I don't know if I have previously shared one of my guiding life philosophies, but I will now.

That all of my whining and crying about Stats paid off - I got a B. I have never been so happy to get a B before. I just as easily could have failed that course. I crunched some numbers before I went into the final, in regards to my weighted average. Conservatively, I expected a C. Even ambitious estimates predicted I would get a C+ or B-. I must have ROCKED that final to pull off a B. I am SO THRILLED!

Do you know what this B means?? It's an entrance requirement to the Master's degree. "Must have B in Statistics". So I will NEVER have to take stats AGAIN!!! *promptly forgets about z-scores and regression lines*

I also got a fancy letter in the mail in calligraphy type from the Faculty of Nursing (very professional, thanks) congratulating me on First Class Standing for this past year. Not much to brag about considering all my peers' Facebook statii reading "So-and-so made Dean's List!"...

Oh well. It is a small victory, and mine own.

Now that Stats is over, I am taking a correspondence class (starting July 1, web-based) to cut down some of my lecture time next fall. However summer is officially a break for us and I technically don't HAVE to do any more school work. I just want to. That class appears to be all papers and I'm quite excited to just go at my own pace for a change, however fast or slow that may be. And follow my own schedule. Big party this weekend? Cool, I'll just schedule my final for another time.

Lord help me, I'm a little excited to be cooped up in a musty library surrounded by nursing research, with no deadlines to keep.

I have a big summer planned. It technically already started. I spent a gorgeous sun-soaked weekend with my boyfriend. We went on a beautiful long bike ride through the park trails and splashed in the fountain to cool off. We then headed out to my friend's lake house and had a great party and lots of time with beers in hand, just loving life.

I am leaving on a 3-week trip to Thailand on July 13. We are going to see and do all kinds of things. I just got my updated passport a few weeks ago. Then, when I come back from Thailand, I'm going to be all ready to move into my fabulous new condo. No, I didn't buy a house. I'm renting this one too. But it's at least a million times nicer and better than the one I've been living in since last September. This current one is mousey (REALLY mousey), moldy, gang-infested, and rife with electrical problems. Not to mention the sketchtastic neighborhood. I can hardly wait to move. In fact I just bought a ton of boxes from U-Haul to get started. So on that note... have a great week everybody!

[Photo Credit]

This past 6 months (wow...6 months!) since the whirlwind of back-to-back clinical, nonstop patient research, papers, drug profiles, and my actual paid work has made me exhausted (see right!), crazy, happy, angry, frustrated beyond belief, and very nearly completely burned out. I didn't have much left to give to work, or to clinical, to my instructors, or most importantly to my patients from my inner self. I had no time to reflect on lessons I'd learned or to prepare adequately for the next 16 hour day. It was just a feeling of sinking... sinking... sinking... and I'd gasp for breath and paddle harder.

Now that it's over I feel practically weightless. You mean... I can just GO HOME after a full shift at work? GO HOME and NOT research things, not unless I actually want to? I can read for PLEASURE? I can reactivate my Warcraft subscription?

What is this "free time" you speak of? I literally can't remember the last time I just sat around and kept the couch warm.

But it's so profound to take a step back and see the whole picture. To get OFF of the myopic hamster wheel called "How To Fit Everything Into 24 Hours".... to get out of that mindset and actually take a good look at who I am becoming, where I've been, and where I'm going.

This is exactly why I blog.

It's been 8 years since I left high school. 8 years ago, I felt like getting married and having babies was who I was meant to be. I'd earned my diploma, but barely (which was my own fault) and college just seemed out of reach. I toyed with the idea of Nursing but my grades were nowhere close. Still, I checked out a few options including an information night at the University (then-college) which I now attend. I can still remember the feeling of awe and privilege I had, being in that classroom, meeting the Nursing faculty. My heart leapt out of my chest as my sneakers squeaked down the polished halls on that seemingly huge campus. Registrar? Student Services? A bookstore? A cafeteria with actual franchises? Wow! But it was not to be... I dared hope that night about the person I could be, but then firmly squashed that dream by saying "school is not for me".

I went into fulltime/casual home care for 5 years. The more I did it, the more I loved it. I was privileged to meet caring families who were strong advocates for their profoundly disabled relatives. My town was relatively forward-thinking, for small-town agricultural Alberta, and taught me a lot (a LOT) about patient rights and respect, and seeing the patient through the family context (a la McGill Model). Home care challenged me and inspired me to think bigger. To consider new options.

