Giant Butters

Let It Be NCLEX Exam, Just Let It Be

2011-01-21T21:02:00.000Z

For the last few weeks I've been studying for the NCLEX back here in Chicago. About 8 hours a day, 6 days a week since Jan. 3rd.

The exam is tomorrow morning at 8 am.

If I'm being honest with myself, the studying is not going well. I can say without irony that I feel like I'm getting dumber the more I study. In the last few days before graduation, I took two NCLEX prep/readiness predictor tests to evaluate how prepared I was to take the exam. On both, I score in the 87-89%. You'd think that if you took that percentage and added to it an additional three weeks of study and prep, my chance of passing the exam should be in the nineties.

In the last few days, my scores on the practice exams have been steadily dropping, like to ridiculously low levels. So low, that I'm starting to panic. It feels like I'm in some kind of nightmare. I wake in the mornings thinking about the exam and my heart races; I have panic attacks.

I took the day off today to give my head a well-needed break from practice questions. Went to a movie this afternoon to enjoy some mindless diversion. I'm not sure it worked.

But one glimmer of hope: If God exists, he talks to me through my radio. And driving home this evening XRT played two songs back-to-back. The first was The Beatles "Let It Be" which is one of my 10 Desert Island Songs and one of two songs I want played at my funeral. The other, which followed immediately afterwards, was Coldplay's "Life in Technicolor" which is not only one of my favorite Coldplay songs, but it also has particular significance to by nursing career thus far.

I'm taking these as good signs for tomorrow.

OK, enough bullshit. I need to go to sleep so I can get up early tomorrow and kick some NCLEX ass..

Getting a Lemon Lobbed at Your Junk Is Not a Good Way to Start the New Year

2011-01-01T21:39:00.003Z

This morning, I was laying in the hotel room bed while Anthony was attempting to juggle with three lemons. (He wasn't doing it well.) At one point he threw one to me while I wasn't paying attention and it smacked me right in my balls. Goddamn, I have not been hit in the balls in probably 20 years and had forgotten how much it hurts.

Like, indescribable, mind and soul-numbing pain.

As I lay writhing in agony I remember thinking that my balls would never be the same again. As soon as I felt like I could stand I hurried to the bathroom to throw up.

I have high hopes for 2011. But this is so not the way I wanted it to start.

Happy 2011 everyone!

Graduation Tickets

2010-11-15T20:55:00.000Z

As a class we received our tickets for next month's Graduation Ceremony. Only 4 tickets per student. Some people are pissed, but whatever.

I don't have any family coming (since it is such a short and small ceremony, and because I'll be back in Chicago two days later, I told my family to stay home), and no friends coming (who would I invite - the two guys I'm dating??), I gave my tickets away.

But I've been giving it some thought. Maybe I shouldn't have given them away so quickly. There are definitely some people in campus that I would have loved to have invited to watch me graduate:

Cornfed - there's this absolutely hot guy on campus, that I see all the time at the library, that I've named Cornfed. I know nothing about him other than he looks like he was raised on a Nebraska farm and is totally gorgeous. I drool when I see him walk by. Seriously. He could come watch me get pinned. Or, could pin me himself (see what I did there?).
Dry Erase Marker Teaching Assistant Guy - last year I completely stalked this TA who used to come into my Philosophy classroom before class and steal the dry erase markers from my classroom to take into his. He is cracker spreadable, and, unlike Cornfed, I think plays for my team. I figure that since I did him the favor of creepily stalking him for an entire year, the least he could do is come to my graduation.

Two people I definitely would not invite to my graduation:

Creepy Asian Stalker Guy - for about 6 months this guy I know from the gym has been asking me out for lunch, and each time I politely decline. But he just isn't getting the message.
Security Guard/Bouncer at the Lau - this woman likes to wield her fake power by inspecting every bag that comes into the library in case a student, God forbid, brings in a cookie or sandwich. Because that is a violation of Georgetown policy and, apparently, deserves public humiliation on her part. "Sir, you cannot bring that food in here!" Whatever, you unhappy harpie.

Graduation in something like 1 month + 3 days....

Nursing Humor

2010-11-01T14:21:00.004Z

Yesterday Emily and I watched the Marine Corps Marathon to cheer our friend Danny. During the race, I guy runs past, looking pretty tired.
Emily: "Did you see that guy? He didn't look so good."
Me: "Yes, he looked like he was in some pain."
Emily: "I mean, he was pink. Like a newborn baby!"
Me: "Totally! I wonder what his APGAR score would be? Ha ha!"
Emily: "Ha ha!"
[Everyone else around us: "??? WTF???" ]

Fine. We're nursing nerds.

Open Letter To My Boyfriend, Ben Zo

2010-10-26T06:27:00.007+01:00

Dear Ben Zo:

Since we met about a month ago (can you believe it's been that long? How time flies!), you've completely changed my life. For the better, mostly. You've taken away most of the anxiety of this last - and hardest - semester of school. It's true - because of you, I simply just don't get worked up over the little things. You've helped me see the silver lining in the clouds that make up my sad little student life.

Through all the deadlines, the exams, the quizzes, the care logs, the teaching plans, the clinicals, the senior practicums, the ATI tests, the presentations, etc., you've been there for me, helping me stay calm, stay focused, and keep my perspective. You've taught me that school is just a bunch of random facts and arbitrary rules, and I just need to play the game and get through. For this I am grateful.

You've even helped me relax a little and have fun this semester. I've gone out drinking a few more times than I would have thought; even a few dates. "Who has time for dates?" the old me would have said. But you've changed me. For the better. And again, for this I thank you.

Even my friends have noticed the change. "You seem happier, less stressed this semester," they say. "What's your secret?" And of course I tell them it's you, Ben Zo.

Not only that, Ben Zo, but you've completely changed my eating habits. Yeah - it's true! I'm not hungry - like, at all. As in: at no point during the day do I get hungry. I have to remind myself to eat! And because I no longer seem to have the time to exercise, since you've come along you're preventing me from ballooning into a stressed-out fattie!

However, as much as I love you and thank you for changing my outlook and helping me get through school, we need to talk about this whole sleeping thing. It's like this: Since we met, I just don't sleep.

You keep me up at night.

And on the one hand, staying up late is helping me crank through some homework (why, just tonight for example, after midnight I read a whole Saunders NCLEX chapter! Yay for me!). But on the other hand, lately when that alarm goes off early in the morning, I am bleary-eyed and simply unable to get out of bed because I'm plain tired.

You see: it is now 2am and I'm (still) wide awake (btw, I need to get up for clinical in just 4 hours), contemplating going out for a 5-mile run just so I will fall asleep.

See my point? When it is two in the morning and all I want to do is go for a fucking run through the mean streets of Columbia Heights and Logan Circle, I think it is safe to say we have a problem.**

So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you need to cut me a break, OK? I love you, Ben Zo. But let me get some sleep. Please.

Thanks and good night.

** And yeah, before you even ask: I already masterbated tonight and that didn't do anything.

I Accidentally Got Drunk...

2010-10-22T23:35:00.004+01:00

Is it bad to show up to a second date drunk?

I had no choice, really. This week was mid-term week, and it was hell. I pretty much bombed two of my three exams, and after the last one ended this afternoon, a few of us headed over to the closest bar to blow off some steam. And sorry, but if you put half a pitcher of beer (or more) in front of me, I'm going to drink it, goddammit. So sue me.**

Besides, I am kinda nervous about this date, which starts in about 15 minutes. I'm not sure I'm very compatible with this guy. He's really cute and very sweet. But personality-wise we may not be in sync. So a little alcohol-fueled bravado might be a good thing. For me, anyway. Maybe not so much for him.

But anyways...

** PS - In case you were wondering, I was drunk when I wrote this post. Yay for me.

These Are Days

2010-10-16T16:31:00.002+01:00

The semester continues to freight train down the track, and I'm barely holding on.

The meds are definitely helping, though. Thanks to the benzos, I can barely care about anything. It is a beautiful day today and here I am holed up in the library, trying to study for my Complex II exam on Monday.

I know I should be more freaked out about the semester and all I have to do, but I'm not (again, thanks Klonipin!). After class yesterday, instead of heading to the library, I met some of the Cobras for a beer at Epicurian (ugh). A beer turned into a pitcher but who cares, I was surrounded by good friends.

The evening ended with dinner for Gina's birthday at a Mexican restaurant in Glover Park. Gina's a private person, but someone needed to tell the waitstaff to sing her happy birthday. She wanted to kill me, but hey. This is life.

These last few weeks have been different for me. It is as though things are clicking in ways they never did before. Warm sun in the afternoon but cool evenings. Days and nights of The National, Band of Horses and Arcade Fire. But I'm not sleeping well - pools of sweat at 2 am. Is it the meds?

Nine weeks from today is graduation. Yay. And Yikes.

Open Letters to My New York Tricks

2010-10-13T17:08:00.008+01:00

I see you after midnight, towards the back of the bar, talking with someone. My friends are ready to go, but I’m not, so I walk up and said hello. I tell you you’re the Hottest Guy in the Bar and we talk.

After awhile, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and not long after I follow you and soon we we’re making out in the downstairs hallway near the exit. PDAs aren’t my thing, but what the hell I’m in New York and I’ll never see these people (or you) ever again. In the cab back to my place I kiss your neck, your chest, lifting your shirt to kiss your stomach.

For hours we share each other, and I fall asleep in your arms. In the morning you walk with me and the dog to a West Village cafe. You buy us coffee and we sit on the step. We exchange numbers and say goodbye and now you leave messages, calling me by my full name in your French accent, saying you want to see me again. But there’s something I should have told you: I’m No Good at This Type of Thing. A relationship with you, or with anyone, is the last thing I need right now.

I’m a bit damaged goods. Can’t you see that?

***

First I see you standing against the wall. You’re handsome. And blonde. A short time later I see you again, this time near the dance floor and as I walk by you say hello. O God, are you Australian? As you talk, I look at your blue eyes, your wet lips and tell myself, That fucking accent. Don’t do this. Then you kiss me, right there, and not long after we’re walking back to my place.

You’re funny and smart and that goddamn accent and by the time we get to the apartment our hands are all over each other. At 5am we finally convince ourselves to get some sleep, and the next morning my exploration of your body, your sweet smell and soft skin continues.

And now I’m on the bus back to DC and can’t stop thinking about you and then you text and we’ve already got these inside jokes to each other and I let myself wonder what it would be like if you weren’t just vacationing here. And you’re asking me when I’ll come back to Sydney and it’s probably time to tell you: This has been a fun little game, but you know, I’m not good for anyone right now and this could never possibly work out.

I’m a bit damaged goods. Can’t you see that?

I Still Love You, New York

2010-10-10T16:58:00.006+01:00

I’m sitting on the bus, heading back from an amazing weekend in New York City. It is my first time back in about three years, and it had been a long time coming.

I love NYC, but it turned into a complicated relationship a few years ago. Back when I lived in DC the first time, I spent some time working a job in which I spent 3 days a week in Manhattan and 2 working from my home office in DC. It was a really difficult time in my life personally, and I was miserable through most of it. I was walking wounded, living in a daze in Manhattan, not happy and not wanting to be there. That was 5 years ago, and before this weekend I’d only been back to NYC one other time. And until this trip, it’s been hard to think fondly of it until now.

The Manhattan of this trip was different than the last, concentrated down to the West and East Villages, SoHo and Greenwich Village. There was no Midtown, no Upper West Side. Aside from a trip to the City Café on 18th with Jacob, a run along the Hudson River Greenway all the way up to 33rd, Friday night in Chelsea and Saturday night stops in the East Village, I never moved north of Waverly; never further south than Canal; never more than a 15 block radius of the apartment. In fact, the days seemed concentrated on four-block concentration between West Broadway and Bowery.

Weekends like this make you think; make you marvel at the way life can unfold. Drinks with friends at the Lakeside and Cherry Lounge in the Village, and raiding bodegas at 3 am can do that. I had brunch at Freeman’s with three great friends. We all used to work together in London five years ago, and now we’re all living in different places. And yet, here we were at a table catching up and laughing like old times. It was a genuinely perfect moment. And reminds me that even though school is rough right now, there is a world outside of it with people who care about me.

It’s a lesson I’ve known my whole adult life, but often forget: Time is a great healer. The pain and memories from hard times, difficulties and heartbreak get replaced with new experiences that can heal you, give you some good perspective. Sitting at that table at Freeman’s, surrounded by old friends, good food and good energy, reminded me of that.

You Have Nice Veins (Or: The Best Complement From an Anesthesiologist, Ever)

2010-10-04T06:17:00.000+01:00

Last week during my clinical rotation, I was assigned to observe an open heart surgery (which was awesome and deserves a separate post, but HIPAA compliance prevents me) where one of the anesthesiologists came up to me and initiated the following conversation:

Anesthesiologist (pointing to my hand): "You have really nice veins."
Me: "Oh, um. Thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "Trust me. I'm someone who appreciates good veins, and you have good ones."
Me: "Ahh. Um, thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "No, seriously. I know people who work their entire lives to get veins like yours."
Me: "...Thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "I work out all the time and don't have veins like those. Do you work out? You must..."
Me: "I swim. And run."
Anesthesiologist: "Well, keep up the good work."

I'm keeping this conversation in my back pocket. You know, for those times are tough. Life may be kicking my ass on a regular basis, but you know, at least I've got good veins going for me.

Something Close to Grace (And I'm Not Even Religious)

2010-10-01T02:10:00.004+01:00

It's pouring rain - the first time this season - and Yep, suddenly it is really, finally Fall. September 30th and for the first time this year it feels like Fall.

Students are walking through the lounge here in Leavey, shaking off the rain drops from their heads and umbrellas, dressed in jeans and windbreakers. Not a pair of flip-flops in sight.

Perhaps it is because of the weather that tonight I'm acutely aware that this experience is coming to a close. Thirteen months down an just three more to go. Holy crap. I'm giddy and relieved and scared and sad by this reality. School makes me anxious and fills me with dread and most of me wants it to be over. But on a night like this I realize that I will miss it very much when it is.

I sit in classrooms pouring over material that is more often than not difficult to grasp, yet I am surrounded by people and relationships I cherish. It can be as simple as a teacher making a joke, or a classmate rolling his eyes, or my partner in crime Lisa, reaching over to me during an ATI test, with a gentle hand on my elbow saying, "You're fine. It's going to be alright."

I called my parents tonight and had the typically short conversation with my Dad. Although brief, it seemed different. He seemed different. He asked how I was doing and I said, "You know, I'm surviving. It is tough and I'm stressed but getting by." Then he asked me if I was alright. I said, "Yeah, I'm OK."

And then he said, "You know, if there's anything you need, all you have to do is ask. You know that, right?" It was all at once so pure, loving, joyful and completely unexpected that it made me laugh. Genuinely laugh. And I thought back to that afternoon in April 2009 when I told him I got into Georgetown on a scholarship and he hid his eyes from me and started crying. I may not be the smartest kid here in my program, but who gives a fuck - there are people that love me and that I love right back. And this place, this program and me being a part of it is an amazing experience.

