Moocher Magnet

Over a span of the past two weeks, it seems that the only people that I am meeting are people in need. Of course being a nurse in the making, I am accustomed to daily dealing with people that are in need of some of the most basic Maslow needs. Yet these people that I have encountered are far from needing help to their bedside commode or some of their regularly scheduled pain medications.

Thus far I have been able to categorize them under 2 classifications. For one thing, they have all been males, and for another thing they have all been the worst flirts I have ever been so unfortunate to stumble upon. Now of course I know what you are thinking dear reader. Why, I should be so flattered as to be repeatedly pursued in such manner. But you see, you have jumped the gun and have not allowed me to finish my tale. And so it goes. . . . .

About two weeks ago, I was enrolled in some classes through Memorial Hospital, as part of my orientation torture. But God must have been smiling down on me because everyday I entered class, my dearest and best friend Jamie Noe was saving me a seat beside her. On one particular day we decided to have some lunch together after class and catch up on life. Coincidently both of us were craving something a little less then healthy and inexpensive. Therefore I found myself in line at the local McDonald's, which of course I have no qualms about. The drive-thru personnel practically know me by name!

While waiting for my order, I stood at the counter and chatted with Jamie. Our conversation was interrupted by what sounded like someone indirectly addressing me. Standing less than 3 feet from my heels was a ragged Harley biker man, probably old enough to be my grandfather. Apparently he had joked with the cashier that I was going to cover his lunch bill for the day. Glancing over and sheepishly attempting a smile, I chuckled slightly, grabbed my tray and headed for the nearest booth. I was not a bit surprised when he came and sat right behind Jamie and I. Luckily he was not in the mood to dilly dally as we were and left before we finished our meal.

Now I must fast forward you to this week. Not but 3 days ago a very similar situation occurred. While standing in line at the hospital cafeteria to pay for my breakfast I hear those same familiar words ringing in my ears. Behind me stood a male nurse who apparently must have at one time or another befriended the Harley biker man, for he proceeded to tell the woman behind him that I was going to pay for his breakfast as well as my own. Again I expressed some slight embarrassment which he quickly noted aloud, only making my blushing worse. And it was not that I was wooed by him or any such thing. It seems that I have absolutely no control over whether my cheeks take on some color or not. Worst of all, I am never really sure if I am in fact blushing or not. There are day when I feel as though someone torched my face. The burning feeling extending all the way to my hairline. Then there are days like the one described above where I have no idea, yet the person to whom I am speaking, without fail, declares aloud my obvious embarrassment.

After digging a few dollars out of my pocket and paying the cashier, I ran out of the cafeteria, praying to never encounter such a wrecked nurse as him. So far the rest of the week has progressed without someone trying to get me to pay their lunch bill. Yet, perhaps that is because I have not eaten out since these occurances.

Twitter-Painted

Of course since I have not blogged for quite some time, there are far too many topics for me to choose from which to write about. Thus I will inform you all about the most very exciting thing that has happened in my life. I have found the apartment of my dreams and am in the process of signing the lease and getting ready to move, yet once again.

My 2 bedroom 2 bathroom cabana is to die for! As soon as I get the key and am able to get inside, I will take pictures. Oh did I forget to mention that I have a pool now, and my own washer and dryer? Yeah! This was of course a steal of a deal for a place to live! I am really beyond blessed right now, and as you can imagine my excitment levels are through the roof. Now all I have to do is study for NCLEX which I have not been able to buckle down and even really start. Yikes!

Anyway, I am quite twitter-painted about the whole thing, and if you are not sure what that means, revert back to your childhood and hopefully dig out the dusty files from when you first watched Bambi. Aside from that, I am working my butt off and making the big bucks and enjoying life! Keep the prayers coming folks!

One More Note

Just for kicks I decided to visit poetry.com this morning and much to my dismay I have found that one of my most recent poems that I submitted, is in fact, not there! So the one that is there is one that I wrote recently. But the one that I was really quite proud of, and inspired by Leon, is not showing. I will be sure to fix this and post a notice when it is up and running!

Sofa Lady

Long before I ever moved out of Thatcher Hall I began searching for furnishings for my own place when I eventually did move on to bigger and better things. Now that I am on my own the search for inexpensive buys that suit my tastes has become more furious then ever.

