I Think I'm In Love

...and the dude really makes me wanna change my Facebook status. About to shower then head up to school for the day. 3030 lecture at 11 followed by Patho review followed by hours and hours of studying ahead of me. I also need to try to squeeze getting up to Promise to fill out some new hire paperwork at some point.

Somehow, I'm making it through everything, not even really experiencing pain like I have in the past. I wonder how much of my current pain-free existence is actually a mind-over-matter thing. Could it be that all the positives are just helping me to overlook any potential negatives? Regardless, it's all icing on the cake.

Save a Prayer Till the Morning After

The days are getting even shorter and the nights are getting even longer, and winter definitely feels as if it's here already, but the calendar suggests that it's still a few weeks from arrival.

Today, I feel much better than I'd initially anticipated. Because I hadn't wanted to take the long list of medications necessary to combat pre-operative pain, I have been only too willing to simply cease taking them since my surgery has been cancelled. It's funny because I've been dealing with the repercussions of pain for so long, and I have been chasing ibuprofen with hospital-strength analgesics and muscle relaxers that I wish had never been invented. Instead of prescribing a medication that simply binds to the opiate receptors in your brain and dissociates a patient from experiencing pain, why not create some grand pharmaceutical that simply eradicates the pain fully? I would much prefer something that could be taken for the long-haul, with little-to-no risk for any sort of mental or physical dependence and no worry that pain might suddenly intensify if one abruptly halts the prescription.

The definition of nursing paper is nearly complete, but nowhere near ready for submission; however, I have the remainder of the day to add my finishing touches and make the paper a little more mine. Once I have it where I want it, I'll have to ensure that all the quotes are properly integrated and the paper fulfills all necessary criteria of work that exceeds excellence. I get complimented for my scribner abilities all the time, but the variety expected from nursing instructors is quite different from those of the creative arts.

Last night was the first in a run of several that I didn't have the opportunity to see the object of my affections. It's funny how you quickly become accustomed to being in the presence of someone who is inspirational and attractive on the inside and out, someone who makes you smile and laugh and really lights your f-i-r-e in every way someone interesting is supposed to. I guess Justin's growing on me. Not like a fungus, more like a new candle whose scent you're initially not accustomed to and begin to develop a yen to smell again and again.

It's not like we're not both busy. In fact, it's not like I don't have a long list of at least one hundred other things that I really ought to be working on right now in lieu of posting to my blog.

The Only Thing That Could Possibly Spoil My Mood

Would be for the scheduler and verification specialist from my doctor's office, with whom I have an appointment for pre-operative testing at 1:45 this afternoon, to call and tell me that my insurance will only be able to pay 40% of the total cost of the pending procedure I have scheduled to alleviate and permanently eradicate the herniated discs that prevent me from maximizing efficiency and living a completely pain-free existence. It's not like I don't have 1,000 other things that I really should be concentrating on. I have the paper, the pending patho exam, the diabetic patho cards that need to be composed, the English assignment due... All I can do is cross my fingers and hold my breath and hope that this is a situation that remedies itself with as little of my efforts as possible. You'd think that the whole reason we pay gigantic insurance premiums would be to prevent someone with a specific need from having to pay $70-80,000 for a medically necessary procedure. Hopefully, all will be worked out well before my appointed time.

Inspiration in the Form of a Compounding Watchtower

Like I've written in the few times that I've actually gotten my enthusiasm to post anything recently, I really wish that I were keeping up with more frequent and more substantial updates to my blog these days. Still, I'm sure that if I had all the free time in the world, I still might be able to find some other distraction that I can blame for preventing me from my one, true, really great passion for the written word. There's always something more important and far more pressing than what I can only consider a leisure activity these days with everything else that I have hovering over my head. Classes and homework and recopying notes and reading and research and writing papers and Nightingale newsletters and LASN/SNA/SGA meetings and fundraisers and special events and volunteer time and trying to quit smoking and trying to deal with the often overwhelming pain in my back and prepping for surgery and trying to get everything completely and totally ironed out and tucked away and wrapped and ready to submit... life is tough and I definitely always seem to be able to make it a little tougher and a little more time consuming and a little more expensive and extensive than what it may otherwise be.

But I have to write this afternoon. Of course, I really should be working to ensure that I've got the best possible definition of nursing paper ever written or reading the textbook on assessments and evaluation and treatment and implementation and everything that's anything in the nursing process or recopying notes for the lingering Pathophysiology exam or reading the chapters associated with pulmonary function and valvular issues and renal disorders and neurological deficiencies. There's reading for Family Dynamics and Sociology, discussion board posts that need to be compiled and submitted and replied to and participated in. I have the other paper, the one for Tech Comp that I really just refuse to consider either an issue or a necessity or something that I really ought to put to the forefront for the time being. There's a final issue of the Nightingale that I should be busier finishing. I have an issue of Horizons that'll be due before I know it. I have bills that I need to work a little harder to pay. But all that stuff is going to be there regardless, and the most pressing and important thing, this paper that describes my personal definition of nursing may not write itself, but if I don't get any other topics that tug at my attention out of my mind and posted here, then I'll never be able to focus and really give the research and composition my best efforts.

So, there's this thing that happened last week; well, started, really. And it comes in the form of somebody who (has and continues to) pique my interest. Out of left field and from across the universe, but I guess that's where the better things in life usually arrive: from out of nowhere and when one least suspects or hopes or anticipates or figures. When I think of situations like this, for some reason I always think of that Emily Dickinson verse... "because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me," but to make such an analogy is totally grim and subversive and the exact opposite of everything that is great and wonderful and amusing and completely warm for heart and health; however, the general meaning is somewhat similar. Just upside down and reversed.

It's a guy. Ding! Ding! Ding! Of course. I'm sure that anyone reading this would've smelled that one coming from a mile away, but I really didn't expect that I'd seize an opportunity and take a chance and go for broke and... hey, pop a question just to see whether or not something possible was possible.

Here's what happened... This summer, one of the many activities with which I was first involved with the Student Nurses Association was orientation and registration. I had to get up early and head up to campus and wear SNA attire and plug in my laptop and compile a long list of contact information for the incoming ASNers and BSNers who were all about to embark on the first levels of their individual programs. I actually think that I spent the majority of that day on my knees adding correctly spelled names to a long list for name tags and tape measures and clip boards and all the other stuff that I have yet to require for my personal use as my first level won't begin for another two months (two months from today, that is -- at the time, it would've been... what... ? ... closer to six months?). It's an all-day for two days event where students get to find out everything they've always wanted to know about the crucial, clinical phase of education. If you've made it to that point, then you better be prepared to live up to a bunch of really high expectations because not everyone gets in and not everyone will be able to make it through and beyond into the wonderful world of nursing as a profession.

BSN went well. Quick. Easy. We had a bit of a break before the ASNers showed up, and one of the students arriving for his spot on the list of those in need of clinical imperatives caused me to do a bit of a double-take and smile. It was one of those situations when you're thinking to yourself... hey... you're new... And then you make a note of the name that you're typing into the list and decide that maybe this is somebody you'd like to talk to (Hey, Baby! What's your name? What's your number? What's your sign?), but will likely not have much of an opportunity. Ya know, a momentary fantasy that plays out for about forty-five seconds to a minute in your head during which you take note of the eyes, the teeth, the smile, the scrubs, the height, and you blush a little when you hope that there's not a mind reader mixed into the crowd somewhere and honing in on your current mental framework.

So, things go along their merry way. For the weeks that followed, life took over. As one can infer from reading my blog and making certain assumptions in the lengthy time that exists from one blog post to the other, I've been busy. To list out anything and everything that I've been doing would be beating a dead horse. I have very little social life. I have a limited number of friends who are not also nursing students. The "fun" activities in my life are social obligations involving one organization or another, and most of my thrilling Friday and Saturday nights are spent at my desk, rubbing the corners of my eyes after several hours or staring at the hard glare emanating from my laptop's haunting gaze. This is one of those situations, however, where you kinda bump into that dude that you saw at registration every now and then. Passing in the parking lot and prepping to acknowledge the other person (...should I smile? should I nod? ask, "how's it goin'?") or serving them chicken strips or some other fast food at an SGA luncheon (...ah, there he is again... I wonder if he's single. I wonder if he plays for my team or for their team or if it even really matters 'cause I seriously doubt he'd be interested in giving me the time of day regardless).

And then, one morning last week, I was letting my coffee get me going and looking through the Facebook news feeds and I noticed that a fellow overachiever had accepted a friend request from the individual whose name I had noted and tucked away that day at registration. I took a gamble, going on the sole assumption that, based on the list of mutual friends (mostly acquaintances, really), maybe, just maybe this guy plays baseball for the same team as me... or at least regularly operates as a special guest star. It went something along the lines of me thanking him for accepting my friend request and asking him if he had any interest in grabbing a cup of coffee sometime in the future.

