I give up! Uncle! Uncle!

Earlier this morning, I turned in my final paper for possibly the most insanely difficult junior college class I've ever taken. My professor has a PhD in literature from a VERY liberal women's college and I swear, the woman could find a rape scene or rape intentions in ANY piece of written work. Here's a million dollar term that might garner some strange looks if you manage to use in conversation: vagina dentata. On day freaking one of summer session English 1B, she dropped the vagina dentata bomb on us. Imagine the looks of sheer terror on the faces of those who are not native English speakers. Pure. Comedy.

This class was ridiculous, though, because of suggestions like this (I know this is a lot to read, but trust me, it'll give you great insight into what I was up against):

Take the following quote from The Merchant of Venice: “…Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks hang on her temples like a golden fleece…” (citation). After the quote, you’d have to explain what “renowned” means. What does it signify? Then you’d unpack the puns. “Locks” means hair and padlocks. We only lock up items that are valuable, but it is also a form of punishment; such as being locked away for life. Lock also suggests unity or a union, as in marriage, such as in the phrase: lip-lock. You’d also have to entertain the word sunny. I’d say that it relates to golden and golden means monetary value and aesthetic value, as in a golden tan. Then we have golden fleece. Gold by itself = wealth and beauty but golden fleece is an allusion to a Greek myth. The golden fleece gives Jason the power of invisibility and he uses this power to kill Medusa, a powerful woman. Medusa can turn men to stone, which is interesting because of the phrase “blinded by beauty.” Instead of being blinded by beauty, one is turned to stone from her ugliness and the hero must triumph over her. Mankind either suffers from woman’s beauty or suffers from her ugliness and thus mankind must be saved.

Oh my GOD, fuck me in the goat-ass! Unpack the puns?! Are you kidding me?! I thought I was a decent writer, but I never stood a chance against this woman. I could take a trillion English classes and never think the way she does. To me, the above "suggestion" qualifies as reading into ONE LINE of a very long play WAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much. She said that if we couldn't get all of that out of one line, we weren't being very sophisticated. If that's the case, I'm as barbaric as they come. Sadly, to get a decent grade on any of the fourteen (yes, fourteen) papers that she had us write in a mere six weeks, you had to think exactly like she did. If she didn't agree with what you wrote, your grade would suffer.

For me, what this lead to was finding abstract inspiration from an episode of Oprah that featured Jessica Simpson, for crying out loud. I also managed to contort and twist and completely mutilate a Dave Matthews song...not surprisingly, she loved these two papers. Also not surprising was that these were the two papers I was the least proud of. I didn't believe in a single word I wrote and felt that I was handing in an absolute pile of shit, and yet she raved about my creativity.

Bottom line here is that I just couldn't win. If I wrote about things that I believed in, I got C's (C's!!). If I vomited baloney onto sheets of paper that lacked any sort of coherent idea, she was pleased, but still not in the mood to hand out an A. I've honestly never had so much trouble figuring out what a professor wanted before! Even when I got my papers back and read through the pages of comments, I still didn't get it...nothing was clarified, nothing was made easier to understand.

With the final paper handed in, I can't do anything but just hope that she sees some improvement in my ability to give her something that she agrees with. Because otherwise, I just earned myself another C in an English class.

I also apologize for the lack of posting around here lately, but Professor Vagina Dentata Rape Scene really killed my desire to write for fun. Now that I'm finished with her class, I will hopefully get back to enjoying the mindless blather that takes place here...

Bits and bobs

Yesterday, a woman in the bathroom of the downtown SF Hyatt asked me, totally seriously, if I was a plus-sized model. Them's fightin' words, ya'll. Like, srsly. But I brushed it off, because damn it, I DID look good last night. WORD. Today, a lady at the grocery store motioned to me and called me "that skinny bitch over there". Hmmm. Yesterday I was plus-sized. Today, I'm skinny, and apparently, a bitch. Well, at least she got part of it right. I guess whether I'm fat or thin very much depends on geography and the nationality of the person complimenting/insulting me. The lady who thought I was fat was white, and the one who saw me as skinny was African-American. I'm not trying to say anything here, it was just interesting...

Ummm, finals are next week. This week, I have a pathophysiology research paper to start/ finish, a schematic map of a disease process complete with drawings to start/ finish (and for those who didn't know, I can't draw for SHIT!), and a patho take-home final consisting of eleven essay questions to finish. Several of us decided we would split up the questions to make it easier on everyone, but when I read one of my classmate's answers stating that glucose gets converted into fructose in the cell (FRUCTOSE!!! Bloody hell!), I pretty much realized I'd have to do it all myself. Fuck group projects. Ugh. I have so much work to do, I'm scared to even start. Tick tock...

The rings. I picked them up from the jeweler last week. Here they are, complete with my dry, non-moisturized, wrinkly hands:


Not gonna lie, I can't stop thinking about them. When I walk by the box, I take them out, put them on and admire how damn sparkly they are. The fact that I have to wait until October to officially wear them will make it all the more special when DJC finally puts them on my finger. I'd like to think that my grandma would be pleased.

Been across the Bay Bridge lately? The "rumble strips" might be an even lamer idea than the S-curve itself. My god, Cal Trans. EPIC fail on that one!

A friend who sells Boheme wines gave us a bottle of their chardonnay to try in hopes that we might have it at our wedding. I'm not really into chards, but DAMN, this one was really good. We both loved it. Then DJC and I Googled the price. $38/ bottle. No wonder we liked it! Sheesh! That's easily the most expensive bottle of wine we've had all year. Despite the fact that its absolutely delicious, I think its safe to say that we won't be offering this to people who regularly drink Riuinite on Ice (Riunite so nice!) and wouldn't know the difference anyways.

