I'm baaaack (but quietly-shhh!)

Hi, kids!

So I'm making my way back into the blog-o-sphere. It's been awhile. I started blogging initially to try and present myself in a more open and cohesive fashion, and it was a great way to exercise some writing muscles while keeping the near-and-dear a little nearer. I loved it. I found it freeing. I found it relaxing. I found it taxing, and scary, and strenuous, and sweet.

Then I got tired. I got a little weary, too. I needed some cyber-space, if you will. Strange to say, I mean, it's the INTERNET, C., how does that possibly crowd a person? Yet it did, and I pulled back, focused on my non-cyber pursuits (work, school, dating, creativity, friends, pets, events and non-events). As of late, though, I've been itching to make my way back to it. Touch base via this medium and stretch the muscles of mind and hand once more. That said, my perspective is a bit different now. I'm not willing to put my thoughts out there for any random internet-loper to stumble across. I want to discuss more personal matters without fear that doing so will interfere somehow with my professional life, and I've found that, a few years and some life-lessions later, I feel in myself more free and more coherent than I did when I first dipped my toe in the blogging pool. So instead of presenting a tightly edited version of me to the world, I'm looking to loosen up a bit but in front of a more select audience.


If you are looking to remain a "A Work in Progress..." reader, know that I will be making this a private blog soon. I'm still figuring out how that works-do I send invites to be accepted, or just wait for you guys to message me? I'll keep you posted, trusted readers. Take it easy, or just take it any way you can get it! *wink*

-C.

e-dating

So here's what I find interesting about online dating. Say you are in a social setting. You see someone. They see you. There is spark, attraction, a lil' sumpin' sumpin'. Then you talk, find out a name, a little about who they are and what brought them there. And then, maybe, you get a number, you give one, you go out. Then you take the steps necessary to get to know each other. At least, that's what we hope for.

The online thing is different. You have a profile. You add visual appeal with digital photos. You write a little something about yourself, present the best possible you. There are lots of templates for you to note particulars about yourself, like whether or not you like kids, or sushi, or the latest Coen Brothers' film. You look at other profiles; you gather information. You make contact, you make small talk, you make a plan to meet. And then you go out.

You go out. You meet for the first time, the FIRST time, with a load of information that you would not have if you had met in, say, a bar, or church, or work, or whereever people meet in the non-virtual world. You have the information, but not truly, in my humble opinion, a sense of who the person is. It's like being on a second or third date and a minus-one date all at the same time.

I'm not judging the merits of this process. Just saying that it is very, very different than what most of us are used to, or had planned.

Thinking about this makes me want to eat a big stack of pancakes. I'm not entirely sure why.

-C.

Back to the juggling...

...of jobs, that is.

I went to a friend's birthday celebration last week, which happened to be at the last restaurant that I worked at 8 years ago. I was a server there for two years, in the time right before I fell into animal services. It was a decent enough gig; fun people to work with, good food & brew, and it paid the rent with fewer hours than I put in now. Of course, having a chunk of cash in my pocket usually meant that it got partied away. Given that I missed out on a lot of partying in college (working 2+ jobs & taking classes full-time), I felt justified in making up for it in my mid-to-late twenties here in Chicago. Boy, did I ever make up for it! (See prior posts' hintings at tequila misadventures).

Anyway, I was chatting it up with my old manager, going over old times (isn't it interesting how the distance of time can make even the mundane seem nostalgic?), and I told him about my leaving my green apron job, and about going to school, and about how I missed having the flexibility of a second income. Then he offered me my old job back part-time. I was really surprised; I know that the downturn of the economy has not been kind to the restaurant industry. That, and more and more people are turning to second jobs to save their ship. But the offer was sincere-I got confirmation yesterday that I'll start retraining Sunday.

Bring the black pants, the black shoes, a supply of pens & a notepad. The shirt and the gumbo apron will be provided.

On the one hand, I've really enjoyed the time that freed up once I scaled down to a single full-time job. I'm a little sad to know that there will be less of it available to me for knitting, movies, coffee with friends. That said, there are school expenses coming up, vet care to pay for (discounted does not mean free, yo), not to mention wanting to take more writing and theatre classes down the line. I worked damn hard to get myself out of debt and have no intention of seeing that build up again. It's been my experience that you can have time, or you can have money, but only rarely do you have both. So then comes the compromise, so then comes the striking of a balance. I'm ready to concede the one for the other, for the time being.

And you know, going back to something you did before gives you the opportunity to see where you came from, and how you've changed. I'll visit my late 20s self and see just how different, and just how similar, the late 30s self is to her.

Plus, the gumbo is great there. Good, good stuff. Come by to see me and have a bowl-just don't forget to tip!

-C.

Doing better...

Got a B on my latest Anat/Phys exam, and am feeling better about the whole thing. I've got very little margin of error left, though, since I did so poorly on the initial exam which will pull down my average considerably. But I'm on the right path.

Lots to do. School is challenging, as is the job. I'm trying to take on some volunteer work with a local performing arts troupe, and I'm in two book clubs and learning how to knit socks.

Busy. Busy. Busy. And it's a good busy, which I have to remind myself when I feel stretched thin.

-C.

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.