2013

I'm not one to post a whole bunch of God stuff on my blogs/facebook pages...but it is new years, and I'm starting this right.

My new years resolution is not to lose weight or spend less money or enjoy life or fall in love or quit smoking/drinking or spend more time with family and friends or any of the resolutions that are popping out all over facebook.

My resolution is to have clean hands, a pure heart, and to seek God's face.

Sue me for borrowing songs all the time. If I was born before Chris Tomlin, I  may have written Give Us Clean Hands myself.

Hope

"And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins... If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied."

1 Corinthians 15: 17 & 19

 

I had been looking for this verse for a long, long time...and finally found someone who could tell me exactly where it was. Thank goodness someone could tell me, I was starting to think I was making up bible verses!

 

Heresy! Condemnation! Fire and brimstone! Okay I'll stop.

 

I don't remember why I started thinking of that verse, or why it was significant at the time...but I thought that it was fitting that I stop and reflect on this hope I have in Christ this Christmas season.

 

On moving apartments and other matters...

I've always had an issue with the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. Maybe I was turned off by the damp, dark, icky unknown. Maybe it was the oniony/garlicky odor that always seemed to linger there. Or maybe it was the undiagnosed dark green/brown/grey patches that seemed to appear in that habitat.

Well today, I put aside that fear and got all up in the said cabinet to uninstall my water filter. 1 hour of cussing, contorting my body, more cussing, referring to instructions, more cussing, trying out different angles/tools/techniques, and even more cussing later, I managed to remove the durn thing.

Okay, so I didn't cuss up a storm. Okay, so I didn't cuss at all. My point is this: if this nursing thing doesn't work out, maybe I'll go become a plumber.

And maybe two is better than one...

I like using song lyrics as blog titles. It makes people go "hmmm...where the heck did I see that before." And don't get any funny ideas, because I'm talking about my birthday here. Not the other thing you are thinking about.

So this girl turned 22 exactly a week ago, and now she can't tell people she's 21 any more. 21 is waaay cooler than 22, and I kinda miss being that funky age. But it was a good day. For instance, I actually opened my mouth and told people what I wanted for my birthday - new windshield wipers. That was all I ever wanted, and I got it. =) It might have helped that I was driving a car full of girls in the rain when I had the inspiration to ask for it. Perhaps they feared for their lives and decided it was safer if I could see when I drove.

What else? There was this Halloween party going on the night of my 22nd. And I went as "Inflation". Yes I'm a dollar bill with balloons all over me. If you don't get it, go stand in the corner and shame on you!

Rachel Chua, you'd be proud of the magnitude of lameness behind that costume. And thank you for the birthday call. Its always a nice surprise to get a call from a 017 number.

So using the Oreo Sandwich writing technique, I should end this blog post with a reference to my introduction: and maybe twenty two is better than twenty one...yes?

Acceptance is the first step to...

Its been over 2 months since I plunged back into the world of academia...and I dare say that I've started to accept the fact that I'm gonna be stuck in school for another 2 years - you may even be able to get me to admit that I like the life of the grad student.

No more tests. No more cramming. No more 12 hour clinicals. No more endless study sessions in the library. No more careplans. YES! NO MORE CAREPLANS!

I've exchanged all that for papers, and presentations, and papers, and presentations -all of which aren't too terrible. Except that nowadays, I get to fall asleep to journal articles. Now that's a bedtime story bestseller.

Grad School

Why do they call it Graduate School? If you have already graduated from school, why the heck do you go back? It makes no sense. People who go to grad school make no sense.

I make no sense.

4 months ago, I graduated with a shiny new Bachelors of Science in Nursing, got my license to save lives, and was all set to go out into the real world so I could poke and prod poor sick people. That was four months ago. But sometimes plans change, and there ain't nothing we can do about it...and you end up going back to school.

And you get a sneaking feeling that you have become a professional student. But no worries, folks, I'm stopping at the Masters level. I will resist the PhDeeeeeee!

So until then...I'll be treating patients via gray's anatomy. Toodlehoo!

I aint dropping no eaves!

I apologize for the 3 month hiatus. There hasn't been much to talk about besides my new found freedom from nursing school, and the revival of my previously non existent social life.

So me and my buddies were at this Asian restaurant and I overheard this conversation and instantly had an AHA I MUST BLOG ABOUT THIS moment. Here we go...