Yesterday, after 8 hours of computer class at Memorial, Jamie and I set out to locate a scrubs shop in Fort Oglefort, GA that everyone is raving about. With much success we arrived at our destination and not at all disappointed. All the news that we had heard about this particular shop was above and beyond what we had expected. As we pulled into the parking lot I noticed a discount furniture outlet at the other end of the shopping complex and asked Jamie if we could please pop in there before we headed back to Chattanooga. Without hesitation she accepted and thus we continued into the scrub store.

About an hour later with parcels in hand Jamie and I ran through the not so surprising downpour, to the furniture outlet. Upon entering we were all but attacked by one of the store clerks. This woman gave a whole new meaning to salespitch. Immediately she asked what kind of merchandise we might be looking for and offered her assistance. I informed her that we were just looking that I had already found the sofa that I wanted somewhere online. Before even finishing my sentence she bombarded me with questions concerning what I had decided on. A little bewildered I described to her the sofa that I had seen online. It's online description was Cinnebar, and it's color extremely difficult to translate into comprehensible words. In the past when I have tried to describe it, most people just cock their head to the side and screw up their face as if I am speaking French to them or something. Thus far my best attempt would be to describe it as a mix between a crayon shade of orange with a smidge of pink. Being the bright person that I am, I was rather taken with it the first time I saw it.

The sofa lady then dragged me around the entire warehouse showing me this sofa and that sofa which was supposedly called Cinnebar, most of which turned out to be more of a brown color than anything else. When I finally insisted that my sofa's color was not here she forewarned me that I might not want to purchase something offline because maybe the color would turn out to be somewhat unexpected, and on and on!

"Well," I thought, "I'm willing to take that chance!" Sheesh! Talk about raining on my parade!

Baby Steps

Remember that hilarious movie What About Bob? I've lost track of all time and what happened when so I cannot say what year it was released, but I'd say it's a must see. In the movie Bill Murray plays the part of a middle aged man suffering from obcessive compulsive disorder and a number of other phobias that prevent him from living what we would consider a normal life.

As the plot progresses our main character, Bob, becomes significantly clingy with his psychiatrist, almost as though he cannot live without this man's presence in his life. In the meantime, the doctor does everything in his human power to get Bob to leave him alone. Everywhere he goes he receives pages and calls from Bob. Worst of all, Bob even follows him on his vacation to the lake. As if that were not enough, the doctor's wife and children become quite fond of Bob and allow him to stay with them for the duration of their vacation.

While in therapy sessions, the doctor stresses to Bob the importance of taking little steps, or "baby steps", toward overcoming his fears and compulsions. Throughout the remainder of the movie Bob attempts to use the "baby steps" policy toward recovery.

Today was a baby steps day. At least so far it has been. Although it is only a little past noon, I feel that I have accomplished a great deal yet only taken a little baby step toward being finished. While climbing into the car this morning to do some errands, I was stopped in my tracks and decided that maybe I should check the mailbox. The pessimist in me was convinced that there would be no mail because things are operating so slowing at the university that I was sure none of my mail had been forwarded yet. Much to my surprise I did receive some mail. Of course I was only from student finance. I'm sure it is not just merely a coincindence that the university cannot manage to deliver my personal mail but without fail my statement is sure to arrive. But wait, what is this? Another something from Southern. Appears as though they are claiming that I did not take my loan exit interviews, which of course I did. First stop for this morning's errands, Southern Adventist University.

Arriving on campus I headed to Thatcher South first. For the past week I have been trying to get in touch with a dean so they can apply my housing deposit to my financial statement. Praise God! The dean was actually on duty and in the flesh, sitting at her desk. Within seconds I was assured that all was taken care of. Next stop, Wright Hall.

Upon entering Wright Hall I was unfortunately disappointed not to hear Mrs Bietz at the receptionist desk answering the phone with her silly fluctuating intonations. But my disappointment quickly vanished as Bryce walked around the corner. I must have caught him off guard as I ran to give him a hug. Finally a familiar and friendly face. We chatted back and forth for a few minutes and then he headed off to continue his work and I continued around the corner to student finance.

At the glass window I presented the letter I had received that morning. The desk worker disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared to inform me that I was in fact all clear, and they must have mailed the letter by mistake. Finally I feel like I am getting somewhere with these people, but remember, baby steps!