I've been here on campus all day - over 14 hours - and I have so much work I could easily stay another 5. But I'm looking out this dark window out at the football field, which is all lit up even now at 10 pm and I'm watching these crazy kids on it playing ultimate frisbee in the pouring rain and I think life is funny and this is a cool moment and maybe I should just enjoy it and give myself a break. The work will get done.

Open Letter to the Computer Lab Nerds

2010-09-29T14:16:00.001+01:00

Dear Computer Lab Nerds:

If it were up to me, I would not be in here right now trying to finish up a report and print it out, but I don't have a choice. I'm here and you're here so let's get used to it.

I understand that the 5 of you are working on some kind of project together, but you're obviously not working on it that hard if you're sitting around your table talking about popcorn and candy bars.

So forgive me if I wish to spend a few minutes getting my friend Emily caught up on my activities over the last several hours, instead of typing on a computer.

But seriously. You can put a clamp on the weird, inappropriate and disapproving stares at us just because we've interrupted your Nerd-Fest. If I want to discuss with my friend the "quality" of my sex life (or lack thereof) and my explosive diarrhea, then goddammit I will. You don't see me hating on your thrilling conversations about peanut allergies and gene splicing.

PS - You guys look like the Nerd Addams Family.

Letting Go (Or: When Throwing Out a Pair of Shoes Isn't Really Only Just About Throwing Out a Pair of Shoes)

2010-09-26T18:15:00.004+01:00

[RIP, faithful friend]

I did something Sunday morning of great significance and courage and defiance. I threw an old, yet favorite pair of shoes into the trash.

And right now you’re thinking: Old shoes in the trash? Big effing deal! So what?

Let me explain… It’s true that I tend to hold onto things for too long – feelings, thoughts, possessions, what have you. I just have a hard time letting go. I get ridiculous amounts of comfort from objects that have long since served their purpose. I own socks and pants and underwear with holes in them, but dammit they’re comfortable and make me feel happy. So sue me.

Right now, things are a little rough for me so I look for any small measure of comfort any place I can get it. Sometimes that comfort comes in the form of, say, a comfortable pair of jeans with a bunch of holes, or a pair of underwear in which the elastic has stretched out beyond purpose, or a Culture Club song from 1985 (don't judge, bitches). I don’t care – it gives me a little comfort and helps get me through the day. I’m simple like dat.

This is a problem, I know, because this clinging to the old and familiar also bleeds into every other area of my life, particularly emotions and feelings. When things are bad, I start to daydream about simpler times when things were good - it's only natural. I get sentimental over memories and spend too much time looking back when I need to be moving forward.

Anyway, six years ago I brought a pair of green low-top converse shoes (pictured above) as part of a Halloween costume. They soon became a favorite, and they’ve seen a lot of action. They’ve been a faithful companion to me for the last few years. We've had some good times together.

Last week I was wearing them at the library and I friend, sniffing something suspicious in the air, asked me “Is that smell coming from your shoes?” And the answer was: Yes, yes they are. So I put them away for a few days, knowing that a few days of airing out would freshen them up. (Because better to de-smell a pair of nasty-ass shoes then to simply replace them, right?)

Then on Saturday during my Portland visit, I was walking in the rain and realized that the holes at the bottom of the shoes were sucking up the water, drenching the bottom of my feet. When I mentioned to my friend Shauna that my feet were completely soaked because of this, she asked me a series of completely logical questions, like: “How old are those things, anyway?” and “Why do you still wear those?” and “Why don’t we just replace them with a new pair?” I tried to justify the reasons why I held on to them, but as the reasons came out of my mouth (“Because they’re comfortable.” and “They fit my feet really well.” and “Because I love them.”) I realized how ridiculous it all is. What, are these the only pair of green low-top converse available? Can I not afford the $30 it would cost to replace them?

They’re familiar. They’ve been a part of my life for the last 6 years. I don’t want to part with them because I crave the familiar. Familiar is comforting. Familiar is not scary and doesn’t make me anxious. Is that so wrong? Nevermind that familiar sometimes smells badly and makes my feet wet.

So anyway, the next morning as I was packing my back to head back to DC I put the shoes (still a little wet from the afternoon before) into my bag. Then I thought about it: It’s time to start letting go. So I took them back out of my bag and threw them into the trash and walked away. For a few moments, I thought about turning around and rescuing them back out of the garbage. But no, it is time to move on.

Things change. Life, circumstances and people do, too. They move forward, or sideways. Time marches on and if you don’t try to keep up, no matter how scary it seems, you’ll get left behind. And here I am, more often than not, clinging to the past like a lifejacket; a buoy in the sea. This is not a good place to be. I need to spend more time looking forward than hanging on to the past.

So you see on the surface the act of me throwing out a pair of old, smelly, hole-y and just plain nasty shoes is, well, nothing more than throwing out a pair of old, smelly, hole-y and just plain nasty shoes. But really, it is a symbolic act of changing my behavior. Of adjusting my attitude and outlook on life. It is an act of defiance; an act of bravery.

Goodbye shoes. You’ve lived a good life. But if I’m really going to start letting go of the past, it has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you. RIP, buddy.

Obligatory Complaint About the Weather

2010-09-23T13:54:00.005+01:00

I know it's boring blogging about the weather, but Christ on a Bike I am so effing tired of this heat. It's the fucking end of September -- yesterday was the first day of Fall, for fucksakes -- and tomorrow is going to be almost 100 degrees? Fuck you. This was perhaps the worst summer of my life, and it won't ever end.

10 Things I Learned On My Whirlwind Visit to Portland This Weekend

2010-09-21T07:20:00.003+01:00

[Avocado Daiquiri - How I've Missed You!]

When you know you’re going to Portland for exactly 39 hours to surprise a friend for her birthday it’s pretty much not worth it to tell most anyone else in town that you’re there. I mean, what’s the point? You won’t get the chance to see them anyway.
It’s a crime to spend only 39 hours in Portland.
I’m too old for the red eye.
Your life automatically gets better the moment you step into Powell’s Books.
Sarah Blasko’s cover of “Flame Trees” is perhaps the best song I’ve heard this year, and totally appropriate for this visit.
The boys here are prettier. True story.
The air in Portland at 7 am is unlike anywhere else, anywhere.
I forgot that an Avocado Daiquiri (pictured above) might be my favorite drink of all time. And yeah, I am aware of how ridiculous this sounds, but unless you’ve had one from Mint you just don’t get it.
It gets harder and harder for me to rationalize why I’m not living there anymore, each time I go to visit.
Team Lulu in 2011. It’s time, bitches.

Complaining is Fun

2010-09-16T02:38:00.004+01:00

I stopped blogging for several months. Then Sunday I wrote a post. And then within a few days I get lots of comments to it, mostly from locals. Which is unusual, since I hardly ever get any attention, especially since this blog is pretty much DOA. And then I think, "Hmmm, I must have been featured on DC Blogs or something." Which is cool (thanks guys).

The comments were good and it is nice to see people standing up for DC. I don't think it's necessary to comment on what some people replied, because for the most part everyone had good points. Most people who know me know I have a self-deprecating sense of humor, which is to say that when I say I hate DC, I might not really mean it. I do like it here.

I just like to complain. Complaining is fun. True story.

However, I still stand by my assertion that I think it is pretty shitty that in this specific situation, nobody offered to help. Also: when somebody says to me, "If you don't like it here you should just get the hell out." If it were that simple, I prolly would have. But I signed a legal contract which states that I shall live and work here for three years once I graduate in December. So there.

Moving on. I ate half of a cherry pie for dinner tonight. So I got that going for me. Discuss, I you will....

Why I Hate DC: Reason #101

2010-09-12T19:13:00.005+01:00

[This was me Saturday morning, minus the track part.]

Saturday morning I went out for my usual run through DuPont Circle and Columbia Heights. On my way back, approaching the busy intersection of 16th St./U St./Rhode Island Ave. (ed note: it was really New Hampshire Ave. - thanks U St. Citizen), I tripped into a small pothole and took a major spill - we're talking an almost-face plant - onto the street.

There were easily a dozen people around/near me who witnessed my fall. For about 15 seconds, I was on all fours because I could feel a strong pain in my right ankle and could not put any pressure on it to get up. Once I did get up, I spent another 30 seconds hopping on one foot to get to the sidewalk to assess the damage. I was bleeding from the scrape on my left knee. My right ankle was already beginning to swell. I was in pain, fighting an urge to start crying.

Not a single person - either walking by, standing at the bus stop, or enjoying their coffee at the Starbucks right in front of me (of course this kind of thing would happen to me there) - asked me if I was OK or if I needed help.

In fact, a woman with her dog walked around me while I was on all fours in the crosswalk, completely ignoring me.

"I'm fine, by the way, thanks for asking," I said to her as she went past but of course she ignored me.

This kind of thing would never happen in Chicago or Portland. And yet I'm stuck here, surrounded by these kind of people, for the next 3.5 years.

Sunday Funday (Or: It's Official - I Am a Binge Drinker)

2010-09-07T15:08:00.001+01:00

Sunday was Sunday Funday, the first of the new school year. Sunday Funday is an occasion for me and some classmates and other honorary Cobras to take advantage of the rare 3-day holiday by getting together to drink, catch-up, share stories, drink, have fun and drink. But mostly it is an excuse to drink.

By my recollection, we've had three previous Sunday Fundays, all of which were happy and successful times, but all of which ended in my getting completely shitfaced. This time was no exception. But really, how can it be helped when the day starts off at a bottom-less bloody mary/mimiosa brunch followed by $2 Skyy vodka drinks at JRs? It would be a crime NOT to get completely shitfaced.

To wit: On Monday morning I was talking to my friend Kelley, trying to piece together the blurry memories and activities from the previous day's events when I looked down at the socks on the floor, the same socks I wore for Sunday Funday, and the following conversation ensued:
Me: "Hmmm, I'm looking at the socks I wore yesterday and noticing that they are completely filthy. I wonder why that is."
Kelley: "I'm not 100% sure, but it might have something to do with when you took your shoes off in the bathroom so that we could swap clothes with each other."
Me: "Hmmmm. Yeah. I guess that would explain it."

At one point during the afternoon, Kelley and I thought it might be a good idea to wear each other's clothes. Why? Not sure. 'Cuz we thought it would be funny. Seemed like a good idea at the time. (PS - I am a boy and Kelley is a girl, in case it isn't clear.)

Also, I crawled on all fours through her legs at the bar. Again, not sure why I thought that would be a good idea.

The evening ended with dinner at El Tamarindo and me aggressively making out with a guy in his car, before riding my bike home and passing out by 9:30 pm. 'Cuz that's how I roll.

Nats Win Weanamin

2010-08-28T15:36:00.001+01:00

Saturday night Emily took me to the Nats game. First time at the new park in the year I've been back. We scored sweet seats and had a good time, catching up on each other's lives over the last month, drinking summer shandys. The Nats won.

It was my first Saturday night back in town, and it was the perfect way to ease into the new (and last, praise baby Jesus) school year. Of which I am petrified. But anyways...

Chicago Love Letter

2010-08-27T16:02:00.001+01:00

[The view from Rebar in the Trump Tower, during drinks with my friend Mark, 8/16/10.]

I haven't blogged about my time back in Chicago these last few weeks because 1) I haven't been blogging much, period; 2) I've been busy doing other things; 3) it's been kinda strange/difficult to put the last few weeks into words.

Where can I start, really? I miss this place. Lots. I've developed schemes and thought about ways to get out of my contract in December and just move back here, working as a nurse at Northwestern (which I think would be a dream job), getting a place (a lot cheaper than in DC), finding a cute dirty hipster boy (of whom there are plenty here) and settling down.

I miss my family.
I miss my friends (most of whom I didn't see as much as I wanted, or even at all).
I miss the neighborhoods.
I miss the Lake.

Wicker Park, Filter, Lakeview, Intelligentsia, Logan Square, the El, Michigan Ave., Danny's, Division, Swim Cafe, Penelope's, Untitled, Reckless Records, the Art Institute....

It was a good break. Not awesome - some things (OK, one thing in particular) could have gone better - but still good. As I drove out of the city Friday at 5:30 in the morning, heading south on the Dan Ryan with the skyline in my rearview mirror and the sun starting it's ascent into the pink sky August sky, I felt a bit battered, a bit wounded, and a bit sad. I thought about how it seems that everyone's lives were moving forward - relationships were starting, or ending, or moving forward; job promotions were made; babies were born and kids were getting older; marriages; divorces; - and my life still seemed to be on hold. I know it isn't true, but that's certainly how it feels some times.

As I started the long drive back to DC, I wish I could say that I was looking forward to this last semester of school and being back in DC, but I just couldn't muster the energy. The truth is, this last semester is going to be really tough and I'm more than a little nervous about it, considering how the previous three semesters really kicked my ass.

Coming back to Chicago was a shot in the arm - I needed to be around people who would comfort me and encourage me and help remind me that I was making good choices and that everything was going to be alright.

Pictures In My Head

2010-08-15T23:36:00.008+01:00

I took you to the airport, helped you get your bags out of the car. I hugged you goodbye, telling you: Be Good. And also: Take Care of Yourself.

I turned around, got into the car, drove away, and didn't look back. And it was one of the hardest fucking things I've ever done in my life -- not holding you longer, not getting one last look at you, not kissing you goodbye. Because this was likely the last time I will ever lay eyes on you. Because the chances are good that I will never see you again.

Holy fucking shit - I May Never See You Again.

My heart is broken by the thought. Part of me wants to, of course, because you meant everything to me. I'd convinced myself that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with only you. But I need to let go, in the same way you have.

I got back to my brother's place, where he got me to sit down to dinner with him and his friends, filling my plate with food, trying to get me to focus on the present, and not the awfulness of these last 24 hours. He didn't say anything, he just reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. And that broke my heart a little more.

There's a Matt Nathanson song I love, called "I Saw" with a line that I've sung countless times but never really understood until today: "And I'll forget about you long enough to forget why I need to." And understanding what it means breaks my heart a little, too.

I've taken down the framed photo of you from my mantle. I've un-Skyped you. I've trashed every e-mail you've sent me since we first met. I've promised myself not to call you, not to text you. When I'm lonely at 2 am on a Saturday night I won't stalk your Facebook page, looking through your photos. I won't lay there, wishing I was there with you. I won't wonder if you wish you were here with me. I won't. I. Won't.

I don't want this for myself. And I don't want it for you, either. I just want to move on.

Hawaii Toast Song

2010-07-17T04:26:00.003+01:00

Discovered this via Bee-Spot and Europopped.

It is Alexander Marcus and it is Hawaii Toast.

I don't know who the hell he is, and I don't know what the fuck Hawaii Toast is.

The only thing left to say is: You're Welcome.

How Not To Pick Me Up in a Bar

2010-05-18T18:16:00.003+01:00

If you're trying to hook up with me, don't admit you're doing so because you're essentially blind.

Scene: Sidetrack Sunday night. Stopped in to meet a friend for a drink. We're talking and he excuses himself to use the restroom. A guy standing next to us moves in and and starts talking to me.