Unhappy Customer: Excuse me, my child's birthday was on June 2011. Which means he is ONLY 1 year old. Why did you charge me for his meal? He's so young.
Chinese Waitress: Oh I'm sorry, let me check with my manager.

Chinese Waitress: (in Chinese) Hey boss. That man claims his child is only 1 year old, but seriously, the kid is so big he must be at least 3 years old.
Manager: (in Chinese) Let it go, just change the order.

Chinese Waitress #2: What happened?
Chinese Waitress: (forgot to speak in Chinese) He said I charged him wrongly. His kid is so --
Manager: (in Chinese) He's standing behind you.
Chinese Waitress: (in Chinese) Its ok, I was speaking in Chinese. He doesn't understand.
Manager and Waitress #2: (in Chinese together) No you weren't.

Chinese Waitress: (turns very sweetly to the unhappy customer) I talked to the manager and fixed your order. (Big smile)


Sometimes I believe my 4 years in Chinese school was worth it. Today, was one of those moments.

Yahoo!

Kinda lazy to blog, so here's a picture that says a thousand words.

Day X

A long, long, long time ago, I had my first day of clinicals. That day, I touched, prodded and poked my first patient. 500 hours of clincals have passed since that first day, discounting all the hours spent writing care plans, brooding over care plans, screaming at care plans, burning care plans, rewriting care plans, brooding over the rewritten care plans and screaming at the rewritten care plan again.

I kid you not.

Today, I had my last clinical day ever as a nursing student. Supposedly I am ready to go out into the world to poke and prod other patients. But before that, I have to rewrite my lastest care plan, brood over it, scream at it and finally, turn it in...

FOR.

THE.

LAST.

TIME.

Amen.

Long Live the NOKIA (part 2)

Two years ago, before the horrible phenomena called NURSING SCHOOL and NON-STOP STUDYING occurred, when I was a happy-go-lucky sophomore in college, without a care in the world, and the freedom to party every night if my carefree heart so desired, I dropped my NOKIA (spelled with capitals) into the toilet bowl.

Feel free to click on the link above and read the post. It written when I was a funnier, clumsier person.

Well, that phone survived me another 6 months before the display started to die on me and I inherited another NOKIA (spelled with capitals) to replace the NOKIA that got dropped in the toilet bowl. Well the new NOKIA served me for a good year and a half before I decided to test out its rumored indestructibility. I decided to wash it.

And no. Unlike what some people think, I did not go to my sink and wash it because I thought it was dirty.

What actually happened was that I was doing laundry at midnight (what better time to do laundry), after studying all day at the library...and on my way to the laundry room, I spied my sweater on the couch and  impulsively threw it into the laundry basket. Evidently my brain was not working at that point in time because my NOKIA was in the pocket of that sweater and got thrown into the washer with the rest of my stinky clothes.

That was how it got a bath. And that's how the circuit board got roasted.

So guys, NOKIAs are sturdy phones. They survive toilet bowls, 3 foot drops and being smooshed into 352 pieces. But they don't survive 30 minute hot water spins in washing machines. It just doesn't work that way.

Pictures of you...pictures of me...

Because I feel the need to prove that I do sometimes have a life...

My last break. Ever.

I am a senior in college with no intention of ever obtaining another degree (according to me, not dad), and this spring break is potentially my last break. Ever.

And I wasted it.

Doing homework.

And now its gone.

Forever.

Goodbye.

Out of that 9 day vacation, 36 hours was spent at clinicals doing nursey things. 12 hours on my research paper. 6 hours on my poster presentation for that research paper. 15 hours doing homework which is still not finished. 10 hours writing resumes, applying for jobs and things of that nature. And 15 hours at work.

Ah well, at least I got to spend 24 hours goofing off in Dallas with my equally goofy friends.

Senioritis.

Underneath the serene facade of this nursing student in her last semester of college,

There's a crazy demon clawing to get out.

Hello senioritis to the max.

7a-7p

So working a 12 hour shift isn't as bad as some people make it out to be. Heck ya I made it through. Of course it maybe-perhaps-could be because of the 36 ounces of a certain caffienated beverage in my system.

Over and out. Goooonite.

I have a rant...

I have a rant. I have a ran about the combination lock to the laundry room at my apartment complex.

The lock is stupid.