I'm volunteering at Glide Memorial Church in SF these days. So far, I've only met with their clinic director and handed out hygiene kits on one occasion, but I'm hoping that he'll have more for me to do very soon. Its an amazing program!

That's all. Bed is calling. Like, now....

My life these days

Get out of bed, despite how nice and warm I am. Drag self to the gym on Monday and Wednesday mornings. Drag self to nutrition and pathophysiology classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, despite the fact that the nursing schools that require these classes have already had their lotteries for their 2010 classes. Guess who didn't get in. Some days, I'll do laundry in the afternoons. Sometimes, I'll go to the gym in the evenings instead of the mornings. Most days, I need to figure out what DJC and I will be eating for dinner. Have hour-long conversation with my mother about cupcake liners, cupcake trays, flower arrangements, invitations and various other wedding things. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Honestly, I just don't have anything to blog about lately. I'm trying to figure out where the hell I'm going to go from here in terms of my schooling. I seriously looked into Heald College's Medical Assistant program, but when I got to the financial aid step, I tromped on the emergency brake. Hard. Even though all of my previous classwork would only make my education commitment 12 months as opposed to 18, I couldn't see shelling out nearly $16K for the possibility of getting myself a $20/hr (max!!) job.

I did look at another school in Berkeley whose program was only 5 months long and roughly $4,500. I spent all of five minutes at this place before bolting for the door. The "admissions counselor" didn't even have an office to take me to, and there were four (count 'em, FOUR) armed security guards at the entrance to the school. The place is located right across the street from Berkeley High School and apparently, they've experienced a few violent crimes inside the school. Great. Clearly, this was not a place that encouraged learning. I was out the door and still had 40 minutes on my parking meter.

Recently, at the urging of a friend in the program, I've started to look into UC Davis's Physician Assistant program. I've previously applied to various other PA programs and didn't even get an interview. My GPA isn't the greatest and PA programs are traditionally very competitive. After my previous disappointment, I ruled this out as an option. But since I've been taking classes towards fulfilling nursing requirements, my GPA has risen a bit. I've been reading about Davis's program and I'm seriously considering giving it a shot. I will have to take three classes this summer (one English class, one math class and I'll have to re-do anatomy because its been more than five years since I last took it), and start volunteering at various free clinics that offer medical services to underserved populations.

I'm going to Glide Memorial Church on Monday to see what I can do there. And I will be volunteering for the Shanti Project in August. I'm really looking forward to actually doing something with my time. And hopefully, my volunteer experience will help set me apart from other PA applicants. Hell, I have all the time in the world right now. I might as well do something worthwhile that may help me in the future.

So, there you have it. This is what I've been up to lately. Boring. So very boring. If you need a nap after reading this or feel asleep in the middle, I totally understand.

I joined the current century!!

I finally broke down and bought a new phone. It was time. In a sea of uber-connected Twitter, Gmail, and Facebook mobile freaks, I believe I was the lone hold-out. My old phone was good for two things: Making actual phone calls and sending old school text messages. No music. No Youtube. No tweeting. It had a camera, but I can't say I used it all that frequently. I was, as my sister kindly put it, living in the stone age. Not that I was terribly bothered, though. For whatever reason, I just could never pull the trigger on a new smartphone.

But this past weekend, in a drunken, no-neighbors-in-site, euphoric haze, I gave in and upgraded. My carrier, Verizon, offers a "new every two" program, where they give you a $50 credit towards a new phone every two years. I had not upgraded in nearly three years. I checked the available phones online and found that they were offering the Palm Pre Plus for the bargain price of $49.99. With my credit, the phone was free. WOOT! Free is good, especially when you're hesitant to buy a new phone in the first place.

(A tip to Verizon folks...if you're in the market for a new phone, NEVER buy one in the store. Whatever you're looking for is almost always cheaper if you buy online. Verizon sometimes offers ludicrous online discounts of $100 or more for some phones. Yes, the instant gratification of holding new things in your hands is hard to resist, but if you can wait a day to have it shipped overnight, which they'll do for free, its always a better deal to buy online. My new Palm would have set me back $150 even after the discount had I purchased it in-store. You're welcome!)

Anyways, my gorgeous little phone arrived today. Ever since I picked it up, I've been confused. After spending nearly 40 minutes on the phone with customer support trying to get the thing programmed, I then had to set up a Palm profile, and sit through a five minute video demo/intro. There's nothing like outdated technology (and the Palm is outdated already) to make you feel like a total moron! Thank goodness for DJC who has managed to figure out more about my phone's inner workings in 30 minutes than I was able to work out all day. Awesome.

All in all, though, I'm very happy. I've got 16GB of flash memory to fill with all kinds of stuff, a Facebook app, Gmail, Google Maps and a bunch of other cool things to play with. In time, I will get more comfortable and feel less technically inept. Wonder if they have a Blogger app...

Shhhh...you hear that?

That's right...there's nothing to hear! That's because our ass-tastic neighbors have FINALLY moved out. Actually, to be more exact, they were evicted. It only took months and months and MONTHS of complaining from myself, DJC and the landlord's own brother (who lives on the ground floor) to get their disruptive asses out. But no matter...they're finally gone. Holy shit.

At 6:15am yesterday, the ruckus, hooting and hollering began. And I won't lie about wanting to stomp down the stairs and beat some serious fat kid ass. But, in my sleepy haze, I realized what was happening. They were MOVING. They'd recruited everyone in a five mile radius with a crappy, run-down minivan to help and were schlepping their second hand Ikea furniture out in waves. Could this really be happening? I thought it was all a dream. It was WELL before 7am, after all. I might very well have been dreaming. Seeing them haul their possessions out of the house is a dream I've had many times, naturally.

