I had to go to Office Depot today to get a professional portfolio. One of my last school projects to do before I claim my diploma is to put together a professional portfolio: cover letter, resume, a "philosophy of nursing", and any certifications we have managed to achieve during our short stint at UCF. Everyone was complaining that it seemed like a crap assignment: all employers want to hear is that you graduated your program and passed NCLEX, end of story. But since I have an interview coming up tomorrow, I thought I might actually do the assignment and have something snazzy to show the nurse manager when I walk in.
My new portfolio is black, shiny, and smells like the kiddie pool I had when I was five years old. In fact, the overwhelming smell of PVC is so potent that I think I might have made my neighbors high. I have page protectors that are protecting my all my professional pages inside, but I can't zip the portfolio closed around it, so my professional, protected pages are getting a little unprofessionally wrinkled. It's all like a vain attempt to be all professional and adult-like, and it is so unlike casual me that I've left it on the coffee table next to my copies of Bop! magazine and Bonne Bell lip gloss. Sometimes I pick it up to inhale its magical odors.
It's all a reminder that my time as a student is quickly coming to an end... in 6 weeks, to be exact. I finish my clinical rotation at the trauma step-down unit in a week, and papers, projects, and final exams are within weeks away. Originally, I'd imagined graduating with honors, trailing down the aisle in a blaze of glory with my classmates, and jetting off to some fantastic vacation in the Caribbean where I'd perfect my tan and sip mai tai's out of dainty glasses. Instead, I believe I will crawl, half-drunk and scraggly, up to the podium, grab my diploma, walk out, and collapse at home in a post-trauma heap and sleep for about 4 days straight, at least until I have to wake up and go to my NCLEX prep class.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
out of the mouths of youth pastors
Jason and I visited our friends BJ and Cheryl for some good times before they pack their bags and head to the greener vistas of Portland, OR. BJ has been corrupting guiding young minds as the youth pastor at our church for about a year now, and he plays a mean Hammond-style keyboard and likes Friends almost as much as I do.
We ate excellent pizza and wings, then headed to Blockbuster to rent a video. After watching our selection, The Pursuit of Happyness, we decided it was very appropriate to chew some anti-hypertensive pills and drink vodka, because the movie was 2 hours' worth of an honorable guy who never, ever, ever seemed to get any breaks, toting around his equally-honorable and very cute son. Every ten minutes, Will Smith's character would get screwed over, and our knuckles would get just a little whiter. Still, it was a good movie, and at the end, Cheryl turns to me and remarks, "You know, I think I liked that movie because they didn't feel the need to use sex and violence to make it interesting."
BJ looks up and, without missing a beat, says, "But sex and violence are the best parts."
Prepare ye for the next generation of youth who will always know what to seek in wholesome entertainment, thanks to BJ...
We ate excellent pizza and wings, then headed to Blockbuster to rent a video. After watching our selection, The Pursuit of Happyness, we decided it was very appropriate to chew some anti-hypertensive pills and drink vodka, because the movie was 2 hours' worth of an honorable guy who never, ever, ever seemed to get any breaks, toting around his equally-honorable and very cute son. Every ten minutes, Will Smith's character would get screwed over, and our knuckles would get just a little whiter. Still, it was a good movie, and at the end, Cheryl turns to me and remarks, "You know, I think I liked that movie because they didn't feel the need to use sex and violence to make it interesting."
BJ looks up and, without missing a beat, says, "But sex and violence are the best parts."
Prepare ye for the next generation of youth who will always know what to seek in wholesome entertainment, thanks to BJ...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
how I know he'll be an incredible daddy
Our cat Missy has a fetish for plastic. Specifically, she likes to find the plastic, eat it, and then produce it again to let us know that she ate it earlier, along with some of her regular cat food. We don't know why she does it, or what specifically about plastic, which she is compelled to eat, makes it so much more tasty than, say, canned tuna, which she will not eat and will actually huff at if you open a can for her. Never in my life have I met a cat who didn't go completely ga-ga over canned tuna.
So the other day, I start hearing that familiar gulck gulck sound - just say the word gulck repeatedly out loud, and you'll know what it sounds like - and I start running to the chair where Missy is, ready to produce her half-digested ball of plastic and cat food. I'm frantically looking for something disposable to catch the kitty puke, because once that gulck sound starts, you have a 3-5 second window before the goo comes out of her mouth (and onto the furniture, the carpet, etc.). I'm just about to put an old blanket under her mouth when out comes Jason's cupped hands, directly under her nose, and he catches the kitty barf. With his bare hands. He did it again about 10 seconds later, too. I tell you, people, that is dedication. Fast forward however many months/years, and that is a dad unafraid of any kid's upset stomach ("do it in Daddy's hand, okay? In Daddy's hand.") Even I was unwilling to sacrifice the purity of my hands to the Barf Goddess, and heck, that's what I'm getting a degree in.
It's really touching though. In a weird, slightly gross sort of way.
