searching

(evidence thereof)

something new

you know what i learned this week?

cats aren't smart. cats can be kinda dumb even.

they just make you think they're smart by narrowing their eyes and acting haughty.

i am even more like a cat than i initially thought.

murder

i have killed my usually insatiable appetite
with nothing but a granola bar and a cup of coffee.

alas! alack!

it's a shame. a crying shame. so close to lunchtime and all.

i don't want a pizza
i don't want a piece of peanut brittle
i don't want a pear
i don't want a bagel
i don't want a bean
wouldn't like a bag of beef
or a beer
or a cup of chowder
corn
cake
or cream of cauliflower
'cause i'm waiting for the dinner bell
to do the bell thing
dinner bell, dinner bell
ring

pursuit

the pursuit of wisdom, i find, is an unpopular one.

many people search for love, significance, money, power, pleasure, fulfillment, etc. and as you know, everybody's in search of something. they may not consciously or deliberately state it that way, but you can tell by the way they talk and what they talk about.

not many people are searching for wisdom.

i cannot help but habitually pursue wisdom. i think for a little while i tried to stop, but invariably and perhaps by nature of my personality, my mind heads in that direction, asking questions, wanting to KNOW and understand.

lest you think i am being arrogant, please note that i have not stated whether or not i believe i have been successful in my pursuit.

perhaps there is a foolish part in me that believes that the consequence of wisdom is the peace that i desire. (possibly specifically "peace despite circumstances"?) it's the stereotype of the sage, isn't it? some long-bearded, thin, wizened old recluse sitting cross-legged on a serene mountaintop in tattered burlap clothing. maybe with a gnarly staff and most definitely with a imperturbable peaceful look on his face.

unfortunately, wisdom does not impart peace as a direct consequence. in fact, "in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain." in addition to that, the pursuit of wisdom as an ultimate goal is flawed in that "the race is not to the swift and the battle is not to the warriors, and neither is bread to the wise nor wealth to the discerning nor favor to men of ability; for time and chance overtake them all." it is the prototypical "striving after wind." the kicker of it is that "as dead flies give perfume a bad smell, so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor," so no matter how much wisdom you get, you're still hosed.

but still, i know that wisdom is good; at least it's better than folly, right? well, only as much as light is better than darkness. i guess that must be, to me, enough to make it worth pursuing?

i suppose this makes me somewhat of a masochist.

but you already knew that.

good little bunny

yup. i'm a good girl.

the phrase "goody two shoes" comes to mind,

(wondering about the origin thereof).

because you know what?

it's so much easier to be good.

being bad makes things so complicated.

you know?

alors,

the movie i popped in because i remember liking it because it was fun

turned out to be just a love story after all.

how did i manage to forget this characteristic about so many movies i thought i liked because they were fun or cool or thoughtful?

i am feeling slight disdain.

birthdays

i have to say, i just really enjoy my job sometimes. i remind myself this morning that it is a big honor to be one of the first to lay hands on a new baby, helping bring warmth and breath, making it a happy birthday.

i left the operating room smiling this last time, smiling just because.

i suppose i will miss this aspect of the job.

there will be other things i enjoy. i hope.

i had a fleeting thought there at the ohio table, that recurring thought of bringing innocent new life into this old, dirty world.

there i stood, waiting for the five-minute buzzer, looking at those bright eyes and chubby cheeks, hearing those first gasps and cries of life, laughing at how she held her legs straight and her feet up by her ears (she had been breech).

God bless you, little one. God bless you. there will be pain and grief. yes, there will. but also, there will be joy.

there will.

consequence

following yesterday's day of abstraction, today i am feeling, of course, everything all at once. joy, fear, frustration, courage, hopelessness, anticipation, desperation, fulfillment.

it's not comfortable to feel these ways like this.

abstraction

usually the oppressive weather of our locale's summer stifles creativity, covering the entire city in a stultifying blanket of heat and humidity, fumes and sweat.

today's weather is more of the usual, a bright hot saturday of one of the first weekends i have off in entirety. (yes, i am working on monday.) the weather may be the same, but exceptional today is that the gears in my mind keep on turning; they have not rusted to a stop as they often do in the humid heat of our midwestern summer. in fact, today is a day for abstraction.

i suppose i ought to take advantage of this time to write some things that are floating about in my head. little bits and phrases of potentially artful things hover in my face, just to flit away as soon as i sit down and realize that no, responsibilities call me elsewhere. i have too many things to do.

it's a crying shame, isn't it.

concerned

i am concerned.

i've been linked to. and that link has been advertised. to a group of people. people who know of me, but don't know me well.

from church.

well, the link was to the prickly. but one could easily surf on over to this corner of my little microcosmic blogosphere.

when i found out this was the case, i checked my blog. the first post? the one where i was mad, and i had written harsh and coarse things.

yeah, i looked at all the other blogs listed. the other people all use their real names, and post pictures of themselves, and write happy sunshiney things.

now do you see? can i really have everybody from church coming to my blog and reading my very-- er, different blogging style? this is not the way to get to know me. this is my blog. my anonymous weblog.

