Why I shouldn't be a DR

I do want to work with/in medicine. I want to work with physical medicine, not the reasons you need it. I'll happily dispense Percocet or a Valium, (and I will stock/dispense Plan B from my pharmacy but not Viagra due to my "moral objections." Ha!), but actually finding out why you need that remedy (so the diagnosis), I'll leave to someone else. But there are solid reasons I don't want to be a MD:

• it's icky
• 4 years of new undergrad, 4 years med school, 4+ years residency, plus a fellowship. That's 12, maybe 14+ years minimum of (icky) school. 14+.
• And puss really grosses me out (yet I can pop a zit no prob)

Disclaimer: I will say the word puss again in this post, so if you have a weak stomach, heads up!

Well, I'm taking a medical terminology class this semester, it's one of those "not required but highly recommended electives" for pharmacy school. It's a correspondence class, so it's up to a large textbook and my own devices to learn this stuff. I can handle the detailed drawings, but if there's a picture, my stomach clenches (I seriously had to cover them up so I could finish reading a section). My med school friend laughed when I told her that. Shut up. It's ICKY.

I've been making flashcards to help (sans detailed pictures), of all the terms, treatments, symptoms, word parts, everything. But every time I write puss or discharge, I have to suppress the urge to write eww in parentheses right next to it. And of the 700 flashcards I've done so far, eww would be on a lot of them. Who knew there were so many fluids that come out of the human body?

Side story: when Bailey was a puppy and had just gotten over parvo (another story, another day), she got sick with something else almost right afterward (weakened immune system). We took her to a 24 vet where they took x-ray's and discovered she had pneumonia. I looked at them, but it's the dog, I don't exactly know what I'm looking at/for. But I could see her spine and blobs that I determined (by process of elimination) were organs. So when our regular vet posted the X-rays and said, "you can see her microchip there (which is in her neck), I blurted out: "OH! I thought that was her butt!"

So maybe being a vet is out too...

Empathy

I am starting to believe that empathy is the lost art of human nature. When did we get so selfish that we forgot to care about other people? I'm not asking everyone to have a bleeding heart here, a lot of general people annoy/piss me off and I can be as bitchy as they come. But being an over all good person shouldn't be that hard, and I believe that empathy is something that we all need to perform on a regular basis. And tolerance should be taught as well. And here's why:

I'm in class and the TA who teaches my section is called up to speak. I think he's a bit light in the loafers, but so what? Lexington has a fairly high gay population percentage (2nd after San Fransisco I believe), and it's tolerant too. Plus we're in a huge university setting, so my TA's not a rarity. And he's a good teacher, which is what actually matters. So his preferences shouldn't even be an "issue" in the first place right?

Right? Well, it's not for me, but apparently it is for the child sitting in front of me. This insolent ugly little brat (think uber-douche bag) mouths to his equally douchey (pronounced like touche) friend a derogatory term the second my TA started to speak. And I wanted to tap him on the shoulder, and say, so what, he's still probably getting more ass then you'll ever get you nasty little boy. But what would that have helped? Maybe this kid will grow up and be shamed one day. But that doesn't change that at that moment, he was not a good person.

So I think there should be a mandatory class in tolerance and empathy. It's a pass/fail deal, and if you fail, you have stay in douche bag jail until you pass. You live prision style until you can be a nicer person in society. And you have to retake the test every year too. Like repassing your boards to make sure you are keeping up to date with the latest stuff.

For the record:

Every now and again I use those gradual self tanner lotions so I don't look like white death. And I'm not going to lie, they are not the pleasantest of smells.
But I do not smell like pee like someone (ex-fiance) once told me. They smell like self tanner, totaly different.

