Not a great start

My semester is less than 2 weeks old, and I'm already in a pickle. Remember the whole drama with the video project for Surgical Prep & Assistance 3? I thought that once I past that hurdle that I would be golden. Executing all of the clinical tasks has been the most challenging part of my schooling; all the theory has been in the way of online tests & emailed assignments, and since I read pretty well, I've scored virtually straight A's.

Now I've got Advanced Anatomy & Physiology pounding me down. My first quiz was a B; my first test (taken today) was (gulp) a 60%. That's big fat D, friends and web-neighbors, the lowest grade I've gotten since Art History 110 back at CSU (which is where I fell asleep during lecture EVERY SINGLE CLASS).

I'm assured that I can still pass the class, so long as I average 70% or better overall, and a 70% or better on the final exam. While I'll be doubling my efforts, I cannot help but be discouraged. In large part, because I know that, very simply, I've not been as motivated as I have in the past. I was much more productive & focused when I was working two jobs; the constant movement forced me to be highly organized & efficient (not to mention somewhat reclusive, which is not healthy emotionally but boy, you can sure get things done). Now that I'm down to a single job, and I've had some time to have some fun, all I want to do is knit, play with my pets, read for fun, and hang out with my friends.

But I've got to do well in this class. Forget my G.P.A., or even learning for the benefit of my patients. It would be $460 to repeat the course.

Just because I'm not motivated by greed does not mean I can't be motivated by money.

Peace,
C.

EVENTS... and everyday (and yarn, lots of yarn...)

It's a brand new year, y'all. I know this because I'm currently nursing a hangover. Three vodka drinks isn't much for most partygoers, but New Year's is about the only time I ever go all out with the drinkin' thing these days. (Oh, and at office holiday parties were the boss shells out a boat-load of cash for top-shelf hooch, and where I decide that since the beer list really sucks and the boss DID shell out all that cash that it would be okay to drink tequila even though the last time I drank tequila back in '01 I woke up trapped under my bed still drunk and crying and praying to God to let me survive being trapped under my bed while promising to never, never, NEVER drink the evil tequila drink again and making good on that promise for many years after and making many, many people laugh at the why-Colleen-doesn't-drink-tequila-anymore story while dodging offers of free shots and being perfectly happy to drink beer instead since it is my drink of choice but damn, that tequila sure goes down smooth even after a nearly 9 year break especially when it is top-notch stuff and then the next day waking up not under my bed but properly in my bed but too hungover to move much or even knit and yet still not regretting hopping off the no-tequila wagon and realizing that God is often very good at forgiving us our drunken promises....)

Oh, yeah, where was I? New. Year. Right.

So it's a new year, which is ripe for reflection and resolution. About this time, we watch the news and see all the Big Events that took place in our world. Events like:

-the inauguration of a new president

-the impeachment of a governor

-the deterioration of our economy

-the bravery of a pilot

-the loss of the Olympics

-the death of a music star

-the death of a movie star

-the death of a Senator

-the deaths of servicemen/women

-the health care debate

-H1N1

-Octomom, Jon & Kate, Balloon Boy's parents, and the hundreds of other losers who pathologically crave attention, even negative attention. And, sadly, they get it.

And then there is the reflection of the smaller events that shape our lives, like:

-the adopting of new pets

-taking a break from school

-changing jobs (full-time ones)

-paying off debt

-quitting jobs (part-time ones)

-the deaths of pets

-taking a writing workshop

-the deaths of friends

-starting back at school

-the birth of a niece

-online dating

-learning a hobby

Last year, I took up yarn. I decided that I needed a hobby, a constructive way to relax, and chose to learn crochet. First, I learned how to make a slip knot:

"Hold the end of the yarn in your left hand, then use your right hand to make a loop of yarn about 6" aways from the end of the yarn. Pass the top strand of yarn under the loop, then pull a new loop up through the first loop."

Then, a chain stitch:

"Make a slip knot and place it on the crochet hook. Loop the working yarn around the hook and slide the hook through the slip knot, pulling the wrapped yarn through the slip knot."

The single crochet stitch. The double crochet. The half-double crochet. The oft-ignored triple crochet. Increasing, decreasing, fastening off. I made big messes, I had to tear things out & start over. And with each stitch, each task performed well and each mistake, I learned more and more, and soon and sure enough I was pumping out projects. Dishcloths, scarves, baby blankets. A kicky beret (why don't we use the word "kicky" more often?). A coin purse, a pencil case, a cozy for my Ipod.

