response

oh NAAWWWW she DIDN’T!
nuh-UH!
hmm-MMMM!

aw, now it’s ON!

translation: i’ve received an e-mail containing one of the most unjustifiably condescending sentiments i’ve heard in a long time.

ahem.
actually, nevermind. she is of no consequence to me.

(put index finger away, regain poise, toss hair slightly, pivot-turn, and gracefully saunter out of room)

plagued

(freezes, eyes widen)

ewwwwwww!

(wrings hands)

eww, eww, eww!

(looks behind her)

eww! get it off me!

(jumps up and down)

hurry! get it away from me!

(spinning around and around)

eww eww eww eww eww eww! aaah!

(running about)

aaah! aaaah! help! somebody! anybody! get it off of me! squish it! kill it!

(stops, drops, and rolls)

help me! somebody! make it go away! pleeeeease!

(gets back up. runs out the door, onto the sidewalk)

it's on me! make it go away! it's following me!

(runs through stream of neighbor's garden hose, much to neighbor's confusion)

is it gone? ewww! wash it off!

(runs about randomly)

aaaah! it's all over me! i can't... i can't...

(runs back inside)

it won't go away... it... won't...

(collapses, sobbing, on floor)

it's here to stay. it won't leave me alone.

what do i do?

addendum: i can now reveal that this post was about my blogstalker. now do you get it?

updates

1. i went to check on the little baby whose spine i tapped the other day. turns out she's doing great, but get this... they LOST THE CSF i had gotten! they had to re-tap her. i literally got nauseated when i found out. gah, bah, and blargity blarg argh!

2. yikes! i've been incriminated! he called me "pretty". i suppose there are worse things he could have said...

3. it's kj's b-day! give him a big wet sloppy b-day greeting!

overheard at the pediatrician's

baby 1: oh. my. gosh. look over there. that baby has on my exact same outfit. i'm like, SO upset. my parents told me this polar bear outfit was cool.
baby 2: yeah, i was going to tell you. never listen to your parents about what's cool. polar bear outfits are like, so five minutes ago. every baby in america has one. you should be thinking about spring fashions now anyway.
baby 1: this is totally embarrassing.
baby 2: hey, it's not your fault. blame the adults.
baby 1: i do. i'm wiggling out of this thing.
baby 2: hey, i know! poop in it! that'll show 'em!

ha!

i just got a card that said somewhere on it,

"live long and proper"

someone wishes me longevity and propriety. how nice.
teehee.

work

funniest sedation evar!
i don't know if i should write about this. i don't want to seem disrespectful. but the other day i did the funniest sedation ever. i mean, evar! i suppose i don't get many of these because i usually sedate preverbal children. usually teenagers will sit still through important procedures, see? in any case, i got called to sedate this young man, who was very quiet and stoic through the presedation teaching. i discussed the potential complications-- lowered blood pressure, respiratory depression, the dreaded vocal cord spasm-- as well as the usual side effects-- altered mental status (which is the whole point), jiggly eyes, dry mouth, and "dreams". i call them "dreams" because that is what they are, but i suppose "hallucinations" would also be an appropriate term for them. patient and mother expressed good understanding. he initially went down fairly well. just a touch of versed and half the usual dose of ketamine provided beautiful anxiolysis and comfort. about five minutes into it he started talking a little. i thought he was coming to, but he wasn't. first-pass metabolism i guess. his mumbles and words became sentences, and the sentences began to make sense. only the thing was, he was floridly hallucinating. he was seeing red fish swimming up on the ceiling. "mom! you see them fish? this is a great dream! i'm gonna have this dream more often. oh! where'd the fish go? come back! come back fish! oh. there you are. hey fish. gimme five, fish. yeah, that's right. you want to come home with us? come home for dinner? mom! can we have fish for dinner? and kevin's here, we're going to play playstation. [hands playing playstation] hey quit cheating! mom! kevin's cheating! [mike: quit cheating, kevin!] see? the doctor said quit cheating!" all the while, mike worked on his procedure. mike and i tried hard to keep straight faces, but the patient's mother was there the whole time, and she had a good laugh over it. it got a lot funnier but that is all i will say. notice i respected patient confidentiality so leave me alone hipaa!