Seriously, calling bull sh*t

The Kentucky Kernel (uk's paper) ran a excerpt of Bar Refaeli's (SI swimsuit cover model) interview with Us weekly. I already called bull sh*t on her not ugly ducking phase. But it's like she's giving me ammo and reasons to hate her now. (and I'm paraphrasing the questions/answers). The snarky response, all me baby.
Us: What did her on again/off again boyfriend of 3 years Leo (DiCaprio) think of her cover?
She didn't know, for a real reaction ask her dad how proud he is of her.
Me: Umm, he dated Giselle for 6 years, a SI swimsuit cover isn't exactly new for him.
Us: What did she do to prepare for the shoot? "I know it sounds crazy but, eat! They want you to be healthy and curvy looking.
Me: BULL SH*T (said very screechy)
Us: What part of the job is hard? Looking warm and comfortable in freezing water and not jet lagged.
Me: Really? I thought it was not having "dead eyes." (me thinks I watch antm)
Us: And what about being environmentally friendly with on/off bf Leo? "Taking care of our earth is important bla bla bla."
Me: Ummm, sweetheart, you've a bonifide jet setter, and those planes are not exactly running on wind power.

I know she has done nothing to me, and this is very catty and anti-woman empowerment to hate the pretty girl simply because she's pretty. But, but, but... she's 5'- 9" and weighs less then me. Whine.

I'm a Senior?

I walked a mile or 2 extra today around campus, but it was well worth it. I changed my major to chemistry today! And here's how it all went down.

I leave class from the biology building and start heading towards the College of Agriculture, which is what college I was in. I walk past the pharmacy college, nursing college, Kentucky Clinic and the ambulance terminal of UK hospital. Find the Agriculture building and wander in there for a bit. But I had no idea where to go really, so I asked the librarian (somehow I found the farming resource area?) where I need to be, and she points me down the hall (I lucked out there). That office sends me to the office right next door. And then that office tells me my major is in another building completely. Turns out, I need to to to Erickson Hall, which is even further into campus them my starting point of this walking adventure.

Undeterred, I re-walk past all the buildings from earlier, plus the law college, the aging center and Funkhouser (that's a real name people. I've grownup with it. Still. Makes me giggle a bit). Find the correct office (woo hoo!) and get my records. As I'm filling out the paperwork, the secretarty asks what year I am, and I honestly have no idea (being a transfer and the quarters don't equal semesters doesn't help me solve anything). She tells me I have 140 semester hours, I'm considered a freaking senior. Too bad those credits are all counted as general credits and don't get me another BS in my new field (or into pharmacy school) right away either. Longest senior year ever.

But anyway, I get my records, and she sends me to the Paterson Office Tower (POT. Also grown up with. I still smile. I am maybe 14) to the office of the new college I want to be in. But at least that's closer then the farm college I didn't even need to go to is. But there was no line, I turned the paper work in, and I've declared it, I'm going for a BS in chemistry now. I emailed my new adviser to set up an appointment to schedule next semester's classes (you know, I don't even know who my adviser was at uc. Did I even have an adviser?). Now, if I don't get into pharmacy school, (because you just never know), or at least not right away, I'll at least have a chem degree, and I can still work with drugs. Because that' what I really want to do anyway. Yay drugs!

Question:

How do you know when a boy likes you? Or at least wants to start liking you? There's a guy at work who makes an effort to talk to me when we run into each other. And he told me he liked my hair cut. So clearly, I think: oh oh he might have a crush on me! Yay for that! Because if a boy talks to you, then that means he likes you right? Right?

My rational is that since boys don't speak girl, so when they always say hi, (and you don't know them that well yet), doesn't that mean they are making an effort and maybe want to have a crush on you? Of course, he could just be friendly and talk to everyone. And then I don't feel special anymore and also a bit foolish. Sigh, I used to be someone people came to for dating advice. Not so much anymore. And I was really good at this stuff too. I flirted with everyone (and boy did I ruffle some feathers in that process (but I did get most of the boys I wanted!)) And I managed to keep a crush interested in me for 5 years before I finally put out. And he still liked me after wards (hell, that interest has lasted longer then my relationship with Mark-and w/him I put out quick. Waaaaaait a second... I'm seeing some sort of correlation here...) Mad skills I had.

And now, I end with Yoda talk and I wonder: when a boy tells you he likes your hair cut, does that mean he has a crush on you or is he gay? (pounce skills are rusty too)

Is This Wrong...