Now, allow me to make a momentary, secondary aside as I relate the information contained in his response and my glib reaction to his reply. I had imbued my initiating message with as much self-deprecating uncertainty and unassuming courage as possible, allowing for the possibility that the object of my interest may be a perfect Kinsey zero, totally uninterested, and perhaps even a bit offended. Therefore, I sprinkled the message with plenty of self-titled "pansies," "douchebags," and accepted the idea that I may be completely and totally wrong in having gone out on a limb and basically asking out a man whose sexuality was only slightly certain. I was prepared for him to deny my request, remove my link to our friendship through the all-time most popular social networking site, and for him to jaunt up to campus in a matter of hours to tell the world that some homo bro hit on him. Luckily, nothing could be further from his response, yes, he would be interested in coffee, but there was a caveat on which I feel the express need to ponder. Being very busy and in no way ready for a relationship, he said, there should be no expectations.

I was left to wonder why one would automatically assume that I'm grasping at something when I really just thought: he's cute... hell, he's better than cute. He's an attractive, great looking, hot guy. Tall. Nice teeth. Nice smile. Really alluring eyes. The kinda eyes that are always smiling at you. Happy. Consistently pleasant and generally easy to be around. The kind of person one only has the opportunity to run into every few dozen lunar cycles, the kind that makes you want to snatch up an opportunity. He looked interesting, and I wanted to know him better. So, I discounted the sideways advanced directives and proceeded to re-state my interest. And the guy one-upped me on coffee. Seeing that coffee and raising me one Shakespearean tragedy: Macbeth.

So Macbeth begot texting and texting begot tentative post-Baton Rouge trip plans and post-
Baton Rouge trip plans begot a spaghetti dinner and spaghetti begot apple tarts and coffee which begot Saturday Night Live which begot increasing interest which begot a long afternoon and evening study session which begot more texting which begot more interest which begot obvious, non-mutually exclusive interest which begot one of those late night conversations that sought some discussion of what all this begetting and texting and discussing really means.

Who knows. All I can write for certain is that this tall guy with the piercing eyes and the great smile and the warm heart and the pleasant disposition that really puts the writer at ease while concurrently inducing excitement and really makes me want to change my Facebook status. I guess we'll just wait to see what happens.

Beware! The Flesh-Eating Zombies Are Coming To Get You

I was up entirely too early for a Sunday morning, but I had to come relieve Mom from her graveyard shift at Mimi's, where we're all taking turns sitting with her while she continues to recovery; hopefully, the company keeps her spirits higher than if she were here all alone. I really feel as if she can spend the coming days in the week alone. Even though she's using a walker, she really doesn't seem to need it, only utilizing it because she's been told that she has to do so.

I spent most of the first hour that I was here reviewing Blackboard for everything that I have to do in the coming week: there's the sociology paper on the history of pornography and an analysis of the arguments that repeated exposure leads to desensitized empathy towards sex and possible intimate partner violence in relationships. It's due a week from Tuesday, and I feel that it's actually coming along very well. I also have the bonus assignment to compile the information related to attending the Sigma Theta Tau meeting last week to submit to Dr. Shelton for a few additional percentage points, the paper that I have to write on my definition of nursing (more to be revealed on this soon), a paper on the family dynamics of addiction a.k.a. "The Lost Child and the Chief Enabler: Addiction as a Family Disease," and a paper for my Technical Composition class, which I'm pretty sure I'll be writing on health promotion in nursing students. Because there are so many preventative and promotional applications that I'm attempting to make in my life: quit smoking, eat breakfast, floss, 30 minutes of exercise every day, etc., I'm doing some research to substantiate the benefits of doing so.

The idea goes along with my belief that no one is going to pay any attention to a nurse whose patient-collaborative treatment plan cites a long list of lifestyle alterations that an individual should make when the nurse is clearly well within the BMI chart's rating of "overweight" or "obese," smoking a pack or more a day, and not incorporating the American Heart Association's suggested guidelines for proper nutritional options. Furthermore, after Friday's Pathophysiology lecture on Pulmonary Disorders and the actual physiological changes that come along with daily tobacco use, I don't want to be a statistic. I've tried to quit one hundred times in the past, but now is the time to really do what I can to make it work. There has been some talk amongst my fellow SNA-ers that we also consider options for a yearlong health promotion as our umbrella community service activity and perform basic alterations in our own lives to map out as inspiration for anyone looking to us as role models. All of this, of course, goes along with my slowly developing (likely ever-evolving) definition of nursing, further inspiration for my research.

Do one in five relationships really begin online these days? Match.com seems to think that's the case. At least, their commercials suggest that much. I don't know if that's really true, but if it is, then maybe it's a statistic I wouldn't necessarily mind adding onto. More on this later as well.

It doesn't really look like Halloween outside. There are no kids in costumes running all over way too early. I hear no haunted music echoing from the interiors of any spot around here. Well, it is not yet eleven in the morning, so maybe there's much more to come later today. We'll see.

Being Right Isn't Always A Good Thing

Why do celebrity deaths always happen in threes? I don't know that one could actually consider the idea a rule or a theory or a low, but it's one of those things that you just notice. Ask anyone in the medical field, someone working in a hospital or in a facility for long-term care, and you're likely to discover that this isn't something that just plagues the famous, it's something that happens. I'd have to say that it has something to do with the karmic rules of the universe: the rule of threes. Three horsemen. Three magi. The holy trinity. Full moon insanity: three days going in and three days coming out. What you put out there comes back to you times three. A single incident could just be its single self, but when there's a second, you can bet there will be a third. Funny how things work out in life whether you've planned and anticipated for them or not.

There are one hundred thousand million other things that I should be doing. I even posted my Facebook status today as a demand for a twenty-fifth hour. I have an article to analyze and submit tomorrow morning, more than fifty Power Point slides that I still need to review for an exam on Friday, a letter to revise and email, an article to work on for a national publication, and a brochure that needs to be ready in two days, but I can't quite seem to get it the way I want it. I'm usually so much more focused than I have been for the past several days, but I've just been so easily distracted, unable to fully concentrate on all this stuff that I'm usually adept at pouring my brain into and exerting the best parts of my higher leveled thinking.

Maybe the distraction has something to do with my grandmother. She was rushed to the Emergency Room two days ago and I've been slowly digesting the details of her condition piece by piece, as it's all been issued from her doctors and her nurses. It's such a coincidence that all the symptoms I am learning of are those which I'm currently covering in Pathophysiology. With words like effusion and ascites and fluid and atelectasis, the nursing student brain went into overdrive, and I immediately start thinking about left-sided heart failure and what it means and how it relates to her prognosis. When Mom asked what I thought, I did my best to explain cardiopulmonary function and what it could potentially be in Mimi's case. What's funny is that, most of the time, I really love being right. I argue, fight, research, investigate, find the proof I need to prove my point or win the debate. I was right this time, but this isn't one of those cases where being right really fits or feels good. It's a Pyrrhic victory at best. No, it's a Pyrrhic victory at worst.

Maybe I'll feel more inspiration later. We'll see.

Ketchup

No inspiration tonight, but I really wanted to post something.

A day with news. Bad news.

From sun up to sun down.

Bad news.

More later.

New Opportunities

Exhausted, but I persevere. There simply aren't enough hours in a day. Twenty-four is just not adequate for everything involved in the myriad tasks of life. Reading. Re-copying notes. Running for offices. Regular lectures. Rigorous work schedules. Really needing sleep. No rest. Blah. Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. This is the house that Miles built.

Maybe tomorrow I'll write something that's cohesive and makes a little more sense than just randomly etching out words on the screen. Maybe. I just know that I needed to post something, to get something typed out on the blog so that I could get away from the pathophysiology of hematological disorders for a few. According to the recorder, I've got another 48 minutes to retain from this particular folder, and then another folder that I've yet to even open.

My back hurts. Really hurts these days. It's a pain that's so swift and punishing. Indescribable at times. It plagues my posterior midsection to the point that I cannot even concentrate at times. And all the ibuprofen in the world probably wouldn't work at this point. I scheduled the surgery. November 22nd with the pre-op tests and pressures and vital statistics taken on the 16th, one week before. I wish the 22nd were already here and gone and the pain went with it. Until then, I can take it. I'm a soldier. For now. I just know that I can't deal with this once the real nursing school starts up for me in... three months... wow. Right at three months.

Enough rambling for now.

No Break in My Break

Although the weather outside is perfection, indicative of my most favorite time of the year, I seem to always be cooped up in my bedroom, chained and slaving away at recopying notes and pouring over power points from previous lectures. I know that none of it is in vain, it's all geared toward making the best and the brightest future possible for myself. I just wish that I could make a little more free time to go out and play. I miss riding bikes and rolling around in the grass, the days when my biggest worries were simply how to maximize the daylight hours and what sheets would work best to build a backyard fortress to keep the invaders away. Now, my worries are those of the real world: working enough hours to pay bills and keep my insurance(s) up-t0-date, doctors visits and plans for this spinal surgery to correct all the abnormal stenosis that's presented itself in the past couple of years. Despite it all, I can not help but marvel that it could always be much worse, and I thank my higher power that my suffering and set-backs are nothing compared to those I see daily in news broadcasts in third world nations and see stateside with all the natural disasters, poverty, and violence.