most frustrating spinal tap evar!
oh. my. gosh.
spinal taps on babies are hard. no matter how skilled and experienced you are, they're just hard. the resident expressed displeasure at the having to perform the lumbar puncture, but it was her responsibility. after she failed, i had to step in. i have gotten so, so many of these on the first try with no difficulties. BUT. sometimes you just don't get them. in any case, i knew i had to do this because the baby was sick and needed it. i poked my head in the door and saw a little bitty baby, a preemie. crap, i thought. the resident was frustrated but stayed to help. i took the first needle and found my spot. i really wanted this to happen, so i positioned, and positioned, and palpated, and palpated. and palpated. finally, one, two, three. i was in the canal. blood filled the hub. crap. i removed a clot because i thought i saw CSF. and the flow stopped. i wiggled, and adjusted, and turned hub and bevel caudad and cephalad, and nothing. same with the second attempt. poke. bleed. flow-stop! adjust. clot. remove clot. readjust. flow-stop! clot. adjust. argh! the baby cried. i wanted to cry. i was so frustrated, because i really hate driving giant needles into babies' spines without getting the fluids we need to test. with the third needle i tried yet a different angle and the sucker went in ALL THE WAY TO THE HUB. that freaked me out. i pulled back. i had completely lost hope in getting any CSF but i was going through the motions because you just have to keep trying. i kept angling down, down, and was ready to quit several times over when suddenly, this time, the flow-stop! ended up being a flow-ooze. i held my breath— the drop swelled— CSF! beautiful, precious CSF! more valuable than gold. i was holding the needle at a completely bizarre angle and it, oddly enough, wouldn't stay there without me holding it. so i froze, and waited. it was the slowest flow i could have ever imagined, but i didn't care, i was so thrilled to have gotten this tap. i got one cc after maybe 20 minutes. fortunately the "patient tolerated the procedure well", because i didn't. baby, i'm sorry. i'm still sorry now. there wasn't anything i could have done differently, but still. i'm sorry. but you know what? hurrah and thank God that we got the CSF we needed, and i know the baby will do better for it.

recommendations

the most that we can do as physicians, sometimes, is provide our recommendations. it is up to our patients and their families to follow those recommendations as the best advice that hundreds of years of tried-and-true and evidence-based medicine has provided. often times we have to use this as consolation for ourselves when bad things happen to innocent children.

we do see evidence that our recommendations are not being followed. we know it without a doubt. these parents know who they are.

i have to say that if you do not follow our simple recommendations and your child falls ill, you have only yourselves to blame. we will be there to do damage control, but you hold responsibility for the health and well-being of your child in your own hands.

we will take protective custody of children if we think their parents are harming them. unfortunately we cannot do this just if their parents are idiots.

please, please please. take good care of your kids. they deserve it. do what we recommend. we are not doing it for our health. not at all. we're doing it for your children's health.

bah

and i have to say it now, out loud:

boo! boo!
fie on forced diversity!
boo!

by request

"i got memed"

how to be friends?

aren’t friendships worth fighting for?

with some recent thought and soul searching, i have found myself saying in some cases, “you know, there is just no reason for me to hang on to that friendship.”

i wish friendships could last forever but alas, they do not. it’s not a horrible thing to say, is it? i mean, friendship itself is a diverse entity. i honestly believe that some friendships have a life expectancy and/or an expiration date. when they expire, one moves on. one may argue that those sorts of friendships are not true friendships. i propose that they are simply a subcategory of friendships.

somehow i have become friends with all sorts of unlikely individuals, “strange bedfellows,” if you will. people i have nothing in common with. people i don’t even like. people who use me. we’re friends, and i am there for them. and some are there for me, and others are not.

from whence do such friends come? there are friends by association. there are friends by obligation. there are the ever-sketchy work friends. there are friends with whom you are friends only because you share the same occupation and/or religion. then you’ve got your one-hit-wonder friends, people with whom you really hit it off well and then never speak with again. there are “good to see you we should really go out and get a drink some time” (but you never do) friends. (is that just something that people say, or do they mean it?)

there are married friends and single friends, and it’s hard to be friends with one if you’re the other. there are friends whom you would call to pick you up from the airport, and friends you would not. there are friends whom you may list as your emergency contact, if you’re single like me. (my own emergency contact slot has been unfilled since one of my good friendships expired last july. i have someone new in mind, but have not yet gotten up the courage to ask, and i’m moving in 6 months anyway.)

there are friends who remember your birthday, and those who don’t. there are friends who completely forget that you exist unless you are persistent in continually initiating friendship gestures, and friends who pursue you even when you’re crabby and withdrawing into your shell. there are friends with whom you exchange christmas cards and that’s it, and there are friends for whom you love shopping and buying gifts for no particular occasion (“i saw this at the store and thought of you.” i love doing that). there are friends who once were kind when you needed some kindness, and they will be your friends forever even if you find later that they are unpopular or obnoxious. there are friends who are friends with you only while they’re looking for an opportunity to get into your pants. there are friends who completely ditch you once they start dating someone. then there are friends whose new, insane spouses find you threatening and banish you from your former friends’ lives. is it really worth staying friends in secret? no, it is not a good idea at all. and evidently there are blogfriends, who have never met you and have no idea who you are but, despite that, read your very personal ideas on your blog daily, and sigh with you when you are feeling down, and leave encouraging comments.

there are friends who have never experienced excellent friendship, and i find that they don’t really know how to be friends very well even if they are nice enough people. what do you do with that?