I'm driving on the interstate, listening to a book on tape. But then I start to hear these faint squeaking and squealing noises, and I know it's not the book. And I'm just praying it's not my car. I turn the volume down and I think the noise if coming from outside, so I look out my driver side window.

I'm passing a pig truck, and it's full of little piglets! Layers and layers of piglets! First I squealed out "ooh! look at the cute little piglets!" And then promptly said, "ooo, bacon..."

Bruised in Places I Won't Mention

You know what's not fun? Wrestling a 45 lb spaz on the kitchen floor. I was trying to trim the dogs talons (nails), but she was having none of that business.


She sees the clipper and wants to eat it first. Then I try to get her to sit and she's immediately wary (I did bribe with a treat though). Once she figures out the whole deal she starts to spaz, squirming, twisting, flailing, anything to get away from this evil clipper. So I've got her in a doggie choke hold of sorts, but I've got both arms and legs involved to counteract her 4 flailing appendages (seriously, wrestling). And no fair, she has a tail and was trashing it around like a weapon too. There was defiantly a head butt in there too from her. But then once I had her sufficiently still, that left me w/out a hand to actually pick up the nail clipper and use it.
Fail.

I might have gotten 4 of her nails clipped. Exhausted and bruised in places I'm too much of a lady to mention, I gave up and she scampered off and plopped down in from of the heating vent. So yep, she totally won that one.

Twitter

I linked my twitter feed to my blog, but I'm not sure if I'm going to keep that up. I like having a few separate groups, like high school friends, college friends, girlfriends, ect... (and there is overlapping). So linking my twitter feed (aka, snarky college commentary) to my blog (random thoughts and life doings) seems a bit too close for my liking. And it's a little too: no one cares what I had for lunch sorta deal (I am all about that lunch phrase right now for some reason).

I'm much more of a blog slut then a twitter slut though. My blog, I don't care who reads it (well I do care some, I change some names just in case). And I like getting comments and feedback on it, so I encourage people to read it if they find me entertaining. But twitter, I have my settings so that I actually have to approve you if you want to "follow" me. Because bitchy comments are fine between a few close girlfriends, but not everyone needs to know that the 19 year old next to me wont turn off her phone even though it has been ringing for a thousand minutes and is making me stabby. (however, I am the same user name on twitter that I am on blog spot if you do want to follow me)

And I'm not exactly sure what Twitter is either, but I joined so we can keep in touch with my friend about to go on maternity leave. I wasn't sure if I would use it at first, but I've realized it's quite handy for me. Because there is just too much random to keep in my head.

Riiight

If there's one area of my personality people might judge (hateful b*tches- I judge, not you!), it would be my taste in music and movies. Because while I appreciate and watch the Oscar caliber stuff, the movies that I really enjoy involve dance scenes (in the rain!)
You know how I spent one Saturday? Three words: High School Musical (one and two. Three came out yesterday, and I can't wait to rent it!)

What? There's nothing abnormal about wishing I could randomly burst into song and choreographed dance number whenever the opportunity presents itself (and it does, believe you me). After all, it happens all the time on Broadway!

Bedhead

I woke when the dog climbed/tripped over me and started whimpering at my door. Normally she stays in bed when I get up (and promptly takes my spot), so I took a look at my clock and it hit me: holy crap, I should be catching the bus right NOW! I have an 8 am class, so catching the next bus won't get me there in time, and I had a biology test today too, so missing classes was not an option. So I fly downstairs, announce I've over slept and ask if one of my parents can give me a ride to school (UK traffic/parking is a royal bee-yotch and I have no intention of ever driving to campus if I can help it). Because if there's one thing I know about my parents, it's that if it involves school, they will help out if they can.

In 10 minutes, I have thrown on work out clothes, brushed my teeth, packed my backpack, poured my coffee (god bless delay brew) let the dog out and back in, and my dad is driving me in the eco-friendly Prius to school. Phew! I made it to class with a few minutes to spare (we live less then 5 miles away from campus), and I think I did ok on the bio test too.