please. please help me preserve my anonymity.

or i will have to leave, and will leave no bunny trail behind me.

kembo, kembo na yo

kembo, kembo na yo

i met a man named mozart yesterday.

kembo, kembo na yo

i had no idea what to sing at first, and i felt a bit useless.

kembo, kembo na yo

not to mention the fact that i'm not african of any sort, and didn't know the meaning of the words i was singing.

kembo, kembo na yo

but i did catch on pretty quickly. quickly enough to be helpful.

kembo, kembo na yo

upande! upande! choreography and everything!

kembo, kembo na yo

and then the one song! it was noisy, and it was everybody singing a bunch of different things at once, and it all went together in this incredible african polyrhythmic melange.

kembo, kembo na yo

i didn't know what to do with myself quite, and discovered that it didn't matter, so over and over i sang,

kembo, kembo na yo

and that worked just fine!

kembo, kembo na yo

it was weird, but worth it.
i'm going to miss this.

hoppin' mad

something is broken inside me now. after today's fight i'm just mad. mad. mad about everything. at everything.

if you've hung around camobunny's corner much you'll know that this is nothing new. you're probably rolling your eyes in the general direction of the angry little bunny. well, screw you. i mean, pardon me, but that's not helpful.

i do wonder why it is that i get so mad so often. aside from the whole inheriting my temper from my father generational sin thing. i am capable of reason just as much as are the most laid back of my friends. for some reason i am unreasonable anyway.

i'm just so mad it defies words, even from me. or maybe it's that i already yelled a whole bunch of angry words at the top of my lungs while driving home tonight (so loudly i hurt my own ears) and now i've run out. you know how traffic is a never-ending source of idiots to yell at.

i don't know. so here's a little part of a song about being mad, to celebrate my unreasonable-ness tonight.

i'm mad, i'm mad
i'm really, really, really mad
you poked me with your elbow in my side
no i didn't!
yes you did
nuh-uh
you did
and i'm just a little kid
you're lying; don't deny it
oh, i'm gonna hit you
yeah, just try it

will both of you be quiet
'cause we're driving in a car!

fighting

i just finished fighting with someone on the phone for an hour.

i just had a run of heart dysrhythmias and now i have a vascular headache.

i think this is an important reason why i hate conflict.

anonymity

"you're really paranoid about that."

no, actually, i'm not.

it's not pride. it's not fear of stalkers.

it's that i have a career, an actual career. with opportunity for advancement. and responsibility to help save children's lives. and therefore i have a professional reputation to protect.

i suppose if you had neither of those things you wouldn't understand.

does not equate

people are ANIMALS!
animals are NOT PEOPLE!

none

agenda. basically it's the gerundive of this word that's the latin for "to do." it therefore most literally means "that which must be done".

i also like the word exhausted, because it comes from the latin past participial root for "to drain" and the prefix for "out." so, "having been drained out."

today i have no agenda, which is a very nice feeling. i am not exhausted, however, so i have no excuse for wasting the day sitting on my lazy butt doing nothing.

wait, what's this? it's a list of people to call, bills to pay, and things i ought to take care of some time soon so that my moving experience isn't hellish. crap. i forgot, i do have an agenda after all.

so, um, bye.

what

do

you

want

from

me

?

haven't i done and been enough? i mean, it's been decades. seriously. what?

sit. roll over. play dumb.

a long time ago, i took to playing slightly dumb in exchange for being more socially accepted. i don't know when i started doing this. middle school, maybe? no. middle school was when i started refusing to do mental math in public. i don't know. it wasn't a conscious decision.

joking with camodidi the other day, i said, "sometimes i wish i were a genius too." he said, "yes. but. you have social skills." i found this amusing.

other than being nice, it's the only way i pretend to be something i'm not. i guess it's not a good habit, playing dumb. it is effective, but probably not good for me. 'cause, you know how when you smile and act happy you sometimes get a little happier? um, yeah. i think i am getting dumber.

denial?

i am not a shoe queen. i'm not. or, at least, i've never considered myself one.

so i blogged about shoes once. just once! and now i am teased about being a shoe queen. i mean, come on, it's not like i have an entire blog devoted to a belief set about shoes. yes, i own more pairs of shoes than i can recall. yes, they are fabulous and people admire them, and they admire me by association. but i am not a shoe queen.

however.

recently there has been presented to me the possibility that i AM one of those, and i am simply in denial about my true self.

included in this evidence presented to me is exhibit A. this is a magnet i have just received as a gift. i have never discussed shoes as a phenomenon with the giver of this gift (although we have complimented each other on our shoes in the past).



"because you always have cute shoes," she wrote in the card...

