4.29.2005
The No-Work Week
Somebody HELP me!
I have spent the last 5 days at work pretending to be working. I am completely and utterly unmotivated to work. On the flip side, I am completely and almost-motivated to surf the internet, write superficial e-mails, and post on this blog (but even that is a strain). I am just not about work this week.
I have spent the last 5 days at work pretending to be working. I am completely and utterly unmotivated to work. On the flip side, I am completely and almost-motivated to surf the internet, write superficial e-mails, and post on this blog (but even that is a strain). I am just not about work this week.
4.20.2005
Speculgum
Yesterday, I had an appointment with my nurse practitioner. It was time for my annual physical (not the gynecological kind, just the regular old fashioned let's-see-how-you-are-doing-and-send-you-on-your-way-home kind).
The nurse's assistant called me into the exam room and told me to put by things on a chair. As she proceeded to check my vitals (perfect blood pressure and same body weight as last year, by the way), I started looking around the room for a receptacle for my chewing gum. I chewed it for so long that it lost its flavor and became a mere annoyance in my mouth. Plus, I wanted to be able to speak to my NP without gum in my mouth. "Aha, there it is! I'll just spit this out once she leaves the room," I thought.
The nurse's assistant handed me my gown and what looked like a bed sheet and told me to take everything but my bra and underwear off. Smiling at her I took hold of the so-called garments from her hand and acted like I was about to get undressed.
I have always found the moment between undressing and having the doctor (or, NP in my case) enter the exam room as a bit unsettling and anxiety provoking. The trick is to undress, don the examination vestments, situate oneself on the examination table, and look as if one has been waiting patiently for the doctor (or, NP) as quickly as possible. Spitting my gum out in a timely manner only added to the aforementioned list of things-to-do before the NP entered the exam room, thereby increasing my anxiety by just a tad.
As the nurse's assistant walked out of the room, I quickly headed for the receptacle I spotted earlier. I lifted the lid and spat my stale piece of chewing gum into it. The gum began its free fall into the receptacle. Mid-descent I realized that my gum wasn't headed for the trash bin at all, but into a vat of disinfectant used for spent speculums. I stood their frozen in time when time is something I did not have much of, as I watched my gum float to the bottom of the bin making its way through an entangled speculum orgy.
Since time was of the essence, I chose to ignore what I had done and continued to get undressed and redressed for my NP. (Done in less than one minute.) I considered telling my NP about what I had done, but decided against it lest she not take me seriously and think me some kind of anxious freak. (Which admittedly, I am.) Instead, after my appointment I scouted around and located the nurse's assistant to tell her what I had done. Her response and reaction to my confession was so quick that I believe she already knew. (I thought I saw her catching a glimpse of me as I spit my gum out into the receptacle just as she was closing the door.)
According to the NP's assistant, I am not the first one to mistake the spent speculum container for a trash can.
Share your speculum story and post a comment. Come on, you have got to have a speculum story!
The nurse's assistant called me into the exam room and told me to put by things on a chair. As she proceeded to check my vitals (perfect blood pressure and same body weight as last year, by the way), I started looking around the room for a receptacle for my chewing gum. I chewed it for so long that it lost its flavor and became a mere annoyance in my mouth. Plus, I wanted to be able to speak to my NP without gum in my mouth. "Aha, there it is! I'll just spit this out once she leaves the room," I thought.
The nurse's assistant handed me my gown and what looked like a bed sheet and told me to take everything but my bra and underwear off. Smiling at her I took hold of the so-called garments from her hand and acted like I was about to get undressed.
I have always found the moment between undressing and having the doctor (or, NP in my case) enter the exam room as a bit unsettling and anxiety provoking. The trick is to undress, don the examination vestments, situate oneself on the examination table, and look as if one has been waiting patiently for the doctor (or, NP) as quickly as possible. Spitting my gum out in a timely manner only added to the aforementioned list of things-to-do before the NP entered the exam room, thereby increasing my anxiety by just a tad.
As the nurse's assistant walked out of the room, I quickly headed for the receptacle I spotted earlier. I lifted the lid and spat my stale piece of chewing gum into it. The gum began its free fall into the receptacle. Mid-descent I realized that my gum wasn't headed for the trash bin at all, but into a vat of disinfectant used for spent speculums. I stood their frozen in time when time is something I did not have much of, as I watched my gum float to the bottom of the bin making its way through an entangled speculum orgy.
Since time was of the essence, I chose to ignore what I had done and continued to get undressed and redressed for my NP. (Done in less than one minute.) I considered telling my NP about what I had done, but decided against it lest she not take me seriously and think me some kind of anxious freak. (Which admittedly, I am.) Instead, after my appointment I scouted around and located the nurse's assistant to tell her what I had done. Her response and reaction to my confession was so quick that I believe she already knew. (I thought I saw her catching a glimpse of me as I spit my gum out into the receptacle just as she was closing the door.)
According to the NP's assistant, I am not the first one to mistake the spent speculum container for a trash can.
Share your speculum story and post a comment. Come on, you have got to have a speculum story!
4.13.2005
One Down, One to Go
Let it be known that on Monday, April 11, 2005, I received notice that I was not accepted to San Francisco State University's MSW Program.
Reasons given?
"Each year we receive many more applications for our MSW Program than we can accept therefore, we are forced to deny admission to many qualified applicants. Ongoing budget deficits continue to make it difficult to accommodate the growing number of people who apply to our MSW Program. We hope you find other ways to pursue your career objectives."
Yeah, I hope so, too! Thanks for making the process so much easier for me ... BUT I'm not bitter.
I anticipate hearing from UC - Berkeley by the end of May. I'll keep you posted.