Today, I'm working on the clinical packet application. It only arrived this past Saturday morning, and I have much to do to ensure its prompt and proper completion and remission to the school and the Louisiana Sate Board of Nursing. Thankfully, I had forethought to compile everything that I knew they were going to request, so I only have to get the fingerprints and the passport pictures, affix some postage to the envelope and drop it in my nearest mailbox. I also have to contact the Cobra people to pay a rather hefty sum to continue health insurance as it seems that the specialists prefer that I no longer put off this necessary corrective laminectomy that is supposedly the remedy to the nearly constant grinding pain at the base of my waist, drifting its fingers all the way down my leg to the back of my knee.

These days, I'm wondering about sponsorships. Are there individuals or corporations out there that recognize true ambition when its presented to them and agree to help finance a nursing education? I wish that there were truer and more available mentorships like in the days of the artisans and noble benefactors aiding and abetting the young, the worthy, and the promising. Who knows. Maybe I worry too much about the affordability of things. After all, other students embark on their journeys into the medical field without a hitch. I just wish that I didn't always have to work so hard to get from point A to point B. However, I've appreciated my accomplishments thus far. Maybe the harder I work, the more deserving I'll really be when I step in that room to take the NCLEX-RN and go on the first real interview for a role in my field of choice.

I'm rambling, I know, but I promised myself to use this blog as more of a journal from here out. I guess this is what I meant.

A Promise

"Sun is shining, the weather is sweet. Make you want to move your dancin' feet, yeah..."

-Bob Marley

October is here, the best time of the year. I have the windows all open to the max. I have been thinking about my poor, very neglected blog for several days now. I'm hoping that by adding a link to my bookmark bar (a feature provided by Google Chrome, the new searcher that I'm using and really digging), I might remember to journal more on a daily basis. There was a period of time when I was actually updating this baby on a fairly regular basis, but I have sorely neglected my adherence to this task, about as much as I've been neglecting daily meditation and meeting attendance. Still sober. Still clean. But I do a lot less of all the things that got me here, and the worst part is that I don't feel an ounce of guilt or remorse. I feel as if I'm doing everything that I possibly can and still putting my best foot forward, trying to live the best life I possibly can and trying my best to hurt no one in the process.

Because I am so hyperextended in everything I do in life, I hope to start using my blog as more of an outlet. More of a journaling space. More of a jumping off point for anything and everything that I think and do and feel. I'm pretty sure that no one is out there reading this these days, but maybe I'll say something impressive and meaningful and realize through my writing something that I wouldn't otherwise without some degree of reflective consideration.

It's not like I don't already have a ton of everything else I really should be doing right now. I'm behind in my reading for every class. I have assignments that are due by eleven o'clock tonight, some of which I've not yet begun. I have notes to recopy and key words to highlight. I have pathophysiology cards that I have vowed to complete one of each and every day. I have the SGA blog and the SNA blog and their respective Facebook pages, everything requiring, needing, deserving updates. I have situps that I could be performing and pushups that are growing more and more necessary. I have discussion boards that are needed on Blackboard. I have hours and hours of Tivo that need to be watched and deleted. I've not yet seen an episode of this season's Grey's Anatomy or The Middle or Modern Family, but I did make my time for Desperate Housewives last Sunday, and I'm strongly considering taking up painting as a secondary, regular means of creative effort to escape from the day-in, day-out pending to-do's and must completes. I just need to grab a couple of new canvasses and get to work.

Although I'm in love, I'm pretty sure that my relationship is hanging on by little more than thread, and I'm not all-together certain that it's the healthiest relationship to be in besides. I received my clinical packet from Northwestern yesterday, and I definitely have a ton to get moving on to be sure that the information is included and submitted and ready to roll by the October 11 deadline. I suppose I should be more excited about it. I am excited. I've worked hard for it. I've sacrificed parties and Saturdays and trips and other fun things in favor of reading and studying and learning everything I can to do the very best I can. I'm just not jumping for joy yet because the information I include in my return of the completed packet will decide which way I may go. Not whether or not I'll get in, but what degree of probationary measures the Louisiana State Board of Nursing may choose to implement as they accept me into the next phase of my education. I really don't want to put up with any kind of extensive probation. It just seems like yet another thing that I have to add to my list of all the other stuff that I have to do and have to pay for; however, I suppose I should be more grateful for having the opportunity of probation at all. There are others, close friends, who weren't even allowed into this aspect like I am. Things can always be worse.

I have a grocery run to make, but I think I'm about to write out all the discussion questions due tonight for Addiction Studies and Social Problems and Technical Composition so that I can come home and write and submit and get moving on other assignments and notes and get caught up. Maybe ahead.

Things to Look Forward to and Things to Be Happy About

The truth is: I've been sitting on the window ledge of a decision that's really nothing exemplary or extraordinary or exciting or really even worth the time I've taken to make a pros and cons list and carefully weigh the unbalanced list of numerous cons on one side against the weight of a single con on the other, but I made the list and I looked it over and I've really allowed myself to nearly commit a serious infraction against myself and the days that remain within 2010. Fortunately, I finally decided to confide in Daniel, and as I did, I realized just how ridiculous my words sounded. Sometimes, all we really need to do is bounce a few phrases off another person who cares and listens to hear just what we need to hear and to see that all the weights and burdens and questions really aren't even worth the time and effort. I'm grateful to have a dude like Daniel in my life, just like I'm happy to have my mom and my sister and a conglomeration of people who constantly remind me to stop taking things so seriously and to stop allowing myself to be a doormat in life. The thing is, I have this desperate need to fit in at times and it carries over into the professional sector at times and I allow myself to get painted into a corner and wrapped up in a box that I subsequently find myself desperate to break through and leave behind. Tonight, I sprang my concerns to a man who returned with his own concerns that he'd been keeping to himself for several weeks and suddenly I saw that all this twisting and turning and feeling that I owe someone one thing or another... it's not always worth it. The best part of being a man in full is knowing when to say when: recognizing your assets and fueling your strengths and recognizing a liability for what it is and agreeing that the best thing you can do is just stop and remove yourself from a bad situation.

This unnatural uncertainty I've been kicking around from one jaw to the other all summer is ready to be simply spit out from my lips and into the pond of life from which we all see and learn and regard. Stick with a good thing in my position with NSU where I can create my own schedule and enjoy guaranteed hours for the next year and take time off when necessary and experience a stress-free, academically charged daily energy (but don't make nearly the money I could--the only con) or kick the NSU work to the curb in an effort to try to balance this rigorous life in academia that I enjoy with extracurriculars and a new relationship and volunteering and a position with a secondary facility to which I really don't feel all that proud or impressed or stress-free to belong. Yeah, written down and looking over one option versus the other really does seem unbelievably silly, but I can't help feeling that it's something I should tough out: get up and walk it off, take it like a man, all that. Crazy, right? Like all the times I've told myself that I'm not a soldier, I'm a human being and here I am taking on undue and unfair psychological stress and pain that's just as bad if not worse than the real daily physical pain I feel at the base of my spine and all the way down my left leg due to this still-not-yet-repaired stenosis thing. Crazy. Maybe I really am a masochist. I certainly have discovered that I am in every other way... why not other than just in pursuits related to any kind of sexually provocative activity? I suppose a true masochist is a masochist from that first cup of coffee all the way to the last cigarette of the day.

So, Daniel and I told each other good night, but just before we parted, he stopped and asked: "So, have you made up your mind yet?" I nodded. Yeah, I think I have. "Good," he told me, "it took long enough." Right, right, right. I headed home, but not before texting one other person for whom I have a tremendous amount of respect: a nurse with a sound mind and just as sound advice. After expressing myself on the matter further than I did the previous time we began discussing the subject, I was told that I was doing the best possible thing in the world if I were to hold onto NSU and let go of the other matter. Permanently. And as soon as possible.

I drove home and thought about having a bite. Instead, I popped in my headphones and posted a few thoughts on Facebook and sent a friend a birthday greeting. And I re-watched the newly released trailer for Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan and almost got turned on watching the thrilling chemistry between Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman and began to speculate at just what the hell the man has in store for the legion of fans he has begun to accumulate... especially with the final ten to fifteen seconds of the trailer and that recently sprouted feather from Natalie Portman's fair shoulder blade and that ominous, deathly symphonic music... the maleficent tones of a Swan Lake reverb... I can't wait for December. That's when I really realized just how much I've missed from this summer break, the holiday in which I planned to only read and write and sleep and catch up on Tivo and spend three weeks being perfectly irresponsible and getting fat on bags of chips and other negative additives to an otherwise healthy diet.

I've read only two novels since June. I've watched only three or four hours from almost one hundred hours saved on my Tivo. I've eaten nachos a couple times, but only in moderation. I've really not slept in. Even the nights I spent alert and oriented and wrapped up in the arms my my sig. fig. to watch the break of dawn and the rise of the sun, I jumped up as early as possible... mostly only into the late morning hours so that I could stay on top of this and that and try to run into work to be sure that I'd not missed anything important while things were quiet. No trips. No overnight hotel stays. No afternoons lounging and burning out by the pool. In fact, the most I've seen of the sun has been the past two days smoking outside the new student orientation and registration for my SNA/SGA involvement. And now, I've only tomorrow and Friday and Saturday and Sunday and this lovely break of mine is over in favor of Addiction Studies and Family Dynamics and Social Problems and Technical Composition and Nursing as a Profession and Pathophysiology and clinical preparation and study groups and highlights and notecards and rewritten notes and all of everything that's coming in September and October and November... all the way up until just before Christmas.

