Sing Along

At first there was some hesitation on my part to share what is soon to follow. But then I reasoned, why should I deprive my faithful readers of these very "personal and flattering" ideals? All questions regarding the before mentioned quotations can be addressed on a one to one basis. I digress. I figure it best works this way. God put a good number of these thoughts and feelings into this pathetic tin can idly sitting on my shoulders, so why allow them to clang around in there distracting me from my daily routine? Why not, as Madonna would say, "express yourself"? And so it is that I feel compelled to exercise the 1st Amendment. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do:

Cue guitar. . . . .

Here's the thing we started out friends - tis true, very true. . . .
It was cool but it was all pretend - yeah I've only just figured that out now!
Yeah yeah, since you been gone.
Dedicated, you took the time - nah. . .perhaps this should read you TOOK your time. . . .
Wasn't long till I called you mine - never quite made it to that point
Yeah yeah, since you been gone.
And all you'd ever hear me say is how I picture me with you - about a million times. . . .
That's all you'd ever hear me say - no joke!
But since you been gone, I can breathe for the first time - this line speaks for itself!
I'm so movin' on - baby steps. . .
Yeah yeah
Thanks to you, now I get what I want - doesn't really apply to me, but whatever. . . .
Since you been gone.
How can I put it, you put me on - ain't that the truth. . . .?
I even fell for that stupid long song - Ha!. . .I'm not that lucky!
Yeah yeah, since you been gone.
How come I never hear you say, I just wanna be with you? - good question!
Guess you never felt that way - yeah, took you long enough to tell me that!
You had your chance, you blew it - although we all know you don't see it this way. . .
Out of sight, out of mind - I'm not this kind of person. . .
Shut your mouth I just can't take it
Again and again and again and again - this is about the time I hung up. . . .

Kelly Clarkson - Since You Been Gone

I sincerely hope you've enjoyed my rendition of this song. It's one of my new favorites. Strange as it is, it really spoke directly to me when I first heard it. But, there are some rules when listening to this song.

1. Sing as loud as you can, even if it sounds bad!
2. Be angry if that is what you're feeling.
3. Move your body! I especially prefer to head bang to this one.
4. Release some stress!

Man, I feel better already!

In The Beginning

If you recall, at the beginning of it all, there was nothing, and then there was something, and later there was someone. Note the italics. There was one. Then god realized that one was not enough. After all, one is the loneliest number. And thus took place the world's first surgery ever.

Of course we all know how the rest of the story goes. There was Adam and there was Eve, and they were one, husband and wife. At this point you are probably wondering what my point is. My elder sister questions why I would want to be married. To this I have to say that I believe it is a desire that is put within us from God. That is not to say that if someone does not desire marriage that their desire is not from God. There are some people that really would fare better in this world if they were just alone. They can be more beneficial and accomplish more for God and overall when it is just them.

For me, I used to kid myself and claim that I never wanted to be married and it was all bologna and for the birds. But I really wasn't fooling anyone. I don't feel that there is anything wrong with wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone else. I want to experience this gift that God has given us.

On the flipside there are those who have told me that I need to be okay with the idea of being alone because that might be God's plan for me. I agree that this is always something that could happen. Like I have said before, I know god loves to throw me the curveball. But at the same time God also promises that He will give us the desires of our heart if we have faith in Him. This of course takes a great deal of patience. But I feel that He knows what I want and what would be best for me, and I am trying to strengthen my faith, knowing that in the end He will grant me happiness.

We are His children and He longs to make us happy. Let's see what happens!

What Do You Want On Your Tombstone?

Of course I am not talking about those horrible cardboard-like pizzas you can buy in the frozen food section at the grocery store, although that might be a nice alternative. I got to thinking the other day how my tombstone might read when I finally take my eternal dirt nap. For quite some time I had been shooting for "Another one bites the dust." It just has a nice ring to it. But recently I have had a change of heart in regards to more than just my obituary. Nevertheless I have settled on something a bit more stinging and all too familiar to my ears. Thus it would be my official request that should I die in the near, or possibly even distant future, I would be much appreciative if the following should be engraved on my stony headboard:

You'll Make A Great Wife

The more cyanical woman in me, finds this pathetic reassurance quite hilarious and yet at the same time breaks my heart in two. Although I feel it is a tad bit incomplete, and really truly can only read in its entirety if finished by the one who repeatedly makes such a proclamation to me. Perhaps the more complete version would read something like this:

You'll Make A Great Wife. . . .Just Not Mine

There now, don't we feel better? I certainly do.

Resisting The Urge

I couldn't help myself and thus I post for your reading pleasure one of my newer poems. In choosing which one to share with you I find myself chuckling to myself. Awhile ago, a not-so-appreciated commentor advised me to "scrub" myself clean of another particular person and their filth, to which I must retort, practice what you preach hunny. Therefore, although I see it as a sick and twisted turn of events, perhaps this poem could be dedicated to you. Scrub and enjoy!