But as I saw them drive the first load of shit away, I realized that yes indeed, they were leaving. HOLY SHIT. But because it was all of 7:30am, I went back to sleep. They came back at least two more times before I got out of bed for good at around 10am (so obviously they're not moving that far away), and then it got really quiet around here. Like the kind of quiet we haven't experienced for over a year and a half. It was totally amazing. Peaceful. Blissful, even.

In light of the human trash dump that was happening downstairs, DJC and I decided that our place could use a little cleaning, too. So we promptly packed up six garbage bags full of old clothes and shoes and dropped them off at the Salvation Army. Then we spent the rest of the day cleaning, de-clutterizing, and organizing. It's quiet AND clean in here. I freaking love it.

Never again will we have to endure the orangutan hooting and body slamming at 7am on a Sunday. Never again will we be subjected to Big-Tobacco's nasty habit (The other day, DJC actually saw him bend over and allow a finished cigarette to simply fall out of his mouth. He immediately replaced it with another one. Ick x1000) and smell his two day old nicotine funk everywhere he's been. Never again will we have to deal with the fat kids playing video games at ridiculous volumes (hooting like animals all the while) and throwing their processed food trash all around the property. We'll never have to listen to them shouting anymore. We don't have to put up with the whole family's uncooperative, holier than thou attitude. We'll no longer wake to the five car alarm warning beeps every time a semi-loud vehicle goes by or to their front door being slammed when Big Tobacco comes home from whatever he does until midnight every night.

Dear lord, they're gone. I can't tell you how nice this feels. Our place is again somewhere we feel comfortable and at home. Especially today when its raining and blustery outside. We can curl up together and actually hear the rain without the downstairs bullshit too. And because I'm sure they absolutely trashed the place (I've seen in the kitchen and Big Tobacco regularly smoked inside), its going to take quite a while for the landlord to have it ready to rent again. We've got at least two, maybe three months of QUIET in the mornings!!!! AAAAAAH!! Its like a dream.

All is right in the world....finally. =)

Plan B...and C...and maybe D

Nursing schools, prerequisites, the lottery system, impossible odds of getting selected. All of this stuff has really been on my mind lately. Mostly because this year's applicant pool is more impacted than ever. Hundreds of us are vying for, like, 20 spots at each school. Its depressing when you really sit down and think about it. My chances of getting in are about as great as if I woke up one morning to find that I'd been reborn as a supermodel. See what I mean? Depressing.

In light of this fact, I realized need a backup plan. I've started looking into LVN programs in the Bay Area (LVN stands for Licensed Vocational Nurse...not quite an RN, but still employable). Problem here is that most of the schools want the anatomy requirement to have been fulfilled in the last five years, which means I will have to take yet another semester of effing prerequisites. Most RN programs, by comparison, don't have a time limit on when that class was taken. I checked my transcript...I took anatomy in 1996. Eeek.

Then there's the Western Career College problem. They offer an LVN program which, by all outward appearances, looked attractive. I went to the informational meeting, where the presenter glossed over the cost of the 16 month course of study, but it did not escape me. Mostly because my mouth was literally hanging open. They spend an extensive amount of time on financial aid in this presentation because tuition there will set you back nearly $45,000. FORTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS for the privilege of take classes at a vocational college that's located inside a mall. That's right. During your lunch break, in theory, you could go out and buy a pair of jeans and grab lunch at the Chili's all without walking outside. That is, if you could afford jeans or food after being raped for a cool $45K.

So, Plan B is out. Next, I've started to look at Medical Assistant programs. They're short (about 8 months), not prerequisite heavy, not terribly impacted, and MAs are fairly employable in all types of medical settings. See, the goal here is to gain medical experience and continue to support myself while waiting for my name to get drawn in the nursing school lottery. This, kids, is plan C. I am going to check out two such schools next week to see what the story is. The cool thing about the two I've chosen is that they offer a phlebotomy certification along with your MA license, which makes graduates instantly more employable. Bonus! Hopefully, they won't be outrageously expensive.

If neither of those schools work out, plan D involves finding an office job. Easier said than done right now, though. I've sent in some resumes, but I don't really expect to hear back from anyone. Those looking for jobs right now run into the same problem that nursing school hopefuls already know all too well...tons of applicants, one or two spots.

Plan B, C and D = one big FML.

Jump through those hoops

My physiology class started last week. As of this morning, I was still not enrolled because there is a chemistry prerequisite. No problem there. I took general chem as a freshman, and took organic chem two years ago. The problem lies in the fact that no one at my current school knows that. The physiology professor recommended that I contact the department head, show him my transcript, and he'd "remove the block" so I could then register. OK, I though. Easy enough. Except, yeah...not so much.

I have emailed the department head (Dr. Steiner) three times, I have stopped by his office on several different days, I have asked when his office hours are...and I have yet to actually speak to the man. I was getting a bit frustrated. And I NEEDED to add this class soon, as the remaining spaces were filling up. I awoke early today bound and determined to get this matter handled. Except, yeah...not so much. Here's a breakdown of how my day went, with a small detour:

9:40am: Arrived on campus and headed straight to Dr. Steiner's office. Of course, he's wasn't there. Shocking, really. Class wasn't scheduled to start until 10am, so I decided to make good use of my time.

9:41am: Marched over to the administration office to buy a parking permit. I was told I needed to go next door to the cashier's office because that's where they're sold. Fine.

9:43am: Alarmingly large cashier lady asked for my student ID number. When I told her that didn't know it, she huffed and told me that she could not look me up any other way. "Liar," I thought, but whatever. She then directed me back to the administration office, where I could use the public computers to figure out what my ID number is. Ohhhh kaaaaay....

9:45am: After a fair amount of frustration because I didn't know how to use their computer system, I finally determined my ID number. I almost stomped back over to the cashier's office.