So a stressful morning. But after class I went for a run (supposedly running helps reduce stress, but I have yet to experience a runner's high), so I was going to shower later in the day anyway. And the good news is, I was seriously rocking the bedhead look. And I? Have really awesome bedhead.

New Trick

Because
A: I have uploaded pictures

B: learned a new trick (pictures in blog)

C: have nothing particularly witty to say at the moment...

Random Bailey pics!
(pet mommy's inner monologue as caption-ish things)


The 10 seconds she stayed still in the snow

$10 says I'm bribing her with something (yes that is the kitchen floor, hello 1970's)

Spazella in her truest form
















being the sunbathing beauty that she is

Umm, no

I'm calling bull sh*t on her/this. I'm not denying that she's unfairly gorgeous now. But having braces and head gear for 3 years does not count as an "ugly duckling phase." Was there bad skin involved? How about baby fat that refused to come off? An ill advised haircut? And you know she was always tall and skinny and then one summer got boobs.

Because braces for 3 years? Does not make you an ugly duckling. It makes you a middle schooler. No one looked good in middle school. (and if you were one of those freaks who was, I hope you peaked in high school and you look like hell now. I am VERY bitter about my middle school looks)

Best Single Awarness Day EVER

Lookie! Lookie! Look at what was delivered to me!

Number 1: yum! those are chocolate dipped strawberries! And pineapple, and grapes oh my!
2: Yummy indulgent-ness was delivered to my door! (squeeee!)
And
3: This makes me not sad on Valentine's Day
4: Squeee!

How telling is it that the first person I thought who sent this to me is not my former fiance? There wasn't a card, but I have a pretty good idea who sent this to me.

Cover Hog

I'll try not to make my blog all about Bailey, but it's hard not to talk about her like she's my kid.
She's always been a cuddler, and it's really really cute. But she's also bed hog. That's partly my fault because I let her sleep in the bed in the first place. I wanted her to take former pet dad's space in bed as we were breaking up, so he wouldn't have any room (her license now is in my name and my name only, so she's no longer any part of his dog in my opinion). But darling thing that she is, she always cuddled up to me and gave him all his space (that sweet loving bitch).



Well now, I have a queen bed so there's room for her to have her very own side. It's where she waits for me while in class or at work, and it's the first place I look if I don't see her. Even though I made her a brand new bed and placed it on top of the covers, she doesn't want that spot. She likes my spot, and she'll take the second I turn away. And I'm never surprised to see her sprawled out in the sunlight or curled up in a tight little ball right there. Without fail, she's right beside her bed, but she's never actually on it on her own free will.

So really, she probably thinks the entire thing is her bed, she just graciously lets me sleep there.

Valentines Day

I used to have a pattern for valentines day: single on year, coupled the next. Since I had the last 3 valentine's with someone, do I have to spend the next 3 alone? I hope not.
I didn't have the most spectacular valentines with the ex, so being single might be a nice change of pace. Because I'm in a sharing mood, here's how the last 3 went. Our first valentines, he sent a stuffed bear, 3 roses, a box of chocolates and a balloon all in one to my office. It was the most cliche valentine ever. I loved it for that reason, that it was the most cliche valentine. And then I realized that he actually thought this was the best thing ever. Umm, ok... He did better the next year with 2 dozen roses at my door, plus he drove 90 minutes to make me stop crying since my car had broken down that day (but it wasn't until I told him I wouldn't make it to his show the next day he even thought about driving). And last year I had to ask if he was having band practice that night. The other guys' girlfriends wanted to spend time with their boyfriends, so he graciously decided to allot me some time. I cooked his favorite meal, got him a kitschy box of chocolates (that I made him share) wrote something horribly eloquent in a card. He picked up a weird pink plant and a balloon from Kroger on his way home from work. Wow what an effort.

So not the greatest valentines' really. Maybe I'm a bit harsh on his lack of classic romance. But dudes, that stuff really works on me, send me flowers and I melt like velveta in the microwave. My best valentines day was a single one actually. Mommy had sent a care package, one friend sent me a Scooby Doo valentine, and another friend sent a dozen red roses. He got in major trouble for that, seeing as he had a girlfriend who was not me at the time. She got flowers too, but umm, mine cost more (I know because he told me. Right, me being involved in that drama probably didn't help). But it was the first time anyone had ever sent me flowers, and it made my day. Still makes me smile to this day.

So this year, I plan on spoiling myself ridiculously and bonus, I don't have to share my candy!

I wonder

I wonder if he misses me. I wonder if he even thinks about me honestly. I wonder if he misses Bailey. And I wonder, what if I was still waiting on him to decide on me?

But in the midst of all the wondering, there are some things I miss. I miss the companionship (when he paid me any attention that is). I miss being caught red handed watching terrible tv (happened more then I would like to admit). I miss his sigh of content when I ran my fingers through his hair. I miss his ability to interpreting my random noise. I miss the random I love you's whispered in my ear and the kiss that followed. I miss the nights we did homework together, and later when we were out of school, the nights he played xbox while I read on the couch beside him. I even miss arguing who's turn it was to take the dog out while she looked expectantly at us (now it's always my turn). But there are a lot of things I don't miss though.

It's hard not to think about him now that I have the dog. But she's my dog, not ours anymore. And the memories aren't as painful as they once were. They are more along the lines of something you know was there, even if it wasn't remarkable. Sort of remembering what you had for lunch the other day. I wish he was capable of being the man I wanted and deserved, but that's just not who is is.

I don't wish every day like I use to. And I've gone weeks without crying now (yay!). I feel like I really am better (I'm getting help too). All the things I miss are perfectly capable of happening again, with a better guy. But I think part of me will wonder, "what if..." for a long time.

Choo Choo

I'm training for the Derby half marathon right now (choo choo, like a train! Get it? Sorry lame joke). Meaning, I'm making time to run, and I'm getting a specific amount of miles in per day (and yes, Amy, I'm sticking to the plan you made me so far. No I'm not lying). I'm taking Bailey with me on a few of the shorter runs, and she's a pretty good training buddy. But she's not ready to do the longer runs yet, since she isn't strong enough from her knee surgeries yet. Franky neither am I, but I don't have the same excuse. I was just unmotivated until now.

Even though you're not supposed to run the race with your headphones/ear buds, people do it anyway (like Katie Holmes did during the NY marathon. First she gets in after the entry deadline, then runs with ear buds, and then her bat sh*t crazy husband runs up to her in the middle of the race because he just had to hug her around mile 19. Dude, you messed up her and everyone else's stride! But at least my sister beat her marathon time by a lot so there, nanny nanny boo boo. (I hate Katie Holmes)). I do train with my Ipod, even though I won't wear it during the race like the rule abiding person that I am. It helps with my pace work and sometimes you just need something else to think about besides breathing correctly. You would think it's just inherent to breath, but you have train your body to breath steadily for that long without keeling over.
But for some reason, my right ear bud will not stay in my ear. Every few minutes, I have to readjust it or put it back in. It doesn't mater if I put the left or right ear bud in my that ear, it somehow manages to wiggle and fall out. I know you ears aren't identical to one another, but do I have that major of a difference in ear hole sizes? How does my right ear have such a bigger hole? (that's what she said!)

Meh

No chemistry with law school guy. I don't expect him to call again, and if he did, I don't think I would accept another date. Dating a law school guy sounds nice in theory, but I found him a bit dull and his hair too dorky (but it was dark, at least I got that part right). Thank goodness I had a glass of wine (I lied, sober wasn't going to happen. Dorky hair.)

So not a bad date, but not a great date in any means. And I'm not even upset about that.

Date Night

I have a date tonight! Why does that make me excited and scared at the same time? (it's a rhetorical question really, I don't need to go to my therapist for that one)

It's the law school guy. He's picking me up, so I think there might be a bit of gentleman in there. But I'm not going to put a lot of stock into this night, after all, it is just a date. If we hit it off (sober on my part), great. And if not, at least I got to wade in the dating pool again.