My vow: the next time I accept a position anywhere, I'll be sure to conduct my research and a thorough interview that is just as intense, if not moreso, than the interview to which I may be subjected. I also vow to be true to myself. I refuse to believe the words I was told to accept.. that "it is much easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission" because if you're living your life the way you're supposed to, then you rarely have to ask for permission and even less for forgiveness. I vow to be far more careful of allowing work to define my life. I vow to spend a lot more leisure time with the people in my life who really matter: my mom, my sister, my brother, my nieces, my nephews, Jeremy, Shannon, Nick, the SNAers, the SGAers, these co-workers from NSU who keep begging me to come back, and, of course, this unstoppable, undefinable, wordlessly perfect force of nature called Daniel... the one who really lights my F-I-R-E and ALWAYS allows me to be honest, to express myself completely, encourages me to be myself, accepts me no matter what, and pushes me toward being the best possible Miles I can be.

Thanks, Daniel-san. It's awesome to know that he'll be waiting for my call tomorrow, ready to smile and hug me and ask me: "So... how was it... and more importantly, how was your day?" Good question. Especially when the one asking it wants the real, fully explained answer. Who could possibly ask for anything more than that?

The Disgustingly Harsh and Wholly Hellish Heatwave of 2010

It's almost unbearable. Impossible to even reach just outside the front door to pull any pieces of mail from the box adhered to the exterior wall only slightly beyond the edge of opened doorway. Merely walking from our house's side door and down the driveway to Lola's spot parked along our street yesterday in the late morning hours, I was hideously layered in a thick layer of sweat that left my clothes clinging to every inch of flesh beneath. In fact, it's impossible to even keep our $250K three bedroom in Broadmoor at a comfortable temperature. The heat just seeps in through the cracks and opened blinds and radiates into each and every room despite the air conditioning unit screaming into overdrive and the plethora of ceiling fans and miscellaneous other units attempting to maintain a temperate equilibrium... all failing miserably, leaving us miserably dealing with these final, miserable weeks of summer.

Personally, I'll be very happy when the weather ebbs into the soothing sanctity of sweater weather re-acquaints itself with the Northwest Louisiana area. I only wish it would hurry up and get here. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that each and every non-heat enthusiast is praying from some rain-soaked relief in any form, even if it makes its venture in the form of a decaying tropical storm weakening from its initial coastal impact; however, the two storms that promised us torrents and mild relief melted to nothingness before coming too far inland.

Meanwhile, the ways and means and pursuits of my life are anything other than miserable or unfortunate. I managed to accumulate thirty-six clocked-in hours by the time I clocked out from Thursday's shift; so, I knew that I would be able to only work a few short hours on Friday morning before taking the day off to accomplish the list of to-dos that have been staring at me from the pages of my personal calendar/planner and the gleaming face of the dry erase board affixed to the back of my bedroom door. In a few short hours after leaving Garden Park around eleven in the morning, I'd managed the one-way streets of downtown Shreveport and braved the hoi polloi mixing in the Caddo Parish Courthouse to pay an exorbitant amount for copies of all reports and records related to my past, I'd driven out to the Pines Treatment Center to pick up the discharge papers from the August day of my graduation (five years ago, tomorrow, as a matter of fact), and I came home to write up a full narrative history of what my life was like, what happened, and how things have changed up till today. It's not like I've never told my story before, nor could I argue that I've never had to write it all down. But working and writing your responses to step work is much different, just as writing a brief autobiography is different.

With step work, you're just eager to get it all down, confirming the parts that make up the whole of your life story. Writing the narrative which could, honestly, either make or break my career and on which all future endeavors to success are based is an experience in and of itself. In my desperate attempt to stand out from the others who are submitting similar fragments, I struggled to create something as interesting and honest as possible. When I read the rough draft aloud to Ragan and Mandi at their Saturday morning brunch, I felt that my mission was accomplished. Now, I just have to re-write the copy and make a few here and there tweaks before tying it up and printing it out, ready for submission. Should I be so bold to state that I believe my future's in the bag? I'd like to write just that, but I won't because pragmatism tells me to be a bit bashful and unassuming, sit back, be honest, and jump in whenever I'm asked. Only time will tell.

Yesterday was just as interesting and productive. Following brunch, I ran to see Gena at the Peace of Mind Center to re-up on all my favorite incenses and was turned onto a new option: Moldavite, which Gena assured me was quite popular and well worth the expense. Although I burned two sticks simultaneously last night, I'm planning to save those remaining for relaxation, meditation, prayer, higher powered thinking, and sleep. The packaging suggests that Moldavite is the result of an asteroidal impact with Earth millions of years ago whose benefits range from more positive thinking, more vivid and powerful dreams, proven strength to relaxation... all the stuff that sounds wonderful and alluring and well worth the five-fifty or so it took to purchase the package. After Peace of Mind, I braved the aisles at the Gucci Brookshire's on Line Avenue, spent much more than I planned, then came home to complete the August issue of NSU Shreveport's SNA Nightingale, the student produced, student nurses newsletter, our back-to-class issue.

Finally, I received my late-afternoon, early evening phone calls from Daniel, who seemed a bit distant or aloof or maybe just pensive. I decided to shrug off any definitive plans early on in favor of climbing on the couch and watching a truly amazing and thought provoking documentary circa 1978 called "Word Is Out," billed as twenty-six conversations with gay men and women. Although the hairstyles and clothing and some the idiomatic expressions are a bit dated, the power of these brave souls discussing life and love and growing up gay is apparent. The topics of truth and loyalty and self-confidence and self acceptance and love are beautiful no matter from the time or person they are emitted. Before it was over, Daniel called again, ready to roll and eager to get together. We planned to come back to my house, veg on junk food, and watch one of the DVD's that have been sitting on my shelf for more than a week and begging to finally be watched. Instead, we ended up in the kitchen all night. I made tuna and he told me stories about his youth. We ate intermittent tuna sandwiches sliced into triangles and he eagerly devoured his pieces exclaiming how great the tuna was. We smoked a bunch of cigarettes and I downed a Monster and we talked more. And talked. And talked. And talked. When the sun began to make its early morning appearance, we snuggled together on the couch (funny how much cooler the house is in the pre-dawn hours... in fact, it's downright cold at times), watching a re-run on TVLand and fell asleep there before jumping up around eight and deciding to move to our bed where we slept late. Inexcusably late. Wonderfully late. So late that by the time we finally decided to work our way from bed to caffeine, the house was already hot and we both required showers and shaves and re-donned jogging pants and tee shirts and old running shorts. He fell back asleep under the ceiling fan that's rotating on its highest setting; below its light breeze, he played with Mary Louise until, it seems, the heat overtook him and he gave into a nap.

Chicken's on the counter, defrosting for pasta salads. Sunday afternoon NPR is running through Windows Media Player on my computer. The sig fig is starting to move around. I just looked back there and Mary Louise is passed out beside him. A couple of lazy lugs. But I love 'em.

Life is really good today. Really hot. But really really good.

Monday, Monday

Glad the day's just about over. As hot as I reported the state of affairs in the Shreveport-Bossier metropolitan area yesterday, today's temperatures have risen to compare themselves to the underside of the river Styx. Hot.

Even the lights have flickered a time or two in the past hour, reminding me of winter storms, but there's definitely no rain, no wind, no thunder, nothing electrical. Only a major, inundating drain on the city's power grid as our air conditioners roll into overdrive as we all attempt to cool off a bit. Just after seven o'clock and the mercury still reads a toasty degree at or just above the triple digits. Perfect weather for love and passion and these heated moments of lust and falling deeper and deeper for this overwhelming energy I've found in the sig. fig.

Summer Lovin', Book Clubbin', Staying Cool, and Keeping Control

The first day of the month on the first day of the week. Always a good sign. A positive omen of a great and engrossing and lovely month to come. It has to be because July really kind of sucked for the most part, with one bright, shining, significant exception: the resurgence of something great and wonderful and unexpected in the shape and form of a romance that lay sleeping and dormant for five long years of incredible change, maturity, and movement into the goal-setting, dream-attaining wonderland of adulthood.

Why do they say "fall in love" ("like a fall from grace?" - Mary, The Happy Ending, 1969: "affluent Denver housewife drinks, takes pills, and walks out on her husband after fifteen years of marriage") like it's something that happens when you trip over an uneven span of sidewalk along your path, stumble several steps, and then re-right yourself to a steady stride? It's not that it's not totally the case. I mean, it happens unexpectedly and suddenly and shockingly, and it hits you sideways from somewhere behind you and to the left, deep within your blind spot, that shadowy blur of a gray triangle through which you never even think to look, especially when you've given up on looking and decided that if it ever happens, it's going to have to happen later because right now you don't have the time or the energy or the attention needed to pay to a significant other. How do you make God laugh? You make a plan, of course. Say that there is only one thing that couldn't possibly arrive at a worse time and that's the exact moment when that one thing trips across the uneven concrete, stumbles a few steps, and re-rights himself straight on into your arms that you've slung open to catch him. Yeah. I guess I've fallen in love. And on the eighth day, God said: Let there be love, and it was the best of all.