how do you tell someone new that you meet that you don’t really want to be friends? how do you tell someone old that you don’t want to be friends anymore? how do you tell someone that you never really were truly friends to begin with, and you don’t really care to begin?

remember when we were young and we had really great friends? we’d see them all the time and talk to them daily. we’d recognize each other’s voices and never had to identify ourselves over the phone. we did not tire of each other’s company. we could finish each other’s sentences if we wanted to. we’d know exactly what they wanted and needed and were there for each other.

i have a fear that grownup friends my age aren’t like that. do we not do that? i’ve come to assume that to be the case. but i don’t really know i guess. it has made me hesitant to call someone just to say “hey,” or to call someone too frequently, or to ask to hang out too many times in a given month.

i worry about what my recent willingness to abandon sunken friendships means.

i hope i’m a good friend.

still bratty

i took a nap and feel better.
now i've found this funny little piece. it's a book by edward gorey called the gashlycrumb tinies.

my favorite page is neville's. what's yours?

brat

i guess it started out as irritation, when gary asked for the entire congregation to get in circles and pray "for the marriages of our church." i didn't understand the point of that, exactly-- or i didn't want to. i did say a quick one, "Lord, help the married people not be idiots," and went to the bathroom.

my irritation grew as the horde of children that surrounded me pushed my chair, whispered and talked out loud, touched me accidentally, crinkled paper, went horizontal in their seats to try to take naps, and cried. why was i surrounded by children? why weren't their parents disciplining them? why were the parents joining in on making noises with them and talking loudly with them? WHY ON EARTH would they possibly think it a good idea to give them a jingle bell and a tambourine?

it didn't stop there. i was bothered that cold air was blowing on me from the air conditioner on a winter day, and i had to wear my coat and scarf inside. i was bothered that none of my friends said hello. i was irritated because everybody up front kept going on and on in their flowery ways as they spoke and i really wanted to know the interpretation of the parable but no one would get to the point, just MAKE YOUR POINT! and then there was the music. i was mad because there were more singers than usual, all of them the old crew, none of whom would help me last week. which made me remember to be mad about having to play piano next week. i was mad because the instruments were playing too fast. i was mad at myself for being mad at church.

i could not rectify the siutation by telling people to be quiet, or asking for the a/c to be stopped, or approaching my friends first, because i knew that once again, i was being unreasonable, and i do not like to inflict myself upon people when i am unreasonable. the whole time i was able to see exactly why i was angry. i was angry because i am selfish. i wasn't getting everything around me to be exactly the way i wanted it, and that made me mad. i, i, i, me, me.

see, here's the thing. it was indeed wrong of me to be mad. i know that. i know where it came from, what it means, and what to do about it. but that doesn't make it go away. it happened, it was, and it was valid, and one can't just pretend that such an emotion or experience never existed.

so i am a brat today. why, i do not know. i think i shall spend the day being alone. i will burn a candle and snuggle up under the covers and think about how fortunate and blessed i am, and about how i am not all that and a bag of chips nor am i the center of the universe. i will think about how great it is to put others before myself. and i'll clean my house some. and maybe tomorrow will be better.

argh

to explain fully, i would have to write an essay, with a theme, and proper flow (transitions), and maybe even a thesis. that would take organization and planning. i would probably even make an outline first. i don't feel like doing that for my blog. is it worth all that to explain to those of you who are "just" my blogreaders? of course, it is a lot to assume that those of you who are my friends in real life know where i'm coming from and what i'm doing on the blog(s) too. but at least i could just call you up and tell you. or bring a movie and a pie over to your place and know that you probably already get it, because you're a smart person. or i could write it for me, and for the sake of writing it, as an exercise. yet another exercise. which is the whole point of the whole blog in the first place. or. i could write it because it is the truth, and it tells the truth, and that is what is truly best for everyone in the grand scheme of things. aw, man. i just created myself another responsibility.

it's true

the more you feel sorry for yourself, the less others feel sorry for you.

hey

do something good

i think...

somewhere inside of me there IS that little girl. she is in a yellow dress, pigtails tied in ribbons (one pink and one rainbow striped, because she likes them both even though neither match). she thinks spinning around and around until she's dizzy is great fun. she has a child's faith. she dreams of the happily ever after, and actually believes it can come true. she is optimistic and she has great hope. she probably likes ponies too— i don't know; i'll have to ask. i'm not one who ever had a thing for ponies myself.

i didn't notice her 'til recently. i don't know why i am so surprised to have come across her. perhaps it is because she looks nothing like me. perhaps it is that i try not to listen to her. or that i have little respect for her. or that i simply don't like her and resent her for creating false hopes in me. i don't know.

so what am i supposed to do with her now?

but actually

but actually, i am just very, very fortunate.

actually i am different, in good ways more than bad. does that mean "special"?

actually i'm a good doctor.