(by the way, it is true. changing your shoes can indeed change your life. but more on that another day.)

the sun has set over my home, and my friends are gone now. if i listen very carefully, maybe, just maybe i can hear (under the roar of the air conditioner (stupid apartment walls)) something...

to thine own self be true... and you do... love shoes....

wha—?

nah.

self-loathing from self-love

the times that i hate myself the most are often the times i am cleaning up after myself. because, you see, i am a slob. but life is also too long to go on hating oneself for long. and i wouldn't be messy if i didn't love myself so much. so, you see, it's not really all that bad.

pride on the job

so i attended the delivery of the preemie. i intubated him. i placed a 5 french low-lying umbilical venous catheter and sutured it in. i administered surfactant. all in all, things went as expected; no nasty surprises.

but when we got outside, and the note flew off the stretcher in the wind, and i reached out with my left hand and snatched it out of the air just before it blew out of reach,

that's when i felt cool.

confession

it’s so hard for me to describe how i feel about you in words. i don't know how best to say this, so i guess i'll just say it.

i can't imagine my life without you. i can’t go a day without you. after a few hours i miss you and i can’t stop thinking about you. how amazing you can look. how your smell intoxicates me. the way you taste.

you are always there for me. you never mock me or make me feel needy for needing you.

i love you, food.

longevity

you know what? i don't think life is short. life is long. life is just so long.

and life is too long for me to be spending so much of it pissed off at people.

the solution? i don't know. don't hang around people, i guess?

peppermint jones

who wants to come hear some jazz with me tonight? show's on the house.

nobunny? fine. i'll go by myself.

hot

i'm so hot i've burned even myself.

ouch. : (

ordinary

i dabbled in ordinary once

and something very common happened.

so,

enough with that.

expert

at today's meeting they looked upon me as though i were the expert.

hmm.

hmmmmm.

hmmmmmmuaaaaaha! ha!

ha ha ha ha! ha ha ha HA HA HA!

HAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

ahem.

indeed.

empty room

"i love you"

the words left his mouth and died
with nowhere to echo but
the vault of his mind

begin

i want to start over.

restless

upon further contemplation,

my reaction to the aforementioned encounter was not instinctively good. it was instinctively bad, and then reparatively good. this has given me pause.

one small thing can teach such great huge truths.

inspiration

i just had an encounter with a genuinely bad person.

he was so mean, so awful and horrible,

that i feel desire to never ever be mean again

so i will not ever be compared to such a one.

seriously, something is wrong with me

today i put my underwear on sideways.

not backwards, not inside-out, but sideways.

what's worse, though i wondered if something was weird at first, it took me fifteen minutes to figure out what exactly the problem was.

seriously. i need help, people.

shout-out

this is a shout-out to t
who's at home feeling not-so-good
here's hoping you get well soon
i'd bring soup and a hug if i could

compliments

oh, and have i mentioned? i take compliments very, very poorly.

i'm not sure what to do when i receive them. in fact, most of the time i don't believe them. i simply don't believe them. this is not a matter of conscious choice. for some reason, i just don't.

there are a few kinds of compliments i can accept well and believe. i think they all fall into the same category of "compliments given by people in situations in which saying something nice will yield no gain."

this is why i will believe a total stranger (e.g. cashier at target) over a colleague (e.g. nurse at work). i believe kids, because they don't have much of an agenda that paying me compliments will help complete. i believe my family, because they're generous with candid, honest criticism and because they have nothing to gain from buttering me up. i have trouble believing my friends, because they love me and they say nice things because they are wonderful people who are trying to be nice. and i never, ever believe male strangers.

like i said, i don't do it on purpose. it's just what happens.

don't let it bother you

this morning i encountered a _____(noun) that has great potential to upset me greatly.

desperate not to let myself get upset (because when i get upset about ______ (noun) i get very upset indeed), i quickly tried to think about other things.

after i hopped into my ride so fly, a solution presented itself. the stupid radio show came on.

see, the radio station i've been listening to for at least three years has changed its morning show. before it was innocuous and entertaining. now it's rude, ignorant, and obnoxious. the accents of the dj's alone make me bristle. the fact that they were making ignorant, racist comments (and thinking that they were funny) was even more effective.

that's when it occurred to me. the most effective way for me to avoid being upset about something is to get upset about something else.

this reminds me of a comment i made about myself about a year ago. i noted then that throughout my childhood and youth i basically had two emotional settings: angry, and off. i was encouraged that i had become able to emote over the entire spectrum. but now, what is this? have i relapsed into old ways?

what i'd like is to NOT let things bother me AND maybe even to be happy about something instead. is that so much to ask? now, however, i am confronted with the age-old question, "yes, but how?"

************************

also apropos for today's title is a memory that just popped into my head. so one day i'm on the phone with my mom, and she proudly says, "guess what! i saw _______ (person) at saks fifth avenue today. she's on scholarship at _______ (state agricultural school) and she also works at saks. she's so tall and pretty too!"

it felt like another one of those "look at how great she is don't you wish you were something too" comments. i was in medical school at the time.

it bothered me. of course it shouldn't have bothered me that my old elementary school friend was working her way through undergrad as a salesgirl when my mom ran into her, and it didn't. i think it's obvious what part bothered me.

i remain perplexed by the comment and what motivated it.

now i assume that i took it the wrong way.

i wonder if my mother is proud of me.

demoralising

inadequacy

empty spaces

inability to fill— a role?

expectations?

what does it mean?

anomaly?

unhealthiness?