Last night was the third meeting of the Shreveport-Bossier Book Club, the second consecutive month in which we actually discussed one of the books on our list, the third month after originally meeting to plan meeting dates and meeting times and books to read and wines (that the others, no worries, people... it's not even a blip on my radar) for consumption and foods to devour and discussions to tackle. The first month was Julia Reed's The House on First Street and last night was Ian McEwan's Atonement, a big, sprawling, beautiful story of love and loss and the death of passion in romance through the cruel twists of fate and the lies that children tell. I made my famous chicken salad and Mexican fiesta dip with crackers and breads and a big, fat bottle of Yellow Tail Pinot Grigiot, a wine that I once consumed en masse, and the only idea I could lay my brain on and wrap my thoughts around when trying to determine what my tasteful contribution to Book Club could be since, five years of step work and meeting attendance and a whole lot of soul searching later, I remain clean and serene and sober and grateful. There was just under half a bottle remaining as the ladies began to make their ways to the door (something that DEFINITELY would never have been the case if I were still a drinking man), so I sent the remnants away with the one member of our party I knew would enjoy the grape fermentation the most.

It's hot here. Inexcusably, exhaustively, oppressively, disgustingly middle of deep South summer, New Orleans afternoon, Bourbon Street-caked on hot. It's not like it's the hottest it's ever been or anything, but I'm ready for the summer months to be over and complete. For the onset of sweater weather and no flip flops, driving with the windows down, sleeping with the windows up, planning on camping and pitching a tent and living off whatever the sig. fig. decides to catch or hunt or grab and skin and boil or fry for us to consume. Yeah, camping is a big and great idea, but one that I'm actually, really and truly looking forward to this fall, and I know that there will be afternoons and evenings and late up-all-night-study-sessions in which I'm going to have to put love on the back burner, but I also know that I've come this far and worked this hard, and it's imperative that I keep control, remain on top of my game, and keep on keeping on this path to perfection I'm pushing so hard to reach.

People in love are crazy.

Summer Photos

July 31-August 1: You know it's gotten too late when it's gotten too early. Men not without hats decide to photograph the actions and adventures of the early morning hours of Sunday as they meander through life and love and wardrobe.

Looks kinda like a psychotic Australian sociopath, eh? Nah, not even close. Just a guy on the brink of total global domination.

Same thing, only now placated by the idea. I'm sure he'll be so pleased that I'm posting these on my blog.

Yep. When the googly eyes make their appearance, it's definitely about time to call for sleep.

On Top of My Game

Not quite sure why I make posts here and then allow such incredible lengths of time to lapse before coming back and pounding out a few simple lines to express where I am, who I am, what I am, what's been happening, what's about to happen, what needs to happen, blah, blah, blah. Maybe it's because I stay as busy as I do. I mean, let's be honest. It's mid-July and I only finished the cliffhanger finale of last season's Grey's Anatomy late yesterday afternoon. I have movies DVRed from January and February inclusions to TCM's Underground cinema, and I can't think of a day or time when I'll really be able to slide on a fresh pair of boxers and a dingy white t-shirt to get on the couch and veg for a few hours in order to completely catch up. There are never enough hours in the day, and I always seem to be about three or four steps behind the pace that I really consider adequate, but I suppose it's much better than the alternative: holing up in an apartment with little-to-no-sleep for days on end and absolutely nothing to show for the period other than a checking account that's very much in the red and crimson-studded sclera in desperate need of several hours away from exposure...that's where I was a little more five years ago, so things could be much worse.

Five years. Really? Seriously? It doesn't seem like it's really been that long since my last drink, last high, last blackout, but it has. What's funny is that there are so many other periods of my life that I look back on and think: if I had it to do all over, I think I may do this one little bit differently. Not me, not this time, not with this particular period. Not at all. Now, I look back and I think that I never might have imagined five years ago that I'd go to work for a psychiatric facility and have an ennui to pursue a professional medical degree, nor that I'd be employable and resilient and reliable and stable and worthy. I never could have imagined that in five short years I'd go from complaining about the shambles I'd created to complaining that there's never enough time to complete the updates to the webpages of the organizations on whose boards I serve. Nor could I have thought that I'd be trying to figure out how to juggle a solid forty hours at a business I love with extracurricular meetings and committees and service commitments, or membership in a Book Club and the reading and prep that goes along with being a part of that with picking up dry cleaning and developing something of a real, mature and hopeful personal life (which has recently unexpectedly blossomed to a situation of explosively magical proportions, I might add).

I also never thought that I'd find the ability to tell another human being that I could see the two of us doing exactly what we're doing right here and right now from the here and now well into the rest of the remainder of our world, spending our lives in the company of each other and building a life and a family and careers and hopes and dreams and more and more endless aspirations for any- and everything that may or may not be forthcoming. What's more, I never in a hundred million billion trillion years would've thought that my words and emotions and ideas would not only not fall on deaf ears, but find themselves well received and well regarded and well respected for the possibility that they offer.

Is this what it feels like to be an adult? To know that in just two years, I'll be faced with not a new job, but a new career... that I'll be experiencing a year in a major trauma center, getting the skills under my belt and learning to deal with crisis management and prepping my pen to fill out the application for a graduate program that actually may lead to be opening my own practice... that I might actually be with this same person with whom I've shared all my hopes and dreams and we may actually be planning an adoption or drawing floorplans for an as-yet-unimagined living space... that I might actually be even more of a success than I am right now?

I never thought I'd live to see the days where I'd actually look back on the months before when that other goal was realized and I set my eyes on one approaching in just under a month so that I can plan to set yet another for sometime well into the future. I'm amazed with myself today. I'm amazed with my higher power, the energy in charge of making this and everything else possible. I feel hopeful and alive and excited and completely and totally freaked out all at the same time.

Crazy and unexplainable, but I just may have found the perfect formula for health, wealth, happiness, and prosperity. Don't know for sure if I could be any happier than I am right now, and it doesn't matter because, for the first time in my life, I feel something else that's even stranger and less familiar: content.

Very cool.

NSU Press Release From 05/26/2010

Three hundred and eighty-eight students at Northwestern State University have been named to the President’s List for the Spring 2010 semester, according to NSU President Dr. Randall J. Webb. Students on the President’s List must be enrolled full-time at Northwestern and make A’s in all academic courses pursued. Those students named to the President’s List for the spring semester listed by hometown were:

APO AP - Sarah E. Stahl;

Abbeville -- Taylor Danielle Orgeron;

Alameda, Calif. -- Gabrielle L. Assayag;

Alexandria -- Kristina S. Allen, Daniel M. Azua, Sarah Marie Durham, Jamar Shaquille Ferguson, Roy T. Henry Jr., Jill Katherine Marien, Adrienne Angele Matt, Mark Steven Sabbides, Kasey C. Spencer, Gina Marie Thompson, Lesley LeAnne Thompson;

Anacoco -- Jessica Nicole Cavanaugh, Tori V. Clemens, Ashley Hillman, Theresa D. McCauley, Connie M. Norris, Matthew Corbin Turnipseed;

Austin, Texas -- Jose Bustamante;

Ball -- Lydia Esther Gomez Kilgo, Tonya Nycole McVay, Destiny N. Westergard;

Basile -- Mariah Glade Courville, Nicholas Clements Courville;

Baton Rouge -- Angelle Renee Lamartiniere, Miles S. Parsons, Kayla L. Porche;

Belle Rose -- Meghan M. Breaux;

Benbrook, Texas -- Jeff C. Campbell;

Benton -- Miranda Rashay Blackmon; Mark F. Springer;

Bienville -- Kaitlin Deanna Doss;

Big Sandy, Texas -- Grace A. Moulton;

Birmingham, Ala. -- Megan Elise Gibson;

Bossier -- Kevin G. Black Jr., Amber Mae Evans;

Bossier City -- Carrie C. Anderson, Victoria Gail Barnhill, Taylor R. Cox, Amy Elizabeth Fain, Justin W. Gieger, Heather N. Guyans, Ryan M. Hernandez, Charissa L. Jobrey, Kristen Kay Lee, Rebecca Rose Meehan, Joshua James Patton, Shannon Marie Pitts, Cara Teece Pulliam, Jennifer Erin Rich, Lauren Elizabeth Sadka, Destiny McKenzie Spoor, Kimberly Rae Stanfield, Courtenay Alessandra Stevens;

Bourg -- Monique Renee Arceneaux, Brittany Lynn Rogers;

Boyce -- Crystal N. Battles, Paul Bonial, Andrew J. Coombs, Jackson Samuel Harmeyer, Donald Edward Mote, Brittani Elizabeth York;

Brno, Czech Republic -- Andrea Nedorostova;

Brusly -- Corwin M. Barnes;

Canton, Texas -- Blair Elizabeth Pierce;

Castor -- Melissa Erin Hall, Jesika Warren Joyner, Joseph L. Joyner, Zachary Trey Thrasher;

Charleston, S.C. -- Julie A. Dunn;

Chelles, France -- Isabelle Zdancewicz;

Choudrant -- Lindsey Nicole Bridges;

Church Point -- Sarah Elizabeth Boudreaux;

Cloutierville -- Courtney A. Rachal;

Colfax -- Betty Rachal;

Columbia -- Sherri Lynn Martin;