I took some time for myself and travelled, on my own, like Lesley from Glitter Scrubs recently did (welcome back, btw!). I found out SO MUCH about myself and who I am. I worked closely with horses every day. I am not much of a 'New Age'-er but if there is such a thing as a spirit animal, mine has 4 hooves and a big heart. Horses are such sensitive creatures. They respond intuitively to minute changes in your own body language. They mirror your actions (some might say your attitude), and if you learn to be sensitive too, the resulting partnership can blow your mind. They taught me so much about being gentle, deliberate, and conscious of my actions.

In fact, I found that the sensitivity of horses paralleled the sensitivity of the developmentally disabled people I'd come to love in home care. Both were reflections of myself, in a certain way. Both required a careful balance of guidance, understanding, and flexibility from me for a harmonious, growth-focused relationship.

Realizing this, as I spent each evening unwinding by the sea with no one to talk to but the fresh coastal wind and old stone cairns, I knew that in my heart of hearts I was led to care about people and to care for them.

I had this attitude when I was accepted into my first college program - a police officer accreditation diploma. I know who I was and what I wanted. When my favorite professor, a working Staff Sergeant with the municipal police force, said that the Force needed less brawns and more compassion, I jumped for joy inside. Looking around me, however, I saw a batch of barely-graduated-high-school small town attitudes like the one I worked so hard to escape. I was drowning in that toxic environment.

After the whole art school debacle and making the conscious decision to throw caution to the wind and pursue Nursing - my actual heart's desire, all along - it just felt SO RIGHT. Even busting my ass upgrading my marks with would-be nurses failing and dropping out all around me, and the Upgrading Advisor telling me I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting accepted, I relished the odds because it was a struggle for something that was absolutely where I was meant to be.

Two years ago last May, I went to the Spring orientation seminar and crossed the inspiring halls of my newly-built campus for the first time. I can't tell you how that felt. I was excited and terrified and most of all profoundly amazed that I could be so lucky. Privileged - there's that word again.

Well, those of you who have stuck with me since that first blog post in February of 2008 know that nursing school has been a whirlwind with its ups and downs. Most of the time I feel like I can't even catch my breath. Nursing school has pushed my perceived limits of exhaustion, motivation, and passion for learning. Every day that I was made to think harder and more abstractly than I thought I could, I wondered how much more my poor brain could think.

But not once, never once have I doubted my reasons for being there.

I am still, 24 blood-sweat-tears months later, in love with my chosen profession.

Of course, not doubting my reasons for being there isn't quite the same as actively APPRECIATING where I am today. I think my sense of appreciation took a back seat to all-night study sessions and 3 AM paper marathons and 1,000 page textbooks.

So today I give thanks for those times of struggle and bouts of madness as well as the profound moments of patient care that I have been, yes, privileged to experience in the lives of those I have pledged in my heart to care for.

Did that sound sappy? It was honest.

until classes start!

On Saturday, I jumped out of a perfectly good plane.



It was my friend Trish's 21st birthday, crazy girl that she is, she invited a bunch of us from Pharm out to her birthday activity of choice - skydiving!

Unfortunately everyone from Pharm pussied out except for me and her. A few of her other friends came along though so there were 6 of us in total.

I'm going to share this story because I want to remember it in beautiful detail.

The day dawned clear and cool. The sun was shining when I woke up to my alarm at 0645. I packed my sweater and some snacks, and jumped in my car to go pick up Trish and everyone on the north side of the city for 0715. We then drove out on the highway for about 30 minutes, tired and nervous and a little uncomfortable.

We found the place okay. As we pulled in and stepped out of the car, it felt like we were entering a trailer park! RVs were all over the place. It all came flooding back to me.

A little backstory - I grew up at a drop zone much like this one. My dad spent the better part of my childhood being REALLY INTO skydiving. He logged thousands of jumps and my family was out at the DZ during the summer pretty much every weekend. I know what skydivers are like and I'm familiar with DZ's in general. I learned how to use a keg at a boogie when I was 8 years old and my daddy thought I'd be good at pouring beer, haha :) I had planned on skydiving just like him one day, but he actually had a couple of really bad crashes where he had some serious trauma to his spine and legs. That was over 10 years ago and he will have a limp and mild mobility issues for the rest of his life. So my plan to jump at 16 was derailed.