gaping emptiness

yawning, swallowing me up

exposing my lack

i think i'll put it off 'til tomorrow.

report

+1.6 kg

BMI = 19.7

the cutoff of healthy being 18.5

i report it to you.

still wish i could dance.

yo' mama

don't forget

call your mother.

scariness and scarediness

i don't like it when the gas light goes on, and i don't like playing the "how much further can i drive without running out of gas" game after it does come on. i really, really, really never ever ever want to run out of gas. the idea itself makes me anxious. that's why i like the feature in my car that tells me how many more miles i can go before truly running out.

so tonight. when treating friends to a celebratory night out, i figure one ought to do the driving oneself. besides, it just makes sense strategically. i'm running slightly late, though, because the stupid weather made me change my plans regarding what to wear, so i have no time to get gas. well, i usually have 32 miles to go when the light goes on, so i should be fine, right?

so we go out, a good time is had by all, or at least most, or at least me, but after dropping off my last friend at about 2230 i am confronted with the fact that my needle is below E. very well. how many miles now?

distance to empty: **

oh crap. there's so little gas it can't even calculate.

very well. i'll get gas after dark (don't tell my mother). i pull into the nearest gas station, which happens to be, well, less than reputable for safety. i look at the various shady characters hanging around the pumps. i note how the pumps are shrouded in darkness. i look at the grime, the broken glass, and note that all the squeegees are missing. i consider the wisdom of getting gas here. it is a choice between being frightened of the shady location and being frightened of running out of gas. i decide it'd be worse to run out of gas in a shady location, so i look each shady character directly in the eye. they are uninterested in my presence. very well.

i climb out of my ride so fly and feel self-conscious in my symphony-attending garb. i put my credit card in the pump. "see cashier to prepay." dangit. it's that sketchy, huh. so i try to enter the convenience store to pay the cashier. the door is locked. "you have to do it through here," says an ambiguously-gendered, tall, thin person in tattered clothing, pointing at the little window. geez, it's so sketchy they keep the cashier in a little box of bullet proof glass? i get in line. the cashier is fumbling around in piles of cigarette packages, completely ignoring the line. the tall thin woman (i decided it was a woman) with the unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth hits me up for money for a bus ride. i turn my wallet upside down indicating a lack of cash, to which she mumbles something unintelligble. i wait for another fifteen seconds, and then decide the cashier will never get to me and i really must leave.

so now i'm driving down the k-way, and i've succeded in putting myself in both scary scenarios. i dealt with the scary gas station, and still i'm in my car scared that i might run out of gas at any minute, possibly leaving me stranded in a scary place.

actually, i wasn't really scared, because i refused to let myself get scared. i was more— anxious, i guess.

so here's the question. is it that these situations are scary, or am i just that scaredy?

(in case you need closure, there was a gas station about 0.3 miles down the road, of the same gas company. it was clean and well-lit, and "pay at the pump" worked there. makes no sense. i filled up, and the only injury inflicted upon me was the pain of filling up on gas that cost $3.01 per gallon, which was actually less than what they were charging at the scary gas station.)

and i was just wondering

oh! oh! oh! me!

i was just wondering when season 3 would come out.

i want it.

i like the way he thinks, see.

you have insulted my footwear.
my sandals do not like to be laughed at.

freaking out

dave brubeck. dave freakin' brubeck!!!

i didn't know he was still alive, but there he was. he sat his 75-year old body down at the piano and the music just flowed out of him.

it completely blows my mind. the thing about musicians is that they have this whole other level of being that other people just don't. it's an entire realm of understanding, a knowledge set AND a skill set. i'm not going for flowery artsy talk about it tonight; we'll save that for some other time.

still freaking out. can't— think in full thoug—

you should not need eye candy to promote it if it's good. that's another thing that's amazing about these people. they look like ordinary old folks, like your grandparents, and then they do their thing and what they create in a moment is SO much more excellent than anything you could possibly ever accomplish.

i'm completely... i'm... i can't even write.

lest you think i limit my admiration to the white people in jazz...

wait, i need to explain that. okay, so ode to a white lady was inspired by this little cardiganed church keyboardist about whose skills i was dubious. while waiting for her to put on her glasses i suddenly imagined, you know, what if she were marian mcpartland? that would just show me, wouldn't it? well, our keyboardist, um, so she wasn't the first lady of piano jazz. she wasn't jazz at all. but still. it's important to realize these things. all that to say i had marian mcpartland in mind when i wrote that silly thing.

okay. now. so. lest you think i limit my admiration to the white people in jazz...

i don't.

och, i got tired. antihistamines kicking in. and i'm still freaking out and about to cry, actually cry. so,

dr. billy taylor. billy freakin' taylor!

more later.