The lock has an IQ of a baby chicken.

The lock deserves to be put in a mental asylum.

Because you see, the combination lock refuses to work on the first, second or third try. No, it buzzes and beeps but never unlocks till 5 minutes later.

Which would be fine if it happened on a nice warm summer evening, when the sky is clear, with the stars clearly shinning through the atmosphere, and crickets cheerfully chirping in the background.

But when temperatures are below freezing, and all you are dressed in are pj's and a random jacket you grabbed from the back of a chair, it would be nice not to be stuck on the cold end of a door, punching in numbers and freezing my hiney off.

Or maybe I should just stop doing laundry in the dead of the night in sub zero temperatures.

Maybe I am the one with the IQ of a baby chicken.

Meet Atticus

Atticus Finch is a fictional character in the novel "To Kill a Mockingbird". He has a daughter named Scout Finch, and he is super gungho about racial equality. The part about racial equality has nothing to do with this blog post. Not that I don't like racial equality, in fact, I'm ALL FOR IT. But what really matters for the next 2 minutes of your life (or however long you take to read this post) is that Daddy Finch is named Atticus, and Girly Finch is named Scout.

So waaaaay back in Summer 2011 when I was road tripping, I named my GPS Scout because, hey its a GPS, and it scouts for stuff. I then decided that when I got my car, I'd name him Atticus. 6 months later, and I finally got a car to go with that name.

Guys, meet Atticus.

May he not be wrecked.

Gobble gobble

I haven't blogged a peep since Thanksgiving break. Since then, I have learnt more than I want to know about coronaryarterydiseaseventricularvsatrialheartfailuresystolicvsdiastolicheartfailureleftvsrightsidedheartfailurehyperlipidemiacardiomyopathyx3myocardialinfartionanginasx4 and all the lab values, diagnostic tests, interventions, assessments, signs and symptoms that go with that.

And after that was the dreaded comprehensive final which nearly killed me.

However, nothing was more horrendous than waiting for the results. And that meant refreshing my internet browser every 10 minutes to check grades. That went on for 48 hours, mind you.

But we passed, and I am a happy girl.

So back to thanksgiving which was a hundred times more interesting than the final 2 weeks of school.

#1 I watched all 8 Harry Potter movies over 2 days. I'm still not a fan, but hey, I can say I completed a Harry Potter marathon. Not many people (in their right minds) have done that, will do that, or wish to do so.

#2 I cooked a turkey. Mainly because my roommate's work gave her one and she didn't know what to do with it. But also because its Thanksgiving, and Thanksgiving ain't Thanksgiving till there's a 15 pound bird on the table. So they say.

So after the break, I made the mistake of telling my boss I made a big @$$ turkey for thanksgiving. He asked me how big. I said as big as my donkey. I am yet to live that down.

Flip flops in November

Today I learnt that maybe I shouldn't have worn flip-flops and shorts out when I knew I would be out for over 12 hours. You see, the weather has a habit of dropping drastically when the sun sets, and biking in near freezing weather is no fun when your toes are about to drop off.

Just thought I'd share.

Two and One

I am 21.

I am legal. 'nuff said.

Motivationless? Undermotivated? Non-motivated?

I have spent the last couple hours on my butt on my couch in front of the entertainment center in my apartment studying. Or trying to. The drive to pass nursing school and graduate is at a record low right now.

But back to the entertainment center. The entertainment center is for show only. The TV has been turned on 3 times in the last 3 months, and its sole purpose is to make the apartment look less nerdy. So anyways, I have been staring at it for the last couple hours, and couldn't help but LQTM (laugh quietly to myself) at a little incident that happened when the roommate and I first moved in...

So this is the unentertaining entertainment center that has been used 3 times in the last 3 months. Take note of the aircon vents above it. It is very important.
So there's the roommate on the left trying to decide where to hang the picture. And that's my on the floor on my butt watching her.

I also decided to offer my helpful advice.

Or not so helpful...

...annoying even...

...maddening, maybe?

Ok, so maybe I was a little too much...

...or a lot too much...

Yeah, definately A LOT too much...

But finally...EUREKA!
And thats the story of the entertainment center. THE END.

Well, now that I've wasted the past hour on this blog post, I guess it is time to get back to sitting on my butt on my couch in front of the entertainment center in my apartment studying. Or trying to.