actually my life is full of blessing and purpose.

actually i am not busted— i'm nice-looking enough to get around. children don't run from me screaming, after all. not even when i bear needles. and i have all my teeth.

actually my depression is in remission, and i'm normal and happy.

actually i have good friends who love me and are good to me, and i will miss them when i move.

actually i am nerdy, unabashedly so. and just a little bit cool at the same time, but i won't admit that out loud to anyone so don't tell anyone i said that.

actually i have a great job here, and a great job lined up for me next year, and a great career full of helping people and kindness and healing and babies.

so actually i will just keep doing my thing and not worry about it.

actually.

or maybe

or maybe i have some chronic disease that is so far undiagnosed, and that's why i'm so scrawny. or maybe it's because depression makes you lose your appetite.

or maybe i'm just an average doctor after all. just average.

or maybe i AM a horrible ogre most terrifying to behold. or worse-- maybe i'm laughable to look at.

or maybe i have distracted myself to think things are better than they really are. or maybe i'm cured of my depression.

or maybe i still am that socially inept. maybe i'll move to my new job and transform back into a hermit and be miserable again. and my outside will turn as ugly as my inside and all will be revealed. or maybe i'll move and suddenly be one of the cool kids, or maybe the nerds will stop denying me membership for being too cool and too hot.

or maybe i'll just keep doing my thing and not worry about it. yeah, that's it.

maybe.

greeting

"and how are you today, sir?"

i held out my hand very professionally, for him to shake.

he looked at me and a smile spread widely across his face. he jumped up from the platform, into my arms, and hugged me. he kinda bonked me in the mouth with his shoulder but i didn't say anything; i was too surprised. i was also surprised that i was strong enough to hold him up.

kids are pretty cool.

wasting away

i got on the scale today. it's been about 6 months since i last checked my weight.

i have dropped to 49.3 kg. i still use myself as a marker for 50 kg, though.

that's about 5 pounds less than i expected. that's 5 pounds i lost without realizing it or trying. that's a sign of undernourishment.

it gives me a body mass index of 18.95. though that bmi is okay, the "healthiest" bmi is 22. i would have to gain 17 pounds to hit that.

that sounds impossible. it sounds as impossible to me as losing 17 pounds would to someone else besides camodidi.

i do not have an eating disorder or body image problem. i would like to gain my weight back. i am not as strong as i used to be, and i'm cold all the time. i want to be healthy. also i know that i look rather frail, and i would prefer to have more meat on my bones, or junk in my trunk and everywhere else for that matter.

how did i do it? well, i work a lot. and i work until i'm so sleepy that i'd rather sleep than eat. you see, anyone who works as hard as we do knows that after a little while, hunger disappears. sleepiness does not. i switched to diet soda because i don't like the taste sugary sodas leave in your mouth (bacteria eat the sugar and make that taste. gross!). i drink alcohol very rarely. i have a sensitive palate and i prefer lightly flavored foods, which tend to be light on grease. lastly, my intolerance for dairy has eliminated most creamy foods from my menu including ice cream, once a staple of my diet, and cheese.

i do not recommend this as a weight loss regimen.

don't get me wrong. i love to eat. you should already know this from the prickly pineapple. evidently i just don't eat like everyone else in this fat old country.

now, my other new year's resolution that i haven't told too many people about is to gain my 5 pounds back in the next 3-4 months. i plan to do this by eating a good diet and exercising. i bulk up easily with exercise. seriously. i get man calves. it's kind of gross.

funny how the same plan, prudent diet and exercise, should help improve your health no matter if you're under- or overweight.

that's all i have to say today. i have started on my weight gain regimen. but i'm being bad tonight— i'm having sushi (too few calories!).

nostalgia

at seven o'clock i decided to finally just go to the grocery store, but as i stepped out the door something felt very significant in a nostalgic sort of way. i couldn't quite put my finger on it.

the piercing smell of winter hit me along with the fine cold mist on my face. no one else was out. no cars, no squirrels, no movement. it was very quiet, and i felt just how alone i was out there in the dark. without realizing it i paused on the sidewalk and looked up at the moon. it was almost full, just waning, a pale gold, and covered in a haze. i tightened the belt on my red coat and continued, heels clicking on the sidewalk. climbing into my car i felt a sense of "supposed to be." something was supposed to be different. it was as though i had forgotten my original agenda and convinced myself i was doing something else all along. i was not supposed to be so thin and cold and alone. i was supposed to be driving a routine drive to see someone i loved. but i was not. i was going to the grocery store.

how odd.

not cute

it's surprising how feeling not cute changed a lot about me tonight. this morning i felt okay, but then i took a nap and thereafter had nap hair. applying lipstick on my way out to dinner gave me opportunity to see the bags under my eyes, my nap hair, my boots being unflattering with my skirt, my bony general appearance. bleah, i said, and walked out the door.