So the other day, I start hearing that familiar gulck gulck sound - just say the word gulck repeatedly out loud, and you'll know what it sounds like - and I start running to the chair where Missy is, ready to produce her half-digested ball of plastic and cat food. I'm frantically looking for something disposable to catch the kitty puke, because once that gulck sound starts, you have a 3-5 second window before the goo comes out of her mouth (and onto the furniture, the carpet, etc.). I'm just about to put an old blanket under her mouth when out comes Jason's cupped hands, directly under her nose, and he catches the kitty barf. With his bare hands. He did it again about 10 seconds later, too. I tell you, people, that is dedication. Fast forward however many months/years, and that is a dad unafraid of any kid's upset stomach ("do it in Daddy's hand, okay? In Daddy's hand.") Even I was unwilling to sacrifice the purity of my hands to the Barf Goddess, and heck, that's what I'm getting a degree in.
It's really touching though. In a weird, slightly gross sort of way.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
avoiding the blog
Yeah, I'm doing it again. The last time I was avoiding the blog was through my miscarriage, but truly, there are no tragic events to explain how little I've been writing. Here are all the excuses I could think up, most of them somewhat pathetic:
1. I'm really busy. Not so busy that I can't waste hours playing Bejeweled, looking at my Facebook page, or blindly stare at my month-at-a-glance calendar, seeing all the things I must do but not actually do them. But busy.
2. My sleep schedule is all out of wack. I do my directed practice clinicals at ORMC on weekend nights, go to classes and my community clinicals during the weekdays, and have the occasional rehearsal or worship service thrown in there. I don't think clearly on such an irregular schedule.
3. Ever since we borrowed my friend Dan's bad-ass Canon Rebel XTi, photo-taking has never been the same. If you look on my Flickr page, look at my Colorado photos, then look at pretty much any other set of photos to see what I mean. Now that we've returned the camera to Dan, the idea of using my old camera, the one that has to think for 3 or 4 seconds if it REALLY wants to take a photo, is somewhat depressing, so I have no photos with which to pepper the posts of my blog.
4. I have fallen off the bandwagon, WW-wise and running-wise. Fallen off is incorrect: more like "taken a flying leap while giving the finger". (What a lovely image.) And for reasons #1 and #2 listed above, I've been short on motivation to jump back on. I really want to post that I bought the next size down, or show a cool picture (taken with my new boyfriend, the Rebel XTi) of myself looking all svelte, but in reality, my jeans that were falling down now fit okay. Hmmmm. I mean, the scale only shows about 7 pounds up, but it's still disconcerting about the jeans.
5. Speaking of reason #4, did you know that the floor where I do my clinicals has one of those Otis Spunkmeyer cookie ovens, as well as a whole case of frozen cookie dough pellets in the freezer? And that they bake them pretty much every shift I am there? And that they all come equipped with TRACTOR BEAM FORCE?
6. I'd like to be posting that I have graduated. I have not. I'd like to say that I am pregnant. I am not. (And please, unless you want something stapled to your head, don't ask me if I am.)
End of whine. I'll try to communicate better instead of wasting time. To solve issue #3, listed above, here's a picture of Jason at age 4 to stave off any boredom. I think it's cute.
1. I'm really busy. Not so busy that I can't waste hours playing Bejeweled, looking at my Facebook page, or blindly stare at my month-at-a-glance calendar, seeing all the things I must do but not actually do them. But busy.
2. My sleep schedule is all out of wack. I do my directed practice clinicals at ORMC on weekend nights, go to classes and my community clinicals during the weekdays, and have the occasional rehearsal or worship service thrown in there. I don't think clearly on such an irregular schedule.
3. Ever since we borrowed my friend Dan's bad-ass Canon Rebel XTi, photo-taking has never been the same. If you look on my Flickr page, look at my Colorado photos, then look at pretty much any other set of photos to see what I mean. Now that we've returned the camera to Dan, the idea of using my old camera, the one that has to think for 3 or 4 seconds if it REALLY wants to take a photo, is somewhat depressing, so I have no photos with which to pepper the posts of my blog.
4. I have fallen off the bandwagon, WW-wise and running-wise. Fallen off is incorrect: more like "taken a flying leap while giving the finger". (What a lovely image.) And for reasons #1 and #2 listed above, I've been short on motivation to jump back on. I really want to post that I bought the next size down, or show a cool picture (taken with my new boyfriend, the Rebel XTi) of myself looking all svelte, but in reality, my jeans that were falling down now fit okay. Hmmmm. I mean, the scale only shows about 7 pounds up, but it's still disconcerting about the jeans.
5. Speaking of reason #4, did you know that the floor where I do my clinicals has one of those Otis Spunkmeyer cookie ovens, as well as a whole case of frozen cookie dough pellets in the freezer? And that they bake them pretty much every shift I am there? And that they all come equipped with TRACTOR BEAM FORCE?
6. I'd like to be posting that I have graduated. I have not. I'd like to say that I am pregnant. I am not. (And please, unless you want something stapled to your head, don't ask me if I am.)
End of whine. I'll try to communicate better instead of wasting time. To solve issue #3, listed above, here's a picture of Jason at age 4 to stave off any boredom. I think it's cute.
Friday, June 1, 2007
whoops
So I got this pretty new blogger template, right? And I didn't realize that putting up the new template meant that all my links got erased. So if you were linked from my page and you are no longer linked, it just means I lost you and need you back, so leave a comment or something and I'll link ya.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)