Converse -- Emily A. Snelling, Katie J. Springer;

Coppell, Texas -- Sarah Sadler;

Coushatta -- Andreia N. Barbieri, Holly Marie Bradshaw, Jeremy Horton Jones, Taylor A. Lee, Leigh Ann Lockey, Hayley N. Upshaw, Ella L. Winn;

Covington -- Nicholas David Frederick;

Crowley -- Amy Elizabeth Marquart;

Dallas, Texas -- Richelle J. Stephens;

DeQuincy -- Michelle L. Ashworth; Candra L. Chapman;

DeRidder -- Kriston Nickole Brewer; Keith A. Cooley, Ami M. Gaudette, David Paul Moreau, Marcia Jean Reid, Lisbeth Vonbuelow;

DeSoto, Texas -- Kirstie A. White;

Denham Springs -- Ashley Nicole Camp;

Deville -- Cody Wayne Edwards; Dustin Cade McPhate;

Doyline -- Sara B. Mitchell;

Dry Prong -- Laura Michelle Bell Whalen;

Erath -- Ashley N. Kasperski, Donna M. Touchet;

Euless, Texas -- Brendon James Mizener;

Eunice -- Rachael E. McGee, Meagen E. Vasseur;

Falls Church, Va. -- Amanda Katherine Weaver;

Farmerville -- Chassity Hamilton, Chelsey R. Hamilton, Summer N. Tate;

Flint, Texas -- Christopher Davis Lanier;

Fort Polk -- Nancy Flores, April M. Gallant, Joanna C. Harrison, Andrea R. Kephart, Elena Knyshev, Megan Nicholson, Brittney Ann Posey, Jennifer Lee Price;

Geonggi, South Korea -- Min Jung Kim;

Glenmora -- Matthew Francis English, Whitney J. Jones;

Gloster -- Ethan A. Taylor;

Goldonna -- Angela D. Garner;

Gonzales -- Taylor Elaine Morgan;

Grand Cane -- Kayla Nicole Dunn;

Gray -- Lacey D. Campbell;

Grayson -- Kevin Wayne Foy;

Gretna -- Shelita Marie Dalton, Andrew Kyle Lessig;

Harvey -- Jude T. Briscoe;

Haughton -- Taylor B. Campo, Jeffery S. Donaho, Gregory Adam Gagneaux, Jennifer Lou King, Luke J. Teutsch;

Holt, Mo. -- Mathias Simmons;

Hornbeck -- Melissa Mary Ellen Hale, Tiffany Nicole Lora, Treasure L. Stringer;

Houma -- Richard A. Ellender;

Ironton -- Adasha R. Trufant;

Jasper, Ga. -- Christopher Daniel Ridler;

Jena -- John J. Barker, Leslie Bradford;

Jennings -- Anthony J. Gloston, Eddie Higginbotham IV;

Joaquin, Texas -- Alix Claire Andres;

Katy, Texas -- Yaser H. Elqutub;

Keithville -- Michael P. Rigby;

Keller, Texas -- Tatiana Elena Vincent;

Kilgore, Texas -- Paul R. Adams;

Knoxville, Tenn. -- Brandy Marquetta Hines;

Lafayette -- Joshua R. Fage;

Lafayette -- Sean Daniel McClellan, Jessica Marie Quebedeaux;

Lake Charles -- Kimberly M. Cascio; Caitlyn Danelle Davis, Whitney Danae' Duhon, Hannah Marie Kelly, Oshe Renee' Lewis, Israel Shane Mouton, Allison L. Reed, Kevin Ross Stallion, Ashanti Nicole Walls;

Las Vegas, Nev. -- Philip Patrick Duffy;

Laurel, Miss. -- Jacob A. Deniakos;

LeBlanc -- Jennifer Marie Duhon;

Lebanon, Ill. -- Krysta LiAnne Engel;

Lecompte -- Wendi Jenkins;

Leesville -- Christianna Burwell, Steven T. Cambron, Emily Nicole Clarke, Rachel Mekenzie Cooper, Samantha M. Haymon, Patience M. Mattes, Watson Kent Nichols, Amber N. Powell, Kacee D. Rogers, Thomas Q. Stanford, Timothy S. Stanford, Marlana M. Stokes, Crystal Marie Triche, Diana E. Veseth-Nelson, Mathew Allen Wallace, Solmarie Wright;

Lena -- Andrea E. Kile;

Lindale, Texas -- Bryan Scott Johnson;

Logansport -- Misty Carol Taylor;

Luling -- Cherrelle M. Williams;

Lutcher -- Janell Marie Bourgeois;

Madisonville -- Lori M. Engolia;

Mamou -- John Vidrine;

Mandeville -- Justin I. Lyon, Melody Martin O'Connell;

Mansura -- Jesse E. Johnson;

Many -- Stephanie Leigh Branch, Ashley Nicole Davis, Laurin N. Guillot, Nichole Rose Halpain, Anna C. Williams;

Marksville -- Brandi Lynn Guilbeau, Caitlin Michelle Guillory, Jessica M. Lacombe, Jamie M. Laborde McNeal;

Marthaville -- Phillip B. Adams, Jessica M. Bass, Vanessa Renee Birdwell, Devin S. Lewis;

Mena, Ark. -- Casey Leigh Broadway;

Merryville -- Mary C. Pitre;

Metairie -- Katherine R. McGowan;

Millbrook, N.Y. -- Matthew William Reilly;

Minden -- Lanetta Leona Green, Ruby L. Paul, Sarah Jean Timmons;

Monroe -- Jaleesa M. Garth, Debra Renee Robinson, Ashley N. Tolliver;

Montgomery -- Tonya Lawson Ayres, Trinicia Shalise Leonard, Lindsey M. McQueary;

Morgan City -- Kristen Michelle Daisy;

Natchez -- Lawrence Dewayne Seawood;

Natchitoches -- Juliana da Silva Abreu, Tenita L. Almore, Brandon L. Bernard, Lauren D. Berry, Michael James Blackburn, Sheena Ann Brauer, Petra Bubanja, Jana L. Burnett, Cassidy Brooke Byles, Michael Chasteen, Christopher Edward Collins, Victoria Crews, Angelica Cruz, Glen Anthony Daigle, Heather D. Daigle, Molly Fay Danley, DeAnn Renae Carpenter Elkins, Gaelle Faraudello, Rhonda Vanessa Farris, Maria Jeanette Forsius, Mylie G. Hadden, Amber Leigh Ann Hamous, Brooke R. Humphries, Carolyn A. Jolivette, Annabel Fiske Jones, Sussette Thomas Lane, James C. Lasyone, Katie J. Maggio, Rachel A. McCalister, Jeanne Michelle Meyer, Whitney L. Mixon, Stephanie L. Montgomery, Ashley R. Nielsen, Joshua Lawrence Nuss, Leah D. Pagels,

Shannon L. Pearce, Hannah Machelle Perot, Sheri Lynn Prothro, Brandon Latroy Raymond, Nichole E. Rogerson, Lindsey Nicole Rome, David C. Royal, Nicole Kristin Rung, Bianca Isabell Schulz, Clinton A. Stanfield, Julia Marie Storrs, Nicholas Alan Treusch;

Negreet -- Adyson Breanne McMillian;

New Iberia -- Vanner James Erikson;

New Orleans -- Arielle B. Craige;

Oakdale -- Crystal Nicole Craig;

Olive Branch, Miss. -- Allison Marie Brewer;

Opelousas -- Corey A. Chachere, Laramie D. Lemon, Meredith Richard;

Ore City, Texas -- Cameron J. Jones;

Pelican -- Brendan Jay Hall, Willis Glen Wilburn;

Pine Prairie -- Alyssa Brooke McDaniel;

Pineville -- Allison Kaye Carpenter, Cassidy Noel Cole, Skylar R. Collins, Marissa J. Copeland, Ashley Nicole Difulco, Joshua W. Greer, Cheryl N. Lewis, Gwendolyn D. Mayeux, Brittni Shea Mendoza, Allison Jill Miller, John Reynolds Sewell, Kacie L. Smith, Joanna R. Snipes;

Pitkin -- Jenny M. Abel, Carrie Virginia Falke, Jamey L. Nelson;

Pittsburg, Texas -- Austin Alexander Jesmore;

Pleasant Hill -- Arthur Kirk Martin, Emily C. Neal;

Pollock -- Daphne Fay Howell-Price;

Prairieville -- Brittany Michelle Culotta;

Provencal -- Amanda K. Jones;

Ralston, Alberta, Canada -- Rheanne M. Gibbons;

Rayne -- Mary Joyce Hebert, Kaitlin Elyse Peart;

Rhinehart -- Dustie G. Guillotte;

Richmond, Texas -- Yelena C. Enwere;

Rio Vista, Texas -- Stephen Wade Duncan;

Robeline -- Vera Kay Day, Austen Moore Dockens;

Robert -- Micah Gregory Malnar;

Rockwell, Texas -- Whitney D. Gochinas;

Rosepine -- Erin E. Dupuis, Kimberley Lynn Thompson;

St. Amant -- Morgan Deshea Hebert;

St. Augustine, Fla. -- Catherine A. Morrison;

St. Gabriel -- Hattie J. Vaughn;