oh wait! gasp! i haven't done my thankful thingie for attitude o' gratitude today! i'll be back later.

so weird

it was 71º on sunday, and now this.

we have an inch already. too bizarre.

glamour

in school, learning how to do my job,
camodidi spilled poo water on himself.

you see, when one is young and thinks one wants to be a doctor,
one just does not see that as part of the package.

ahhhhh, the glamour of medicine.

emptiness

whump. click. slide.

i shut and locked the door after my friends left. i turned around and saw my living room in its clean state. i had made it through a visit with the only embarrassment being the fact that i forgot to move my mop and bucket out of the guest bathroom before everyone arrived. i blame it on the fact that i walked in the door all of 300 seconds before they did.

anyway, my living room in its clean state is nice enough, i guess. what it is, though, is empty. one wall has my sofa against it. the space above my sofa is empty. along the next wall you see has my guitar, next to the tv, and my favorite wall hanging. the wall across from my sofa, against the stairs, is all bare and white. the last wall is that of my door and a window and a loveseat, with a tiny little monet by the window.

i now know another reason why i usually live in such a mess.

true, i enjoy being messy simply because i CAN be messy. i enjoy exercising my freedom as a grown-up single person living alone to mess up my place. it is with glee that i do so sometimes. and true, i am often pressed for time so i leave things here and there; i do use that excuse on occasion. mostly i am just a slob and lazy, and i don't like to put things away right away. but i've just discovered that the emptiness that i see when my place is clean makes me feel as though my life is just a little empty too. my solitude is intensified by the open, barren whiteness of the place. clutter creates the illusion of busyness, intent, purpose-- it makes for a comforting distraction.

it's not a major influencing factor; it's rather subliminal and most certainly subconscious, seeing as how i didn't figure out i felt that way 'til just now, after living all alone for 4-5 years. i also think it's a little bit sick.

my plan? i guess i'll just have to keep my place clean and get over that feeling. chances are i'll end up replacing the clutter with music, having it on all the time. we'll see.

one has to have standards

"... and i'm sorry."

"but why? i never saw this coming..."

"really now. you don't want to make this harder on the both of us, do you?"

"no. but for me to understand and have closure, i want to know why. i deserve an explanation."

"yeah, i guess you deserve that much—"

"you owe it to me. i will get up and walk out that door, i will leave your life quietly, if you'd just tell me— why?"

(pause)

"darling. i love you. i will always love you. but... but... darling, i've seen your music collection. you have abhorrent taste in music. and with that... (sob)... with that i could never be reconciled...."

work

holy crap.

the children! the chiiiiiiiiildren! there's just... so... many of them!

i got whupped tonight. i knew it was going to be bad when i walked in and immediately the neurosurgeon was asking me a favor, and then the hematology clinic wanted a favor, and i hadn't even set down my black bag yet. i like carrying a black bag. it's my twist on old school.

anyway, the rooms filled and the calls just kept coming. we even overflowed into rooms that weren't mine. when they sent me a 5 year old kid with a facial laceration who was flipping mean and was going to need sedation, i had to call plastics to sew since i can't sedate and sew at the same time. they sent an intern who had way less expericience sewing than i do. he even peeled the two plies of the drape apart on purpose, not knowing he wasn't supposed to. and he broke the end of his running stitch so he had to start over. heh heh heh. whatever. it makes me laugh and feel superior. (snort of derision) ha! (i'm so bad-- but i can laugh because i was never that clueless as an intern. really.)

i don't know how many kids i saw. they just kept coming. babies most of them. fairly healthy babies. babies with nothing wrong. babies with colds. babies with runny poo. nothing majorly wrong with any of them. they all had to wait for what seemed like hours for me to get to them, only for me to walk in, coo at them, make them smile, and make them take a bottle, then say there's nothing i needed to do 'cause they were fine with minor illnesses and some were completely healthy, "call your doctor in the morning with an update your baby sure is a cutie yes you did the right thing by coming but next time think about what you feel like when you're sick and then you'll realize that when people feel sick they are cranky and sleep more and lose their appetite and maybe you don't need to come to the hospital just because your baby is cranky, sleepy, and not hungry now who does the little one look like, mommy or daddy?"

i felt kinda bad because everyone had to wait so long for me to do nothing-- and then the one girl who actually needed for me to do something had to wait the longest of all. fortunately she was awesome. ten years old and completely unafraid. unafraid through the wound cleaning, the shots, and the stitching. she watched me do it all. didn't feel it because she wasn't scared. and because i'm just that good, of course. (here you ought to roll your eyes because i'm being facetiously smug.) and man did she present to me a nearly perfect lac!