9:50am: I presented my newly acquired ID number to alarmingly large cashier lady. She entered it and then looked at me like I was a total idiot. "Ma'am, you're not actually registered for any classes. I cannot sell you a permit if you are not taking any classes here". I tried to explain the chemistry prerequisite situation to her, but she was totally uninterested and actually shooed me away. Nice.

(As an aside, while I was standing in line for the cashier, I noticed the receptionist was taking a very personal call, very loudly, and was totally unconcerned with who might be listening. There were at least 5 people in line including myself. We all now know way more about Lamar than we'd ever care to)

10am: Physiology class, that I'm not enrolled in, started.

12pm: I resumed my search for Dr. Steiner. I started at his office. No dice. At the urging of my professor, I hoofed it up to the Business and Transportation office to explain my situation and see if they might be able to track him down. Helpful receptionist lady gave me a yellow "challenge" form to fill out and take BACK to the administration office. Apparently, this is what I needed to fill out to be able to register.

12:15pm: Another helpful lady at the administration office looked at my yellow challenge form, declared that she'd never seen "that one" before, and asked me again what I needed to accomplish. By this time, I was close to losing it. After explaining yet again what I needed, she looked at me and said, "Is that all? And you have your transcripts with you? Well, just go see a counselor! They'll waive that chemistry class for you!". I nearly died. "Is that all?". SERIOUSLY?!?!?! I had been trying to get this whole debacle resolved for nearly a week now!! And all I needed to do from the get-go was see a counselor?! FML.

After meeting with said counselor later in the day, I am now enrolled in the physiology class. It didn't need to be as hard as it was. Sometimes I think that people who work at junior colleges make you run around like a moron for their own enjoyment. If that's the case, I sure as hell made someone's day today...

Thank you, state of California...Now with UPDATES!

...for changing my plans for nursing school entirely. Due to the massively fucked state budget, funding for community college classes has been slashed big time and the ONE class that I need to be able to apply to a certain college is full. I cannot get in this semester. Previously, the college had enough funding for two sections of this particular class, but this year there's only one. And since the applications for the nursing program are due in October, EVERYONE needs to take this class to be able to apply. What that means for me is that I'm gonna have to re-vamp my plans and not apply to this school (at least not this year).

Instead, I will now be taking pathophysiology and a basic nutrition class which will allow me to apply to a school I had previously ruled out. I counted this school out because I feared that getting in would be very difficult. I opted for the easier junior colleges that chose their nursing students via a lottery system. But the problem with the lottery system is that it doesn't take into consideration how well you've done in your prerequisite classes. You could have *just* skated by with the minimum GPA, have your name pulled in the random draw and get in, while others who might be more qualified (and would be more successful in the program) are left out. During the long car ride home today after the news that I would not get in to my class, I decided I'd rather be admitted to a program based on my academic merits as opposed to sheer luck.

Make no mistake, I will still be applying to several other junior colleges that utilize the lottery system in the hopes that I will get in *somewhere*. Because, in the end, I don't care where I get in...just as long as there's a nursing program out there that's willing to take me. The difference in salary between an AA in nursing or a Bachelor's is minimal, so that's not really a concern. But the quality of the program might differ between a lottery school and one that is choosy about whom they admit. I just don't know...

The point here is that the state of California has thrown me a nasty curve ball and I've got to figure out where I'm gonna go from here. At this point in time, I'm just not sure. Stay tuned for updates...

THIS JUST IN: In a shocking turn of events, this morning I got an email from the professor of the over-enrolled class letting me know that she was able to squeeze me in. YAY! Plan A is intact! Now, as far as the other school goes, I still have two prerequisites to finish up, but since that school accepts applications twice a year, I can take those classes in the spring and submit my application in July. That is, of course, assuming that my name doesn't get pulled out of the magic hat for one of the lottery schools. We shall see. Let the homework begin...

Crisis averted

I experienced a true "holy shit" moment earlier today. You see, summer classes start this week. I was all ready for Life Span Psychology, which starts tomorrow morning. Drug Dose Calculations, per an email I received from the professor, was scheduled to start on Tuesday the 26th. She informed me that the class was over-enrolled, but if I showed up on the first day of class, she would add me in. Ok, I thought. Tuesday the 26th was on my schedule.

Wait a sec...the 26th is a Friday. Uh-oh. Did she mean Tuesday the 16th? I bet she meant the 16th. Oh shit. That means that I MISSED THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS!!! I need to complete this class in order to be able to apply in the fall! HOLY SHIT. I totally panicked. I might have cried, although I can't be sure. I definitely whimpered, though.

When the room stopped spinning, I got it together and emailed the professor (and included her email stating that the class started on the 26th) to ask if she actually meant the 16th and if it was still possible for me to get in to the class even though I missed the entire first day (!!!). She responded almost instantly, apologizing and stating that even though she had turned away roughly 30 people because she just couldn't accommodate any more, she'd allow me to enroll.

Whew. Thank goodness. We exchanged several emails and she asked me to stop by her office tomorrow so that she can give me the class orientation. Apparently, all the content and assignments are online and the pace of the class is VERY fast. How fast, you ask? The first exam is next Tuesday. That's right...I haven't even read a single lecture yet, and in less than a week, I will be tested on the material. Holy shit x2!

The only thing I feel slightly bad about is the fact that her emails were littered with statements like this: "My official office hours are 1-4 but if you want to come between 12 and 1, that’s ok. I may just be munching my lunch but I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do after giving you the wrong information." I don't want to bother her! I don't want to put her out! But damn it, I would have been in class yesterday if her original email had the correct date on it.

Whatever. At least I'm in. Maybe it was a good thing that I missed class...she did say that she's had to turn away lots of people who did come yesterday...who's to say that I wouldn't have been one of those unlucky folks. Looks like I'll be hitting the books hard this summer!!

Apparently, I've been doing it all wrong...