St. James -- Tonga M. Jones;

Saline -- Gillian D. Hough;

Sarepta -- Jared Wayne Weems; Keli Marks Weems;

Scott -- Eric S. Deblanc;

Senica, Slovakia -- Jana Krajciova;

Shreveport -- Emily Danielle Adams, Shardai Simone Adesola, Ashley Lynn Allred, Bijay Kumar Banstola, Amie Wilson Bartlett, Reagan Ansley Burke, Angel Dawn-Marie Butler, Kimberly R. Caswell, Sarah Elizabeth Crawford, Angela Janesse Cutrer, Amy Renee Deramus, Amber Nicole Henderson Estess, Austin E. Folks, Lakisha Meshell Hayes, Tiffany Patton Henderson, Diana Marie Holman, Adrielle T. Jackson, Emily Jett Jones, Millie Kay Kimmell, Jacob Damien Leger, Lauren Nichole Lewis, Travis G. Loftin, Lauren Lupo, Amber Nicole Merendino, Miles Jay Oliver, Jean Michelle Robinson, Gerald Wayne Stephens, Brian Keith Thomas, Allison Nicole Tison, Laura Beth Whitehead, Erin E. Williams, Krastina S. Wittman;

Simmesport -- Mareo M. Webb;

Simpson -- Devin Kory Averitt, Jessica Marie Bolton;

Springfield -- John Matthew Hughes;

Starks -- Zechariah T. Jones, Desire'e Glorice Parker;

Stonewall -- Cassie Dene' Allums, Christian Danielle Bentley;

Sugar Land, Texas -- Eva L. Wilson;

Tatum, Texas -- Randall C. Sullivan;

Terrytown -- Katie M. Stockton;

The Woodlands, Texas -- Brandon Michael Gay;

Thibodaux -- Sarah Elizabeth Hunt;

Ustinad Laben, Czech Republic -- Martina Rubesova;

Ville Platte -- Jacob P. Matherne;

White Sands Missile Range, N.M. -- Leasha Marie Hillhouse;

West Monroe -- Molly Elizabeth Harris, Staci K. Holloway;

Westlake -- Mary P. Hebert;

Winnfield -- Caleb Dewayne Austin, Wendy M. Barton, Rachel Ann Collins, Megan Rene` Rabalais;

Woodworth -- Eileen F. Peterson;

Zachary -- Cherie' Nicole Primes;

Zwolle -- Hilary S. Parrie.

John Taylor...50 in 9 Days...

...and all I can really think is... if he's going to be fifty, that means that I'm going to be fifty one day. I never thought such was possible. Who ever heard of such? Fifty?

Oh You've Got Green Eyes Oh You've Got Blue Eyes Oh You've Got Grey Eyes

Tuesday night.

Started behavioral statistics at one o'clock this afternoon after working all morning in multiple departments at NSU. It was one of those classes where I was constantly hoping that I would get out of there early and only halfway paying attention to the lecture. I mean, I got it. I learned it. I heard it. But I wasn't really into it. Foreshadowing? The first of twelve classes. Only eleven more to go. I'm hoping that some of them will be at least a little more captivating than this one.

When I left the building, there was a silver summer storm brewing and big, fat drops of rain scattered all over the parking lot. Not enough to accumulate. Not enough to wash all these dead, dried flowers off my car. Not enough to really cool things down from this near one-hundred degree, almost oppressive heat.

Came home. Worked on the group Facebook page for the NSU Shreveport SNA. I hope I can get a few new members to join and be a part of this deal. Of course, I can only be fair with my expectations. I mean, I have moments of tremendous passion followed by periods of extended apathy when it comes to everything. How do you make that go away?

Third Six Weeks Session

Today is the start of the third weeks summer session at NSU and the end of my brief period of freedom from checking messages and announcements and instructor posts until July 17th, when the session screeches to a halt and another, shorter break begins.

As always, I set the alarm on my cell for fifteen minutes prior to the time that I actually wanted to rise and start getting ready for my day. The beeps began at 0430 and the radio alarm blared its breath at 0445. Of course, I didn't actually get up on time. Instead, I jumped up to silence the radio and hit the cell snoozer about six times before finally resigning myself to the finality of the weekend and struggling to pull myself to the land of the living.

In a way, I feel a little sad that the break's already done, but the truth is I really don't know what I'd do with myself without deadlines and extra work towards my future and commitments and assignments and special projects that are all set to aid my nursing and addiction studies endeavors. I suppose I really should already be in the shower, but my clothes for today at Garden Park are already laid out and my lunch is made and it shouldn't take me more than twenty minutes to shower and shave and dress for the first day at work where my desk won't be littered with piles of everything that has been building and pressing and urging attention. I experienced a successful run last week as I completed everything that was anything, even putting the idea of going in over the weekend out of my mind as I knew I'd need the rest prior to a six week term that would suggest my attention on all sorts of personal endeavors in addition to scholastic stipulations.

At approximately 0701, I stubbed out a Marlboro Light (now, only Marlboro gold packs because to call a cigarette a "light" cigarette supposedly somehow suggests a less dangerously addictive cancer stick), and I already have the 21mg nicotine patch laid out on the counter and ready for its placement on the right upper deltoid - the other times I've done this, I've always started on the left, and I've never started the day with the last of my cigarettes to apply a patch later. I'm hoping that this time will be the time that I will be successful in my plan for cessation.

We shall say which way the wind blows. If I can quit smoking, then I know that I can beat just about anything as long as I put my heart and my soul and my determination into it. My plan is to document the sights and sounds and cravings and issues that arise here and to see how many days I can last.

Today is Day One.

Maintenance

Yes, I have been quite remiss in any updates...even managed to pass my one year anniversary of keeping this blog. Wonderful dad I am sometimes, but that's what happens when academics and work-studies and work-related efforts begin to generally overtake your life and request and require more of your time than you expect and/or plan to give initially. Odd deal, the hurrier you go, the behinder you get... but I've written about that before, haven't I?

Imprint, one of the student nursing magazines to which I subscribe, is requesting submissions from student nurses that offer innovative and creative study tips for their upcoming fall semester issue. I've been working on it and decided to compile a few of the bits here to see how things look when transcribed from the hand-written to the typed-up face of my laptop screen:

"In addition to my overzealous matriculation as a full time student working toward a Baccalaureate degree in Nursing, I've added a secondary major in Addiction Studies; and because several of the clinical semesters I have ahead are only composed of about nine hours (and twelve is the magic number to maintain financial aid stability), and if it's necessary that I take additional courses to achieve full-time status, I should definitely ensure those courses count towards something. Between semesters composed of anywhere from fifteen to twenty hours, adhering to a schedule of thirty-plus hours with work, holding positions with both SGA and SNA, and balancing academic related commitments with exercise, hobbies, a personal life, and some time for rest, finding the most tactical approaches to studying is absolutely essential.

First of all, I make it a point to never miss a lecture. Although textbooks are replete with a plethora of unbeatable information, there are often details and instructor-stressed aspects that would otherwise be easily, passively skimmed or completely overlooked. Additionally, I try to arrive for lectures prepared, having read through chapters and any other appropriate information prior to class time. If I haven't gotten all the way through the reading, I at least read the chapter headlines, section breaks, summaries, key words, and review questions. If this information is important enough to the men and women creating the textbook and the instructor has selected the book as his or her manual, then this highlighted information is likely essential to my understanding of the material. Between lectures, I never allow more than two days to pass before I peel out my notes and neatly recopy them from the crude pencil notes into a very legible binder loaded with looseleaf paper. In a way, it's like receiving the lecture twice, and I can consult my textbook or the internet to better explain any concepts I may be finding difficult to grasp. That being said, keep in mind that the internet can be an absolute wonderland of videos and animations and even thousand-dollar lectures on the same topic that have been recorded to broadcast from prestigious universities.

Once the notes are re-written, I can easily go through to highlight points on which to focus, a practice from which note cards and quick study guides can be generated. One must note that nursing is a field that incorporates the arts and science. Many answers may be black and white, but it is imperative to begin thinking critically and to begin trying to think through to the best possible conclusion.

Finally, the best advice I can give is that everyone must begin to network: make friends and formulate a small study group. Compose your circle of students working toward the same degree, preferably those who are also at the same level. Surround yourself with others who are just as passionate and pushing towards the same ends as you. Compile your group of others you admire and respect and remember that the more diverse and varied your circle, the more information you're likely to receive and retain."

Not bad. A bit long. Definitely needs some revision and editing... and the ending needs work. Ah... lemme move on to something else now.

The Death of John Forsythe and the Ten Greatest Things to Happen on the Television Series "Dynasty"

Nearly eleven o'clock, and I'm still trying to wake up fully and get my bearings about me. To get myself together in the morning, I usually start with a quick glimpse at Blackboard and student email to see if there are any pressing changes that I need to get to working on as quickly as possible, then start cruising through the hot stories of the day and the ten most-searched items on the Yahoo page. Although it was in the news on Friday afternoon, I realized that the death of John Forsythe is actually a pretty big deal, and a search through the articles related to his passing led me to a series of lists. Really not so much for Forsythe, most of the associated links are to the series that made him such a star in the 1980's, Dynasty, and I started thinking about a top ten list of my own: the ten greatest storylines, episodes, and cliffhangers that I remember from the series (although I never watched any of it in entirety in my youth, I was definitely hooked from the three-hour premier that aired on SoapNet a few years ago, and all through the daily airings of the series in syndication). So, here they are...