ahhh... the perfect lac. straight. clean. gaping, but with minimal tension. superficial, so no deeps are needed. on a brave patient who doesn't wiggle. preferably on a black patient because the demarcation between brown epidermis and white dermis is even easier to see, and i can really evert my edges by getting the tip of my needle to come out precisely at the junction. i always do two-bite closures for the sake of wound edge eversion. simple interrupteds; i never do running sutures. not in an active child. are you crazy?

i put eight little 5-0 ethilon stitches in her. that lac came together to a perfectly straight 2.5 cm line despite the initial wide gape and the 2 mm dog ear at one end of it. i mean, that sucker ended up being straight straight straight!

it's just really awesome when a lac comes together well. i guess the only thing that compares with getting a perfect lac and stitching it up beautifully is getting a horrifically complicated lac, like stellate and through all different layers so you have to do something kind of creative, with deeps and corner stitches and crap and maybe even a mattress or two, and ending up with a gorgeous repair. along langer's lines, ha! now that would be awesome.

wow. i forgot. i like doing lacs. you wouldn't know it for all my usual complaining. it's the wiggly kids and the mean kids that made me forget how much i like suturing in and of itself.

i felt bad at the end of it all, because i felt that i had let people down because of the long wait times. but my nurse was so encouraging-- "no. you are awesome," she said. "you were actually pretty fast. and i love that you spend plenty of time with your clinical assessment so we're not doing labs 'til kingdom come. you're better at figuring out what's going on and the patients do so much better for it." i was shocked to hear that. shocked. but pleased and encouraged of course. it made me feel really good. i think it's sad that i still need my ego stroked when it comes to my work.

ah well. i'm still young after all. when i'm old and truly salty maybe i really won't care what anyone thinks about my work. in the meantime i'll just keep doing my thing, whatever that is.

what will this day be like, i wonder?

unseasonably warm?

another advert

another cool commercial is "cog", by honda. a link to it is on my sidebar.

what may amuse me most about it is the choice of song that plays over the radio at the end.

... i said-a hip, hop, the hippie, the hippie, to the hip hip hop-a you don't stop the rock it ...

those wacky europeans.

kolour kablooie

be sure to thank anonymous for her recommendation that i link to a sample of this commercial.

don't try to play it while it's downloading or your browser will crash. just start downloading it, and distract yourself with something else (like reading the rest of my blog[s] maybe? or organizing and adding all the album info for all the mp3's on your computer?) and then, before you know it, it'll be done and you can watch to your heart's content.

sultry

and a voice
that is dark
like tinted glass

every time i catch a cold
just after my nose and posterior naso/oropharynx are affected
just before i start coughing and wheezing
for just a few hours i have that sultry jazz alto i've always wanted
but will never have for real because i do not smoke.

sometimes i think if i ever recorded a jazz album i'd have sessions only on those days, in that little window of my URI. unfortunately i have poor pitch control (? altered and inconsistent tension coefficients with usual arytenoidal movements secondary to mucosal inflammation?) when i'm sick so that would never work.

it's kind of amusing because i intend to sing one note and a completely unrelated pitch comes out. then i wonder if that's what it's like not to be able to sing.

it's really too bad because when my voice is healthy i think i sound like a disney singer, all bright and innocent and, well, uninteresting.

ha. whatever.

anosmia

this morning i awoke and had no sense of smell. i couldn't smell anything, despite the fact that i could breathe through my nose okay.

i've had a cold for a couple days now, so this did not alarm me. in fact, my sense of smell partially returned by the afternoon. but i got to thinking (of course). what if you woke up one day and suddenly had lost a different sense, like your vision or hearing. even if temporary, how freaky would that be?

in addition to my official daily thankful thing, today i'm thankful for my sense of smell and, well, all my senses i guess.

late-night write

i have been re-reading my posts and catching some awful, awful writing. major writing errors. sentences that don't make sense-- unintentionally. unintentional fragments and run-ons and dangling or mismatched phrases and ideas that just didn't quite make it out.

after the initial shock and surprise, i edited them for communication's sake. i wanted to blame the late-night write as the reason for the errors, but these are posts from all times of day.

i guess my command of the written arts is just slipping away.
are you watching my decay?

camobunny's theme

i don't know why i suddenly remembered, but i did.

i DO have a theme song! how exciting.

why that particular song? because it has a most excellent groove, an overly dramatic pause, and a na-na-na-na-na-na section. because it really makes me feel like dancing about like a complete idiot. and because a friend of mine who knows me well once told me that, "oh! you ARE the girl in that song! that's perfect!" i take it as a compliment.

but my name, just so you know, is neither kitty nor karen.

it's bunny. camobunny.

and here's my theme.

not a dream like the last one

i dreamed i was an older kid in a van full of people. we were a family but of all different races. one of my pastors was there too.

we went to a house. we were supposed to be very very quiet indeed and go to the bathroom without getting caught or there would be heinous consquences. we entered, and a little blond girl and a little black boy went off like a shot down the huge twisty staircase. the bathroom was down the stairs a level, then to the left. in attempting to keep up i dropped my ziploc bag of quarters. wincing, i waited for it to hit the marble floor of the foyer below. it took quite a while, maybe seven seconds, before we heard the clangy thunk.