Him: "How's it going?"
Me: "Good, thanks. You?"
Him: "Good. But I'm drunk. My friends and I have been drinking all day."
Me: "Hmm. Sounds fun."
Him: "Yeah, so drunk! I can't even see straight!"

And... SCENE.
At this point I excused myself and walked away.
I mean, really. Granted, I'm not in the market for a hook-up; and even if I was, I don't expect it to be meaningful (this is Sidetrack, after all), but c'mon even I have some kind of standard. I would hope the guy would be able to distinguish between me and some blob standing against a wall.

I'm Not Dead...

2010-05-07T16:32:00.003+01:00

... just in school hell. Which sucks.

In the meantime, I've joined Diaspora.

Recurring Dream

2010-03-09T15:23:00.003Z

I have a recurring dream in which I'm always late getting somewhere important. The setting and scene is always different, but each time, I'm in a situation in which I'm trying to get somewhere, and for various reasons I just can't get there.

It causes a lot of anxiety for me, and I wake from it feeling stressed and anxious. I had one of those dreams this morning. I was in Chicago (I think) and it was snowing. I was rushing to get somewhere - where I don't exactly know, but it might have been a party or something like that. The snow was slippery, making it hard to walk. But the worst part is that I was weighed down by my Pharmacology textbook.

In real life, this bastard is big and heavy. When I stuff it into my backpack, it is pretty much the only thing that will fit. It is a bitch. And in my dream, it was so heavy I just couldn't get to my destination. I remember cursing and wondering why the fuck I needed to pack it with me.

Some might say that this dream clearly shows my reluctance towards school, and how I feel it is keeping me from living my life or preventing me from doing fun things. Or something like that. Although it prolly isn't an accident that I had this dream during Spring Break, where I spent 6 hours at the Library while it seems most everyone else is... well, not at the Library.

The Saddest Question I've Ever Uttered

2010-03-05T14:46:00.002Z

"What are your hours during Spring Break?"
- me to the Lau Library front desk this morning.

Sigh.

So Spring Break begins today in about 2 hours, right after my Med-Surg class. I'll be staying here, using the time to catch up on schoolwork and relax a little. Try not to be jealous. It's not going to be all boring, though. I plan to get sufficiently knockered one or twice as well.

In an ideal world, I'll hit the books a few hours a day so that by next Sunday I am completely on top - or maybe even ahead - of my studies as we move into the last half of the semester. Although the more likely result will be that I sit around and don't get shit done.

I do wish I were heading back to Chicago for at least a few days, but it is probably best that I stay here.

Portland in a month, though, which will be sweet.

Open Letter to Dick Cheney

2010-02-23T01:09:00.003Z

Dear Dick:

I just read you're over at GW Hospital getting a coronary angiogram. (You didn't tell me you were here in town - why didn't you call? Anyway...) Total bummer. Did the doctors have trouble finding your coronary arteries? I mean, on account of you not having a heart and all?

Haha. Just kidding. A little medical humor there (I couldn't resist).

Anyway, I'll make this short since you don't seem to have much time left. Here's the thing:

You should just stop already.

Seriously. You've given it a valiant fight, but time to hang it up. I think your many and endless years of ornery-ness, bile, lies and general asshol-iness have (finally) taken their toll and you should read the signs and just retire for good. While you still have some time.

I mean, c'mon - you showed up to Obama's Inauguration - your last day in office - in a fucking wheelchair for fuck sakes. You should have just gone quietly into the night back then.

But Christ on a bike, you rose back up (kinda reminds me of the old Friday the 13th/Jason motto - "Nothing this evil ever dies" - hahahah. Just kidding.) and started to do the whole Sunday morning talk show circuit. What was that all about, anyway? I mean, we didn't hear two peeps from you for that whole 8 years you were our fucking Veep. Then, when you're done supposedly co-leading our country, we can't get you to fucking shut the hell up. Shouldn't it have been the other way around or something?

Anyway, haven't you had 4 heart attacks already? I think somewhere around myocardial infarction #2 you should have been thinking, "Geez, maybe I should slow down or something." I'm still just a nurse in training and perhaps not really qualified to make the following assessment, but: As Roxette would say, "Listen to your heart, when (s)he's calling for you..." And just take a permanent break.

So in closing, I guess what I'm saying is: I think it is time to give it up. Retire -- for good this time. The country is really trying to move on from those 8 years you were around, and so should you.

Peace out.

24 Hours...

2010-02-17T13:45:00.000Z

As of 1 pm today, I've been on campus for 24 hours straight. As in, I arrived on campus yesterday afternoon and haven't left yet. I studied at the library until about 2 am, headed over to Dahlgren and went to bed on a couch there.

I didn't really feel like cycling home in the cold over the snow and iced streets, only to turn back around and head back four hours later.

There's a first for everything, I suppose. On the plus side, I got an A in my exam this morning, but in general I am getting my ass handed to me in a soup bowl this semester.

Slow News Day, NYT?

2010-02-17T05:22:00.003Z

It's midnight, and I'm at the library spending more time avoiding studying for my Healthcare of Women exam (in about 9 hours) than I am, well, studying.

Anyway, I open NYT.com and this is their (online) top story.

Really?

The Icing on the SnOwMG Cake...

2010-02-14T19:03:00.006Z

The school has taken away our scheduled three-day holiday weekend. We no longer have President's Day off and are expected to come in tomorrow like it is a regular Monday.

If my spirit wasn't already broken from Noro-geddon, the subsequent quarantine, the snow, and Friday's soul-crushing Med-Surg exam, I'd prolly be quite upset. But no: at this point, I'm officially beaten into submission.

Waaah-waaah.

Maybe It Truly is the Snowpocalypse...

2010-02-11T18:51:00.001Z

This afternoon around 3pm I was walking towards DuPont Circle. I get to the corner of Columbia Road and Connecticut Ave. NW - a very busy intersection. There's the Washington Hilton, and Churchill Hotel and a Courtyard Marriott; lots of people around, etc.; you can see for yourself here.

And I witness I guy in his car pull up to the red light, get out of his car, walk over to the curb, whip out his dick and take a piss right there on the sidewalk. In broad daylight, in public, with lots of people walking around.

Have we truly lost any sense of decorum or common decency because of this snowstorm? In what universe is it OK to expose your cock and urinate on the sidewalk, anywhere, at any time of day?

If this is what we've devolved to, fuck the cabin fever - I'm staying indoors until the snow melts and people regain some self-dignity. Which should be sometime in April.

Why Is This Even Up For Discussion?

2010-02-11T15:49:00.002Z

Cabin Fever.... Need... to get... out of apartment....

Quarantined!

2010-02-09T02:40:00.001Z

So due to SnOwMG, school has been canceled for the last two days. Which is good considering I've been sick and unable to study for Med-Surg or do any other kind of homework. But some of my professors seem to be going ape-shit because if this. Seems our semester is so tightly scheduled that to miss even one day (let alone 2 or 3 - - my prediction: no school for the entire week) throws everything off-kilter.

Regardless, I've been informed that due to the weekend's norovirus, I am to stay indoors through tomorrow. Quarantined to my man-cave apartment. At some point I need to get out for some supplies, maybe a little Chipotle action, maybe a salty-sweet cookie from Sticky Fingers (if they're open) but I need to be stealth about it and not breathe on anyone.

The thing is: I prolly would have stayed in and laid around anyway, but once you're told that you have to stay in, that's when I start to lose my shit.

This Is Why I Hate Being Single II (Or: Noro-Geddon)

2010-02-07T20:15:00.002Z

I'm gonna spare everyone most of the details, but while the rest of DC was out playing in the snow Friday night and Saturday, I found myself spending that time alternately doubled over the toilet vomiting and shitting my innards out, or curled into the fetal position, shivering and sweating, praying to God for a quick and merciful death.

I caught a Norovirus (see image above) from working at the hospital Thursday, and I was its little bitch for about 24 hours this weekend. At first I thought it was food poisoning, but after some emails and phone calls I discovered on Saturday that it was a nasty acquired virus.

The worst part: by about 2 am Saturday morning, after a few hours of dry-heaves and delirium, I began to feel like I was going to die. Alone. Even my landlords, who were in Colorado on vacation, were not around to rescue me if I needed them. I began thinking that I was somehow going to die in my bed that night, and it would be a week - at least - until anyone found my dead, dehydrated carcass.

It was enough to make a guy start to weep. Which I'm fairly certain I did. Although I can't be 100% confident since I also seem to recall having a deep and insightful conversation with my ceiling fan and barking like a dog before finally succumbing to fever-induced sleep sometime around 3 am.

Moral of the story: Find a boyfriend or girlfriend. That way, if you contract a norovirus someone will know if you die from it.

This Is Why I Hate Being Single (Pt. 1)

2010-02-05T14:40:00.003Z

So the Snowcapalypse 2 - Electric Boogaloo has hit. More like Snow-My-God-People-Are- Already-Pissing-Me-Off-And-It's-Just-Started.

The snow began falling this morning around 11 am. I could see it through the window in Med-Surg class. Not that I wasn't paying 100% of my attention to Med-Surg.

But anyway: Last night after class I had to go to Giant to get some dinner. I really wished I didn't have to go, because I knew it would be filled with idiots and desperation - people who think that 18 inches of snow is going to destroy their lives, so we'd better stock up on Eggo Waffles and roasted chicken. Even at 10:30 at night, when I arrived, it was pretty ridic - the place was packed with people freaking the fuck out. Nevermind that the woman with her cart filled with Totinos Pizza Rolls hasn't realized that she's fucked if the power goes out in her apartment, which it often will during a snowstorm. These people are amateurs.

But anyway: I get my bread, turkey, tomatoes and cheese and get into the 12 items or less express lane. And this line is fucking looooong. Fine, this is what I get. Immediately in front of me is a young couple, who get in line together and I notice they got nothing in their hands. Then the guy leaves his girlfriend there and returns about 10 minutes later with some stuff. Then they tag team: he's now staying behind while she goes and gets more stuff. Like they're playing fucking Supermarket Sweep or something. God, that kills me.

You can't do a preemptive line placeholder at the supermarket! You can't get in line until after you collect your purchases! This is bullshit!

So once they have their items, I say loud enough so they can hear me: "Jeez, it sucks being single." Which is, at least in this instance, true. It isn't so much that I'm pissed at them. It's more like I'm jealous. Crafty bastards.

It's February and I Haven't Blogged in a Month...

2010-02-01T02:53:00.000Z

... let me get you up to speed:

School is already turned into one nasty little bitch. Last semester I'd heard rumors that 2nd semester was supposed to be easy, or at least easier than first semester. This is turning out to be entirely untrue.
Despite this, I've been hitting the gym on a very regular basis, which has been good. Not only am I doing this in order to keep sane, but also because a few weeks ago I volunteered to participate in my swim team's fundraising bachelor auction to be held in about a week. What the fuck was I thinking? Apparently the idea of humiliating myself on a stage in public is something I'm open to.
In theory I'm no longer celibate. That ban officially lifted on Saturday, Dec. 19th, 2009. And yet here we are, 6 weeks later, and I'm just as horny and un-laid as I was then. At least from August through late December I had an excuse. But now: well, this is just kinda pathetic. So I think I'm going to employ a new strategy: tell people I'm still celibate, then drop the act the minute someone even remotely attractive shows the least bit of interest. Either that, or slip a mickey in someone's drink.*
While riding my bike home from school one night this week, I got doored by some asshole who: 1) obviously didn't look into his mirror before opening his door, and; 2) tried to say it the whole thing was my fault, and; 3) threatened to call the cops once we got into a shouting match and when I said, "Please DO call the cops because I think they'll see things my way!" totally backed down and eventually apologized. Which is all I wanted in the first place. I know it was an accident and I know that when you bike in this city you need to accept that things like this are going to happen. But when he said that I need to be more careful and the whole thing was my fault, well, that's when I lose my shit.

* This is a joke, people. As someone who was once on the receiving end of a roofie, I know that shit just ain't cool.

Back to DC

2010-01-07T17:24:00.002Z

When I woke this morning around 7, there was already a surprising amount of snow on the ground. I immediately thought that I should implement a plan (and why didn’t I think of this last night?) to get to the airport quickly to catch an earlier flight out of the city. I cleaned the guest bedroom and began packing. Christ, I acquired a bunch more clothes over the break. Bob and Kari dropped me at the Blue Line and by 9:15 I was on a train heading to O’Hare.

When the train emerged from underground after the Division stop, the white sky and snow were almost blinding. I looked out on Milwaukee Ave., peering at all the familiar shops, restaurants that I used to pass by all summer long. And then before that, on my bicycle every day when I lived in Logan Square. I hadn’t walked down this street once in the 16 days I’d been back, and I wondered what the hell I’d been doing with my time. And I thought about the people here I didn’t see, or the people I barely spent any time with. The Boxer Rebellion’s beautiful “Soviets” played on my iPod, and when the line “And all I can see is that I’m sorry, sorry...” it made me sad. I thought of what a lovely break it has been for me, like a vacuum, but outside of that the world is still turning and time marches on and people get older and relationships fade when you don’t take time to care for them.

And I’m sitting here pondering the next semester of school and the next chapter of my life in DC. I’m excited but also uneasy. I should know what to expect, having survived the first semester, but I feel like maybe up to know has been a fluke and now the real experience begins, which is of course ridiculous. I think this uneasiness stems from the in-between time. I’m not sure I’m so good with life in DC during those rare times when I’m not a student. Because that is what I am – a student; it’s why I’m here. And when school is not in session – well, I’m not really sure what I am.

School just needs to start, I’ve decided.

An Open Letter to 2010*

2010-01-02T10:02:00.000Z

Well, we're off to a good start, aren't we? Which is good. I think the events of NYE and yesterday's Polar Plunge bode well for the rest of the year, don’t you?

And before I forget, nice job on the whole Roman Numeral thing - "MMX." That's badass. Also: what exactly are we calling you? I prefer "twenty-ten" - I think it is concise and clean. Not a fan of "two thousand ten" - I think that's kinda lame.

Anyway, I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself since we’re going to be spending some time together. I think we’re going to have some fun.

You know, as your predecessors could tell you, I’m usually really big into resolutions for the New Year. They’re a big deal for me. For example, in 2007 I made some resolutions to try to get my life back on track (after a few years of setbacks); in 2008 I resolved to study my ass off to get good grades in my pre-req nursing classes; and then last year I had two main ones – choose I good nursing school and live less inside my own head (something I tended to do) – and happily I met those goals.

You’ll be relieved to know that this year, for probably the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t have any resolutions. So you’re off the hook.

Whew! I bet you’re thinking. Seriously. I thought about it for a long time and I’m actually quite content with my life right now, so I’m not making any resolutions. There’s not much I’m trying to change about my life or self this year. I feel like I spent the last few years changing things around, and I’m pretty happy with the results. So I’m taking a break from all that.

That’s not to say that you get to coast through. O no. In fact, There will be some big happenings I need your help with. Like: I graduate this year, thankfully; and I’m really hoping to get a trip to Europe in – either London or Spain – before the year is over. And there will be other, smaller things: Portland in April; a few jaunts up to NYC; forging ahead with new friendships while also doing a better job of strengthening existing ones; keeping disciplined in my studies.

But for the most part, my year is pretty much mapped out, thanks to school. For example, I know what I need to accomplish in February, what will be happening in July, what needs to get done in October. In a few ways, it will be a year of Auto Pilot, which I’m quite OK with.

So let’s agree to play it Cool for the duration, alright? You know, keep things slow and steady along the course. No big surprises. No games. No bullshit. Let’s just keep it nice and easy.

Remember these things, and I think we’ll get along just fine.

* With thanks to GFC, who I stole this post idea from.

Ice Ice Baby

2010-01-01T20:05:00.000Z

[That's my knee, right after the Plunge.]

As is becoming tradition, this morning I joined a couple friends for the annual New Year's Day Polar Plunge in Lake Michigan. And I have the battle scars to prove it.

When we arrived at noon, I was feeling really nervous, like suddenly I no longer wanted to do it. See, the Plunge is a crazy thing. There's really nothing else in my life I've ever done is messed up as this is. There's no other situation in which I completely force my body to do something it does not want to do. It was 17 degrees, and the water temp was 35. There were 4-foot waves with large chunks of ice floating through it. It was pretty much hell on Earth.

I've figured out that the Plunge is kinda like dying: you may enter the water surrounded by friends, but in the end, it is you and you alone. Mark, Katie and I waded into the water, dodging ice flows and waves, and went down on the count of three. But in the moment, when you say "three" there's nobody dropping you to your knees. It's only you and the big, cold abyss. Death is like that, I suppose.

Anyway, after climbing out of the water onto and over the ice to get back to our clothes and towels, we were all scraped up, bloody and bruised. As my friend Colleen, who was there to take pictures of the whole incident, commented afterwards, "There's a lot of blood on this beach."

Did I mention that it was 17 degrees and the water temp was 35? At this point, as I sit here much warmer but physically exhausted, it was totally worth it. But if the conditions next year are like they were today, I will definitely have to think twice.

But regardless, you never feel more alive then you do once you submerge yourself in near-frozen water, I think. It is perhaps the best possible way to start the New Year.

Which, btw, Happy 2010 bitches!

Happy New Year

2009-12-31T15:41:00.002Z

Because I'm prone to sentimentality and nostalgia, New Years Eve is always a big deal to me. I think it's important to reflect. I think for me at least, I like to look back and know that my life is evolving. That I'm at least a little bit different, and hopefully better, than I was a year ago.

We experience things ever single day throughout the year. Some good, some bad, but at the very least I want to learn from these experiences. Has that learning helped me to grow, to improve? Am I closer today to the person I want to be than I was a year ago?

The answer isn't always yes. In fact for the past few years I've experienced difficulties, frustrations and setbacks that have made me rather unhappy come Dec. 31st. But there was always hope that the next year would be a chance to turn it all back around and get things back on track.

2009 was such a year for me. It was the first time in about 5 years that I could say it was unequivocally a better year than the one prior. About 7 years ago I decided that I wanted to be a nurse; three years ago made some changes to my job to allow me to take the necessary classes; two years ago the (pre-req) schooling began and I worked my ass off to get the grades I wanted; last year I applied to schools and got accepted to one of the top programs in the country.

It all finally came together for me in 2009. Yep, it was a truly great 12 months (give or take) and I'm going to celebrate appropriately with some friends tonight.

Cheers and Happy New Year, all. And to a great 2010!

Aventures in Celibacy

2009-12-30T01:12:00.006Z

Tonight I have the chance to break the celibacy vow I took back in August - now that the semester is over - and while I should probably be excited about it, I'm not sure that I'm, well. up for the task.

A friend of mine here in Chicago is having a party, and we've had this mutual attraction and flirtation with each other for as long a we’ve known each other, but we’ve never been able to make it work. Over the semester we’ve flirted a few times, and back in November he sent me a text message saying that I’m invited to “come down his chimney anytime” while I’m in Chicago over Christmas break.

I’ve been looking forward to seeing him for a few weeks, but now I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. Yes, on the one hand I really want that kind of release, but on the other I’m not sure I want to complicate the relationship we have with sex. Plus, I think I might actually be getting comfortable with the whole celibate lifestyle; I’m starting to think that maybe I’d like to wait just a little bit longer until the right situation presents itself (i.e. my T-crush – not that there’s any sign that he even knows I’m alive).

Yeah, My Life is Awesome

2009-12-29T01:19:00.006Z

I can add this to my list of Really Awesome Experiences – running into someone you’ve slept with, only to have the person not remember who you are. Seriously, like I need this in my life.

So today I get on the Brown Line at Diversey. There’s hardly anyone in the car. I sit down and look around and immediately see this guy I know named C, who is halfway down the car, looking at me. Fuuuck, I’m thinking -- he’s pretty much the last person in Chicago I want to run into and here’s why.

I met C. about two years ago in a coffee shop. He was handsome, intelligent and interesting. We exchanged numbers and went out on a few dates over the course of about 2 weeks. We even slept together once. I broke it off early because he was just a little weird. For starters, after our 3^rd date we were making out on his bed when his dog jumped onto the bed and C didn’t shoo him off. Seriously – he let the dog lay there on the bed while we’re going at it. Awkard.

Another weird thing was that C. would break into this bizarre, cutesy, baby-talk thing while we were making out. Like full-on baby cutesy-wootsey talk. There he is, kissing my torso, biting my nipples and all of a sudden he’d let out this “oooh you have such a cute widdle belly button” – like he’s talking to an infant. “Umm, why are you talking like that?” I asked him and he just shrugged it off.

On our fourth and final date – the night we slept together – he told me he could only come if I licked him armpit. So there we are, going at it, and I’m now required to start rolling my tongue all in and around his pits. Christ, the things I do just to get laid, I remember thinking.

I should have called it off after the first warning sign – the dog on the bed – or probably should have gone running in the other direction during the baby-talk episode. But the truth is he was the first guy I dated after my big break up with Richard and I guess I just really wanted to get laid. After date #4 and the armpit incident, I told him I just didn’t think it was going to work out. I got a few texts from him in the weeks following but soon after I never heard from him again and, mercifully, I never ran into him.

Until today. So he’s looking at me across the car and I’m looking at him and I’m thinking this is ridiculous to try and ignore him and not say hello – we slept with each other, for fucks sake – so I get up form my seat and move to the one next to him.

He’s still staring at me, so I start:

Me: “Uh, Hi C.”
C.: “Hi?”
Me: “It’s (me).”
C: : “Uhh….” [Note: He’s looking at me like he seriously doesn’t know who I am.]
Me: “Remember me? Umm, we dated for a few weeks about 2 years ago.”
C.: “Oh. Yeah, right. I was trying to figure out why you looked familiar…”
Me (thinking: Why I looked familiar? Are you fucking kidding me?): “Yeah. So I just wanted to say hi…”
C. (still looking like maybe he doesn’t fully remember who I am): “Right. How are you? You look different. Is your hair different? Shorter?” [Note: My hair is no different now than it was when we dated two years ago. I pretty much look exactly the same as I did back in 2008.]
Me: “Uhh, no, not really. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”
C.: “Right. Wait, you’re studying to be a nurse, right?”
Me: “Yep, that’s right. Anyway, this is my stop so see you. Take care.”

Ugh. So to summarize: I met this guy two years ago. We dated for 2 weeks. We fucked. I run into him today and he doesn’t remember who I am. My life is awesome.

The Lull of the Break Has Set In

2009-12-26T22:41:00.001Z

I’ve been home - whoops, I mean "back" in Chicago for a week. The time has both crawled and flown by. All in all, a very relaxing trip so far. Perhaps too relaxing. I feel tired all the time – my body’s natural response to weeks upon weeks of 6 hour a night sleep session, or so I’m telling myself – and the night just feels old by 9 pm.

I’m fine with this, really, although I feel as though perhaps I should make myself busier.

Chicago is good – I’m reminded by the hour how much I miss it – but man, it is fucking cold. It is lame to complain about the weather, but: it is cold all the time; either raining or snowing; and the wind is intolerable. Today is the first day the sun has been out.

Because of this intolerance to the cold, I’m a little worried about Friday’s Polar Bear Plunge. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Well, I guess that’s about it for now. I just feel like I should be writing more, especially if I plan to boost my blogging in 2010.

Georgetown Has Changed You. And Not In a Good Way.

2009-12-23T12:08:00.003Z

Last night I met up with some old friends I haven't seen or barely talked to since August when I left for DC, and we had many beers and good conversations to catch up on all that's happened over the last 4 months. Or rather, we mostly talked about what my friends A. (currently navigating through a new relationship), J. (currently juggling multiple fuck buddies), and D. (still not getting laid) have been doing, since my life has been about studying and celibacy and other boring stuff since August.

Great conversation all around. A. mentioned that his girlfriend of 6 months recently told him that she loved him and he did not respond in kind, which got us talking about love in general and what it means, etc.

J. said that love, or rather a person's idea of what it is, changes as a person grows older. As in, a 21 y.o.'s idea of it is not likely the same as that of someone who is 30. Which lead to the following interaction:

Me: "I agree. It is kind of like the idea of... Oh, nevermind."
A.: "What?"
Me: "Well, I was going to make a comparison from Anthropology, but nevermind..."
J.: "No, please - continue."
Me: "Well, I was going to say it is a lot like man's idea of God, and how that has evolved as civilization has progressed. Early man worshipped nature as God. You know, first it was the wind then it was the sun. But then as man progressed, his idea of God became more sophisticated to the point where God is now this unknowable Diety..."
J.: "..."
A.: "..."
D.: "..."
J.: "Georgetown's changed you, man. And not in a good way."

Sunday Funday - No Breakfast, No Lunch, And $2 Drinks - What Could Go Wrong? (Or: I Might Possibly Be an Alcoholic)

2009-12-21T13:42:00.002Z

It's Monday morning and I'm sitting here at National waiting for my flight back to Chicago. The process of arriving here, checking in and getting through security has been surprisingly easy considering the mess of the last two days, but I feel like I'm suffering a quiet death.

I'm hungover from yesterday, a day that started early with me running errands in the snow and packing for home (subtext: no breakfast or lunch) and then heading to JRs to meet up with friends to celebrate the end of the semester over $2 Skyy drinks. It is a day that we'd been planning and looking forward to for weeks.

I arrived at two, sat at the bar, ordered a drink and waited for my classmates to arrive. For a a variety of reasons, most of them couldn't make it. Screw it, keep the drinks coming.

And they did. I was making friends with the bartender (heavier-handed pours as the hours went by) and random people throughout the afternoon. I got digits from guys I have no memory of meeting. I referred to Hillary Clinton as "saucy."

By the time Stephanie, Anand and Danny arrived around 5-ish, it was time to head over to my swim team's holiday party. I wanted to go so I could say goodbye to friends and see my crush one last time. But mostly to see my crush. He wasn't there, so we stayed for what seemed like 10 minutes before I might have said, "This place is dead. We're leaving."

The rest of the night - what was left of it - is really a blur. Danny, his roommate Stephan and I headed back to Danny's for a bit, but I remember feeling like I needed to go home, so I did. I bought some Chinese, then walked all the way back through Adams Morgan to my place. The Chinese was put on the kitchen table and remained there until the next day. I passed out in my bed, clothes off, lights on.

I woke with a start at 5 am. I decided to go for a walk all the way over to Georgetown because I realized that I'd still left my gym stuff in my locker at St. Mary's and I needed it for Chicago. And my bike was still there from Thursday too. It was a nice, long walk in the cold early morning. The sidewalks were still covered in snow; I walked most of the way on the empty streets. I looked up into the sky at the moon and the flights leaving National, realizing with glee that in just a few hours I'd be on one of those flights heading back to Chicago.

Although the last 24 hours weren't exactly the semester-ending celebration that I'd planned, I felt at peace. It had been a tough 4 months, but a good one. I'm content and ready for home.

Anti-Climactic

2009-12-20T00:52:00.004Z

Today was my last day of 1S finals. I'd been dreaming of this day for weeks. I tried to imagine the ecstatic feeling I'd have the moment my last final was done - the high, the freedom, the celebration.

Then the snowstorm happened. And my Health Promo final turned into an online shitshow exam done from the discomfort of my living room. And my final final exam - Philosophy - turned into no exam at all. My professor sent an email in the morning giving me a choice - 1) come to campus and take the final, or; 2) not take the final and take the grade I got on the midterm (a B) as my grade for the final exam.

Option 2 - Ummm, Yes please.

So the semester ended with a whimper, not a bang. But to celebrate I decided to join Kelley and Wiz at The Big Hunt, only to get to the metro and figure out that there's really no way to get to DuPont Circle.

But really, these are details. The semester is over and I'm giddy. And tomorrow I'll celebrate properly - $2 Absolut drinks at JRs with some friends before heading over to the Duplex for the team Xmas party, where hopefully I won't make an ass of myself (again) in front of T.

FML

2009-12-18T23:30:00.004Z

State of emergency?? Are you kidding me?
Apparently there's a "historic" snowstorm heading this way, about to dump 12-18 inches overnight.
Please please God, no.
Because this is really the last thing I need; the last straw. If I cannot finish my final exams tomorrow; if either of them gets postponed or messes with my plans to enjoy my last few days in DC; or if I can't fly out of National come Monday (although that's very unlikely), I will go Apeshit.

Post Traumatic Patho Stress Syndrome (or: Life is Good)

2009-12-17T17:07:00.007Z

I woke up this morning with absolutely no idea what day it was.

It is a symptom of surviving the final exam in the most difficult class I've ever taken, Patophysiology. I've written about this class before, and I'm making a promise never to talk about it again after this (unless, of course, I get a C- and have to take it over again in the Spring).

Since last Thursday, I've been spending virtually every waking hour at the library studying for it. I counted 65 hours of Patho studying at the Lau since last Thursday morning. No joke bitches. And the sad thing is that it pretty much takes 65 hours worth of studying just to pass the exam, let alone get an A. The class and the tests are hella difficult. I know a woman who cried - cried! - during the final exam last year.

I woke up yesterday at 5 am (my usual waking hour), rode my bike to school, and sat in the Med-Dent library for one last review before the 9 am final. I was exhausted and as I tried to review some of the practice tests, I found myself not understanding any of the words or concepts on the paper. Not. A. Single. Thing. How is it that I spent 65 hours studying and here, two hours before the final, I had still not learned anything? I felt the panic surge inside. I closed my notes, closed my eyes, took a deep breath with my face in my hands. I needed a little caffeine just to get the neurons firing, so I walked over to Starbucks.

I soon felt a bit better and headed over to class. The exam was 100 questions, two hours. I found myself slipping into autopilot mode, going through each question, marking down the answer I thought was right. So much guessing, but there isn't really time to analyze all the possible choices. I was numb.

When it was over, a bunch of us headed over to The Tombs for a celebratory drink. Spirits were generally high, but I think we all were zombified. None of us seemed to feel good about the class or individual performances; we were all just glad to have it over with.

Like any time you share a difficult experience with a group of people, there's a closeness that develops. Over the last week, I've been part of a small group that has studied together for this class at the Lau and grew closer to them in that week than in the last 16. The class was an exercise in frustration and disappointment - it just feels shitty to study so much just to struggle to get a C -- but the resulting bonds formed are strong and worth it.

After The Tombs, a smaller group of us headed on to J. Paul's, the site of my first Cohort happy hour and a fitting bookend to the semester. We shared a bottle of champagne, but I found my energy dwindling so eventually Kelley and I left to start walking home. On the way, we discussed our relationships (or lack thereof), discussing developments in our lives. She was expressing her condolences to me over some recent disappointments I've had, to which I replied that in the grand scheme of things it was alright. If these are the biggest problems in my life, then things must be pretty good. Which is true - once you get past the stress of school and look out beyond the weeds to see what my life is like - things are going pretty frickin' well for me these days. Kelley agreed and said that she's actually the happiest she's been in years, and that's a good thing.

We soon said our goodbyes and I continued walking down M St. towards Foggy Bottom to catch the Metro back home. It was dusk and it was cold and clear and you could see the monuments and the lights in the pinkish-blue sky.

The walk got me thinking that, like Kelley, I too feel like I'm happier than I've been in a long time. After a few years where I felt my life going backwards, 2009 was an incredible and exciting year for me. I've got good friends back in Chicago and elsewhere who have been very supportive to me; the sheer amount of support I feel from family and those closest to me is palpable. And I've made some incredible mates at school and I'm lucky to be at a place in my life where I can make these drastic changes and take my life in a new, exciting direction.

On Saturday I take my last 2 exams for the semester, then on Monday I'm back to Chicago for two weeks to see friends and family I've missed these four months. I'm ready. Holla.

Chicken Madness Haiku

2009-12-14T18:22:00.005Z

Last week my friend and classmate Emily introduced me to Wisemiller's Deli, a Georgetown institution and the home of the Chicken Madness (see photo above). This shit is the bomb. I've since been back 3 times for the Chicken Madness over the last few days, smelling up the Lau-Lau with the juicy goodness of the Chicken Madness. I can't seem to get enough of the Chicken Madness.

My life will never be the same, and I've written a haiku about it.

Party in my mouth.
How your sweet juices save me.
Christ, Finals Week sucks.

This Has Been My Week In a Nutshell

2009-12-03T12:35:00.005Z

This week I had several exams in one of my nursing classes - 4 in one class alone - and all of them have been stressful. Easily the most difficult week of the semester thus far.

Here's the scene: A group of us are down in the lab, waiting for our instructor to arrive so that we can begin our exam. Our instructor arrives and the following conversation ensues...

Instructor: "Good morning. Does anyone have any questions I can answer before we begin?"
Student: "Yes, I do. I'm confused about the correct order to do (a certain procedure) because there's a discrepancy in the notes. Can you clarify?"
Instructor: "No, I can't answer that. You should know it."
Student: "But you just asked us if we had any questions you could answer before the exam starts."
Instructor: "Sorry. I can't answer that."
Student: "..."

Sigh. It will be a miracle if I make it out of here alive. I'm heading out to Marvin's tonight for a drink.

This Is How Pathetic My Life Has Become...

2009-12-01T04:15:00.002Z

I was shopping at the Giant the other day when I spotted frickin' Pepsi ONE in the cola isle and practically shat my pants.

I thought the Pepsi gods had discontinued my favorite aspartame-flavored cola a few years ago. Suddenly it was gone, replaced by that awful Pepsi Max. That shit is the worst, man. But alas, it seems somebody's been reading my e-mails because it the P.O. is back in da house!

Swear to God, folks, this discovery pretty much made my week. I've now resorted to drinking about 2 liters of the P.O. a day, just to make up for the lost time.

Sorry Cherry Coke Zero - you've been a worthy substitute. But daddy craves the real thing.

(Yeah, this is an actual entry about how happy I am that a soft drink is back on the shelves. And yes, I used the term "da house." My life is pretty much very sucky right now.)

43 Things I'm Thankful For

2009-11-26T05:33:00.009Z

I've got this tradition which I started a few years ago at Thanksgiving where I take stock in the past year and list the things I'm thankful for, and this year in particular I feel like I've got a lot.

In no particular order, a list of some of the things I'm thankful for:

Summer Shandys
Polar Plunges on New Years.
The shit show that is The Russia House.
Portland in April. And August.
Babies. In particular, the ones had by friends this year (there have been a lot).
What's Up with That? on SNL.
Ohio St. Beach in the Summertime.
The way the clock tower at Healy Hall lights up at night.
My study partners - Aaron and Brooke - from Stats class this Spring. The only good things to come from that experience.
The thinning of the trees along Q St.
Movieoke.
Wendel G, my bike.
Edmund, my car.
Boston in April.
Toronto in February.
The way the Chicago River smells like salt and chocolate in the Fall.
The way that "Endothelin, a potent vasoconstrictor" rolls off the tongue.
4/13/09 at 2:49 pm
Breakfasts at Nookies.
Patho transcriptions.
Kate & Dave's wedding in Boston in April, and seeing good friends there.
About 40 hours on a bike to/from school this semester and only 2 flat tires and one wipe-out.
Smith's Night at Danny's.
Taco Easter.
The bathroom at the Pie Hole in Chicago (this sounds dirty, but it isn't. Someday I will explain.)
My Hoya Saxa, Bitches t-shirt.
Cafe St. Ex.
DCAC.
The 7-11 donut, Corn Nuts and Big Gulp diet from January-May.
The turkey chili at Epicurian.
The 24-hour Starbucks at North & Wells.
My mom, dad and brother.
Late winter/early spring walks up Clark St. in Lakeview.
My friends in SanFran, Portland, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, Indy, New York, and London. I love and miss you all.
Happy hour at J. Paul's.
Weanamins!
My cohort - I love these people - and in particular a handful of those that have already become lifelong friends.
Chicago. Especially this past summer.
Georgetown.
The buffalo statues on Dumbarton Bridge.
The salty sweet chocolate chip cookies from Sticky Fingers.
Crushes (that make you feel like you're 15).
Rowing class at the Lincoln Park lagoon.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and here's to a sweet Holiday Season.

Hunting the Rhino

2009-11-18T22:30:00.004Z

I've been Hunting the Rhino all this week, and will likely be hunting it until school ends in a month.

"Hunting the Rhino" is a term we (me and my friend Kelley) created which means staying focused on a single task and not thinking about anything else until that task is complete. It is the opposite of multi-tasking.

It's basic human biology: back in the day, women had lots of jobs - cook the food, keep the cave clean, raise the cave babies; men had only one job - hunt the rhino (or lion, or bear, etc.; we use rhino because it sounds best).

These days I am incapable of multi-tasking. I can't work on my Core Concepts paper or start studying for Patho at the same time as study for today's Health Promo exam. I have to focus on one thing and one thing only - study for the Health Promo exam. I'm Hunting the Rhino*.

Just trying to get through work this week before you make plans for the weekend? You're Hunting the Rhino. One of those people who eats each thing on the plate before starting onto the next? You're a Rhino Hunter.

Hunting the Rhino also sounds like it could be something dirty. Which is another reason I like it. Just like the Cobra Secret Handshake and the Weanamin, I am determined to get this phrase into the day-to-day existence of my cohort. And hopefully beyond. Start passing it along.

* Please note, I am not endorsing the hunting or killing of animals. I am totally against it. It is just an expression.

2009-11-16T12:21:00.008Z

This morning my heart feels swollen and sore. It has been another long and sleepless night.

I started Giant Butters as a way to document my life in nursing school, which is a different approach from my other blog, which was generally less personal and more funny. I don't want it to be a platform to complain - that's boring and nobody (all 5 people that read this) wants to read about that - but at the same time I'm trying to be true to myself so that I'm presenting a real picture of what's going on in my life.

Yesterday my dog died. And I'm feeling incredibly sad about it. A lot of people don't know that I had a dog, and the truth is I haven't been with her for about 4 years. I kind-of "lost her in the divorce" when I broke up with my ex and moved back to Chicago. Although I loved her and we had a great connection, it was the best decision, despite the fact that it caused me a lot of pain. I still remember the last time I saw her, when I said goodbye to her and cried when the car drove away, her in the backseat looking at me.

I keep a photo of her near my bed and think about her everyday. Back then I never thought I'd never see her again, because I thought at some point when my life was more stable that I'd get her back. Even when she got sick a few months ago, I thought that maybe with a surgery and some medications we could keep the cancer at bay at least long enough for me to somehow get back into her life, but that didn't happen.

And I hate that that never happened and I have a lot of guilt over it. I hate the fact that I wasn't in her life these last few years, and that I wasn't there in the end. But she's had a good life since we said goodbye, living with a great caring dad and another dog to keep her company up until the moment she died.

For the last 15 hours it has been hard to think of anything else. I tried studying last night, but couldn't focus. I took a shower (and sobbed) and didn't want to be in my apartment so went for a walk. I felt somewhat hungry so I went to Target (of all places), thinking I could get something to buy for dinner. I thought the bright lights and people would at least provide a distraction for awhile (I broke down a but in there, too). I walked through the aisles in a daze, staring at the food and Christmas decorations before deciding I needed to go somewhere else and clear my head.

It was a beautiful and unusually warm night so I walked all the way down to DuPont Circle. I sat down on a bench and started crying again. I wanted to call people but also knew I couldn't have a good conversation with anyone in the state I was in, so I put the phone away.

I came home around 10, feeling exhausted. I did manage to study a bit, but in the end watched a movie just to stay distracted. I fell asleep around midnight, but woke back up around 2:30 then again around 4:30, so I just got up around 5 and came to school, which is where I am now, sitting in the cafeteria drinking coffee.

It's hard to write about how much I loved and miss my dog without sounding trite, so I won't try. I know she was happy, and didn't suffer she when passed and I guess there's comfort in that.

Things Are Out of Whack (Or: Tears on the Metro Pt. II)

2009-11-12T02:10:00.006Z

Life is out of whack right now. No joke. School's fer real now. I feel like I'm about a week behind in my coursework and studies. It might have something to do with the 8 hours I've spent in the last three days transcribing a Patho lecture (it was my turn). Not to put too fine a point on it, but those 8 hours could have been used for so many other more important things.

I'm not sleeping well, and my sleep pattern is all wonkee. Last week I had a dream everyone in my cohort was pissed at me. Last night I had that prototypical dream where I was nearly naked in my Research class. Why? Because I was hot and needed to cool off, as I told my professor. I'm falling asleep at 7 pm (Monday night I fell asleep while eating dinner for fuck sake), only to wake up around 9pm and do schoolwork until about midnight, just to wake back up at 4 am to start it all over again.

This morning I took the Metro to school because it was raining and I - wait for it - can't find my rain pants. They're nowhere to be found. How, I ask you, can I lose pants??

Anyway, I'm standing on the platform at Gallery Place waiting for the Red Line and I started feeling all anxious and sad, and started thinking about all the things I'm not getting done. And not just school work - stuff beyond that -- things like: I have friends who have recently had babies and I'm not even in contact with them and all these friends and people I have in my life and it is all just slipping by. I'm missing the birthdays and anniversaries of my friends. I haven't talked to my brother in weeks.

So what starts happening? Yep, I start crying just a little bit. It sucks. But hey, it isn't like this is the first time I've cried in public. Or heck, even the first time at the Metro.

As I type this I am cracking open a can of something I never ever thought I'd drink again (at least not without vodka) to stay awake - a fucking Red Bull. Christ. Just get me to Thanksgiving, where I have almost 6 days off to catch up on schoolwork. And sleep. And wine drinking.

You're Already in the Pool, Princess

2009-11-05T00:50:00.003Z

Last week while surfing local DC blogs I came across Nutgraf, and this entry. And it pretty much made my day, and I wanted to share it.

The author recalls a story of a time she was lounging by a pool, and witnessed a conversation where a child went up to the mother and whined, "Mooom, Peter splashed meee!"

To which the mom replied, "You're already in the pool, princess."

And like Nutgraf, I also think it is a great response to life. We're all already in the pool, so let's just get on with it...

Extra Halloween Points for Not Being Original

2009-11-02T13:13:00.009Z

So I decided (weeks and weeks ago, like back in August) to be Max (of "Where the Wild Things Are fame) for Halloween this year.

And based on a random sampling of revelers in the Foggy Bottom/Georgetown/Glover Park area, just like roughly 10% of the male population on Halloween night.

So sue me.

Despite the fact that the costume was popular and dinged by Gawker last week as being too cliche (too late, I already bought the outfit) and that I thought my outfit was pretty good/authentic (I mean: I had the white one-sy pajamas, a tail, crown, hoodie with ears on it; some people wore pants, blue or gray pajamas, Burger King crowns. C'mon, people...), I still had a shitload of people ask me, "So, like, who are you supposed to be?"

And when I answered, there was a staggeringly high percentage of people who still didn't know what the hell I was referring to. Said one of the more militant Maxes I ran into that night, "What, do you people not know how to read? Get out of my faces, you fucking illiterates!" (Note: while I love Max and WTWTA, I'm not quite as passionate.)

I was asked if I was a Cat. Or a Bunny. Or the Little Prince. Or one of my favorites, "Burger King Boy" (does such a thing exist? What would that be, exactly?)

As I was walking late at night from my first party in Foggy Bottom, to DuPont Circle, I got perhaps the best proposition I've received in a long time: "Whoo-wee boy, you can be my king anytime!"

I Went to the High Heel Drag Race and All I Got Was the Herp!...

2009-10-28T00:01:00.001Z

Run Bitches, Run!

... and a flesh-colored dildo. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let's start from the beginning: Back in August, within the first few minutes of meeting my friend and classmate Dana (back at the first cohort at J. Paul's) she asked if I would go to the High Heel Race with her. I'd never been (I missed it both times during DC 1.0), so I said sure, let's get a group together, it'll be fun. And suddenly the time has flown by and here we are, walking down P St in the rain on our way to 17th St. and the Drag Race.

Like everyone in my cohort, I'm feeling the heavy weight of schoolwork bearing down on my already beaten soul. I need to get somewhere in the 88% range on next Wednesday's Patho exam, and going out to watch a bunch of queens running in the rain ain't the way to do it. I'll study hard for this exam - in fact I've already been studying hard - but Christ on a Bike, I need a break every once in awhile.

There was a small group of us and we got to the Race around 7:30, which was enough time to get us 2nd row view in with a boisterous crowd, which helped make the time go by.

Participants were already parading up and down the street, including a group of TWAT crew members. The guy next to us kept yelling to the guy dressed as the captain, "Hey TWAT Pilot! Hey TWAT Pilot!" I'm still trying to figure out a way to incorporate Twat Pilot into my everyday vocabulary.

Later my friend Brady, dressed in some kind of "Cash for Clunkers" group costume (with a bunch of other guys from my swim team), came over to talk to me.

Brady: "You should be out here with us," he said.
Me: Umm, no thanks.
Brady: "Seriously. (To the group of people around me): Folks, don't you think he should be doing this? He'd be fabulous!"
Crowd around me: [... crickets ...]

Thanks, crowd. Seriously, I just can't win.

It was time for Brady to go, so he planted a big kiss on my lips. I turned to Dana:
Me: "Do I have lipstick on my face?"
Dana: "Yes. It kinda looks like you've got The Herp."

Radness. So I left it on for the rest of the event.

The race itself was over in about a minute. Is it worth it to stand out in the rain for 90 minutes just to see a one-minute race? Yep. I'll do it again next year.

At the same time, one of the queens running past began to lose parts of her costume, and a flesh-colored rubber dildo landed at our feet. Christ, if I had a dollar for every time a dildo was tossed in my direction...

Seeing a great photo opp, I picked it up and offered it to Dana, Caroline and Katie, thinking how funny it would be to get a shot of the three of them with the dildo. Of course, they were having none of that. But Dana and Caroline - those quick-witted minxes - snapped a few photos of me holding it. As did a few other people around me that I don't know. Sweet. Knowing there are photos of me out there holding a floppy, pinkish-tan dildo in public will keep me awake at night.

After the Race was over, we all went our separate ways. I knew the Red Line would be packed, so I decided to hoof it back to the Heights. As I walked back in the rain, I thought about how much fun the evening had been. I've been so stressed these last few weeks, and tonight I just felt so happy to be in DC. Everyone seemed to be out, being friendly and agreeable and I thought this is when I like this city best. I also thought about the people I've been making friends with, and how much I enjoy spending time with them, and I'm feeling like everything is going to be OK.

Sure, these feelings will likely be re-replaced tomorrow with stress, doom and gloom, but tonight all is right with the world.

Dealbreaker

2009-10-24T21:47:00.003+01:00

So I've been jonesing to see Where the Wild Things Are since it opened last week. The book was my childhood favorite, and many months ago (like, back in August) I decided to be Max for Halloween. I'm a big fan. A lot of my friends know this and, in fact, several are surprised that I didn't see it opening night.

Anyway, I wanted to see it last weekend, but didn't (stupid Health Assessment mid-term), then planned to see it Wednesday night after my presentation in Promo, but remembered I had a meeting (stupid Academic Council).

So fast-forward to today: I'm feeling hungover and not social, but at the same time I'm feeling guilty about not seeing L in a week, so I think I should probably provide a little care and feeding to this non-relationship. (I spent the afternoon studying with Emily, who asked: "So, what are we calling you two these days?" Nothing. We are calling it nothing.)

Going to see WTWTA would be a perfect solution - provide me with a little pick-me-up, opportunity to spend some time with L in a very safe, non-tempting environment. A win-win (for me and myself, anyway). Phone conversation went like this:

Me (excited): "Want to go see Where the Wild Things Are??"
L: "Hmm, Not really. I heard bad things about it."
Me: "????"
L: "What else is playing?"
Me: "Wait. What? Like what? How ridiculous."
L: "Some parents were complaining that it is too boring, or something like that."
Me: "..."

Too boring? If ever there was a dealbreaker, this is it. What am I doing here with this? Care and feeding of this fake relationship has got to stop.

So we're going to Paranormal Activity instead. Sure, I want to see that too, but this is a poor substitute/consolation prize , but whatever.

Yeah, So I'm Drunk and Want Some Peanut Butter...

2009-10-24T09:38:00.005+01:00

I know it is 4:05 in the A.M., Mr. CVS security guard.
Just let me pay for my Skippy and we can be on our way, biiiitch!

What Up With That?

2009-10-21T00:01:00.005+01:00

Sure, I think this season of SNL is up there with the worst ever.

But am I the only one who thought that the sketch "What Up With That?" is one of the funniest things? Ever? Between Jason Sudeikis' random break dancing and the weird Peekaboo Street robot dance moves, I lose my shit every time I watch it. It starts out a little slow, but about 2 minutes in, it starts getting all fucked up.

And then of course there's White Pete, the Sexecutioner. ET Likes Resse's Pieces indeed.

Sounds Like A Subdural Hematoma To Me

2009-10-20T14:48:00.006+01:00

I have been getting the Shit kicked out of me at school this and last week. Things are rough because it is mid-terms so I'm Living the Dream.

I mentioned in my last post that I've realized I've become a B student (cue the violins). I'm having a harder time accepting this than I originally thought. Yeah, I know I need to just get over it. I think I'm just not used to spending so much time studying and in return getting less-than-stellar results. Yesterday's Assessment mid-term yielded me a C - a Fucking C! - and I should have scored in the high B range. I mean, I know the material.*

And last week I had a take-home test and scored an 88%, even though I actually spent the time to look up every answer. How the hell do I get an 88 when I looked up every answer? How much of a retard am I? FML.

OK, I am done being a whiny bitch.

My friend Mimi sent this to me last week and it cracks me up so I'm posting it here. Of course, it likely isn't funny to most people. I hope that in a year or so I'll still be laughing. After all, it's not my job to diagnose.

* Obviously not.

Mark the Date...

2009-10-15T13:36:00.007+01:00

[Note: the above image is the 4th image to come up in Google image search for "B student." I'm not endorsing rifle hunting or anything like that. Not to say that there aren't times when I'd like to become proficient in using one. You know, just in case the opportunity presents itself.]

Well, it has finally happened. I was walking in the rain to class this morning and noticed I was both laughing and talking. To myself. Just me.

Mark the date, I am officially Crazy. Personally, I might have predicted Crazy to hit a bit earlier in the semester - I would have pegged sometime around Oct. 1 - so that fact that I'm 7.5 weeks into the school year before it hit is a proud achievement.

Also, I'm gassy. Just puttin' it out there - literally (see what I just did there).

This week and next I face a barrage of mid-terms. Three this week, two next and a presentation Wednesday. Also, I think I need to come to grips with the fact that I might be a B Student. Pretty much nothing but B/B+s so far this semester (at least in the classes that count*), and I just don't see things turning around to such a degree that I'll ace most of them.

Years ago, was I was Undergrad 1.0, this would have been fine. More than acceptable. This time around though, it kinda pisses me off.

* And then there's Patho, which is another story entirely.

I Need to Get the Control Back Into My Life (ya hear that, alcohol?)

2009-10-12T21:46:00.003+01:00

No school today, so it was to be a productive day for catching up. Plan was: wake up at 8, head to the gym for a swim and possibly a run, then a good 9 hours of studying at the library.

Instead: wake up at 10 feeling like shit. Sweats and shakes and dizziness. A few gulps of water, then into the shower. Clothes on, then the decision that there's no way I can possibly hop on a bike and head to campus, so instead back in bed for another 30 minutes. I guess this is what happens when you go to bed at 4:30.

The weekend started out promising enough. Stayed in Friday night to study and do a little cleaning. Saturday - early swim at Wilson HS, then more studying in the afternoon. Ended the night with drinks with L., Jason and Justin. So far so good...

Went back to L's place, started making out. Once again it was nice. So I had to put a stop to it. I started to explain to him all the reasons it isn't a good idea for me to be back at his place, making out with him in his living room (yet again); I don't want to lead him on, lead him to think this "relationship" could possibly go anywhere; blah blah blah...

L (interrupting): "You know, you think too much. You need to just shut up and get into the bedroom."
Me; "Ummm, OK."

I guess at that moment I just grew tired of putting up a fight. His persistence (and, Christ, he sure has been persistent) wore me down. Without getting into details, let's just say that on a very technical level Operation Celibacy in still in tact. But certain, um, liberties, were taken.

Anyway, on Sunday I met up with Emily and Brian at Nelly's to watch the Raven's game. Buckets upon buckets of beers were consumed and the afternoon turned into evening on the upstairs patio and the weather was simply gorgeous and we were laughing and drinking and enjoying the company and the crowd and the crisp autumn air.

Fueled by a good buzz, Emily and I then headed to Alero for dinner, then walked back up to Columbia Heights were she got in her car and headed home. I should have called it an evening too, but my friend Doug was in town from NYC and drinking at Nelly's with his softball team so I made a return trip.

From here, the evening gets a little more blurry. Me and my Hoya Saxa, Bitches t-shirt were getting some attention and some flirtations at Nelly's then at Cobalt. Culminating with a cute guy coming up to me out of nowhere asking if he could Make Out with Me. Sure, why the hell not?

Very Little Good has come from this weekend. I need to get some control back in my life. I'm not heading out on weekends anymore. Until Halloween, anyway. I can do this, right?

Best Text Conversation of the Week

2009-10-10T18:15:00.001+01:00

From my brother, this morning:

Brother: "Dad asked if you live in a bad neighborhood. Something about FedEx not delivering."
Me: "Tell that whiny bitch to grow up."

Is This a Musical Table?

2009-10-09T21:54:00.004+01:00

[This photo from Thursday's IASIP pretty much represents the conversation with the Local 16 bouncer (see below). There's me (played by Charlie - duh) explaining to him why he should let me try the chair-dancing; And there's Kelley (played by Sweet Dee) telling the bouncer that I'll likely break my neck but it would be "hil-AR-ious (totes);" And then there's John (played by Dennis) as the constant voice of reason, subtly begging the bouncer to put me in a head lock.]

It was a big week. Lots going on; lots of stress.

It is also my new friend Kelley's 30th birthday, so a bunch of us went out to celebrate. Take built-up stress from Patho + a 30th birthday, and you get some drunkery. No diggity.

Plus, it was my boo House of Jules birthday, and I promised her a Ginner in her honor (ginner = dinner with gin. Her brilliant idea.) And while no gin was had (just Peroni, Soco and lime shots, and a little dose of some St. Germain to kick it), Jules would have been proud of my game, 'cuz I was On like Chaka Kahn.

Hearts were broken. First, Mimi got shot-down by the bartender at St. Ex. Second, a guy in the bathroom at Local 16 offered - completely unsolicited, honest - to show me his "huge cock" (his words), which I politely declined. Next, Kelley refused my romantic advances late in the evening, despite my attempts to wow her and the group with some sweet chair-dancing moves.

Scene - Local 16, closing time:
Bouncer: "Sir, what are you doing with that chair?"
Me: "I'm about to do that move where I jump up on the chair, tip it over, and still land on my feet like at the end of that Janet Jackson vidja."
Bouncer: "Sir, you and your friends are going to have to leave."

What else? For about 90 seconds I had the whole dinner table convinced I was a first alternate on the 1992 Olympic Fencing Team in Barcelona. It was my best acting yet. Plus, I really feel like I need to Keep the Dream Alive.

My Head's to the Wall...

2009-10-09T17:11:00.000+01:00

... and I'm lonely.

Georgetown is in the flight path for both arriving and departing flights at National. So pretty much every minute of the day you can look up from your textbook or class and into the sky and see a plane coming in or out of DC.

Maybe it's because I really had hoped to go back to Chicago this weekend, but these last two weeks every time I see a plane ascending to the West, I think, "God, wouldn't it be nice to be on that?"

McButters Book of Lists

2009-10-06T18:00:00.001+01:00

[or not]

Top 5 Reasons I May Fail Tomorrow's Pathophysiology Exam:

There's something called bacteria. And then there's something called a virus. Apparently, there's a difference between the two.
I may have completely forgotten to read an entire chapter. Whoops.
Still don't know what the word "pathophysiology" even means.
50 multiple choice questions in 55 minutes. Impossible. Butters don't churn like dat.
The sequence of events leading to cell death is commonly decreased ATP production, failure of active-transport mechanisms (the sodium-potassium pump) cellular swelling, detachment of ribosomes from the endoplasmic reticulum, cessation of protein synthesis, mitochondrial swelling as a result of calcium accumulation, vacuolation, leakage of digestive enzymes from lysosomes, autodigestion of intracellular structures, and lysis of the plasma membrane. Or some Shit like that.

It's October Now...

2009-10-06T02:26:00.000+01:00

... you can ditch the flip-flops, fratty.

It's 62 degrees and rainy. Did you not look out the window before you left your apartment?

And while we're at it, let's lose the shorts too. Have a little self-respect.

Not Impressive Sundays

2009-10-05T04:32:00.001+01:00

Last Sunday morning at swim practice, coach tells me that for the next set she wants to see some fast swimming; that she "wants to be impressed." I tell her: "I don't impress on Sunday."

In honor of that, I present you with Not Impressive Sundays, a recap of all the fucked up highlights from the previous week, either done by me or done to me.

On Monday I got called out -- in front of the entire lecture hall -- by my Patho professor for talking. How old am I?
Saturday was my course-correcting lunch with L. The goal was to explain to him that even though last Saturday night was fun, I'm not really interested in pursuing anything, on any level, over the next few months. Did that conversation happen? No, of course not. In fact the exact opposite happened - I think we might now be dating. Not sure how that's going to fit into Operation Celibacy, but I guess I'll worry about that when I'm not freaking out about Patho.
Apparently I'm now sleeping with my textbooks. Went to bed Wednesday night with Health Assessment, started to read it, and when I woke Thursday morning it was still lying next to me, still open to page 402. Sadly, I didn't catch anything from it.
On Friday, Chicago lost the bid to host the 2016 Olympics. This is Obama's fault, obviously. I was bummed, but then I realized that outside of Chicago, nobody really gives a shit.
Saturday night I was supposed to stay in to study (for big Patho exam happening this Wednesday) but instead went out to a party and slammed 3 beers in a matter of 20 minutes, pretty much decimating any hope of studying post-party. Why do I do this to myself? On the upside, I got groped in the ass by some guy in the back yard. No, it was totally unsolicited and unwanted, but hey I guess I'll take it any way I can get it.

I Was Supposed to Study for Patho-Fizz Tonight...

2009-10-04T03:11:00.002+01:00

... but somehow instead wound up at a party and really buzzed from 4 beers in 90 minutes.

That is all.

Butters...

2009-10-03T13:00:00.000+01:00

Things Contributing to My Well-Being:

Frequent hand washing
The new David Gray
The new Neil Finn/7 Worlds Will Collide #2
Sugar cookie with sprinkles, from Dean & Deluca
$5 foot longs from Subway (seriously, I've eaten more Subway in the past 3 weeks than I have in 3 years. How else can you have both lunch & dinner for only $5??)

Things Not Contributing to My Well-Being:

Ragweed, Chenopods, Nettle (or some shit like that)
Pathopysiology (or more specifically, my lack of motivation to study Pathophysiology)
$5 foot longs from Subway

With Maps, a Mountain Range, A Piggy Bank

2009-10-03T02:29:00.000+01:00

I'm sitting here trying to study for a big Patho exam happening next Wednesday. This class is tough, and there are hours upon hours of materials to study. I can count on one hand the number of times I've stayed in on a Friday to study. This is certainly the first since classes started 5 weeks ago. I think I'm supposed to feel accomplished but instead just feel behind.

I got home from a great clinical tonight feeling energized. But there's so much to know for my clinical - so many terms I'm not familiar with, I could spend the weekend just reviewing the skills and concepts that we learned this week. Makes me fuzzy and a bit defeated.

I baked a frozen pizza for dinner and unwound for a bit. The plan was to start studying at 7, but then I needed to go out for a walk and get some fresh air. Like most nights lately, the air is cool, fresh and welcoming. (The night sky tonight looks a lot like the one in the photo above.)

I called my parents - my mom just got back tonight from a 2-week trip to Ireland. She asked me about school - It is tough. Really tough. But I am in love with my cohort and classes are good. Did I mention it is tough? It's kinda amazing the amount of contorting and breaking of your old lifestyle and habits that needs to happen just to keep your head above water with 6 classes, each of which is pretty demanding in its own way. I talked to my Dad. When he was hanging up he actually said I love you, which he hardly ever says. It sorta breaks my heart.

I then walked over to my friend Jason's house, which he just bought and moved into on Wednesday. I walked up to the front porch. The living room light was on but he wasn't home. I sat on the swing and took it all in. A beer would be good right now. I imagined the next few years, and the thought of sitting on this porch often over the next 4 years made me feel good, but it was odd too. What am I going to be like when this experience is over, when my commitment to DC is finished?

I called L to finalize lunch plans for tomorrow, then my friend Emily. As the night went on I started growing lonely, and I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I thought about calling some friends from Chicago and Portland, but I didn't have the energy. My brother too. But I wouldn't know where to start.

In the last two weeks I've had rather tough realizations about some of the relationships in my life, grappling with the idea that when I think of my long-term future, I'm more alone than I wanted to believe; that I've had to re-evaluate some of the relationships I've been taking for granted. And I think of one of my favorite songs, Iron & Wine's "The Trapeze Swinger" and it is particularly heartbreaking on a night like tonight ("...The trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last...") and it hurts to even type these words so I'm moving on...

As I sat on Jason's porch, I saw people walking by - couples, neighbors, friends - all laughing and smiling, having good times together, sharing lives together - and I can feel that hole inside me grow just a little bit bigger.

There's that part of me that wants to open up to new relationships that seem to be budding here in DC, and the other part of me that thinks it best to keep these people at arms length because I just don't need the distraction right now. And it's this conflict that makes me a little blue.

So here I am. Me and my Patho lectures. And it is almost 10, so I need to get to it.

Go Chicago!

2009-10-02T08:01:00.000+01:00

So in about 13 hours Olympic history will be made and the world will know which city will host the 2016 Games.

This topic has been debated for years. And in Chicago over these last few weeks it has been hard to pay attention to anything else.

I'm a Chicagoan, born and raised. True, I don't live there now, but I full well might be come 2016.

I hope Chicago wins.

There is a lot of opposition to it. The biggest arguments from Chicagoans include: the chance that city taxpayers might have to pay an enormous price tag; that the money being spent could pay for services more desperately needed; And that Daley is an ass (my buddy Guy from Chicago posted a few convincing arguments against it here). I get these. I get all the arguments against Chicago 2016. And yes, it is easy for me to ignore the headaches (traffic, construction, etc.) and instead rather blindly support and hope for a win while I'm living in another city.

But for me it comes down to this: in 30 or 40 years, when people who are against Chicago 2016 (like these fucktards) are looking back on their lives and taking stock, I just don't see any of them reminiscing with "Remember that time when we successfully blocked Chicago from winning the Olympics? That was cool." What I do imagine, however, is a million Chicagoans reminiscing about how amazing it was back in 2016 when people from all over the world came to the city and were there with them when history was made.

Or maybe I'm just full of shit.

Anyway, good luck today, Chicago. I'll be cheering for you.

UPDATE:

O damn. Maybe next time.

(I think this woman is my old boss from the hospital.)

One Month...

2009-10-01T15:01:00.000+01:00

Today essentially marks the start of my second month of school. Yep, one down, only 15 more to go. To mark the occasion I sent the cohort this lovely haiku:

Wow, how the Time flies

Making all kinds of new Friends

Krebs Cycle Sucks Ass

I wanted to send a video of an interpretive dance I've been working on, but I was not successful in finding a panther or cobra for it. Maybe for the 6 month anniversary instead...

Oh Woa Woa, I'm on Fire

2009-09-29T18:19:00.000+01:00

This weekend was my swim team (DCAC)'s annual Fall Ball invitational meet, of which I was a volunteer. I decided a while ago that I was not going to compete because I'm nowhere near in the shape that I'd like to be in order to participate; plus, I also don't want the added stress of worrying about competition while I'm school (I'll be lucky to get in more than 2 workouts a week, I figure).

Anyway, it was a good time because I served as runner between the Timers and the Clerk of Course, which basically meant I got to see and talk to a bunch of volunteers and swimmers throughout the day. I flirted with some of them, and amazingly enough got flirted back at also.

Saturday night was the after-meet reception at Halo which was also a good time. I didn't really eat dinner so after a few free drinks (pocket stuffed with free drink coupons - score) I was feeling buzzed and happy. And also, the stars seemed to be aligned in a way they rarely seem to be these days, and I received some attention from a few gentlemen callers, which made me feel even more buzzed and happy. (Although, sadly, not an ounce of attention from Crush #1, who is, 1) mind-numbingly cute and; 2) also [I found out] single, and for these two reasons had guys surrounding him all night like white on rice.)

But I digress.

The night before I'd met a guy (let's call him L) at Vapiano and to make a long story short ended up back at his place, making out on his couch. Yes, I'm a bit lonely; and yes, maybe a bit needy (and yes, more than a bit "anxious" as Beetlejuice would say); and L is a great kisser. We were going at it for a long time, exploring each other's mouths, bodies, etc. It felt really good. Duh.

"Let's go into the bedroom," he said finally. And most of me really wanted to. But then suddenly I had a moment of clarity. There was focus. And this weird little voice inside me. Seemingly before I could stop myself, I was blurting out words:

Me: "Umm, there's something you should know..."

L: "... You're married?"

Me: "Ha! No. I'm... celibate."

L: "Ha, good one!"

Me: "Uh, no. I'm serious..."

L: "Seriously? As in ..?"

Me: "Yep, as in I don't ..."

L: "..."

Me: "Yeah... Sorry."

And I explained all the reasons: Trying to stay focused; not wanting a distraction; wanting a little discipline in my life; and although he was cool about it, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a freak (and not in a good way, like in a Superfreak kind of way).

Since I'd pretty much killed the mood at that point, the only thing left to do was go home. In the rain. At 3 am. And as much as it kinda sucked excusing myself from such a fun situation, I am glad that I was able to maintain some control.

On the long, rainy walk home I rewarded myself with a Big Mac from the all-night McDonald's on 17th St. Because really, the next best substitute to sex is an order of soggy super-sized fries.

Casualties of My Lifestyle Change (Pt. II)

2009-09-28T18:00:00.000+01:00

[Ed. Note: See here for Pt. I]

And yeah, this one stings a little:

8. Flying home to Chicago whenever I want.

Since I arrived last month I set as a goal a non-specific weekend date in October to return back to Chicago to visit friends and family.*

I thought about Columbus Day Weekend, because 1) it is a three day-er for me; and 2) it is the same weekend as the Marathon, for which I could go cheer on a few friends.

Tickets are hovering around $300. I just can't afford it (anymore). And it isn't like I'm waiting until the last minute - prices have been this high for the last 2 weeks.

Ditto for the weekend after that, too. Looks like I may try again for early November.

I was once naive to believe that there might still be hope - via way of one of those "last minute deals" websites - but we all know those don't really exist (seriously, I've never met anyone who has actually scored a last minute deal anytime anywhere).

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little disappointed. I could really stand a visit back home to see friends and family.*

* Or, as would be more accurate, "Get the fuck out of DC before I kill someone."

So This Is My Life

2009-09-27T21:41:00.000+01:00

Sunday afternoon, and after a good day of hanging out with Emily, I need to settle in for the evening to get caught up on studying, and put a dent in the homework that is piling up. So what do I do? Make a schedule, of course.

I actually wrote the below before I jumped into the shower:

5 - 9 pm: Patho studying

9 - 10 pm: Review of Assessment lecture notes (H,S & N, HEENT)

10-11 pm: Review NIH and CDC websites for info on Varicella

How lame and ridiculous is my life that I now have to schedule my evenings to the hour?

... Only 15 more months of school left...

Yes, But Is It RiDONKulous?

2009-09-26T15:37:00.000+01:00

Friday night, standing in a long line to order food at Vapiano (don't even get me started), a text message convo with my new friend Emily ensues:

Me: "I am having the most ridiculous evening ever."

Emily: "Yes, but is it ridonk?"

I love my new friend Emily.

New Favorite Phrase in the English Language

2009-09-24T16:31:00.000+01:00

"See you next week."

- Uttered by my Philosophy teacher (in his thick German accent) Thursday 11:35 am.

On a day like today -- where summer and its nasty, nasty humidity has reared its ugly head (seriously? it is almost October. wtf.) and allergies are killing the shit out of me (I weeze as I type this) -- there is no greater phrase in the English language.

This has been a Rough. Week. I am grateful that it is almost over.

Dear Rock Creek Parkway

2009-09-23T19:01:00.000+01:00

Dear Rock Creek Parkway:

What gives? Yeah, I know you have mysterious ways and all, and that you're one of the city's best kept secrets and all that bullshit, blah blah, blah.

But seriously: is there a secret handshake I need to know about? Some kind of password in order to gain access?

No? Then why the fucking secrecy? Why do you make it so difficult to find/get onto you?

The other night I had to drive from my place in Columbia Heights to National Airport to pick up a friend, and I thought I would take you in order to get there. Considering I live just about a mile from you, I thought this would be easier - and more logical - than driving all the way through the city. I figured, why not take you and get to National in a matter of minutes instead of, say, taking 16th St. all the way down to who-knows-where (Constitution? Independence? I haven't clue.) and then onto 395, etc.? But no.

Imagine me and Edmund, driving down Klingle thinking, "OK, there's going to be a sign somewhere along here directing me to the southbound ramp..." But you know what? That sign never came. Ever.

Here I am, driving parallel to you for a good 15 minutes and no sign ever came. What the fuck is that about?

What could have been a 15-minute easy stroll through the western edge of the city to National on a balmy DC evening instead turned into a name-cursing, gas-guzzling, white-knuckle hell ride through first Mt. Pleasant, then DuPont Circle, then Foggy Bottom (hello Watergate!), then Georgetown (huh?), then - wait for it - fucking Rossyln (for fuck sakes!), before somehow meandering through motherfucking Crystal City before finally getting to the airport.

In what reality would a trip from Columbia Heights to National Airport involve a sidetrip through Rossyln?? Only in your sadistic one, Rock Creek Parkway.

Fine. I know I'm relatively new here (again). And therefore not too familiar with best routes to get through the city, but I also don't consider myself an idiot when it comes to driving and directions.

Would it kill you to have a few directional signs posted that point to your on ramps? Or is "Figuring Out How To Access the Rock Creek Parkway" just another one of those subjects that new DCers must figure out on their own, like, say, "Getting Temporary Tags for Your Car Before It Gets Impounded" or "Finding a Grocery Store with a Decent Produce Selection"?

I thought so. Go fuck yourself, Rock Creek Parkway.

Proof That I Am Not the Typical Georgetown Student

2009-09-22T06:03:00.001+01:00

While studying in the SMH lounge this afternoon, I overheard a student talking on her cellphone: "Dad is complaining that I'm spending too much money, but I found out he's joining a country club and going on a Norwegian cruise in November."

More proof that the average student here is different than I.

Adventures in Celibacy! (Pt. I)

2009-09-20T07:33:00.000+01:00

Here are the highlights from the party I attended this evening:

My Crush left without saying goodbye. Or hello, for that matter. Confirming the fact that I suspected all along - he doesn't know I exist.
My "Plan B" Crush also left without saying goodbye*.

Sadcakes. Major sadcakes. But, there is that box of Parmesan Basil Wheat Thins sitting there on the counter just waiting to be eaten. So, I got that going for me....

* Although at one point during the evening, he did put his hand on my shoulderblade. That counts for something, right?

Oh, It's On...

2009-09-18T05:36:00.000+01:00

It is SO ON, Bitches!

I Might Actually Be Happy...

2009-09-17T14:31:00.000+01:00

Three weeks into the semester and I think I'm settling into my schedule and a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays are easier days for me, as I only have one class. Mondays and Wednesdays are tougher, with classes back-to-back all day, but I like the material and my classmates and boring it is not.

I thought about this as I was walking through campus this morning. It was cloudy and cool, and it seems like the slight chill of Fall is finally here. Trees are dropping their leaves. This is a good thing.

I think I might be happy here.

Butters...

2009-09-15T03:22:00.000+01:00

I wore a tie to school today. I seriously need to do some laundry....
Cookies from Chicago arrived today...
Just when it seemed that Fall was upon us, it up and turned hot & muggy...
I got an 88% on my first big nursing school exam. Feeling pretty good about it, but prolly need to develop a new studying strategy...
Still haven't read a word for Patho. Maybe tomorrow...

Dear Cosi Employees/ Sandwich Makers

2009-09-14T01:49:00.000+01:00

Dear Cosi Employees/ Sandwich Makers:

Life is tough, I know.

What, with the economy and things like having enough spicy mustard, and the difficulty of slicing that already thin bread into two slices. Plus, it is Sunday night and you've probably worked a long day already. I get it.

But c'mon. When I walked in with my study partners at 6:50 tonight and saw the two of you look at each other, sigh, roll your eyes and let out an audible "fuuuuck" in our general direction, well, I can't lie. I was a little hurt.

For a moment I thought that perhaps you reacted this way because maybe you were closing at 7, and here it was - a group of us walking in at 6:50, ready to hit you with multiple delicious Cosi sandwich orders at the last moment. But no, you don't close until 9. So what gives??

Are you guys seriously expecting that on a nice end-of-summer Sunday evening nobody's going to walk into your store to order some food between 7 pm and close? You guys are in fucking DuPont Circle, for fuck sakes. Surely we aren't going to be the last customers you see tonight.

My advice: Buck the Fuck Up, little campers. 'Cuz someday you're probably going to have worse problems to deal with then making a couple sandwiches a whole 2 hours before closing. Acting like you're doing me a big fucking favor and swearing at me for making you do your job is not the best method for dealing.

That is all. Now have a good night.

Friday Nights Are Becoming a Luxury I Can No Longer Afford

2009-09-12T16:25:00.001+01:00

Two weeks into the semester and patterns are starting to emerge. I was tired after clinical, and my instinct was to come home and spend the rest of the evening in the apartment, studying (not likely) or watching DVDs (more likely).

Instead, I went to the team Happy Hour at the 18th St. Diner. It was pleasant, but not very crowded (it seems everyone else likes to stay in on Fridays too). Talked with Jonathan for awhile, who asked why I was drinking Miller Lite. I explained to him some of the Casualties of Returning to School, and he told me I needed to milk my student status for all it's worth (literally) by simply walking up to people, introducing myself as a poor college student and asking them to buy me drinks. There might be some merit to this plan.

After two more drinks (neither of which I paid for - thanks Jonathan!), I headed over to the Black Cat to join up with my friend and ex-neighbor Son for a YogaActivist fundraiser party in the Backstage. I arrived about 20 minutes before they did. The party itself started slow, and I wasn't feeling very social but at least now I know another place (besides Wonderland) where the Dirty Hipster boys & girls hang.

Son, her boyfriend Richard and I then headed a block up to Cafe St. Ex. I hadn't really been there since I left and while the upstairs crowd seemed a bit more upscale than I remembered, downstairs was the St. Ex that I remembered and loved. Richard is a rum enthusiast and bought us an expensive round, and by now I was buzzed and feeling happy. It felt great being back in DC, back at St. Ex, and I was feeling optimistic about the program. It had been a good week at school, but I also recognized that things were about to get really hard really fast.

After saying goodbye to Son and Richard, I biked over to Nelly's to try to catch up with some friends. By the time I arrived they'd gone, but I ran into Mackenzy and we talked a bit about school. He was surprised that I hadn't really started studying for Patho yet (groan), and he was disappointed that there were too few social people in the cohort. It was interesting because our perspectives are so different. We have very little in common due in part to the age difference, but I felt bad for him because I could see he's trying to get something social from the experience, more so than I am (not to say that I'm not looking to make friends, but he's looking for people to party with). Oh, to be 21 again.

He asked if I wanted a shot from the flask he'd brought in, and I declined. While getting bounced out of Nelly's would make for a good story, I'm too old for that shit, right?

This morning I woke with the alarm but felt like death (I wolfed down a bag of tortilla chips and some brownies before I went to sleep) so I went back to bed.

Much more sober today. I've got a lot of studying to accomplish this afternoon, and I have got to start eating better than I have been this past week...

IN SUMMARY:

I don't see myself going out on Fridays for a long time
free drinks most all night
I need to start studying more, and eating/drinking less

Casualties of My Lifestyle Change (Pt. I)

2009-09-10T02:51:00.000+01:00

Now that I am a poor college student with absolutely no income coming in, I've had to learn to give up a few things. Here is a partial list:

Weekend brunch.
Starbucks coffee.
Expensive beer/ beer that isn't "on special."
Cheese - you laugh, but it is true - cheese is a luxury.
Books that aren't related to my major.
Magazines.
Feelings of self-worth.

Save Me From Myself

2009-09-05T07:25:00.001+01:00

The first week of school is over, and like any undergrad I celebrated by attending a party, thrown by a fellow classmate. Brian, Marshall, Emily and I arrived after 10, sans alcohol (did you know alcohol can't be purchased in this city after 10 pm?? Did I somehow block this out of my memory from the first time I lived here?), which we felt self-conscious about but by then our host was too blitzed to notice.

I played DJ (Adi: "You are the worst DJ. Ever.") for awhile in the dining room, smartly avoiding the living room drinking games (part of my downfall last Friday) and staying pretty much sober the entire time. My hat got passed around and became the next in what is now becoming a long line of ABSN casualties (along with expensive beers, LaToya #1 and perhaps my dignity). And Adi and I continued work on the Cohort Handshake (still in beta, although John is now involved and is taking it to a new, respectable level).

And supposedly a Cohort Theme Song is next - I'm going to push for Bluejuice's Vitriol ("Good luck and don't dare give up, Give it a little bit of vitriol! And if it's really gonna cut you up give it a little bit of vitriol - HEY!"). But the truth is nobody would likely get it and I'd just be an idiot.

There's talk of a cohort field trip to a DC Rollergirls match in about 3 weeks, an Ultimate Frisbee league, a Touch Football game on Thanksgiving morning, and a kayaking trip around Roosevelt Island. Man, we are an optimistic bunch. I say: let's check back in a month to see just ow well that frisbee league is shaping up.

And speaking of Roosevelt, as she was leaving, Dana told me I looked like Teddy Roosevelt.

I'm acutely aware of my age (and now some others are too) and the fact that I'm now choosing beer pong and vodka shots over more age-appropriate things like, well, not playing beer pong and not doing vodka shots. But I went to bed at 10 last Saturday, so that should count for something, right? Oh, and then there's that whole studying thing, which is also a good idea since I did squat of it this week.

But still, once we left the party me, John, Emily and Meredith stood outside on New Hampshire and talked for about an hour under the bright full moon (the weather these last few days has been remarkable), so this can't be all bad. I figure it is probably worth it to invest some time in the cohort. Not everything we should know to survive can be learned in the classroom.

Cohort Concept Map

2009-09-04T07:08:00.000+01:00

One of my goals for the week has been to make attempts to get to know as many people in the class as I can. Never know who is going to be the ambitious one (not me), the smart one (not me), the fun one (not me) who might be of great assistance at some point in the future.

Those attempts so far have been largely successful in that I've engaged most everyone in conversation, and most have been receptive and friendly back to me. Some have not. Maybe they're shy, or maybe they just don't care. But at this point I figure I've put out the good energy towards most everyone and I'm not going to waste any more on trying to win over the ones that haven't been receptive.

In my own mind, lines are already being drawn, and the personal Concept Map of my Cohort is being drawn. Right or wrong, I've been filing the different people into categories and subcategories, groups and subgroups, clusters and even more clusters, all of which orbit around me, in the center. Which ones of them, if any, will become the inner circle of good friends or confidants? Who will be fun to go to a happy hour with? Which will be the over achievers, and which will ones will I avoid?

Or how much will it change over the next 16 months...

... And So It Begins...

2009-09-01T05:28:00.000+01:00

Since I arrived in town, and for many days before, the weather had been typical DC August - hot and muggy. But like in a movie, today came around and it was cloudy and cool. It was like summer was suddenly over and with the flip of a switch it is now Fall.

I left my apartment early, dressed in my crisp white shirt and preppy striped tie, and rode my bike under the grey sky down 16th St. and down New Hampshire Ave. through the morning traffic and past the sidewalk pedestrians. I looked like one of those Mormon kids. Coldplay's "Life in Technicolor II" played on my iPod and filled my ears ("Now my feet won't touch the ground...") and I cracked a smile through DuPont Circle feeling good about the weather and the first day of orientation ahead of me.

When I walked into SMH 107 with Meredith, the classroom was already filled. We took a seat towards the back and I looked for faces that I knew, recognizing a few from Friday’s happy hour and also from Facebook. I wonder if and when the rest of these faces will become familiar. How many – if any – would I really get to know? Of the 50 of us in the program, close to 40 are WHC Scholars who, like me, will be living in DC for the next 4.5 years – how many will become friends?

Naturally, over the course of the day and during breaks, I was drawn back to those I already knew – at one point, Meredith, Mackenzie, Adi, Katie, Dana, Wheeler and I got together and talked about the weekend; a bit later Tim and I hung out as part of a group the went over to the Medical Bookstore to get scrubs, then over to the Bookstore for our Health Assessment books.

$400 for scrubs and books. For just one class. FML.

At the end of the day, I hung out with Adi and Erin at the bus circle, while they waited for their bus to Arlington. Adi wanted to know how to tie a tie, so I made a poor attempt to teach her. It looked like a scarf. To add insult to the $400 textbook injury, I then had to transport these heavy bitches home with me, and as I secured them to the back of the bike, my bungee cord broke, so I had to strap them to my back. I looked ridiculous, and as predicted the climb up Meridian Hill along 16th St. was a dream come true.

Last Saturday of Freedom

2009-08-30T12:44:00.000+01:00

I spent my last Saturday of Freedom running around doing errands, in an attempt to get my apartment in order before school begins on Monday. I'm in need of a microwave oven, a TV, and DVD player so I scoured Craigslist and responded to many ads. Only 1 - the microwave - responded. Made a second trip out to IKEA to pick up a garment rack, which is serving as my wardrobe (as I don't technically have a closet), because the first one I bought fucking collapsed on me.

I also had to drive to Gin & Tonic to see if anyone had found a camera and turned it in (ha - fat chance). The losing my camera-thing has me really bummed out. If I replace it, it will be the 3rd camera I've purchased in a year, and another $250 that I had not budgeted to spend. Plus, there were some great photos from my first Cohort Happy Hour.

[I've been spending waaay too much money; money that I really don't have, which is another stressor for me. I turned in the rental truck a few hours late and therefore was billed another day's worth. I pleaded with them to let it slide but they weren't having it. So when they asked for a signature for the bill, I signed "Eat Shit" instead of my name -- take that, Budget Rental Car Corporation! And then on Friday when I got my DC driver's license, I also had to pay a $100 parking ticket left over from my first life in DC. A ticket that I'd contested in writing several times that I thought had gone away (ha - fat chance). ]

I was going to bake a pizza for dinner, but realized that my stove doesn't actually work. Hmm.

So: Let's sum up these first few days in DC, shall we? I've paid for parking tickets I didn't know I needed to; been charged an extra $100 for the already over-the-top expensive moving van; lost my precious camera; needed to replace furniture; and ordered out for pizza because my oven doesn't work. This is Aces.

I was in bed by 10 p.m. On my first real Saturday night in DC, which is simultaneously my last Saturday night of freedom before school starts. Fuck my life.

I Like it in the City When the Air is So Thick and Opaque

2009-08-29T06:39:00.000+01:00

Riding my bike home from Glover Park tonight around one a.m., I am drunk without a helmet and I am speeding because it is almost all totally downhill and the night air is thick and fragrant and heavy and kinda sweet in a bread-ish way, and suddenly Adele's "Hometown Glory" pops into my head and I think: This is Perfect; and I let Wendell and myself wander past the wrong side of the yellow lines on P Street and again on Mass Ave., and I think this is truly Wonderful (with a capital "W") despite the fact that just minutes ago I lost my beautiful camera, which is missing, lost somewhere around or in Gin and Tonic, and Goddammit I'm not even drunk and I somehow let this happen...

This is supposed to be an entry about my first impressions of some of my cohorts, whom I met this afternoon for Happy Hour at J Paul's (or some shit like that). It went well, and afterwards we went back to Jeff & Katie's place for more drinks and the inevitable drinking games, where I texted Mark to say: "I am at a party after my cohort mixer, about to do drinking games. Christ. This is either going to be the best sixteen months of my life, or the worst."

Christ, I need a donut. But instead I will go to bed. But goddamn a donut would be so nice right now...

Seriously....

Tears at the Metro

2009-08-27T03:31:00.000+01:00

(Ed. Note: You can find the Prequel to this entry here.)

My brother and I, after an uneventful 12 hour drive* from Chicago to Hancock, MD last night, arrived in DC around 9 a.m. this morning. It took us only about 45 minutes to unload the moving truck. A little while later we were off to Georgetown, where I finalized the last of my paperwork before school begins next week.

He had a 5 p.m. flight, so around 3 o' clock I walked him over to the Columbia Heights Metro. As we walked, I thought about this past summer and how much fun I had crashing at his place, and how I feel like we're closer than we were even just a few months ago.

We bought his ticket, I showed him on the map where he was going, then we said goodbye. I hugged him and I suddenly began to cry. He looked at me like, "WTF?" I told him I loved him, which I think just made it worse. I felt like an idiot but I couldn't help it -- we'd had a really good drive and I am glad he took the time off work to come with me, and I told him so.

To make me feel better he said, "You know, we're going to come visit you!" and I said, "Yeah, I know." I was still choked up and couldn't really talk. It was like I was 17 and heading off to college (for the first time) again; like this was my first move away from home, which of course is ridiculous. He's right that I'm going to see him often enough, but what I wanted to say was that, even if he was back to visit every weekend, it doesn't mean that I still can't or won't be lonely.

I've got good friends here in DC and I'm looking forward to making even more in the next few months. But right now, today, I'm really missing the ones I had in Chicago.

P.S. - I need to go to IKEA tomorrow. And find a hardware store. And a laundromat. Ugh.

* Getting pulled over by the cops in Ohio isn't eventful, is it?

Hoya Saxa, Bitches

2009-08-24T06:02:00.000+01:00

Last night was my Goodbye Chicago Going Away Party at Matilda's from 8-11.

Of course, I was there at 7:50 to make sure all was OK. And I was the only person there for a good 30 minutes. I love it when that happens. I sat in the reserved basement room with the bartenders, chatting it up before people arrived. At 8:20 they asked me if anyone else was going to show up. Haha, make all the jokes at my expense that you want, just keep the shots coming.

Which they did. It ended up being a great time, with a good amount of friends in attendance. Words were exchanged. Hearts were broken. And I was more drunk than I've been in awhile. Don't quite remember leaving the bar, or going to Sidetrack afterwards. But whatevs -- It's my last night in Chicago I can do what I want.*

Back to DC on Tuesday. For good. Woot! (I think, right?)

* "Do what I want" apparently included not being able to walk a straight line, needing to grab onto the wall in order to stand up, kinda/sorta falling asleep at a urinal, and vomiting my guts out at Mark's, but whatever.

I Hate Dulles

2009-08-22T14:43:00.000+01:00

Seriously.

I took the Orange Line out to Vienna/Fairfax thinking I could save some money on a taxi. Still cost me forty fucking dollars, plus the $2.50 for the Metro.

And for all the security lines in all the airports I've ever been to in my life, the one at Dulles is always the longest. Always. And why o why in this day/age must an airport charge for wi-fi?

Because of bad weather and delays leaving Dulles, I missed my connection in Atlanta and spent the night on the airport floor. Fuck my life again.

Should It Really Be So Hard to Find a Decent Apartment in DC? (Pt. II)

2009-08-21T05:20:00.000+01:00

There's a lot of crap out there for $1K or less. So I'm re-adjusting my rent budget up to $1200. Dammit.

I knew it would be hard to find something for a thousand, and that I'd have to have a bit of luck on my side, but dammmm I didn't think it would be so bad.

When I posted a "Housing Wanted" ad on Craigslist a few weeks ago I got some responses, but none of them was very positive. Some dickwad responded back to me essentially saying, "Wow, you're probably not going to find something you like for $1K." And that's all he wrote. Thanks for the encouragement, prick. I hate that he was right.

I've looked at 11 places so far. It's pretty much come down to 2 studios on 16th St., and one basement apartment off 14th St. All of then in Columbia Heights, all of them pretty decent actually. But all of them about $200 more than I originally wanted to spend.

But at least I feel good that I've met my goal of finding a place before I head back to Chicago tomorrow...

Bad Omen

2009-08-20T05:51:00.000+01:00

I had an appointment at Georgetown this afternoon, so I hopped on Wendell and off I went. First, I took a wrong turn somewhere just west of DuPont Circle. Ended up heading towards the Naval Observatory on Mass Ave.

Then, got onto Rock Creek Parkway, hit a bad pothole and blew my rear tire. Fuuuuck. I had to then walk with my bike along Rock Creek, up P St., then all the way down to a bike shop on M St. and 33rd. In the sticky heat. Fuck my life.

If I were a superstitious lad, I might think this is some sort of bad omen for my academic career at Georgetown; that maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead...

Lucky that I'm not a superstitious lad, I guess.

Should It Really Be So Hard to Find a Decent Apartment in DC?

2009-08-19T04:22:00.000+01:00

... apparently it should be, yes.

I've scoured every inch of Capitol Hill, Eastern Market and Lincoln Park to find a place and so far it is dismally slim pickings.

And all on my bike, in the blazing hot DC heat/humidity. It's like an extra "fuck you" from this city that I love/hate (although less love than hate).

Tomorrow is NW - Columbia Heights and Mt. Pleasant, specifically. But if that goes anything like today, I'll be living in Edmund. Christ.