Love's Laundromat

Such a small price
To accomplish a task so complex.
Yet it begins with onlyA fraction of currency.

To live she must die,
Baptised and then drowned
By the chilling flood waters.

The dirt aggitated from
Her intricately woven fibers,
Leaves her cleansed of him,
Yet stuck in the spin cycle of
What used to be.

Como Se Dicé?

Really and truly, I have much too much to write about, but thanks to the HIPPA privacy laws I am forbidden to share any of my nursing stories in the event I should reveal the identity of one of my beloved patients, thus forcing me to find something a bit more entertaining to report. Since the majority of my life revolves around my hospital activities, I am left with very little to report. My story bank is quite pathetically empty, except for just recently.

Yesterday I had the privilege of meeting a few of my elder sister's Polish acquaintances. Yet before I introduce them to you I must ask for your pardon and forgiveness for I know all too well that I'm about to mangle and disfigure their names and respective spellings. The first of the three I met was Joe. At first I was sincerely convinced that Joe was anything but Polish for when he reached out to shake my hand and greet be I was unexpectedly slapped in the face by his English accent. Turns out that Joe is a walking, talking oxymoron, or more simply put, an English Polishman. Go figure.

The second of the bunch that I met was Eric. Of course this is not the proper spelling or pronounciation of his name, for which I am now regretful for not learning while in his presence. Yet this is what my American ears heard when first introduced to me.

Finally, and I am not even going to try to remember his name, is Peter's father, who really I was quite shocked to meet. I did not want his first impression of me to be insulting but I was all to compelled to inform him that his son looked nothing like him. Not even a minor chipping off the ole block. Nada. But I refrained and smiled and shook his hand, as without hesistation he commented to his companions in Polish that I sound just like Dolly when I speak. Funny thing, I know very minimal Polish and yet I can tell when people are talking about me, and thus surprised them when I confessed I knew they were talking about me.

The remainder of my day was spent attempting to maintain my patience as the three, in addition to Leon, rambled back and forth in Polish. Leon must have realized I felt left out and therefore requested the others speak in English, much to the chagrin of Peter's father, who clearly would have rather spoken in Polish.

As I wined and dined with my Polish amigos over some pierogies they invited me to join them at the Imax Theather that evening for a showing of the Wild Safari. I kindly accepted and spent the remainder of the afternoon looking at photos with Leon, listening to The Young and the Restless tales of each of the people depicted.

5:00 PM rolled around and Joe and Eric and I loaded into the car, with me their navigator into Chattanooga. Leon and Peter's father for one reason or another decided to decline their presence at this particular outting. Thus I directed Joe in and out of Chattanooga.

On our way downtown, as our car whizzed under the sign reading, "Birmingham" the two repeated it to themselves and then requested that I ". . . . .say it in American." I repeated the word to which Joe let out a laugh and repeated it as I had, emphasizing the "A" in "ham" with a sharp and harsh distinctness in comparison to his smooth English accent. "I dearly hope I don't really sound like that", was my initial thought.

Speeding ahead, Imax was over and we were headed to find a bookstore for Joe as he was searching for book software to use for his doctorate studies. We drove from here to there looking for a place that Leon had told us about. Once we stumbled upon it, literally, I had to exclaim, "Good grief!" Leon could have just told me it was in such and such a place. I would have known where he was talking about. To this Eric questioned from the back seat, "How do you say in English, 'Good grief'?" To this I knew he really meant, "What does it mean?" To this I paused and thought. Ah ha! Dolly is always saying in Polish "chicken." I am not even going to try to spell it out in Polish. She'll know what I mean. I explained it was something I say when frustrated. Although I knew I would confuse him more, I asked if he had ever seen the Peanuts and Charlie Brown cartoon, to which he replied yes. Well that is what Charlie Brown says, "Good grief!" He still did not seem to understand completely, or maybe it was just me. Thus concluded my English lesson for the day.

So Now What?

I supposed it's the Porawski in me, rearing its ugly head, but I have to admit, after receiving my RN there is still something stirring inside me. Maybe it's just indigestion, I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to feel a little restless. By no means am I indicating that I would like to return to school. Although the thought has crossed my mind. Laugh if you will, but I have considered getting into writing of some sorts. The idea of seeing my name beneath an article in a nursing journal really toots my horn. Yet at the same time I really would like to branch outside of medicine and touch the world with the wild and crazy thoughts and ideas from the deeper end of my head.

Not that I tire of nursing and that it is no longer my utmost passion, but more that I would really like to prove to people that there is more to me then the medical jargon and the nursing stories. There have been many an occasion when I looked over at my conversational unit only to find that their inner thoughts had taken control of their attention span and they really were only humoring me with nods and uh-huh's. If you have had the privilege of reading my past few blogs you may have already discovered the deeper and yet more murky end of my head, as I not so gently addressed the ever and always touchy subject of love.

I don't know. It's like I always say, God loves to throw me the curve ball. I never know what's going to happen next.