Oh dear, now I have to figure out what to wear.

Woo-Hoo!

I'm not political. I don't follow current events and I don't care to because they usually depress me. I can't name all the positions in the president's cabinet. Secretary of state, treasury, um...what else? I'll offer my opinion if asked, but other wise, I keep my mouth shut.
During the election, facebook turned into a political war zone, and it was annoying. People were "donating their status" for a candidate. Number one: wtf? And two, donating your status is not an actual vote you half wit. (and if you were a true half wit and relied on other people's donated status to decide who to vote for, then you don't have any opinions of your own and should do us all a favor and choke on your own tongue)

But even so, I'm still pretty ecstatic who our president is. And that I voted for him. And every time I hear President Obama, I get a little swell of hope. Maybe the novelty will wear off in a few months, but right now, I still get a smidgen choked up at the amazingness of it all.

I deserved the hangover

Last Saturday, my bartender friend plunked down a shot in front of me, and said, "those guys bought this for you." Seeing as I learned absolutely nothing in college the first time, I looked over, smiled, raised my glass and took the thing without asking what it was. And I should have, because I did a shot of Patron coffee (which is really good). But I did a tequila shot without even thinking. No wonder I was a giggling couldn't stand up strait no way in hell I was driving home that night fool (my bartender friend took me home). The sun was unusually cruel in the morning. And why was the snow sparkling so loud too?

Also, that night I gave my number to a guy in the bar. And he wasn't the one who bought me the Patron either, though he did see me receive, toast and take the thing. And three days later (right on schedule in boy time), he called (?) and asked me out. I think I will accept the date, since I wasn't actually expecting him to call anyway. From what I remember, he wasn't bad looking, he had dark hair, and he's a law student. (ooh I got asked asked out! That never really happens!)

But I'm staying away from the booze just in case.

Thinking

What two things should be grouped together? A panda, a monkey, and a banana.

I was reading my sociology textbook and this was one of the side reads in it. American students grouped the panda and monkey together, while Japanese students grouped the monkey and banana together. The reasoning is the Americans tend to think in categories (ie animals, fruits, plants...), and the Japanese students think in more along relationships amongst things (the monkey eats the banana).
I grouped monkey and banana together. Apparently, I think Asian.
I knew I was Asian somewhere!

Crow

When the cover us US Weekly or OK! was "inside Jennifer Love Hewitt's heartache" (or something like that), I didn't snatch it up and pour over every detail like I typically do with trashy gossip rags. My first reaction was, poor thing, I know how bad she feels. I used to not feel sorry for stars and blink and you miss them break ups. With looks, fame, oodles of money, it seems fair (and typical) that they falter in the love department right?

Well, I'm eating a little crow here, and I'll admit that. When I was in my breakup process, I walked home from work tears streaming down my face. I cried publicly in restaurants. I had to excuse myself at work a few time to collect myself. When I stopped wearing the ring, there wasn't an US weekly cover shot of my bare finger. And the details of the date, my dress, the church and everything else, were mine and not tabloid fodder. I got to make the announcement and tell people when I was(n't) ready. I didn't have to tell my publicist or ask everyone to please respect my privacy. Because my friends knew when I wanted to talk, I would. And my pain, while very public, could still be very private when I needed it to be.

So I don't feel smug about her break up. Because it hurts, no matter who you are. Stars just have to do it in a fishbowl.

Library PSA

I work at the public library, and it's a pretty good job for my life right now. It works with my school schedule, it's only a couple hours a week, and it's not a super hard job either. And before you ask, the answer to the inevitable are you a hot librarian question is no, no I am not (despite the (maybe?) boy-deterring glasses). And I work in the childrens department, so you should feel very bad for going there.

I'd say 92% of my job is shelving (the other 8% is child shushing and judging parenting skills). And I know people think they are "helping" when they try to put the books back, but 98% of the time, they're wrong. Really wrong. So no helpy. Please, leave what you unshelved, unshelved. It's better that way. PLEASE