It occurred to me, as I was thinking about the new year while punching out another scarf for a friend, that all of the projects that I've worked on, they start off with a Big Idea, but are then created one loop at a time. Kind of like how our lives aren't defined, truly defined, by the Big Events of the news, or even by the not-as-big events of our lives, but by the everyday. The little things, the mundane things. How we act at the bus stop, the grocery store, at our jobs and in our homes. These are the things that make up the fabric of our lives. The loops and stitches that build them. Like:

-performing a task well for its own sake, not because someone is watching us

-sharing a moment with your co-workers, all of you working towards a common goal

-enjoying a good movie

-enjoying a good book

-hearing that song on the radio that always puts you in a better mood

-laughing with a friend

-eating a good meal

-drinking that really great cup of coffee

-listening to the purr of a contented cat, or the happy bark of a playful dog

-engaging in a flirtatious glance across the proverbial crowded room

-hearing "Thank you", "Please", and "Excuse me". And saying them.

-a smile, a giggle, a hug, a kiss. Moments, just moments, but they are what build our lives. For me, for the new year, I want to master the art of living every day, instead of just focusing on "events".

Here's to wishing everyone here a blessed, kicky 2010, filled to the brim with a million fabulous little moments. See you at the yarn sale.

-C.

A sigh of relief

I found out today that my final video project for Surgical Prep & Assistance 3 passed. I can't say exactly how relieved I am. It was a 90 minute video of me checking in a surgical patient, performing a physical exam, discussing anesthetic agents, pain management, stages & plane of anesthetic depth, going over the parts & function of anesthetic equipment. Oh, yeah, and placing an IV catheter, performing a surgical shave & prep, inducing & intubating a patient, cleaning & maintaining all aspects of surgical equipment, demonstrating a sterile scrub, going over suture materials & patterns, etc., etc., etc. Talking & showing with a camera on me, and with no notes of any kind. It was a matter of learning the material, then writing a script, scheduling time for filming, executing the tasks at hand, and the entire project was pass/fail.

Did you read that right? Nine different task categories, separated into 4-7 sub-tasks each, and the whole of it PASS-FRICKIN'-FAIL! Meaning that despite my ace-ing Levels 1 & 2, and ace-ing all the written material in the class this semester, and having checked off all my clinical tasks at the practice, I could have failed the entire class if even a small portion of my video was deemed inadequate. To say the least, it was a really stressful semester.

But I passed; nay, my instructor Dr. Badass (I mean, Dr. Black, respectfully) even pointed out that I was very thorough in my execution and explanations. Which I'm taking to mean I didn't merely pass, but excelled.

'Cause I'm a veterinary medicine rock star, y'all. Oh, yeah, am I feelin' it.

Now, on to Food Animal Management & Advanced Anatomy. Then I have to find some horses, apply a tail twitch, draw some blood, & clean the sheath. (And, in case you are wondering, that means what you think).

Peace,
C.

Clowns and Tragedy

I found out that another former co-worker of mine (from Starbucks, this time), has passed away unexpectedly. He was most recently the manager of the Starbucks near my practice, so I saw him on a semi-regular basis. The day before I found out, I went in that Starbucks for a quick early-morning cuppa, and I do remember thinking it was weird that he wasn't there. But I figured that maybe he was just on vacation.

I recall working one night with Mark at the Wrigleyville store. Mark was one of those upbeat people, sometimes annoyingly so, but I knew by then that a lot of strife lay beneath that persona. Opera was playing on our sound system. I think I commented on one of the arias, bragging about my season tickets to the Lyric, wanting to sound so sophisticated & worldly, so much more so then the milk-stained green apron I was donning would imply. Then I thought out loud that another piece sounded like it was from La Traviata.

"Oh, no," Mark said, "This is I Pagliacci. The tragic clown." Then he talked about the opera itself, the particular production, the tenor, the history of the piece and other pieces by the composer. I was impressed, and a little embarrassed at just how little I knew, and by my presumption that he would not.

I saw I Pagliacci this past spring. It was fantastic, and I wish I had taken a minute to talk with Mark about it. It would have been a lively discussion; I can hear, in my head, his booming voice and boisterous laugh.

The tragic clown. Ironic, Mark, given the circumstances of your passing, (too sorrowful for me to state here)that I will now always associate that image with you.

-C.

Glad I was there...

I was in the middle of my fifth hour of overtime this Saturday when a client was talking to me about her dog. She & her husband had recently adopted him from a local rescue, and she was peppering me with questions about diet, nail trimming, behavior. She looked down at her scruffy little mutt, who looked up at her and licked her hand. She had never had a pet before, she said.

"And I had no idea how much joy he could bring into our lives."

Then she smiled a big beautiful smile. Her eyes were lit from the inside, and I smiled back at her, knowing exactly what she meant.

Thank God for moments like that. Really. Thank you, God.

-C.

Big Ups, Big Downs

I saw Mikhail Baryshnikov dance last night. At 62, he is still amazing. The venue was fabulous, the seats were excellent, the company lovely, thank you very much. I got a free glass of red wine & some grapes and brie to boot. I would love to wax poetic about what a sublime experience it was, because it really was, it really, truly was, but this week has been bogged down by bad news. An old friend of mine, who I once worked with as a vet assistant but recently lost touch with, has died.

She was 5 weeks away from turning 33.

The news just took the wind right out of me. She will never eat avocados again, or rock out to 80s punk, or take great care of sick doggies, or have a baby boy to name Diego, or any of the other things that she loved, loved, loved with such uninhibited passion that it makes it even harder to believe that she is gone. How can someone so young, and so full of life, just not be here any more?

I've lived long enough to know that it's pointless to look for sense where there is none, but God, the knowing of that doesn't ease the sting. I just hope that the spirits of all puppies and kitties that she cared for in this world enveloped her in her final moments, leading her soul to a peaceful place.

Goodbye, Michelle. You were so loved.

-C.

Culinary Observations

1. While I never really crave steamed veggies, once I start eating them I really, really enjoy them. The same is true of writing and going out when it is cold.

2. I follow the 3-second rule in my house. Well, more like a 5-second rule.

3. I once forgot to put the flour in my oatmeal cookie batter before I baked it. Despite the fact that it was a gelatinous mess, it nonetheless made a delicious dessert when topped with French vanilla ice cream. Proof that most mistakes can be turned around if you are creative about it. (And also, that ice cream can fix just about anything).

4. As with wine, there is a coffee, a tea, and a beer to go with just about any cuisine. And as with wine, coffee, tea, and beer, it matters less that it is "right" one than it be one that you enjoy. So if you want Folger's instead of espresso, or your red wine on the rocks with your fish, knock yourself out.

6. That said, you should try an espresso at least once before committing to your Folgers, and try the red wine at the proper temperature before you insist they bring you a glass of ice. Reserving final judgment until other points of view are examined is just good sense. (And please, just admit that a chocolate martini is not a REAL martini).

7. Don't be too committed to your likes and dislikes. I didn't eat salad before I was 14, didn't like broccoli until I was 22, or eat hard-boiled eggs until I was 34. Last year I tried Brussels sprouts again and love them. Giving things a second (or third) chance keeps that door open to new experiences.

8. If there is such a thing as too much garlic, I haven't gotten there yet.

-C.

Stargazing

I went to see "Stars of the Lyric Opera" at Millennium Park Friday night. Once a year, the Lyric parades out a few of their featured singers of the season with their orchestra in this free-to-the-public concert downtown. It used to be at the Grant Park venue, but since the opening of Millennium Park in '02 they have performed at the far superior Pritzker Pavillion. These concerts are always super-crowded, but I attend virtually every year. I've had season tickets to the Lyric for several seasons now, but there was a time in the not-too-recent past (Remember Bennigan's? I try not to.) when all I could afford was a free concert in a park. A big part of what brought me to Chicago was what it offered to me in the realm of the arts, and watching and listening to singers like Renee Fleming and Ben Heppner in the fresh air, grass under my toes, surrounded by a few thousand fellow Chicagoans, helped tide me over to the time when I could afford a ticket to the real deal.

I was sitting, this past Friday, on the Great Lawn of the Pritzker, under a massive metal lattice that holds the sound system, listening to excerpts from "The Barber of Seville" (one of my favorites!) and "Tosca" (which I'll get to see in November). A couple of my friends had joined me. The lawn was not too damp, and the chill in the air present but not overwhelming. At one point, as a duet from "La Boheme" rose from the stage & filled the air with the achingly sweet sounds of Mimi & Rodolfo's doomed love, I looked up at the sky, and a thought occurred to me.

I'm just about done with this place.

Because, at that moment, it wasn't the Chicago skyline I wanted to see. I've spent countless moments looking up from downtown and seeing the magnificence of the Aon Center, the Hancock Building, that curvy Streeterville high-rise whose proper name I can't ever remember (but I do know that there, a 450 square foot condo costs 1.5 million dollars), and now Trump Tower cutting its own way through that swath of steel and glass. At that moment, with Puccini's brilliance swimming through my ears, I wanted to look up and gaze at the stars, to take in the glory of the heavens, not the swaggering of man's puny creations. And do you know how many stars I could see from my spot on the Great Lawn of the Pritzker Pavillion in downtown Chicago at 9 o'clock at night?

Three. Just three. The city lights, well, they just drown them out.

I'm about ready. I've been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, got the autograph. I am just about ready to take this, all of this, the memories of concerts and ball games and cab rides and broken hearts, of museums, parks, street fairs, Lake Shore Drive, of dreams that died, dreams that rest, dreams that awoke in me new as babes, of boats and green river water and the bridges, the bridges that rose, that fell, that burned oh so bright as I lit them behind me, and carry it all with me somewhere else.

Some place where I can look up at the night sky and, without straining, take in the stars.

-C.