10. The Star Witness - The first season of the show started airing in the spring of 1981, I think. The thing I remember most about the first season in stark contrast to the rest of the hit series was that it could have run as a self-contained mini-series of its own. In the beginning, Dynasty was more of a story about the comparison between two families: the Carringtons and the Blaidesdailes (probably didn't spell that correctly). Krystle was just coming on the scene in her marriage to Blake. Blake was ultra-conservative, and definitely not a fan of his tortured son's sexual orientation. The culmination of the struggles between Steven and Blake culminated in Blake accidentally killing Steven's lover, and the trial that ensued. In the final episode of the season, the prosecution called a surprise witness and the episode ended with a thin, well-dressed woman swaggering into the courtroom, all members of the court wide-eyed and mouths agape and Fallon gasping, "Oh, my God, that's my mother!" Of course, the woman was hidden under a wide black hat and big black sunglasses and viewers would have to wait the summer for the true birth of the most famous of all of the show's pivotal characters, Alexis.

Note: Producers were undecided as to who would actually be portraying the new role, and the figure in the black and white ensemble was not that of Joan Collins, who would come to replace a series of other options of actresses who were to play the starring role.

9. The Original Steven - In the beginning, Steven Carrington was gay. Clearly, the producers wanted to do be champions of having one of their main characters as an open homosexual; however, there was so much controversy over the frank and issue-less portrayal of a gay man on prime time television that Krystle's scheming niece was brought on as a love interest for Steven to give the character a more advisable edge. When Al Corley, the actor who originated the role, objected to the network's fear of public reprisal and major change to the character's integrity, Steven was believed dead in an off-shore oil rig explosion, and a subsequent plot point revealed that he was actually alive and undergoing corrective plastic surgery brought a different actor in to play the role that took the character in a totally different direction. However, true (non-Conservative) fans of the show can look back with happiness to see that Dynasty was truly ahead of its time in at least attempting to do something that had never been done on network televison before.

8. The Original Fallon - Probably one of the all-time best female leads in television history, Pamela Sue Anderson originated the role of Blake's strong-willed, tempestuous daughter, Fallon. In a lot of ways, Fallon was the son that Blake really wanted, and it seemed that she was always trying to get Blake's attention and recognition for her capabilities, and managing to create some amount of sexual scandal in the process. It started with her first season affair with the Carrington chauffer while Fallon was being promised to Jeff Colby, went through some degree of very odd escapades with his uncle Cecil, an almost-affair with the man who would turn out to be her long-lost brother, and culminate in an ill-fated romance with Peter. One of the worst bits of the first half of the show's run involved Fallon's secret headaches that led to an implied car accident in the cliffhanger from which the actress would never return. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against Emma Samms as a replacement, but the original Fallon was far more believeable in the role.

7. Amanda - Probably one of the most interesting characters ever written into the show was the mysterious Amanda, later revealed to be Alexis's secret daughter, then revealed to be the child Alexis was carrying when Blake and Alexis separated and divorced many years ago. Amanda was beautiful, selfish, and a pawn in several of her mother's machinations toward power and control of the Carrington empire. The best of her many story lines involved her secret love for her mother's husband, Dex Dexter.

6. Dominique - The only woman who could really hold her own against Alexis. She was beautiful, she was powerful, she was talented, she was a bitch, and she was the secret black sister of Blake Carrington. Awesome stuff. Her bout with a tuberculosis-like illness and the performance in which she collapsed on stage calling out to her brother, "Blaaake.." was one of my favorite moments in the show's history.

Best line ever: "I want my rightful name, Old Man!" To the man who impregnated her mother and refused to recognize Dominique as his daughter.
Best line directed toward her: "Dominique, get well soon. I miss the fun and games. Alexis." - on the card Alexis sends to her following her collapse.

5. Claudia - I know it seems that I'm really only picking characters, but it would be impossible to pick any one specific Claudia moment. Unhinged, desperate, and convincing, she was the one character who was always taking everyone else's dirt. She was responsible for the melodramatic car accident injuring her daughter in the cliffhanger of the first season. She had a very strange on-again, off-again relationship with Steven Carrington where she sometimes advocated for him to be true to his sexuality and sometimes clung to her romantic love for him, and she was the one who burned down Fallon's hotel in later seasons; however, it was the episodes that involved her descent into madness, abduction of Fallon's baby, and throwing what everyone thought was LB off the roof of a building that was my absolute favorite story arc.

Best line: "Cecil Colby, please..." Claudia's gravelly voice as she discovers Cecil has been plotting against her and stringing her along and calls his secretary.

4 - Steven Loves Luke Fuller - Ah... finally, after a couple years of really poor choices in romance, Steven finally meets a good-looking, sweet, honest, and wholesome gay man who is comfortable with himself and his sexuality. The duo have some difficulty, but Luke manages to pull Steven out of the Carrington mire of self-hate and embark on a romance that could have really given network sensors myocardial infarctions. Played by a very young and very cute Billy Campbell, Luke ingrained himself in the heart of Steven, even earning an invitation to the royal wedding of Steven's sister, Amanda, to Prince Michael of Moldavia. Unfortunately, Luke was one of the casualties of the ill-fated ceremony when he attempted to pull Claudia (his arch nemesis) out of the line of fire and was shot.

3 - Alexis and Krystle: the Fire in the Cabin - It was dramatic and campy and totally over-the-top when Kirby's father burned down Alexis's cabin with both her and her arch-enemy inside arguing. However, it was during the next season's resolve of the cliffhanger that showed Alexis bandaged in her hospital bed calling out: "What's happened to my face?! Quick! Bring me a mirror!" AWESOME!

2 - the Moldavian Massacre - Perhaps one of the absolute greatest season finale's in prime time history. Although Sammy Jo was back in New York plotting against her aunt, virtually every other member of the Carrington and Colby clans were gathered in a politically hostile nation in Europe for the marriage of Amanda and Michael. Just as the duo said "I do" and exchanged rings, guerillas smashed through the windows, opened fire on everyone in attendance, and left every character on the show in a big, bloody pile on the floor. As the church bells began to ring, the camera pans over to show Adam, Dominique, Lady Ashley, Jeff, Claudia, Luke, Steven, Amanda, Michael, the King, Krystle, Blake, and Alexis motionless... and viewers would have to wait all summer to see the absolute worst and most unsatisfying resolves to the terrorist attack. This was definitely the episode where the show jumped the shark and the writing would never recover.

1 - Krystle vs. Alexis number one: the studio catfight - It seems that the one that happened the following year in the lily pond is the one that always gets the most praise (probably because that's the first time the word "bitch" was ever aired on prime time television), but it was the first fight between the rivals that was probably the best because it was the roughest, the dirtiest, and the campiest. After Krystle realizes that Alexis was skeet-shooting the day Krystle was horseback riding and thrown from her horse (supposedly, a car backfired, scared the horse, and Krystle miscarried her baby), the tall, shoulder-padded Linda Evans confronts the witchy Alexis in her artsy studio on the Carrington grounds. Hateful words are exchanged and Alexis slaps Krystle, assuming that the incident is over. What happens next is the greatest girl-fight ever filmed. The two spend the next two minutes slapping, punching, pulling hair, breaking glass, ripping clothes, tearing up pillows, breaking picture frames, collapsing tables, and covering every inch of the studio in shattered crystal, feathers, furniture, and anything else that wasn't nailed down... and some of what could be pulled from the walls. Of course, Krystle wins, but her victory only gives Alexis the ammunition for the kind of war that she could always win.

Now that I've wasted more than half an hour of my morning, it's probably time that I go do something productive. It was fun to remember all that, though.

Another Week

Do you ever get that butterfly feeling in your stomach... the one that accompanies a feeling of success or completion or having done the best job you could have, but none of those accomplishments have been covered? It's like foresight or some sort of extra sensory perception that something really good is on the horizon for you, but you're not quite sure what it is?

I've had that feeling all day today. I had it when I finally pulled myself out of bed and began caffeine consumption and daily elimination of yesterday's leftovers. I had it when my lab partner phoned to tell me that he was at the door and ready to complete our lab work for the week. I had it during the four hours we worked on our nursing exam and then moved into our work on Sodium, Potassium, and Calcium ions and heart function, and the effects of temperature fluctuations on the hearts of frogs. I even had it after he left when I was cleaning up and putting everything back in working order and looking over my to-do list of everything that really needs to be finished before I hit the sack tonight and get enough sleep for my early day tomorrow. I have the feeling now... but I'm still not sure what it could be.

It's kind of like the sensation of your ears burning when you know you're somehow being discussed, but it's not the idea that something negative is being said. Who knows...

Just thought I'd write it all out, document the idea, see if my prediction turns out to be accurate.

I can't sit around here chatting all evening, though. I have a bath to take, a mile to walk, some Physiology that I need to cover, Genetics that needs to be read, and a long list of other tasks that keep me chained to my desk every night.

Maybe more tomorrow.

Hopefully good news tomorrow.

We'll see.