One Is The Loneliest Number

I'm not sure just who it was that sang that song, but it is really fitting for me right now. I arise at 5:00 AM and make the 20 minute trip to Memorial, work furiously for about 13 hours, mount my trusty steed, and gallop the 10 miles back to my very empty apartment. I sheepishly insert the key into the deadbolt, unlatch the door and enter into the most dreadful silence there ever was. No furniture, no noise. It feels like there is not another human being on the face of the entire planet, let alone a one mile radius. Don't get me wrong, Clifford is fabulous, but he doesn't come leaping and bounding to lick your face when he sees you like Foxy and B.B. do whenever I return home to PA. He greets me with more of a gurgle and bubble type effect, floundering about Bikini Bottom.

Please don't misunderstand me. I am not complaining. I am thoroughly blessed to have a place to stay. Heaven knows I might be living in a refrigerator box had I not survived the nursing program at Southern. I often offered up numerous complaints concerning the living conditions and stipulations for housing in Thatcher Hall. Yet I feel as though I might sacrifice an arm, a leg, or even a kidney to click my key in the lock and stride into room 329 with all its smells and sights and sounds. Despite the room's emptiness toward the end, I was never alone. I always had a neighbor or someone down the hall. Even better than that, at least I knew they did not have a criminal record, unlike the woman that knocked on my door the other morning. I would do best to describe her as a cross between a go-go dancer and a bartender. I'm desparately trying not to be stereotypical but her hair was about 6 feet high and she was wearing white lipstick. It was almost as though she got stuck in the 80's, great decade though it was. Case and point, she needed someone to help her jumpstart her car. I did not know her from Adam and although I was in my PJ's and my hair was in every which direction, she did not seem to mind. Frustrated that she had woken me up I nevertheless consented and drove Wanda up the driveway where she jumpstarted her car, thanked me, and drove off into the sunrise. Makes me wonder what other neighbors I have lurking that notice the new girl in town.

As I continue to find my place in this crazy working world, I wonder if it is going to be like this forever. Am I always going to come home to no one? Is there always going to be that dead silence? Is there always only going to be the walls to share my sorrows, frustrations, and joys? Blasted future! If only I could just have a peek.

She's Still Got It!

Curled up on my new bed, adorned with my new sheets, I busted out a beat up notebook, armed with my Bic. Nibbling on a Milkyway and humming along with the 80's radio station, I began to write. Earlier this morning I toted my writing supplies along on a trip to the laundromat. Yet the spinning and the churning and surrounding conversation about the Mark of the Beast was a little more than distracting. I should have known better than to go to the laundromat in Collegedale.

My trip proved to produce a few scribbled ideas and lines, but nothing substantial. Following my pathetic attempt at a batchelorette's lunch, I settled down to finish what little I had started. Normally I only spit out one poem at a time. The closest I have written two poems was within the same day, yet hours apart. For whatever reason, once I had finished the one, I simply continued and jumped into another. I am not sure of what caliber they measure up to, but at least I took that first step. I produced something, whether crappy or spectacular.

I may not have him. I may not have anyone right now. I may never have anyone. I may live the rest of this life haunted by the memories of a tall dark and handsome past. But I still have this. I can write. I still feel. I'm not afraid to be me.

Check 'em Out

Oh by the way, check out my newest poetic expressions on poetry.com. They are entitled Acquired Immunity, and Love's Laundromat.

Acquired Immunity

While checking my E-mail today, I was delighted to receive a message from my elder sister Dolly. She gave me strict instructions to pay a visit to Leon. Just before he left Poland yesterday, she entrusted him with a package for me celebrating my most recent graduation. Slightly frustrated that she would send me to the home of someone that I had only met once, my intention was not to bother until perhaps Leon himself contacted me. Yet for whatever reason, as I left McKee Library, I found myself cruising up the street toward Leon's house.

Pulling into the driveway, I was surprised that I had found the house again since my first visit this past Christmas. Nevertheless, I sheepishly crept toward the door and gave a hardy knock. From beyond the door came an accented hollar to "Come in!" I chuckled to myself. I had no intention of letting myself into someone else's house. Thus I stood waiting. Once Leon realized I was not about to relieve myself and enter as he had given permission, the door flew open. Standing on the other side was a man not much taller then myself. In fact I am sure that in stature he is just barely my height. But don't be fooled. What he lacks in height he makes up for plenty in wit.