discombobulated, we all went the wrong way. in the sitting room, the two younger kids before me had disturbed an old white lady in a flowered dress with a lace collar. we were absolutely petrified. she came upon us, tall, thin, and straight, armed with her words and intentions of social obligation, ever... so... slowly..., forcing us into the parlor wherein sat another old white lady. i think between us all, having scattered, we ran into 4 different scary thin old white people and we congregated in the parlor. my pastor came up, much to our relief. he (black, in case you're keeping track) turned into a peppy young white guy off of some tv show. i saw my old med school advisor hover in and out of the room.

i still really had to go to the bathroom. all the adults chimed in at once. "down a level, and to the left." i asked just to be sure, and they made fun of me. so i left. as i descended the grand staircase i entered the lofty first level, with high, high ceilings tall enough to accomodate the lavishly decorated 12-foot christmas tree. this room was incredible, with marble floors, pillars, and christmas festive-ness. festivity? there was a train, and twinkling lights, and ribbon, and cotton snow on the ground. i went to the guest half-bath, also decorated in high style with poinsettias, gilt fixtures and rich carpet. i knew i wanted to linger in this magical christmasland. but i decided inexplicably to make a break for it.

i walked a hurried half-block to my car, my ride so fly. i took off down the parkway. i took the wrong branch at a fork in the road and ended up spiraling up, up, up into a hospital parking area. i couldn't go down until i went to the top. at the top i applied the brakes. i was ready to go down but a large gaggle of old white people were just about to take off on their morning constitutional. i was suddenly on a bike. down i went, verrrry slowly, with poor balance because i was going too slowly and pushing backwards on my coaster brake pedals. i fell once. twice. and the second time i took out a little round late 50's lady with dwarfism, in a teal jogging suit.

i ran over a dwarf in my dream.

it's just so bizarre i had to write it down.

this one had better not come true!

assets

no doubt one thing that made me appealing as a fellowship candidate was the fact that i am completely unattached. here's me as i interviewed. imagine me with a bullhorn, standing with my head out of a circus bus while calliope music plays in the background and jugglers and acrobats do their thing on top of the bus:

that's right, ladies and gentlemen. here's a candidate who's free and unattached! no husband or prospects thereof! no kids! not even a pet or a boyfriend to worry about! you know what that means, don't you? you're her first priority! fewer family emergencies! no daycare problems! and she won't ditch your program for maternity leave! this gal's free to slave away at all hours at your hospital with no grudges because she has no family to expect her home for dinner!

as an added side bonus, she won't be stressed about her kids changing schools, and there's NO chance of cancellation because of her husband's transfer or job promotion. see-- no grimy buildup! no hidden fees!

that's enough to make any program drool. ha.

trying

i'm going to give this a try.

have you ever had a dream come true?

i don't mean a fantasy; i mean the sort of dreams you have while you're sleeping.

i've long suspected that i've had dreams about the future that come true, but what could one have other than a sense of déjà vu and some recall bias to really confirm that? nothing.

well monday i became convinced of it. sometimes i have dreams about the future that come true.

on one morning a year? two years? ago, shortly before waking, i had a snapshot dream. you know, the kind where you get just this one image? even though there is a timeline and things are happening, it's basically all just one snapshot of a scene. i dreamed that i was sitting on a strange bed, in a small white room, knitting something out of yarn in very ugly colors (dark dark green and fuchsia), while contemplating whether or not i should go on a date with some guy (no one in particular). on waking i shook my head because of how random that dream seemed. i'd never seen such a room before, i did not have the foggiest notion how to knit, i'd never pick those colors, and i never EVER got asked out on dates. i dismissed the dream as cerebral misfirings under the influence of images from television and went on with life.

so monday, after taking care of my four baby patients, in the small white call room of my new workplace, i sat on the bed and turned on the television. i was contemplating whether or not i should go on a date with some particular guy. maybe knitting would help me focus my thoughts. i picked it up and as i came to a stripe of dark, dark green, which comes just before fuchsia in my noro kuryeon colorway (which i ordered online for the other colors in the scheme without being aware of the fuchsia), i got that sense of déjà vu. no, it was more than déjà vu. i remembered having had that dream.

a completely insignificant dream and occurrence, but true story nonetheless.

really.

happy new year to me

it's just three days in, and optimism hovers dangerously over me.

i woke up yesterday morning with a smile on my face. what? how bizarre. while in the shower i tried to think of what i possibly could be (subconciously) so happy about. i decided that it was the nice new year's day i had, meeting people and doing something different for a change. the smile was from happiness and relief, knowing that they ARE out there-- possibilities and potential for remarkable change. things don't always stay the same. the optimist in me says they could change for the better. yeah, she would. still, it was a nice 1/1.

