starting point, I don't like it. I hate feeling like this, because inevitably it leads me into a spiral of self-loathing that gets fed by virtually anything. Someone makes fun of me? I deserve it for being stupid. Someone is nice to me? Must be because I'm pitiable and they feel sorry for me. Someone gets mad at me? Must be because I'm just annoying to be around. Someone gets upset because of me? See, more evidence that I'm a big waste of space. The only good thing these days is that the rational part of myself is scolding the rest of me that this is ridiculous and I need to snap out of it. Of course, that doesn't stop me from having the need to do such stupid stunts as rant semi-publically, although at least I'm sticking to a white font so most people won't actually read this shit. And, strangely, it does make me feel a bit better to let this out here. I guess it's kind of like lancing an abscess - it might look and smell gross, but it does make it better to let the pus out. But, really, these moods are horrible. Stay in it long enough, and it can devastate relationships with people who matter. For instance, rather than having a nice dinner with my parents, I ran them off and instead had a sandwich by myself. I could have called someone, but didn't want to subject anyone to my depressing company, so instead sat through a silent meal.

Yup. Can't wait for this week to be over.

Quick addition

So, the ER just wanted to let me know that one of my patients seems to be gone.

Me: Gone?
Nurse: Yeah, I checked the bathrooms, but she's not around.
Me: Is her family around?
Nurse: No, they're gone too.
Me: Huh.
Nurse(helpful tone): She did say she felt better.
Me: Huh. Well, let me know if she comes back.
Nurse: Will do!

Derailed

I logged on, eager to write. The thoughts rolling around in my head begged to be brought forth into the light.

And then, I forgot. No clue what I meant to talk about. Maybe because it's after 4 AM. Maybe because I'm annoyed that the ER paged me just now, less than 10 minutes after I asked "You guys need me for anything?"

Damn it.

Social Security, Ponzi, and Friends

Exactly what prompted my original train of though earlier today, who can say. I'm not financially savvy in general, and I primarily keep myself out of trouble by recalling the general rule that, if something sounds too good to be true, it's not. Stories of the Madoff Ponzi scheme have been all over the news, however, and I have spent a bit of time reading over the basics of what happened.

It was only today, however, that it occurred to me that social security basically amounts to a government sanctioned Ponzi scheme. Again, cut me some slack, I'm not an expert here. However, doing a little bit of searching online brings up some interesting info. Estimates as to when SS will start running into deficits are, of course, dependent on the state of the economy and work force, but from what I've gathered in a quick run through of searches on economic articles, it sounds like the first hits are going to come around 2017 or 2018, and then exponentially worsen by around 2040. So, by currently "investing" into the current system and planning to work until retirement age, I'm basically funding the earlier investors in the system with a very questionable possibility that the favor will be returned.

Granted, SS never promises huge returns to begin with (unlike a Ponzi scheme), but you are theoretically putting this money in with a promise of guaranteed retirement income, and it seems questionable that you can't opt out of it even with the knowledge that it's likely an empty promise.

So. That sucks. I mean, I've known for a long time that social security is not something I'm going to rely on in 40 years or so. It just kind of bothered me that, with all the talk of pyramid schemes and such currently in the news, this seems like much the same, except a legal version that the working public has no way of avoiding.

Gotta say, Chile seems to have a good thing going. Can someone in charge please talk to Mr. José Piñera?

Belize it or not

The other day, I walked out of the hospital at some ridiculous hour. I stepped out onto the garage roof and was embraced by a cool breeze on an otherwise humid, fairly warm night. Is it really January? It threw me off so much that for a second it reminded me of a night in Belize at Matachica. Oh, wait, except for the fact that, in Belize, I wasn't frustrated, tired, and standing in a parking garage at midnight. And there was an ocean. Right.

Spaghetti and shrimp dumplings

Often, I'm filled with wonder at the beauty of the world, and I wish I could find a way to pour my heart out in my writing. I wish that I could write something truly thought provoking, that sheds a light into the deepest recesses of my consciousness.

Instead, I'm going to talk about spaghetti.

Growing up, we didn't often have normal spaghetti. We had Chilean spaghetti (which is pressure cooked cuts of steak with carrots, black fungus, and bay leaves over spaghetti), spaghetti with garbanzos and parmesan, and spaghetti in a delicious homemade pesto sauce mixed with fresh farmers cheese to accompany apanado (beaten cuts of thin cut steak which is then breaded and fried). I liked normal spaghetti, it just didn't start appearing at our house until I was well into my teens.

At restaurants, I never understood people who used spoons to eat spaghetti. Seriously? Isn't that what the plate is for, to provide a stable winding surface? The use of knives to chop up spaghetti also baffled me, as it seemed to remove one of the best parts of having spaghetti - an interactive dining experience (I'm not sure if that gets my point across very well - eating, after all, involves you interacting with your food no matter how you do it - but I digress).