I'm not sure how old Leon is but he does not strike me as someone whose mental capacity is equal to his chronological age. His first words came in the form of a question. "Are you your mother's daughter?" "Huh?" I thought he might greet me with some comment about being a sibling to Dolly. In all seriousness he repeated his question. "I better be" was my reply. He ushered me into the house and introduced me to his daughter and another girl that was also visiting. The other girl quickly left leaving me and Leon alone. I began asking him about Dolly and his trip. He asked if I would like to speak to her and I quickly accepted. Settling down in front of this computer I began talking to Dolly, which I have not done since the fire in Thatcher Hall. He quickly returned with a little green package, all decorated with ribbon. I opened the gift. French perfume. If it is possible to know someone too well then Dolly was successful with this choice. She later admitted that her and Chris spent quite some time picking the scent that they pictured was just right for me.

Hoping to not outwear my welcome, I bid Dolly farewell and switched places with Leon. Someone was talking to him online and he quickly began responding. As is his way he began questioning me about men and their existance in my life. I sighed heavily and expressed most sorrowfully that the entire species are jerks, to which Leon nodded. He again asked if there was someone that I had affections for. I could not lie, even to someone that was basically a stranger and thus replied an affirmative, but at the same time admitted his unreciprocated feelings. Leon nodded attentively. He requested a name which I surprisingly offered. He then questioned Dolly about such individual. Apparently she informed Leon of my wounded heart. He looked at me and then at the screen. "What did she say?" After poking and proding for an answer Leon said the news was sad. Dolly said I am hurting. Unfortunately she was truthful in her reply.

I then asked Leon why God allows these things to happen to people. Being a pastor I was sure that he might have an answer. Strange thing that I even asked him because I hardly know him. Yet he gave me the best answer that I have ever heard. He even related it to nursing, knowing that I have just graduated with my degree and that is the way my brain thinks.

Babies are born with immunity. Yet they are not born with immunity to all things. Their mother passes to them certain antibodies while others are acquired through contracting a disease or through immunization. My experience, my broken heart is my acquired immunity. Thus having been hurt once I am more aware of the risks and the consequences of taking that chance.

Although it was the best answer I have ever received, I still feel like a part of me is empty. Hollowed out, the pieces I will never regain and my recovery still rather questionable.

The Fat Lady Has Sung!

With a standing ovation the fat lady has sung and we are moving on to bigger and better things. These past weeks have been a chaotic mess with the fire, graduation, packing, and moving. But with a long and relieving sigh I have survived it all, although there were moments at the end where I was sure I was going to kick before my eyes ever beheld that lovely diploma.

The nursing pinning was more then memorable. Ebony and Sylvia practiced their sign language for hours upon hours until every movement was graceful and perfected. Once I had seen their progress I felt proud to be able to sing for them. On stage, although nervous, everything fell into place and we were a hit. Strange thing though, I still don't feel like a real nurse, although people keep calling me that. I guess once I take my NCLEX and I actually see my license to practice, it will become more real.

Graduation was beyond words. I sat on the edge of my seat as Dr. Ben Carson addressed the graduating class. Unfortunately I was quite disappointed afterwards when I desparately tried to find him so that I might have the privilege of shaking his hand. He was nowhere to be found. Maybe some day. I was quite pleased with myself though as Gordon Bietz handed me my diploma and leaned in and commented, "Sounds like you have a fan club out there." referring to the noise produced from my cheering section in the audience. I shall never forget the calling of my name as I strode across the stage and firmly shook his hand. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I had accomplished something great. Almost as though I was the first person to do such a thing, silly as it sounds.

Yesterday was another day of firsts. After sleeping on the floor for almost a week I was fed up. Thus I gathered all my gift money and I set out to buy a bed. $700 marked down to $399, I am now the owner of my very own self bought most comfortable bed in the world. Regardless of the fact that I still don't have sheets, I slept like a baby last night. Sawed logs, literally!

I will be at this apt for the summer and then I will move into my own place. Please pray that I might be able to get into a certain apt complex that I have my sights set on. It is very nice. Hopefully God will lead me to where I am supposed to be. Thanks to all for being patient with me. I will not be blogging as often because it is a lot to travel to campus to get on a computer. But know that I am thinking of you all, esp you Dolly and that I love you and am praying for you all. Here is my new address:

9325 B East Brainerd Road
Chattanooga, TN 37421

Drop me a line!