tips

for parents:

give your child the world. prepare your child for the world. also, there are other things in this world besides your child. don't go on and on about your baby in front of a woman who has had multiple miscarriages. don't go on and on about your baby in front of people who don't have kids, because after a few minutes, they are only being polite. people don't like hearing kids scream; try not to let it happen in public. you will need extra time; allow for it. don't trick people into babysitting; that's just cruel. having a baby is special, but remember that the entire world is populated by people who have gotten born. maintain your skills in adult conversation. don't use your baby as a doll or a paperweight. you are probably blind to some of your child's flaws. you are probably too obsessive about some of your child's flaws. babies should not be put in grown-up clothing styles or poses; it looks creepy. babies should not be given whitecastle burgers or beer. babies cry; it's what they do, so don't call your baby a "crybaby" as though it were an insult. YOU are the boss, not your child. your child does not know what is best for him/herself, so maybe he/she ought not always dictate circumstances. and most importantly, they are not for you; you are for them.

for non-parents:

if the kid is not cute, pick something else to be complimentary about. saying which parent the baby looks like is always a good option. yes, when you have kids in the future, everyone will find them as obnoxious as you find other people's kids, and as obnoxious as you were when you were a kid. don't hate children, considering that you were one once, and probably still are one if you feel that strongly about it. if your colleagues or friends have kids, they need extra time for everything; allow for that. kids don't often mean it personally; if you're hurt by it, it's probably because they've echoed something you already knew about yourself. you don't know much about kids and they actually have something to teach you. children are impressionable; be on your best behavior around them and they will behave around you. children are more honest than you will ever again be. and very importantly, never, never make an enemy of a child; they can cause more suffering than you can possibly stand considering their access to and willingness to use toys, bodily fluids, and their voices as weapons.

erratum

correction:

7. favorite animal

change of heart

the salty old nurse i had come to dislike greatly because she is so uppity and mean

shared her snacky-treats with me today.

bad bunny. bad, bad bunny.

i know i have to, so i steel myself to make the call.

(ring)

oh please don't pick up

(ring)

voice mail. voice mail.

(ri-) your call is being answered by audix....

YES!!!

(pangs of guilt)
(which is quickly replaced by)
(excitement and relief)

i'm so bad. but that's what you get for dissing me.

pictures

i felt as though a photo scavenger hunt would be fun, and i feel just a little bit as though i'm missing out on some fun since i'm running Contest #5 and not playing in it.

to make up for that i have decided to do that thing where you find google images to describe yourself (props to thérèse).

1. my name.



2. the age i will be on my next birthday.


3. the place i live.



4. favorite color


5. vacation destination


6. favorite drink



7. favorite animal



8. friend's nickname (sort of)



9. pet's name (if i had a pet. the musician, not the instrument.)



10. bad habit

no wonder

the thing is, i don't wonder if people think i'm a christian because people assume i'm a christian. they walk up to me and start asking me things about christianity and life and truth and values and all that without me ever saying anything.

so i wonder why. but i don't wonder if.

repellent

2 PricklePoints™ to whomever can accurately tell me what about me seems so repellent, and 3 more if you can tell me how to fix it.

and no, jokers, it isn't my odor. i had that checked already.

some quotes from tonight

camobunny:

"people who eat everything they want and stay thin don't want anything."

nachodogg:

"you do not understand the psyche of the fatty."

a year of repose

i'm still thinking about my meeting.

see, there are all these issues i see that could be fixed with a little cooperation and just a little bit of effort. "if only everyone would see things my way!" just kidding.

in any case, i am the type who usually steps up and says something to make progress toward improvements. usually. but being that i've been in this job for less than a year and knew when i started that i'd only be working it for a year, i haven't felt quite as compelled to do so, nor have i felt that i have been in a position to do so. hence the aforementioned silent bristling.

so now in cubicle-land, i hear my colleague, who has been appointed "head" of a certain area, taking initiative and whipping her area into shape. i am so happy to hear that things are being done in that area (not an area where i work).

i wanna do that too. i want to make things better. it's not that i want a leadership position; i don't want that sort of responsibility. it's that i hate it when things don't work the way they're supposed to, especially if it's regarding patient care.

this year has been a year of repose in a lot of respects. i've let a lot of certain skill sets (specifically leadership, book-learning, guitar-playing, and housekeeping, just to name a few) lie dormant for many months. i also have not had to push myself too much with regards to work (no thirty-six hour shifts, very few critically ill patients, and a reduced number of hours per week). and yes, i know, some of you will be wont to point out the lack of progress in the s.o. department (to which i will reply, yes, a lack of progress, but this is despite an unusual amount of activity involving weirdos and old dudes, so i demand your pity instead of your reprimands).

what's my point?

i suppose i'm just expressing some concern for the overall direction of my life over the interval of time called "this past year." was it a year of repose? recovery? rehabilitation? or was it a year of backsliding, of waste, of spiritual and intellectual sloth and obesity?

just thinkin'.

worked up

sometimes i get myself all worked up.

like today in our meeting they touched on a few of my pet peeve issues. i sat there thinking about it and was absolutely bristling. i was so mad i suddenly felt like vomiting. i've never had that feeling before, vomitously angry i mean. but really it was just because i was thinking about things and got myself all worked up. it passed, and all is well.

but wouldn't that be funny? if, like, whenever we got really mad, even if we hadn't said anything or made any external signs that we were angry, we just puked all over the place?