So, when Trish asked if I'd be interested, I jumped at the chance (nyuk!).

The classroom seated about 20 and there were posters on all the walls of good and bad things that you might see while falling. Parachutes not opening, twisted lines, reserve parachute deployment. Diagrams of equipment and things to do and not do. A LOT of information.

Now I was a little nervous that I wouldn't be able to remember anything. I can learn pretty much anything given time, and I'm good at memorizing random factoids, but psychomotor skills are definitely my weakest link. I can tell you WHERE the cutaway and reserve handles are, and I can (with time) tell you what situations they need to be pulled at, but the actual motions of looking down, locating each handle, and punching them out in the proper sequence is more of a challenge for me. That was concerning because there is no redo option on that - it's life or death!

It really didn't help much when they were handing out the waivers. Double-sided legal paper FILLED with "I acknowledge that skydiving is inherently risky" and "I hereby promise to not sue the jump school if I am terribly maimed or dead even if it is due to their gross negligence". Putting pen to paper and signing that was... well, I wasn't exactly smiling at that particular moment.

Jodie was our instructor and I really liked her. She was witty and personable, and very empowering: "Yes, you CAN save your own life!"

We watched some retro cassette videos on the gearing up process and how the jump was expected to go, and Jodie talked about the importance of maintaining a good arch. We then went outside and practiced our arches about a million times, shouting our post-plane-exit mantra:

Arch thousand!

Two thousand!

Three thousand!

Four Thousand!

Five Thousand!

Check canopy!

This particular mantra was to help us keep a sense of time lapse and give the parachute time to open before we started panicking. The parachute should be fully open and deflated by 6 seconds, so at the end when we said "check canopy", we were looking up at the parachute and preparing to resort to emergency alternatives if necessary.

The questions we asked ourselves, shouting out loud:

Is it RECTANGULAR?? (Denoting a properly deployed parachute - no tangled
lines)
Is it INFLATED?? (Are at least 7 of the 9 cells performing, or am I
still dropping like a rock?)
Is it CONTROLLABLE? (Can I steer this puppy away from a tree or
worse?)

We were wearing some Wal-Mart Greeter-esque vests with a mock-up of the cutaway and reserve handles so that we knew where to grab in an emergency. Jodie emphasized the importance of LOOKING at the handles first instead of groping wildly, telling us of a previous student who, upon seeing his rectangular parachute emerge round in a mass of tangled lines, promptly grabbed and ripped off his red radio instead of the red cutaway handle. (He lived, but still!)

LOOK! (Make sure that red thing you're tearing off isn't your
radio!)
LOCATE! (Grab ahold of each of the handles)
PUNCH RIGHT! (Forcefully drive your fist through the red cutaway handle, freeing you from a
malfunctioning canopy)
PUNCH LEFT! (Forcefully deploying your reserve)

We practiced our arches, our counting, our emergency procedures, and our plan for two hours. I tell you, my back was sore and my throat was hoarse, but I would have spent all the time they wanted me to doing those very steps over and over again! Not a place to cut corners!

We also spent some time in a hilariously inadequate mock-up of a plane. It was basically a box frame made out of 2x4's, elevated off the ground, with a wheel stuck off the side and a pretend wing strut. We each practiced twice getting out of the "plane" and climbing out to the end of the strut where we would let go and plummet to earth. One thing entirely to do that with no relative wind. Quite another in reality :)

After lunch we had a written T/F exam (presumably to be legal evidence that we had at least absorbed the information, even if we entirely failed to put thought into action) and then we hurried up to wait for the actual jump.

Happily, the day was beautifully sunny and warm for one of the few times this summer. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the weather couldn't have been more fantastic. Trish and I and her other friends hung out sunbathing, pretending we weren't really going through with this and we weren't really nervous and this wasn't really the last time one of us might have a fully functioning central nervous system. We admired the skydiving crowd, especially the several tanned, ripped, and devastatingly sexy men walking around shirtless (!) doing skydiver things like packing parachutes.

Jodie came up to me.

"UgRN, I'm going to need you to to go up in the first load. You're friends with Trish, right? You don't mind?"