waking up on 1/2 i felt hopeful and silly. silly in a good way. i wasn't sure whether i had been dreaming those tornado sirens i heard so faintly at 0512, but they were gone and it was time to get ready. (they ended up being real indeed. whoops.) i trucked in to work, and heard only songs that i like on the radio. how odd. and these weren't current songs. it was a mix of old and new. lucky me. at work, only four babies awaited my care. there were-- get this-- NO laboring women in the hospital at the time. oh, and no scheduled c-sections. all this is highly unusual, even for a "holiday". i guess there was a rush to have babies on or before the first. whatever, i'll take it! so i after i took care of the babies i camped out in my little room and watched cartoons.

at the end of the shift, i checked my e-mail and messages to learn good and significant and rare consequences had come of the events of the day before. sort of surprised and sort of not, i had to send up a "thank you" before swinging by the store to get the last few material items i could possibly think of needing on my way home. i lounged all evening, the perfect way to end any day.

today the weather is just as gross and cloudy as that of the days preceding it, but it remains relatively warm (40's-60's). it therefore promises to be another benign sort of work day (a sit-in-the-cubicle-and-wait-to-be-called day, with no flights in this weather). and tonight there shall be more chillin' at home. no responsibilities. the rest of the week? orientation for the special event i'm volunteering for this weekend and next week, which should prove to be exciting.

so a happy new year it has been indeed thus far. by the way, have you ever thought it odd how we wish each other "happy... " this and that? i mean, "have a happy..." whatever makes perfect sense, but now that we've used the sentence fragment form for so long it's taken a different meaning of its own. as a result, people instinctively try to stick the word "happy" in front of everything to mean "i wish you well". for example, a baby was born of some people at church. trying to come up with something more creative to say than "congratulations", people said "happy... uh, happy baby?!" instead. oh! and so why is it we americans feel uncomfortable using that word in front of christmas? no. in that particular case it has to be "merry". why? does anyone even know how to be merry? is anyone ever feeling merry or behaving merrily outside of the christmas season?

just wondering.

happy new year, everybody.

mean people

and in that group i include myself.

(after the post from yesterday, how could i not?)

what i was going to say is that mean people suck.

really, we do. you know it. the last thing the world needs with all its inherent badness is for people to be mean to each other on top of it all. so let me make this up to you. you and all the dumb girls out there that i insulted yesterday. i'm going to tell you a little secret about mean folks like me:

we would be much less likely to be mean to you if you would stop giving us such just cause to do so.

mwaaaahahahahahahaaaaaa!

no, nono, sorry, sorry! that was a joke. okay seriously now. i'm again in a phase where i've gotten sick of my own meanness and having meanness around me. it's just rotten to be anywhere near it. this makes me remember one of the reasons why i decided to pursue becoming a nice person in the first place...

mean people suck.

dumb girls

tell me this.

does it really make a girl that much more attractive when she acts dumb?

i see it all too often. oh it's not that dumb girls get guys that bothers me. i mean, whatever. it's that girls who aren't dumb act dumb around their boyfriends or around guys they hope will be their boyfriends. it literally nauseates me.

dumbness is contagious too. our daughters are taught by these dumb girls who have become dumb childbearing women that it's not worth learning how to do stuff because being dumb and helpless is beneficial somehow.

the thing that cracks me up is when guys are fooled by the ones who are pretending to be dumb. once they're married, she turns into a demanding shrew, criticizing when she wants to seem like she's right, or acting helpless when she doesn't feel like doing something. it's hilarious. talk about digging your own grave and then lying in it.

this one guy suggested that my new year's resolution ought to be to act dumb more often so i could catch more men. i'd tell you what my answer to him was, but then i'd have to kill you too.

singalong

it's a new year's song.
i didn't write it, but i found the lyrics going through my head as i walked into my apartment at 0010 tonight.

yeah, i got to switch shifts AND leave work early, just in time to be on the road for midnight and at home alone to not celebrate the new year. whatever. :) really, it's all good. better than still being at work.

so here's the song.

ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong,
raise the glass and pour the punch,
grab some potato chips by the bunch,
let's celebrate the birth of the new year!

uncle al will work the crowd,
it's time to yell and scream real loud!
it's a great big happy new year time of year!
when the clock strikes twelve, KABONG!
we'll find someone to kiss.
and if you don't find someone to kiss
then the whole darn year you'll be lonely and pathetic.
i don't know! oh!

don't you whine and don't you pout,
it's time for the pork and sauerkraut,
that's how we ring in this special time of year.
come the morn a hangover,
doggie treats for old rover,
that's how we spend this new year's time of year.
happy new year, everybody!!

now i didn't know about this whole kissing thing. did you?

edit: file host working now. sample of song remains the theme song du jour. KABONG!