actually people do that. well, babies do that. and it is kinda funny.

interesting

so blogger had one of those blips this morning. actually it's more of an outage, since it's lasted a couple hours. in fact, it's still probably having problems.

while waiting for my page to refresh/redownload, all i could see was the background color of my blog, which today is a nice peaceful light blue. what, you didn't notice the changing backgrounds on my page? shame on you. especially since the changes are drastic and sometimes the background is camo. except i guess that means the camo-ness is working, if you don't notice it.

in any case, i waited, and waited, and then the little message in the lower left corner of the screen came up. "Done." all that was on my screen was the blue background.

and i thought to myself, wouldn't that be kind of interesting to do sometime? change my coding one day so that suddenly when all you's nice people come to visit, all you saw was blue? or camo? it would be an interesting statement, kinda like that tabula rasa blog i used to have for no real reason. or like that JAMA issue i saved that had no art on its cover. and then i could come back as though nothing ever happened. or i could put "this space for rent," or "your ad here," or "you are here" or something.

i won't do it now that i've told you about it, though.

this concludes one of my most boring posts ever.

young woman making furniture

i know, i've linked to her before, but she's started a new project and it's super-cool.

link

excess

i am too much.

i know it.

(jumps up and down, turning round and round)

i'm toooooo muuuuuuuuu-uuuch!

i know it, i know it, i know it!

and i don't care!

(stops jumping, makes big eyes with ridiculous fluttering of lashes)

'cuz you luvs me anyway.

hey!

"hey, [bunny]!"

i was going around a corner, and the sun was in my eyes. so,

"hey!", i answered, with warmth and a bit of surprise in my voice.

then, slightly over my shoulder, i could see who it was.

it was that one guy. with asperger's. super creepy and weird.

rumours have it that in lab he would lay on his back, on the floor, and say weird self-pitying things out loud.

rumours have it that he got married to some mail-order bride, or maybe some grad student who needed a green card. that he wanted to visit her village in china, and so they went and she ditched him there, and her family wouldn't let him in the house.

rumours have it that he... well, whatever. he's creepy, take my word for it.

it was too late to take back my warm, friendly, "hey!"

i gotta start being less friendly.

kids

i started working with kids early on, really, while i still was a kid myself (in high school). i believe it was a trip to the zoo that i first chaperoned. it was a hot, smelly, sticky day.

kids are funny. at first they might not trust this new stranger in their midst. they sort of eye you and stay back, and talk about you amongst themselves. then the first bold one or two of them will approach you carefully. if you are careful to maintain a non-threatening posture, soon they will be hugging your knees and asking to hold your hand. after the other kids see that, they will come over you in a throng and climb all over each other and you, saying, “it’s not fair, it’s MY turn,” and “you already GOT to talk to her,” as though you were an attraction at disneyland. and it’s a hot stinky day at the zoo, and you really don’t want to be touched but you’re mobbed by children who want to be as close to you as possible.

that’s pretty much the case with kids in most situations. of course, it helps if you are pretty and well-dressed, with fabulous shoes (which they WILL notice), but those things are by no means necessary, as is made obvious by my own story above.

so when do people lose this wonderful open quality, this nonjudgmental, unprejudiced willingness to LIKE other people?

my theory? it’s a necessary evil, if there really is such a thing. this quality is lost after someone gets hurt or betrayed. it’s either that, or with puberty and preoccupation with coolness.

puberty screws up everything.

cut

then he pulled out a knife and slashed at me with it.

he missed. well, almost. two teeny tiny spots of blood appeared over a very superficial scratch.

i tried to decide whether or not to say something. the question was one of whether or not it was my fault. i decided it wasn't, not really. i decided to say something.

it didn’t hurt anything but my feelings.

since then, he’s been defended. they tell me, i oughtn’t take it personally. it’s just how he is.

still, i felt resentful.

for years.

complimented

"... and i'll bet you have really good hands."

she was speaking professionally, and they are only okay hands, my hands.

so why would the plastic surgeon say that?

they're slender, my hands, and i'm slow with them. i can feel the tech's intently impatient gaze boring into the back of my skull as she grapples with the thrashing child while i slowly, painstakingly choose where i'm going to insert the needle, and as i throw the stitch (always in two bites, of course! how else would you evert the edges?) i slowly, slowly push the tiny needle tip through the tiny, tiny junction between epidermis and dermis. i'm sure i drive them absolutely crazy.

they're slender, my hands, and sometimes they shake. only if i'm on allergy meds and coffee at the same time, or if i'm extremely sleep deprived. this doesn't matter, usually, as i can still do what i need to do, but it does not exactly inspire confidence in the people watching me.

and i am slender, i am, and neurotic looking, with "precise" body movements in general (so saith elon, a friend from my past). and i had my glasses on. so maybe she was just presuming because of how i look.

and i am precise. i was approaching her about a general knowledge question regarding sewing, inspired by a patient from several nights ago. she recognized my voice from our phone discussion that night. my question was regarding lacerations that have significant overlying abrasions. "oh, i can approximate the edges, it should come together, and there's not much tension, but that epidermis isn't intact, and what of epitheliocyte migration? do i need to run subcuticulars? i haven't done that in five years." i try to use precise words when describing clinical situations too (why wouldn't i?). so maybe it was a judgment based on what she'd seen of my personality.

"i love it when pediatricians are willing to sew, and i could tell on the phone that you were."

uh, yeah, of course. i kinda like it. what i had not told her that night was that the cut had gone all the way down to my patient's mandible (chin bone). i told her that i had irrigated like mad, and betadined, and closed up potential space with a couple of deeps, and then sutured the superficial layers closed with nylon. she nodded and grinned the whole time, saying, "perfect!... perfect!"

the little surgeon in me began to cry out. "approve of me. tell me i would have been great in plastics. tell me you would have liked to have taken me under your wing. i like procedures. i'm going to do [the procedure-intensive subspecialty i'm going to do], you know." i had to tell the little brat to shut it and to go play with the little professional musician in me. they can have a little tea party and sit and talk about their little unfulfilled dreams all they want, as long as they don't bother me at work. (say it with me: because i could have; i just chose not to. don't roll your eyes.)

inside i really think the plastic surgeon was just being nice. because when they're nice, we remember to consult them more often, and then they get money.

but i still feel complimented.

happy birfday puffintoad!

won't you be my neighbor?

i made up a game! wanna play?

lookee here.

it should be fun.

come play! and bring your camera.

ugh.

get OVER yourself, you obnoxious twit.

negative thoughts about other people are quickly followed up by a quick self-examination for shared traits between me and these certain other people.

example: am i as much of a self-important, obnoxious twit? am i so careless with my words as to offend certain people every single day?

this is to keep me from being hypocritical.

my answer to the above is "maybe." since it is not "definitely not," i continue to hold my tongue.

i highly recommend this exercise. the self-examination, not the tongue holding. because your fingers get slobbery, and then no one wants to shake hands when you introduce yourself. or, at least, they're walking away from you for some reason.

bonk!

there are a few people out there who have started blogs because of me, either directly or mildly directly or indirectly.

it's neato to see how the little bloglings (a diminutive form of both blog and blogger, which i and mine are considered by some) have developed over time. some of them are failures. some are successful. some are regular. some are desultory. some are fun and some are boring. some are even contemplating what it is to blog. that's cute to watch.

fly, little bloglings, fly!

and the bloglings with big heads, well, they keep trying to take off but crash into the ground because of the enormous weight.

bonk!

concerning

i don't do it on purpose. it's not my fault.

i'm the CAMObunny. i just blend in. naturally. i don't stand out.

worryworryworry

storm and drag

it's raining. hard. and i love it!

no, not because it's about darkness and violent thunder and gloom and doom. no, nono.

it's because it's falling water. washing things clean. hopefully that includes my car. hopefully all my windows are rolled up. washing things away. hopefully not my car, but the pollen collected in the parking lot, and the fallen, browning flower petals.

because it's dark during the day, not because it's evil and gloomy, but because it's kinda fun, like an adventure, or like when the power goes out but you are prepared and you know everything's going to be okay, and you're hanging out with candles burning and your battery-powered radio drinking kool-aid or hot chocolate.

and because it's noisy, but it's white noise, the kind that is soothing, don'tchaknow.

so not because i revel in the dark and terrible. honest.

and yet,

over the past few days i have felt it returning. the slight downward pull on my spirits and on the corners of my mouth. the hesitation to enjoy myself. the lingering of my thoughts in untoward places. a drag in my usually sprightly, or at least rapid, step.

and so i raise my cup of hot chocolate, saying, here's hoping it's just hormones, and that this storm will really cheer me.

some things i wish i had

so, my birthday.

yeah.

this next one, this one coming up? it's an unwelcome one. my second unwelcome birthday ever. the other one was twenty-seven. i used'ta didn't care. i think now i do.

i never, repeat NEVER used to say anything about my birthday because i wanted people to do something about it ONLY if they remembered and cared enough to do something about it of their own initiative. i have discovered over time that this VERY RARELY happens, because people forget and are busy (otherwise involved). so i no longer feel bashful about mentioning my birthday, but i all's i want for my efforts is for people to tell me happy birthday, and i'm satisfied.

and. i used to have friends who would create lists of things they wanted for their birthdays, or christmas. this stupefied me. i could never have thought of amassing a wish-list of material things and submitting it for others to fulfill. it's just not my personality.

recently someone asked me what i want. in general. things i wish i had, you know?

so. in no particular order:

• the ability to dance
• the gift of gab
• a clean domicile
• a contagious laugh
• a guarantee that i will never be hurt like that again
• a quick and easy death
• a quick and easy life. okay not these two things for real.
• three extra inches of height, preferably in the tib-fib area
• a carefree attitude
• resistance to allergens
• an S.O.
• a hint of athletic ability
• oh, and the ability to draw
• all the years of hard work behind me, and the best years of my career ahead
• the perfect little black dress
• the perfect little red dress
• just the right amount of disinhibition
• a piano
• 20/20 vision
• more wisdom

only thirty-six shopping days left, folks. hop to it.

potluck night

miss moneybags came in late and drunk.

i got this bad feeling about her inside me.

then i got a headache.

i've decided that both of these were merely because i'm p.m.s.ing,

but how much more of this will i have to tolerate?

i want to call you

i want to talk to you.
but we don't talk.
or we do, but i have nothing to say.

i want to call you.

of course, i will not.

also, i want some brussels sprouts.

descriptive

one finds that in medicine there are few opportunities for creativity. the language, though it is its own language, feels, well, trite. it's the same words in the same order, over and over again. no wonder i tune out when the residents present to me.

to spice it up a little bit, i like to find le mot juste for presenting each case. the best opportunity is usually in the part of the physical examination called "general appearance". this is the part where you describe what the patient looks like in general. duh. the key and most oft-used phrases for this particular section are "no acute distress" or "no obvious discomfort".

people pause when they read the "general appearance" section of my charts. it is because i write such things as

• rambunctiously toddling about.
• drooling, wide-eyed, and propping to breathe.
• drooling, smiling, and playful.
• quietly exploring drawers of exam room.
• listless and glassy-eyed.
• climbing upon chairs, table, and examiner.
• malodorous. scratching his bottom.
• whining and clinging to mother.
• vomiting into a bucket in darkened exam room.
• screaming inconsolably as though in pain.
• screaming delightedly while tossing paper from exam table into air.
• calm. alert. asking for popsicle.

if applicable, i will add "NAD" (for "no acute distress") just for good measure, in case the reader doesn't get the picture.

medical students take note. this IS the most important part of the child's physical examination.

standards and illusions

i have this friend. we go out sometimes. she is a tall buxom blonde with long legs, the standard of beauty in this particular culture (as well as most other cultures). when we go out, she is the one who gets ogled and complimented.

i don't begrudge her this. not at all. in fact i enjoy it when she's complimented and i wish she enjoyed it more. and yet she says it is i, the small dark one with the figure of a prepubescent boy, who has the more desirable habitus. admittedly i am more the ectomorph than she but to a ridiculous, almost cartoon-like degree that is generally not aesthetic.

i find it a lesson in contentment, and i hope we both can be content with whats we gots.

now mildly entertaining to me is the fact that people think i'm taller than i am. i was chatting with someone yesterday, and i mentioned, "so, he's five-foot-six, and...". and my colleague said, "wait, he's shorter than you?" to which i replied, "no. i'm jest five-three or so." which she answered only with, "oh," and a bit of a sheepish look. which makes me think, gosh, do people really think i'm taller than five-foot-six? dwarfy little me?

'sgotta be the shoes. right, thérèse?

and lastly what is ironically funny (to me and probably me only)? my one major publication is in a journal called chest.

hee hee hee.

catfights

against opponent number one, i believe that i would win. i am stronger and more evil, with more of a propensity toward violence, and i know more of her vulnerable areas. she is thin-skinned and more likely to nurse her wounds while i go completely berserk with the anger she inspires.

against opponent number two, i would most definitely lose. she is stockier with a more stable base and a lower center of gravity than mine even though she is taller than i am. she is also way meaner, and since she is my friend i would probably throw the fight, invoking some such principle as grace or wisdom. yeah she'd kick my bunny behind.

guess i can't win 'em all.

these are the weird thoughts i found myself pondering before getting out of bed this morning.

what it is, what it iz

i think what it is (what it is, what it iz) is that there are a lot of evil forces that i struggle against. (the dangling preposition is not an evil; it is a mere annoyance.) the most evilest of them all, to me, are the ones that i can see inside me, the ones that i try every day, every moment to fight. these include pride, snobbery, immaturity/petulance, self-aggrandizement, materialism, and sloth, just to name a few.

and what it is is that i can't well tolerate seeing certain specific examples of these evil forces that i fight so oft exhibited by my friends or people who are similar to me. it makes me testy and salty.

materialism is a good example. i'm so, so, so blessed and fortunate that i want for nothing. i am. i am so blessed, in fact, that i fear becoming spoiled or a brat (or both) about it. so i fight off those tendencies as much as i can by trying to have an attitude of gratitude rather than one of entitlement. so when i interact with someone in my position who can't get over him/herself and the money he/she makes and behaves in an entitled fashion, my patience is very, very limited.

and i think, i think that's what it is.

i'm just saying.

work

it was a very good night at work. except for a brief three-stoogesque episode with the nitrous oxide setup, all went very, very smoothly. everybody was nice tonight. EVERYBODY. even the surgeons. even the ORTHOPOD (who made a funny sarcastic joke about grey's anatomy which earned her some extra points with me, as did her spiff-a-riffic monkey socks). and then it rained, which decreases patient flow so much that one must wonder: are we seeing THAT many non-sick kids on sunny days, or are sick kids staying at home on rainy days? i think it is some of both.

also. except. dr. d. likes me. he has all along, ever since before he got married last year. now he just gazes at me from afar, and from a-near tries to act friendly, but after a bit gets quiet and walks away. what the heck is up with that? it's very weird.

weird.