Perfect.

I was scheduled to go up with a bunch of strangers in the sixth load, well into the afternoon. This sped up my schedule by a solid 2 hours. And I'd get to jump with the birthday girl!


Suddenly, I heard my name called out on the intercom. E.N. Jump School, Load One, roll call - please meet at manifest to get your equipment.


Heart? Meet throat.


Trish and I walked up to manifest sporting ear to ear grins and excessive diaphoresis.


Our Jump Master, Rob, helped us get kitted out in some (very) snazzy jumpsuits. Mine was an eclectic mix of neon colors and I looked like I had beat up a 1992 Alpine ski bunny and stolen her outfit. Yeah, SunIce!


Another guy got my pack ready and strapped it on. Surprisingly heavy! It was probably at least 30 lbs. Although that hardly matters when you're falling, it makes quite a difference when you're trying to get to the plane.


While I was waiting to get an appropriately sized helmet - one that wouldn't squish my brains out, preferably - I happened to notice a lady who looked very familiar. She was engaged in hearty conversation with another lady so I waited patiently for a few minutes trying to decide if my mind was playing tricks on me. Finally I tapped her on the arm.


"'Scuse me, but you do by any chance know [father of UgRN]?"


She looked at me funny and then erupted into a full scale motherly hug. OMIGOD the last time I saw you, you were this tall and collecting bugs that you kept in jars and this was over at that old drop zone that closed down and-- hey, where IS your dad, anyway?


Sadly, my dad was out on a cross continent Harley trip and couldn't be there to witness my first jump. I told him later that I ran into some of his old buds though and that was pretty cool, actually. I was inordinately pleased that SOMEONE from those old days would be there to witness me follow in my daddy's laughably risk-taking and poor-role-model-y footprints.


For the record, I love my dad and I think he is the best person ever.


So I get my helmet finally and meet up with Trish and Rob the Jump Master. There are two other people jumping with us as well - a friend of Trish's and some old guy who was winning major Awesome Points just for being old and being gutsy.


They loaded the plane from lightest to heaviest, so Old Awesome Guy would jump first and I would jump last. (Yay for being the lightest! ...I guess).


I clambered in behind the pilot and knelt on the padded floor. Rob gave me a comical look and said, in all seriousness, um, it's Transportation Canada regulations that everyone in a plane wear a seatbelt at all times while ascending... so we'll need you to put that seatbelt across your knees.


Safety first, people, safety first.


We were all loaded into the plane and then the pilot fired it up. God, it was soooo loud in there, I couldn't hear a thing. The plane hauled ass down the dirt runway and then lifted up into the sky. I saw the ground drop away from me and with a violent lurch It Hit Me.


At some point, that door is going to open... and then I'm going to jump out of it. At 3500 feet in the sky.


I couldn't see myself but I can imagine how I looked - I could feel the blood draining out of my face and I probably had the most grim expression that I have ever wore in my lifetime. That little voice started.


If you've been following my blog for a long time, you may remember that I have issues surrendering control to other people. I just genuinely don't trust people to do right by me a lot of the time. This was, like, the ultimate in surrendering control. Rob the JM was going to tell me when to jump out of the plane and I was going to trust him that it was the right time. I was going to trust that whoever packed my parachute did it properly and that I wasn't going to plummet to my death. I had to trust that my radio was going to work and that the guy helping me land was going to remind me what to do. I had to trust all of these things, and trust that God wasn't going to call me home today because I sure as hell wasn't ready yet.


The fear was at its worst when my sense of height was screaming YOU ARE SO HIGH ABOVE THE GROUND THAT YOU MIGHT AS WELL JUST DIE NOW, WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU THINKING IN GETTING OUT OF THIS PLANE?


I had talked to my dad just before the jump and I asked him what he thought about my fear of heights, and how that was going to gimp me in trying to accomplish this. My dad reassured me that once you were high enough, the crippling fear would be replaced with a sense of wonder. Your brain wouldn't look at the ground and think OMG SO HIGH UP past a certain point. That was certainly true for me - at 2000 feet I stopped looking at the ground thinking "holy shit, ground" and started thinking "cool, carpet tiles!".


Then the door opened. 3500 feet. Wind rushed into the cabin and anything I heard the JM shouting was completely lost.