I may need a few whacks to my ass. And, then, I'll need to come up with a "Plan B." Any suggestions?
Reasons given?
"Each year we receive many more applications for our MSW Program than we can accept therefore, we are forced to deny admission to many qualified applicants. Ongoing budget deficits continue to make it difficult to accommodate the growing number of people who apply to our MSW Program. We hope you find other ways to pursue your career objectives."
Yeah, I hope so, too! Thanks for making the process so much easier for me ... BUT I'm not bitter.
I anticipate hearing from UC - Berkeley by the end of May. I'll keep you posted.
I may need a few whacks to my ass. And, then, I'll need to come up with a "Plan B." Any suggestions?
4.08.2005
Whack All Their Troubles Away
Russian scientists at the Novosibirsk Institute of Medicine claim they have found a novel treatment for overcoming all sorts of aliments ranging from mental health problems to alcoholism. This new therapy calls for about 60 whacks to the ass with a cane (but any blunt instrument would probably do).
Finally! Empirical data to back up what sadomasochists, cruel mothers and fathers, violent husbands/boyfriends (and the occasional wife/girlfriend), and bullies have always known to be true. Physical pain does induce significant behavioral change.
That explains why I felt so fantastic after my father "treated" me for being moody, lying, talking back, getting in the way, challenging him, etc. Clearly, I needed some sort of "therapy" to curb the development of any future mental health condition. We all need a good whack every once in awhile, right?
I wonder are the whacks only effective when directed to the ass. Do blows to the head or gut work the same way? How many blows are too many blows? Does the intensity of the caning matter? Does the purpose of the caning matter? Does the victim, I mean patient, have to consent to the treatment? Clearly, these questions warrant more research in this area.
Nonetheless, I think these scientists are really on to something here. I am so relieved they are focusing their energy in the right direction. In a country where domestic violence and violence against women and children is a pervasive problem, the only appropriate thing to do is to justify such actions.
Finally! Empirical data to back up what sadomasochists, cruel mothers and fathers, violent husbands/boyfriends (and the occasional wife/girlfriend), and bullies have always known to be true. Physical pain does induce significant behavioral change.
That explains why I felt so fantastic after my father "treated" me for being moody, lying, talking back, getting in the way, challenging him, etc. Clearly, I needed some sort of "therapy" to curb the development of any future mental health condition. We all need a good whack every once in awhile, right?
I wonder are the whacks only effective when directed to the ass. Do blows to the head or gut work the same way? How many blows are too many blows? Does the intensity of the caning matter? Does the purpose of the caning matter? Does the victim, I mean patient, have to consent to the treatment? Clearly, these questions warrant more research in this area.
Nonetheless, I think these scientists are really on to something here. I am so relieved they are focusing their energy in the right direction. In a country where domestic violence and violence against women and children is a pervasive problem, the only appropriate thing to do is to justify such actions.
4.06.2005
A Few Words about the Pope, Pope, Pope
It began as a regular day in my room with a cup of hot black coffee.
Well, sure I was depressed, but I always am,
some people love life, well not me.
But then the choppers came
two by two by ten
announcing Apocalypse of a different kind
So I ran out of my room, ran down the stairs,
down the street, into Nathan Phillips Square
people, people running and horses everywhere, yeah
The pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
we all here to see the pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
Well, you got your pope pennants, buttons, your pope clothes,
You got your pope binoculars to see him up close
and I cried when I saw that man in white.
I cried, much to my surrounders' delight.
I cried, 'cause I couldn't breathe anymore; I cried
'cause people were stepping on my feet.
Hey, hey Mr. Holiness way over there,
Maybe we love you, but we're sadly lacking air.
Well I love that man, Pope John Paul the 3rd
I love him probably more than he deserves.
Okay, so he persecutes homosexuals, does not believe in abortion,
visits with Kurt Waldheim and tells us not to take the pill ...
There's still a certain je ne sais quoi -
Some peace, some love, some goodwill.
Yeah, the pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
we all here to see the pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
Well, you got your pope pennants, buttons, your pope clothes,
You got your pope binoculars to see him up close
and I cried when I saw that man in white.
I cried, much to my surrounders' delight.
I cried, 'cause I couldn't breathe anymore; I cried
'cause people were stepping on my feet.
Hey, hey Mr. Holiness way over there,
Maybe we love you, but we're sadly lacking air.
Then he scooted away in that great Popemobile
I was feeling so trampled, I didn't know what else to feel
Then we all kissed the ground where John Paul had been ...
I can hardly wait till someone famous comes to town again.
Yeah, the pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
Uh huh, the pope, pope, pope, pope, pope, pope, pope.
"The Pope" Words and song by Meryn Cadell
Whirlwind Days
I hardly have (make) the time to blog anymore, which is a terrible thing really. Blogging like journaling helps one (me . . . when I do it) put things into perspective. Although, blogging has the added benefit of keeping in touch with my friends, family, and anyone else who cares to read about my mundane goings on.
That said, I wanted to inform all my readers (my, that does sound egoistic) that recently my life has felt like a whirlwind of sorts. Among working, volunteering, and things social (and personal) I have had very little time to honor and be present in most of my friendships/relationships (including with myself). I anticipate that I will have more "free" time in the near future when I will be able to reconnect with all those who are important to me (and there are quite a few of you out there).
That said, I wanted to inform all my readers (my, that does sound egoistic) that recently my life has felt like a whirlwind of sorts. Among working, volunteering, and things social (and personal) I have had very little time to honor and be present in most of my friendships/relationships (including with myself). I anticipate that I will have more "free" time in the near future when I will be able to reconnect with all those who are important to me (and there are quite a few of you out there).
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