Our dryer is currently on the fritz. I can wash clothes at the house, I just can't dry them. And I refuse to call the service company again, because we're always the ones who have to call. Otherwise, as evidenced by the fact that it remained broken for close to four months, it doesn't get fixed. But we still need clean clothes. Even though I hate the laundromat with the fire of a thousand suns, off I went today...

As I dragged my heavy bag of dirty stuff over to the single-load washers and started unloading, an old man in the corner barked at me, "You're wasting your money doing it that way". Ummm, OK. Whatever, old guy. I told him that I was doing juuuust fine and continued doing my thing. I walked out of the laundromat to get a Vitamin Water and when I came back, old guy came over and said, "You're overloading my washers! You're burning up the motors in my machines, kid!". It was then that he introduced himself as the owner of the laundromat. I felt like an ass for brushing him off earlier.

He explained that I should be using the larger capacity washers for the amount of clothes I had to do. I admitted that I was a bit intimidated by those things and didn't really know how to use them or how much soap to put in. As he paraded me around from machine to machine, I got a fifteen minute tutorial on how to operate the 25, 40 and 60 pound washers . He informed me that I've been "doing it all wrong". After his convincing lesson, I concurred. I will try it his way next time. Old guy was super nice, friendly and was just interested in helping me out.

Strange side note: As I was waiting for my clothes to dry, I noticed a super slim Asian man wearing plaid shorts, a contrasting striped shirt and sandals. Whatever, I thought...after all, it's laundry day. But then, for whatever reason, I looked at his feet. He had possibly the BEST pedicure I've ever seen, complete with shiny navy blue nail polish (not unlike my own) and red and white flowers that were hand painted on, no doubt. The nails were longer, but very evenly filed. So weird. Didn't see that one coming at all. LOL! Gotta love the laundromat.

Noise! Noise! Noise!

DJC and I hate our downstairs neighbors. They are the rudest sort of people. You know, the kind of people that let their kids scream at the top of their lungs at all hours, speak in obnoxious, outside voices at all hours, talk on the phone in obnoxious, outside voices at all hours, leave their cigarette butts EVERYWHERE (we refer to the man as "Big Tobacco"), and, did I mention that they let their kids run out of control morning, noon and night? They don't talk to each other the way other civilized humans do. They yell. The slam doors. It sounds like the kids bounce each other off of the walls. The kids are fat and hardly ever go outside to play. Instead, playtime consists of hours of video games played at ear-shattering volumes. The kids are overfed, overrested, and understimulated. AND LOUD.

The four of them basically act like they're the only ones living in the building and couldn't care less about how much noise or commotion they create. At 7:45am on a Sunday, its easy to see how DJC and I want to do unspeakable things to these people and their devil spawn.

We've tried everything to get them to understand that their noise really bothers us. We've knocked on their door at 8am on the weekends (in my nightshirt and Uggs, no less), we've written them letters politely asking for them to keep it down. Unfortunately, there's a huge language barrier...like Mt. Everest in size. Figuring that we weren't getting anywhere with them, we began complaining to the property management company every month when we dropped off our rent. Thankfully, the property management ladies, K and P, are super nice and totally sympathetic to our issues. They've sent letters to the family and made several phone calls about the levels of noise. Still, nothing has changed. The family gets a slap on the wrist, but they know that they don't really have to change because the management company can't really do anything.

This month, when I went in to pay the rent as I usually do, K asked me how things are going at the house. I told her that there was no change and she casually mentioned that there was now a legitimate reason for them to evict our downstairs nightmares. Apparently, they're behind on their rent. From what I could gather from K's vague description, quite a bit behind. They pay what they can every month, but its never the full amount. K was thrilled to finally get rid of these people and when she talked to the landlord about her planned course of action, the Quiet Train stopped dead in its tracks. The landlord stated that she wanted the family to stay, because with the state of the economy, she'd rather have some money coming in than none at all.

Holy shit. My mouth fell open. Everyone's going through hard times right now, including myself. Can I only pay what I feel I can for rent month after month? NO WAY. We'd be thrown out on our asses. But these people are now getting away with making as much noise as they want while paying less than the full amount for rent. I was fucking floored. There was a legit reason to get them out, but nooooooooooo. What kind of world is it that we live in where people get away with only paying "what they can" for rent? That's not how it works. If you can't make the full payment, you're out. Why should they get a break and not us, too?

There's nothing we can do. We can't reason with them and the property managers can't throw them out. Sweet.

I was so upset after my visit to the management company that I went grocery shopping and came home with gummy bears, gummy worms, frozen pizza, two chocolate donuts, and two packages of Crystal Light iced tea (WTF?!). Like somehow, all these junk food items would make the earlier hour go away. FAIL. DJC and I just don't know what to do from here. Move out, so that the landlord will lose money either way? Go downstairs with a roll of duct tape and tell the family how its gonna be from here on out? Help!!

Enthusiasm makes all the difference

Throughout my academic career, I've taken a fair number of classes from professors who seemingly couldn't care less about the material that they had to teach. Those were the toughest classes to make it through, let alone earn a decent grade. Its hard to care about the material when the professors, who were supposedly experts, didn't care. My undergraduate physics professor comes to mind. I have no doubt that he did at some point love physics, but he was clearly PISSED that he had to teach it at the undergraduate level. That was a tough class. His teaching energy was all kinds of whack.

Every now and then, though, I was lucky enough to get a professor who truly loved the subject they had chosen to devote their lives to. My exercise physiology professor, Dr. George Brooks, though despite being damn near older than dirt, LOVED the things he taught us and made lectures and labs exciting. I wanted to learn. I wanted to earn good scores on the exams. Class was fun. It wasn't really work.

Recently, my pharmacology professor, Sally Brooks (hey, maybe it has something to do with the name) reminded me just how important enthusiasm is for a teacher to be truly effective. She loved what she was teaching and it rubbed off onto myself and the other students. Most of all, she had a unique way of explaining new concepts:

"I always say that Prozac likes to talk. No action. No, thank you! No sex here! Just talking. Lots of talking." This was her way of explaining that sexual dysfunction was one of the more unfortunate side effects of anti-depressant therapy.

"For all beta blockers we'll be discussing, just remember that they end with 'Oh Laugh Out Loud'. Or for all of you that aren't as versed in internet speak, that's -olol."

This next one is my favorite, but it's a bit vulgar when taken out of the medical context it was intended for, so try to keep it clean, mmmmkay...

When asked why vaginal yeast infections are common with antibiotic therapy, she replied with this gem: "Think of it like this...Normally, there's both bacteria and yeast cells living in the vagina. The yeast live over here in their little section of condos, and the bacteria live over here in separate condos. When the bacteria is killed off by the antibiotics, that leaves a whole new section of condos vacant. The yeast see these vacant condos and say, 'Hey! More space to live!', and so they multiply and take over the condos...and so on, and so forth."

Yeah. Freaking hilarious. But it made sense. I looked around the room and saw people nodding with sudden understanding. That's the sign of an excellent teacher. If people fail to grasp the original concept, re-word it and find different ways to explain it until people do.

I learned this highly valuable tool during my early athletic training days and would frequently integrate it into my high school class when the kids just weren't getting it. It also demonstrates just how well one comprehends the subject matter at hand.

Sally Brooks teaches several classes in Contra Costa College's nursing curriculum and the fact that I would get to see her again is a big part of my decision to apply to this particular school. I really feel like I could learn a lot from her. Her enthusiasm makes learning a pleasure.

The beginning of the end?

The other day, it hit me. The career path I've chosen isn't exactly on the cutting edge of fashion. Most likely, I will be stuck in scrubs and running shoes or some sort of tennis shoe on a daily basis. Worst case scenario depending on where I chose to work, it'll be some sort of plastic shoe that can easily be hosed off or disinfected (read: anything but Crocs. I refuse to submit. REFUSE, I say!). No more 4" heels of fabulousity during work hours. Soon, my fragile ankles and arches will no longer be able to tolerate a night of dancing in anything but my suede Pumas. This whole thing is really bumming me out!

The other day, I sat with my collection of beautiful shoes and gave them a good dusting. Yes, that's right...they sit, unused, day after day, collecting *dust*. It pained me so. Online, I recently came across a pair of Circa Joan & David t-strap gold and brown peep toe heels that were selling for the bargain price of $27.99, shipping included. They usually retail for $140. I couldn't resist. Here they are:


Oh, I love them. And then I thought, where am I going to wear these? Jeff would say, "Hello!? Grocery shopping!", and as hot as that sounds, I have about as much use for these shoes as I do for the trusty Trainer's Angel. At dinner the other night, a friend asked if my Uggs (yes, I wore them to dinner) were actually slippers. I've never been so embarrassed of my footwear choice! The Counselor, too, called me out on my Ugg-wearing at jury duty, although in my defense, the point is to look as disheveled and irresponsible as possible, thereby convincing the lawyers not to select me for their jury. See how that works? ;)

Because I don't really have a reason to dress up these days and with my future career in nursing, I have to ask, is it possible that I'm losing my sense of style? I *am* currently wearing sweatpants, for crying out loud. Don't believe me? Think I'm bluffing? Peep this, bitches:


Yeah, that's right. Keepin' it classy. Yes, these are the very same sweats that I wore during my bathtub caulking extravaganza and the remnants of my epic fail can still be seen there on the left leg. Is it all over for me? The way I figure, as long as I FULLY renoucnce the evil Crocs, there's still hope for me. But, bloody hell, I'm in some serious fashion dire straits.

In an attempt to avoid completely taking up residence in Frumpville, I did wear a dress and the above shoes to meet DJC for lunch on Friday. He looked surprised, but complimented my appearance and made me blush a little. It felt nice to hear that I can still pull it off when I want to. The problem is that I just don't really want to anymore. Weird.

Testing...Testing...

No, I'm not ignoring you....I promise. I have two midterms this week and I'm a little behind in the studying department. I'm trying to play catch up

The pharmacology exam will go well. It always does because I'm actually interested in the material. Communications, on the other hand, is a joke. Here's how a typical class goes:

Each class ends with the "professor" assigning the weekly reading, which is generally the next chapter in the lamest textbook on Earth. The following week, we come in and immediately have the most micro-managed quiz I've ever experienced on the previous week's reading. Then, we spend the next THREE HOURS discussing exactly what we read and were just quizzed on. The "professor" has overheads (!!!) and all of her examples of the concepts come straight from the textbook. Zero imagination. And to top it all off, it's a communications class where we're supposed to learn the samurai ways of the competent communicator...and yet, more than half the people in the class can't speak passable English. It's a tough 3 hours, let me tell you.

I expect the midterm to be nothing more than textbook and vocab regurgitation into a blue book. Word vomit earns you points. Hope the "professor" can read my handwriting....

I'll be back after Thursday. Wish me luck!! =)

Baby steps...

Tonight's attempt at spinning was the best to date. It finally clicked that in order to really crank up the RPMs, I needed to add a little more tension. I felt strong, powerful and not bouncy in the saddle. I looked down to see that I was finally up in the 140 range. And I could maintain it for longer than a few seconds! I felt like I had just pedaled up to the top of Mt. Everest. I was drenched in sweat and a little queasier than I would have liked, but I felt like I had really accomplished something. I was happy.

Then I looked over at the tiny woman next to me for validation. She wasn't sweating nearly as much. She did not look the slightest bit queasy. Her RPMs were up in the high 140s. Consistently. But no matter. I soldiered on and kept kickin' ass through the rest of the class. I wasn't worried about comparing myself to the little spinning machine next to me...

...until that little spinning machine climbed off her bike and I saw that she was about 7 months pregnant. Damn.

Hear that? That's the sound of my ego totally deflating...

SHOE SALE ALERT!!

There are a few shoe designers that I am extremely partial to. Beverly Feldman is one of them. Her shoes are quirky, unexpected, and unique, while still being very wearable. Normally, her inventory is priced just slightly out of the range of what I can justify or afford, but every now and then I get a glorious email announcing a sale. Today, I got a big one with "UP TO 75% OFF!" as the title! Yeeeee!!! Shoes!!! I can feel my heart rate increasing!!

I clicked through, browsed the offerings and picked out four pairs I desperately wanted before coming to grips with the fact that I don't have a job and I need another pair of shoes like I need another hole in my head. I mean, really...do I need these when most of my daily activities involve slogging through the campus of the local junior college:

The hard truth is no. But damn it, my birthday is coming up soon, and I really, reallly, REALLY love these:

Holy shit, they are beautiful. But they might be a little much for a pharmacology class. But even if the first two pairs are pretty over the top, there are these, which are understated, classic and easily wearable:


You see my dilemma. What's a jobless, junior -college-attending shoe whore to do?! Maybe I will treat myself. My birthday is coming up, after all, and everyone deserves pretty things that make them happy on their birthday!!

(See what I'm trying to do, there? I'm trying to convince myself that I need, naaah, deserve a new pair of frivolous shoes. I'll keep you posted on what happens!)

If you're in the market for a new pair of funky shoes, hit up Miss Beverly's site. She won't let you down!

Early morning misstep

So, after almost 10 months of blissful peace and quiet, DJC and I have new downstairs neighbors; a mother, a father, and two FUCKING OFF-THE-WALL kids. I didn't know kids could make so much noise. It's insane. From the moment they wake up at 7am each day (even on weekends) until the second their fat little bodies require rest at night, the yelling and stomping and door-slamming and thumping and more yelling is non-stop. When I spoke with the father about the ludicrous amount of noise, he simply looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and said, "I have kids". He made it pretty clear that he is completely uninterested in positive neighborly relations or in disciplining his wild, circus animals children. There are four people living below them and I can only imagine what all the stomping and shouting sounds like down there. It rattles the walls up here! They really do act like they're the only ones living here.

When they first moved in, it was a Wednesday, and I feared that, despite being 7 and 10 years old, the kids did not go to school at all. Mercifully, I saw them waddle down the front steps carrying bookbags on Friday morning. Sweet lord, they went to school. All day. The problem was that I was rudely awakened by their shouting and door slamming VERY early and couldn't go back to sleep. So, I camped out on the couch with my fave down blanket and the remote. I foolishly tuned in to the last 30 minutes of...wait for it...

...Celine Dion's Las Vegas extravaganza entitled "A New Day". This show ran from 2003 through 2007 and grossed over $390 million dollars. My question is this: WHY?! From what I saw in my sleepy 30 minute snapshot, it was nothing more than a mediocre concert hardly worthy of the gaggle of awards it received. Franco Dragone, the brains behind the breathtaking Cirque du Soliel show "O" also orchestrated Celine's show, and I have to ask, REALLY?! None of the magic and whimsy and sheer entertainment value of "O" was present in "A New Day". In fact, the most entertaining parts of the show came when the camera would cut to the audience, where people were standing and singing and clapping along, sometimes in French, sometimes with tears rolling down their faces. Again, REALLY? People actually listen to Celine Dion's "music"? Huh. Who knew!

The point here is that this show received many, many accolades, like "Best Headliner in Las Vegas" and "Best All-Around Performer", winning nine awards in all over its four year span. Maybe I would have felt differently about it if I had seen it live (for free, though...), but even the Cirque du Soleil shows that I've watched on TV blew me away. Am I missing something here?

Random stuff

First day of classes today. Pharmacology is being held in a room that is MUCH too small for the number of people enrolled in the class. Thankfully, half of us will be taking the class online. The professor is has a dry wit that borders on smart-assedness, and I respect that. Already, I'm totally interested in the material. Should be a good semester. And no parking tickets, even though I inadvertently parked in one of the faculty lots. Thumbs up.

Had lunch with an old-school diver friend before class. He and I have re-connected after a TON of years through the continued magic of Facebook. As most of you know, I was SO against stupid social networking sites a year ago, but Facebook has got to be the greatest thing in all of the world. Hell, my cousin's wife even found me! I really love catching up with all the folks that come out of the woodwork. Very cool stuff.

And, just for fun, I offer you this:

I totally get a kick out of this commercial. I love how into it the father is. The way he shakes his butt at the end is just freaking priceless. Any time I'm having a bad day, this one is sure to cheer me up. It's just so sweet. Having a bad day? Watch. I dare you not to feel the warm fuzzies. =)

Resolutions and revelations

So, I've had lots of time on my hands these days. And I've done a fair amount of thinking. I've realized a few very important things...

1. I need to really make an effort to eat healthier. Last year's diet included tons of cheese, frozen convenience foods, take out, more cheese, sugar and sweets galore, and lots and lots of breads and pastas. The last time I went to the doctor's, I was forced onto the scale by an unhappy nurse whose face brightened considerably when she saw how much I weighed and how shocked I was at the actual number (bitch!). I think I may have cried a little that day. The food choices I've made over the past year have resulted in quite a weight gain and I realized that I have to make a change. All the exercise that I've been doing isn't going to make a damn bit of difference if I keep eating the way I do. Since returning home from the land of cheese and beer, DJC and I have made a conscious effort to eat healthier. So far, we're doing fairly well. Check back in May, though...we'll see what's what then! =)

2. I can't fake it anymore. I'm just not cut out for desk work. Some people, like my mother, can sit for hours on end and just do paperwork. I am obviously not cut from the same cloth. I HATE sitting still. I hate being chained to a desk. I can't stand cubes or offices or office buildings. I've tried, in my last three jobs, to ignore this very blatant fact and just force myself into the corporate life. The VoIP job almost worked, because I didn't have to be at a desk for a certain number of hours per day with supervisors watching how many times I go to the bathroom before lunch, but even if I didn't screw that one up (royally!), sooner or later, office politics would have gotten the better of me.

I've had a decent amount of time to think, and I've realized that I really need to get back to doing what I love and what I'm good at, which is taking care of people. I've only got a few more prerequisites to fulfill before I can apply for nursing school. Fortunately, there are a few accelerated programs in the area for people who already have a Bachelor's in a science-realted field. The programs are one year long, and then you're out there practicing. I'm thinking ER. With my skills from sports medicine, I think it would be a good fit for me. And nothing could sound any sweeter than that right now. I have a mere five classes to finish up, and then the NET to dominate before I can apply, but assuming all goes as planned, I should be ready to apply by this November for 2010 (man, typing that out makes it seem SOOO far away!!). First up: Pharmacology and Interpersonal Communications. Woot.

The bottom line is that I have fought going back to school to do what I love for FAR too long and I no longer have any sort of excuse. It needs to happen. I need to make a change. I'm lucky enough to have found what I love to do in this life and for me to put that off any longer is just silly. There's no time like the present and I've gotta start somewhere. I just need to stay focused and keep at it! Wish me luck!!

In the meantime, I'm hitting the gym hard and writing. My long lost friend and I were recently reuinited through the power of Facebook, and when we discovered a mutual love for reality TV, we decided to start a blog dedicated to nothing but good, old fashioned smack talk. Ladies and gents, I present "Admit It...You Love to Watch". Enjoy!

Ok, that's it for now. I'll keep you all posted on how classes go. I'm honestly a little nervous. Weird?

Familiar Situation

So. Thanks to the lovely state of the US economy, I no longer have a job. I was notified on Wednesday (after lunch!), effective immediately. For the second time this year, I was sent packin'. It's funny (but not in a Ha-Ha kind of way). Since I've had a lot of time to think recently, I've come up with a list of similarities and differences between last time and this one. A compare and contrast, if you will....

Just like the first time I got the shaft, Wednesday's dismissal was a total surprise. I didn't even see it coming and I was VERY upset. But, unlike last time, I didn't really do anything to warrant this one, such as blog about every aspect of my job and coworkers. In fact, I'm sure most of you have noticed that I hardly update this thing at all because I adopted a no-blog policy while at work. Truth is, my most-recent former boss couldn't really give me a concrete reason for why they had to let me go. He just kept saying, "It's what we have to do". Right before the holidays. Nice.

So, since I no longer work there, my former company makes software applications for the dialysis industry. I mainly supported the clinical application, but also did a fair amount of QA and spec writing. It was interesting work and I learned new things daily. For the most part, I liked the people and the place in general. I (foolishly) thought that anything having to do with the medical industry would be recession-proof, but clearly I was wrong. As much as I enjoyed what I did, I knew in the back of my head that this just wasn't the right job for me.

Here's the kicker: Had I not screwed up my previous job at the telecommunications company, I'd still be out on the streets, as they've recently had to cut pretty much all of their workforce as well. There were 40+ people there before the cuts. Now, there are 12. Seems I was doomed either way.

Anyways, I'm similarly upset and scared at the prospect of finding a new source of income, but the job options out there are FAR fewer than the last time around. And I can't even start looking until January as I will be spending most of the remaining December days in Wisconsin. I guess that's a good thing though, because I've heard that most companies won't be doing much hiring until after the new year anyways. So, my "vacation" just go a little longer...

Last time I was jobless was during the incredibly hot summer months. Our house is so poorly insulated that it was hotter inside than it was outside. This time around, its colder inside than out. But cold I can deal with. Blankets and sweatshirts and Uggs with fuzzy socks and hot tea combat the chill just fine for me. When it was hot, there was no easy way to cool down. Most days, DJC would come home to find me sweaty, wilted and pissed off.

Gas is a LOT cheaper now than it was during the summer months. A Safeway gas station recently came to our city and currently gas is going for $1.69 a gallon. With the Safeway club card, it's $1.66, and after spending $50 in one grocery shopping trip at Safeway, the gas price drops to $1.59. MUCH nicer than the mid $4 range that we saw over the summer. This means I'm not nearly as concerned with saving my gas for times when I might really need it. I'm not house-bound. I guess that's one of the surprise bonuses of this whole recession thingy.

Right now, I have a ton of time to exercise. My gym teaches morning classes and I've been taking full advantage. Yesterday morning, I took a BodyJam class at 10am and walked out feeling pretty darn good. Exercise is such a good de-stressor. It's nice to have a gym to go to with awesome (and adorable) instructors instead of trying to find the motivation to run on my own.

Financially, I'm feeling less terrified than last time around. I know what I need to do to ensure than I will be able to pay for the necessities and I know just how much I can be frivolous with. The amount I will be getting from Unemployment will help as well. Last night, as I laid in bed listening to the rain, I was thankful for the roof over my head that was keeping me dry and for the sweet, caring, loving man next to me who was keeping me warm. Those are the truly important things in life. Material goods can't warm my heart the way a good hug can.

So, for the next week, I'll be catching up on my daytime TV (wait, did I just see that Rachael Ray has a new dog food line now!? WTF??), exercise, and house cleaning. After the Milwukee extravaganza, I'll be hitting the pavement hard in January. Wish me luck. I have a feeling I'm gonna need it.