Old Awesome Guy knelt knee to knee with the JM and then, just like we practiced, stepped onto the wheel, grabbed ahold of the wing strut, climbed out, and dropped away.


I mean dropped. Like a freaking 250 lb sack of potatoes.


Trish's friend - same thing. Knee to knee with the JM, stepped out, grabbed onto the wing strut with her feet flying out behind her, and dropped away.


Time for Trish. She took a while getting out the door, which I attributed to nerves (I was definitely there with her!). She did her thing, and then dropped away.


I eagerly peered out the window and saw 2 progressively tiny colorful canopies below. Wait, only 2? Where's Old Awesome Guy?? I shouted at the JM, who replied he's on the ground already!


Then it was my turn.


I shuffled forward, knee to knee with Rob and did my best to look brave. The wind was rushing in through the open door which was only inches from my leg. Every ounce of me was screaming WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, GET BACK IN THE PLANE!!


Rob leaned toward me and shouted with a grin, "Are ya ready to skydive?"


I have never been more terrified, and specifically because of that, I knew I simply had to do it.

I gritted my teeth and tried to exit the plane like I was taught. I grabbed the door frame and stuck my foot out into the wind.

Oh my God, the wind.

Picture roaring down the highway in a minivan, opening the sliding door, and trying to climb onto a platform with no guide ropes and only your own power to make sure it happens.

I literally shoved my foot into the windstream onto the tire of the plane. I punched my right hand into the wind to grab ahold of the wing strut. It was hard and made worse by the complete and utter shutdown of my self-preservation response. I mean, how hard are you going to try to kill yourself? The whole thing was so counter-intuitive that I couldn't do it. The wind was fierce, my hands were ice cold, my stomach had a death grip on my throat, and I. Pussied. Out.

I retreated back into the cabin, momentarily defeated but even more determined to do it.

Rob smiled at me. We're just going to take it around again, and then you can give it another shot.

A few minutes passed and he gave me the nod.

I grit my teeth and summoned every ounce of courage I had. I flexed every muscle. I tried to feel as strong as I know I can be.

I shoved my foot out the door.
I punched my hand out onto the wing strut.
I forced myself to leave the plane.

In the grip of consuming terror, I let my feet fly out behind me - no going back now.

GO!!

I released my grip on the plane and proceeded to freak the hell out. I fell in 5 seconds that were, simultaneously, the best and worst 5 seconds of my life. I plummeted to earth and in total panic started screaming ARCH THOUSAND, TWO THOUSAND, THREE THOUSAND, FOUR THOUSAND...

And in a moment of complete beauty and the most profound sense of relief I may ever experience, my bright yellow canopy unfurled above me. Rectangular, inflated, and, yes, controllable.

My radio crackled to life.

Hello, Jumper 4, please proceed with your flight check and enjoy the ride.

I laughed, I cried, I couldn't believe how beautiful it was - the sun glinted off of the lakes and I could damn well see everything. The world was green and fresh and full of life. The fall was gentle and incredible. The view was unimaginable.

Jumper 4, please make a 180 degree turn to your right - no, your other right - that's it, all the way around.

The soothing voice of the landing controller guided me through steering my canopy across the target area to the turning point, and back around to the target.

Work with me here, Jumper 4 - make that thing turn!

I yanked on the right toggle and the chute handled beautifully.

All of a sudden I noticed that the ground was rushing up at me and I was like, oh, shit! I flared the chute, pulling hard on both toggles to slow me down. I was going a trifle fast and tried to run out the landing, but I fell and slid on my butt across the field. It was a very pleasant slide and I was experiencing so many incredible emotions that I probably wouldn't have noticed any pain even if there was some.

I collapsed back on my open chute and laughed the most uninhibited, joyful laugh that I've had in years. A photographer out on the landing area captured it for me, for which I am eternally grateful.

I called my dad: Hey, I guess I'm a skydiver now.


----------------


There's my story. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I recommend the experience? If you're like me and have an insane need to conquer your fears and test the extremes of your capabilities... absolutely.

We had a burlesque show a few weeks ago and the sound tech from the show apparently took quite a shine to me. He sent me a Facebook message inquiring if I'd like to perhaps get a drink or something.

(To the tune of the 12 days of Christmas)

I check my phone, "what is this?"

There is a lot from he -

one hundred texts

fifty lines of "please?"

twenty missed calls

ten suicide threats

three blocked numbers

one reply from me

... and a stalker in a tree

I'm going to emote a little bit. This might be a little on the not-fun-to-read side, but I'm more writing it for me than for anyone else.

I... am single.

For the first time in 2 years, it's finally irrefutable that the boy I fell head over heels for in December 2006 is not the man of my dreams, and will never be the man of my dreams.

All that talk of engagements and weddings and babies and small town bliss and the future - gone.

I gave it my best shot. I probably gave it more than I should have, and I probably took more emotional battery than a reasonable person would have. But I wanted to have no regrets when it was over, no thoughts that I could have done something differently or said the right thing and saved a beautiful union.

Regrets? I have none.

I know that I am a deeply caring, gracious, intelligent woman and I'm positive that some man out there will want to respect me and honor me, and fight for me if that time ever comes. Someone who doesn't value appearances and money over integrity and respect. Someone who isn't content to let the world come knocking - he goes out and seeks to expand his worldview and challenge his mindset. He examines all sides of a situation and bases his decisions on critical thought. He has a softness in his heart to allow for the unbridled worship of a God greater than he.

More than anything, he's as committed to my well-being and happiness as I am to his.

I've got a lot to offer.

I'm stronger for this, I know I am... but I'm still mourning the loss of a future that will never be.

Well, in case you're wondering, my post from last week is still unresolved. But I am being open and honest with myself for the first time in probably a while and I can feel change in the air. To be honest I've been steering clear of blogging for a bit because I have been doing a whole lot of partying to get my mind off things. However, judging by my traffic counter, not many people are interested in my emoting, so it's back to your regularly scheduled program of UgRN!

It's been a rough few days...

Thank you for posting that review of Fireproof. I decided to rent it on iTunes and it really struck a chord with me. Yes, it appears that men really are capable of being real men all on their own and shouldn't require careful prodding from a woman to do the right thing.

I started to realize that I'm a bit of a pushover and I shouldn't have to take the B.S. that I have been, but I keep taking it hoping that everything will be smoothed over in the end. I need to put a stop to that and start demanding the respect I deserve otherwise I may never get it. Well, I don't know if it will work out or not, but I have to trust that Someone has my best interests in mind.

"A real man needs to be a hero to his wife before he can be to anybody else"

You may have started something big in me. Thanks, I think ;)

To me! undergradrn.blogspot.com turned one year old on February 1. One year ago I was working for a faceless corporation, facing a layoff, x'ing out the days in my calendar, longing for September and feeling like it would never come.

Alright, so I'll pull out the wayback machine and start at last Friday, in the lab.

We had our infection control lab where we got to practice putting on isolation gowns, hairnets, booties, a variety of masks, and of course gloves in every shape and size. We also got to do that signature experiment where we slathered some UV-responsive cream on our hands, washed it off, and checked it under the black light. Surprisingly, the way I normally wash my hands is pretty effective, except for my cuticles, my wrists, and a circle the size of a loonie on the back of my left hand. Then my "nurse hand-hygiene routine" went very well. Those cuticles, I tell you! Germ trappers!

Still enjoying my time off. Just thought you should know.

Random story time!

As a kid (and throughout most of my adolescence) I was in love with Stephen King. Well, not him, exactly - I think he's a little scary - I was in love with his characters. My all-time favorite book is still The Stand. I've read it probably a million times since I was 10ish. I have several versions of the book which seem to crop up in my house every now and then. I think they are getting busy in the bookcase because I can't otherwise figure out how new copies randomly crop up. My favorite character has always been Stu Redman because he is just soooo amazing. I swore that my male children would - of course - bear the first name Stuart. All of them.

Anyway, if you haven't read the book I won't spoil it for you, but basically the initial premise is about a government-engineered superdisease that gets out of control and wipes out most of the population. The bug appears harmless enough with mild cold symptoms at first, escalating into delusion and suffocation, and death within 4 days.

I have always had these elaborate daydreams about what I would do if I was one of the survivors. What kind of crazy fortress I would build myself out in the bush and how I would eke out a perilous existence. That kind of thing.

Part of me has always harbored a teeny tiny paranoia that it could happen for real, that someday a laboratory could lose control of its creation. No, no, don't laugh. I'm absolutely certain that out in the desert somewhere the US government is playing with bacteria as a warfare contingency. And China, and Russia, and the other big players. I'd say Canada, but have you seen our military budget?

Anyway sometimes, when there's a particularly nasty bug going around that everyone seems to get (like now), a little part of my brain slips into that daydream of what if...

No, I don't lie awake wondering about it or listen for a phone tap or anything. No tinfoil hats here. I'm just sayin'!

I've been alive for 8,890 days, give or take. Of these, I can think of probably 100 that stand out significantly.

Today, I can tack on another. Probably almost the best day of my life so far.

Here's the story.

You may recall how a couple of weeks ago, I wrote a paper for my Discipline of Nursing class on the topic of Nursing Education. It wasn't quite a real paper but it was a fleshed out skeleton - outline, summary of the article, introduction, first body paragraph, and conclusion.

Well, my teacher started talking about those today. She was just ranting about how sub-par some of our writing skills are. She had them all in a pile and talked about them for about 15 minutes while we sat in fidgeting in our chairs. 15 minutes, gah!

So anyway, the class average was pretty crappy. 65% or somesuch. There was a huge spread in marks from 48% to 97%. So now we're all feeling REALLY scared. Just hurry up and give us the papers back, lady!

Mine was on top so I got to leave first. I grab the paper with the smiley face and she's like, uh, that one's not yours. Bummer!

So I grab it and I go out side to look and OH MY GOD I GOT 97% ON MY PAPER - THE HIGHEST MARK IN THE SECTION

I was ecstatic. I was shaking. I was speechless, although you'd never know it now! I would never ever have guessed that I would get a mark like that. Might I add, she was not giving those marks away! Some kids failed!

So some of you may remember how I've sometimes waxed poetic about how nice it is to finally be considered an 'achiever' instead of an I'll-take-70% passive slacker. How much I feel like I've accomplished more in the last year than I've ever achieved in high school. Well, I've also said how I feel like the competitiveness of nursing school means that only smart kids get in. So therein lies the source of my giddyness. Of the 'smart kids', I got the highest mark. Me. Too-cool-to-attend-school me. Jeebus, this is a big moment.

Sorry if my enthusiasm is turning your stomach. It's hard to express how stoked I am. I'm actually more excited now than I was when I got accepted.

So anyway, I'll just re-emphasize that this course is my favorite of the semester and my teacher is just awesome (and I'm not just saying that because of today). She's really vibrant and intelligent and loves to teach, that much is clear. She pulled me aside after class and said approximately, "Yours was the last paper out of 80 that I read, and I was so excited that you got it that I had to go and show all the other teachers, and we were all like, 'woo hoo!'" She also thought that I had a 'writing gift*'. Man, I was so honored to hear that from her. Today was just the best day.

At least until clinicals, when I can start actually being a nurse :)

*Probably everyone who reads this blog is like "WTF, writing gift? Have you SEEN how this girl abuses a comma splice?" And for that, all I can say is meh! :P

...While watching 101 More Things Removed From The Human Body.

you will see me, wearing a mask and snorkel. 

Ok, I seriously need to take better care of myself. I have slipped into the UgRN-Diet (tm) which consists of whatever carbs are handy if I absolutely need to eat something, supplemented with a daily Centrum Junior multi-vitamin (colors and flavors and shapes, oh my!).

Mom: So describe this feeling?

Me: I don't know, like I'm pumped on caffeine, but without the energy. I can't sit, I can't think, I'm sore all over, and I could probably fall asleep right now!

Anything else?

Yeah, one of my tonsils is, like, 4 times its normal size and hurts like a bitch.

Hmm. How have you been sleeping?

Good, for the most part. A solid 7.5 hours a night, I'd say.

How have you been eating?

Um, I forgot to bring my lunch so I had a bagel today and a bag of Sun Chips from the vending machine. Then I got tired so I had a coffee.

What?? When's the last time you had PROTEIN?

*thinks* Probably on... Saturday? We went out for sashimi.

Maybe, just maybe, that is your problem. You know, if you want to do this whole vegetarian-except-for-fish thing, you actually have to compensate at some point.

This has got to be one of the first summers that I can't wait to see the end of.

Here's my story: