Sitting here listening to some oldies (ooooo, heatwave!), thinkin of you all. It's been forever and a day. So! An update:
-school is brutal, the grades are NOT what they were last year, let me tell ya. Still love it.
-still working. probably...ah who am I trying to kid..am DEFINITELY working way too much, which of course prompts the question, why in God's name did I stop being a manager?
-me and my honey are awesome. He is awesomer.
-I'm going to VEGAS. suck on that.
-I still hate people who hit the handicap button. I had to be physically restrained from harming a slap happy gentleman who hit the button once he was THROUGH the door one day last week. The door that I held open for him. So help me.....
I have a new an improved list of things I hate (please note that this is not a complete list):
1. when the shower curtain touches when your in the shower. It's silly, I know, I clean said curtain myself, but still. Grosses me out.
2. Ugg boots. I'll live if you don't agree. Someone gotta be peelin them off of Britney Spears every night. Think about that next time you hate your job.
3. Stupid m*#therf@!king wallet stealers.
4. 600 daily requests for me to re-post something about angels or sisters or cancer or dragons as my facebook status. Not doin it, and maybe it's bad karma, or makes it appear that I don't care about people dying - not the case. I just don't believe that my status is gonna save a life. Finishing nursing school maybe, a sentence on line? Nope, I don't buy it.
5. Dear, darling friends, moving away.
6. Lindsay Lohan. For reals, got a mad hate on for that ropey twat.
7. Mushrooms.
8. Negative, sad people (so says the person compiling a list of hates). Go be negative somewhere else sad face! Fawk. Least you're not Britney Spears' boot removal person.
To answer some questions: yes, I saw the movie "The Help". No, I do not think they will sue me, as I suspect I don't actually exist to these people. Yes, I failed the diet. Again. No, I don't mind that I failed. I'm ok.
The Help
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
So I’m fat. Always have been, and while I’m generally ok, and I generally think things are good, I often hear a phantom voice in my head – “this is hard because you’re fat”. My own voice, just tinged with disappointment, not my usual perky banter voice. There have been so many times that I have been shocked that still I am fat. I guess I figured that by this stage in my life, with so many things going so well, that I would have pulled it together enough to lose the freaking weight already.
My boyfriend thinks I’m pretty, and that’s been good enough for me. I love shows and books and movies about big girls because that makes it ok for me right? Fat girl power!!!
But I never really bought it. I have a mirror, I know what I look like. I hear enough from helpful people who say wonderful, not at all looking for a goddamn smack in the mouth, things such as “are you sure you need that extra doughnut/ice cream/bottle of tequila?” (Just as a side note – where did these people learn that speaking to ANYONE like that is ok?? Not cool. Shove it chuck)
I am a secret eater. And I hate that about myself, like I let everyone and myself down every time I shove food into my face. Sigh. This is hard. I HATE dieting. I hate counting and cutting, and sacrificing…..at the same time, I’ve known in the back of my head for a long time that the way I’m doing things isn’t right. Eating whatever, whenever. There have to be consequences at some point.
When I was doing a first aid course a few months ago, I said to myself, in my quiet, disappointed voice – getting down on the floor shouldn’t be so difficult. This isn’t good.
So. A few weeks ago, The Help joined Weight Watchers. Christ save us all, I was not fit to talk to for the first week. And I was away from my darling, and I was on vacation, so all I wanted to do was eat. Crisp, salty French fries, soft hot pretzels dipped in mustard, beyond buttery popcorn, doritos, fritos Cheetos, oh my!
I’m not going to turn this into a food journal. I’m not gonna give you constant updates on how many pounds lost….because what if I fail? What if it’s too hard?
I will say this; I feel better.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Le Sigh.
10 years ago, my best friend died, at the ripe old age of 23. I figured that was pretty much it in the painful death department. I was so wrong.
A week and a half ago, my darling boyfriend, my most wonderful man, lost his dad. It was completely unexpected, and completely horrible.
I pride myself on the being the person who knows what to do, on being the person people call when things go wrong. I rush to whomever's side and help pick up the pieces. Never before have I felt like I was picking up pebbles with a butterfly net. He called me at 7 in the morning and, sounding like a lost little boy, told me his dad had died. What do I do? What do I do?!?! I don't know how to make this less god awful for him. I have visions of hugging him so hard that some of his pain gets wrung out, but it doesn't really work like that does it?
So I did his laundry. I plugged in his ipod and helped him pack. And I went down south with him, and waited, quietly. I don't think I have ever witnessed such heartbreak up close before. At least not in someone who I love this much.
I think back to 10 years ago, and feel such heartfelt sympathy for my parents, who had to watch me while it all fell apart around me. I can't think of my friend Micheal's family for too long, because even 10 years later, it's easy to be blindsided by what we have lost.
I didn't know this man very well. As we all know, I just met him for the first time last year. I do know that in a time when I was scared to death (meeting the family), he was kind to me. Unfailingly kind. I know that he made me laugh, and he treated me as if I was there all along.
I know that my wonderful man is just like his dad. I know too, that his dad was proud to bursting - you could tell from looking.
The worst part of it all, not just the loss, not the heartbreak, but the knowledge that we have such wonderful plans for our life and our family, and he will not see this amazing life come to fruition. I find it so sad to think that our future awesome kids (oh, they're gonna be awesome) will not know their grandfather, that they will not see the original, the reason that their dad is who he is.
I tried really hard not to cry in front of people, especially my darling, his sister, his stepmom. It was so hard. It was basically a nightmare, and I can't even imagine it from the perspective of the children, the wife. I was desperate for something to do, some little thing I could keep busy with, so I didn't have be a witness to it all.
It wasn't all horror movie, there was some comedy in there too. I met EVERBODY, the entire family, aunts, uncles, cousins, even the grandmother. Yeah, grandma and I wore the exact same outfit to the funeral. See? Comedy.
I fell in love with this family. They treated me like family, for the good, the bad and the ugly. And the thing that struck a chord with me is this - we are all the same. Our families, they are all the same. The same drama, the same laughs. So may I respectfully request; go call your parents. You know they want to hear from you.
I spoke to my parents often during the week, except for a few days in between, when they were stuck in an open boat for 12 hours. Can't even make this shit up. Someday, I will tell you that story, but for today, the story is someone belongs to my quiet, hard working, awesome fella, and the man who made the shoes for him to fill.
The Help
A week and a half ago, my darling boyfriend, my most wonderful man, lost his dad. It was completely unexpected, and completely horrible.
I pride myself on the being the person who knows what to do, on being the person people call when things go wrong. I rush to whomever's side and help pick up the pieces. Never before have I felt like I was picking up pebbles with a butterfly net. He called me at 7 in the morning and, sounding like a lost little boy, told me his dad had died. What do I do? What do I do?!?! I don't know how to make this less god awful for him. I have visions of hugging him so hard that some of his pain gets wrung out, but it doesn't really work like that does it?
So I did his laundry. I plugged in his ipod and helped him pack. And I went down south with him, and waited, quietly. I don't think I have ever witnessed such heartbreak up close before. At least not in someone who I love this much.
I think back to 10 years ago, and feel such heartfelt sympathy for my parents, who had to watch me while it all fell apart around me. I can't think of my friend Micheal's family for too long, because even 10 years later, it's easy to be blindsided by what we have lost.
I didn't know this man very well. As we all know, I just met him for the first time last year. I do know that in a time when I was scared to death (meeting the family), he was kind to me. Unfailingly kind. I know that he made me laugh, and he treated me as if I was there all along.
I know that my wonderful man is just like his dad. I know too, that his dad was proud to bursting - you could tell from looking.
The worst part of it all, not just the loss, not the heartbreak, but the knowledge that we have such wonderful plans for our life and our family, and he will not see this amazing life come to fruition. I find it so sad to think that our future awesome kids (oh, they're gonna be awesome) will not know their grandfather, that they will not see the original, the reason that their dad is who he is.
I tried really hard not to cry in front of people, especially my darling, his sister, his stepmom. It was so hard. It was basically a nightmare, and I can't even imagine it from the perspective of the children, the wife. I was desperate for something to do, some little thing I could keep busy with, so I didn't have be a witness to it all.
It wasn't all horror movie, there was some comedy in there too. I met EVERBODY, the entire family, aunts, uncles, cousins, even the grandmother. Yeah, grandma and I wore the exact same outfit to the funeral. See? Comedy.
I fell in love with this family. They treated me like family, for the good, the bad and the ugly. And the thing that struck a chord with me is this - we are all the same. Our families, they are all the same. The same drama, the same laughs. So may I respectfully request; go call your parents. You know they want to hear from you.
I spoke to my parents often during the week, except for a few days in between, when they were stuck in an open boat for 12 hours. Can't even make this shit up. Someday, I will tell you that story, but for today, the story is someone belongs to my quiet, hard working, awesome fella, and the man who made the shoes for him to fill.
The Help
Saturday, July 16, 2011
And so begins the countdown
I'm not one of those people that has a countdown from day 276 leading to their vacation, but since I leave in TWENTY DAYS, that's a little different. I don't know if you could tell from the use of caps, but I am super frigging excited for my vacation this summer.
It's so weird. It used to be that I would leave the north every six months, and that was perfect. Granted the last week or so before the 6 months was up, I was a shade or two short of completely fucking bonkers, but 6 months was my magic number. To those who know, people in/from the north, the day to day around here isn't always easy. Sometimes, you just get tired of people screaming in the streets. Sometimes you get tired of eating at the same 5 restaurants over and over. I'm kinda having one of those days today, and I decided that 6 is no longer my magic number, now it's more like 4. And because of my new found debt freeness, I can actually afford to go every 4 months or so. Theres talk of going south for Christmas. If this is the case, it will be my first Christmas away since I've moved here. I love Christmas in Iqaluit, like a lot, but the idea of taking off for 10 days sounds delicious.
In other news, I have stagette tonight, the first time I've been to one in the north. It promises to be COMPLETELY INSANE. Like, I was thinking about calling the hospital to see if they'll put a liver on standby for me for tomorrow. I made a jug of gin and juice, and ratio of booze to juice is startlingly high. We're talking 60:40 here. Burn your nose hairs off. Ah yes, the smell of good times.
My darling has been warned however. He knows that he'll be starin down the barrel of a drunken girlfriend later tonight. He is a brave man. Didn't even flinch.
The Help
It's so weird. It used to be that I would leave the north every six months, and that was perfect. Granted the last week or so before the 6 months was up, I was a shade or two short of completely fucking bonkers, but 6 months was my magic number. To those who know, people in/from the north, the day to day around here isn't always easy. Sometimes, you just get tired of people screaming in the streets. Sometimes you get tired of eating at the same 5 restaurants over and over. I'm kinda having one of those days today, and I decided that 6 is no longer my magic number, now it's more like 4. And because of my new found debt freeness, I can actually afford to go every 4 months or so. Theres talk of going south for Christmas. If this is the case, it will be my first Christmas away since I've moved here. I love Christmas in Iqaluit, like a lot, but the idea of taking off for 10 days sounds delicious.
In other news, I have stagette tonight, the first time I've been to one in the north. It promises to be COMPLETELY INSANE. Like, I was thinking about calling the hospital to see if they'll put a liver on standby for me for tomorrow. I made a jug of gin and juice, and ratio of booze to juice is startlingly high. We're talking 60:40 here. Burn your nose hairs off. Ah yes, the smell of good times.
My darling has been warned however. He knows that he'll be starin down the barrel of a drunken girlfriend later tonight. He is a brave man. Didn't even flinch.
The Help
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Walkin on Sunshine
It's a big day over here at Help headquarters - I finally received my assessment for my 2010 taxes, and as of right now, I am debt free. I'll just repeat that so we all understand the enormity of this momentous occasion - the Help is DEBT FREE.
I can't remember the exact number, but since I've moved to the north, I have paid off something like $38,000 in debt. This seemed like an insurmountable number 5 years ago. Dear sweet baby Jesus, I'm gonna celebrate. Perhaps burn my loan papers and dance around it? Scratch that, it doesn't get dark around here this time of year, and there's only so much weirdness one can get away with before their face gets beat off for them.
I have one other bit of news. I've had this weird, super ugly, don't-fit-in-with-the others, hurty finger. It's been a royal pain in the finger for 17 years now, I shit you not. I've seen something like a dozen doctors about it, and never really gotten an answer, let alone help. I saw a surgeon in November and his awesome suggestion was to cut off the top of my finger. Seriously. So last week, I surpassed the regular amount of pain and drove directly to mindblowing pain. Like, pacing in the living room, don't know what to do with myself pain. So I went to the emergency room, and I FINALLY had this amazing doctor who was able to show me (holy grossness, Batman) the cyst in my finger that is shitting all over my nerve/bones. So much explained, AND I can get it fixed without cutting off any part of my body. Wild right? Plus, the drugs are awesome.
The doctor is from Newfoundland. Yeah, that's right.
The Help
I can't remember the exact number, but since I've moved to the north, I have paid off something like $38,000 in debt. This seemed like an insurmountable number 5 years ago. Dear sweet baby Jesus, I'm gonna celebrate. Perhaps burn my loan papers and dance around it? Scratch that, it doesn't get dark around here this time of year, and there's only so much weirdness one can get away with before their face gets beat off for them.
I have one other bit of news. I've had this weird, super ugly, don't-fit-in-with-the others, hurty finger. It's been a royal pain in the finger for 17 years now, I shit you not. I've seen something like a dozen doctors about it, and never really gotten an answer, let alone help. I saw a surgeon in November and his awesome suggestion was to cut off the top of my finger. Seriously. So last week, I surpassed the regular amount of pain and drove directly to mindblowing pain. Like, pacing in the living room, don't know what to do with myself pain. So I went to the emergency room, and I FINALLY had this amazing doctor who was able to show me (holy grossness, Batman) the cyst in my finger that is shitting all over my nerve/bones. So much explained, AND I can get it fixed without cutting off any part of my body. Wild right? Plus, the drugs are awesome.
The doctor is from Newfoundland. Yeah, that's right.
The Help
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Remember me?
Whoo boy, it's been a long time! It's so funny, cause every day I didn't write, the easier it got to not write, if that makes any sense, and then I'd feel terribly guilty for not writing. Vicious cycle.
So! I finished school, my very first year of nursing. It was AWESOME!! Ok, ok, totally hard, full of tears and sacrifice, and worth every minute. Turns out that all that crazy hard work I did added up to something (say what?!? True story). I have some of the highest grades in my year, and my overall average, while not an A, sure ain't bad. It feels like an A.
Since school has finished, I've worked some, but mostly, I've been doing a lot of nothing. For possibly the first time in my life. And the thing about that is, it sucks, doing nothing. I am NOT cut out for sittin on my ace, watching life go by. You wouldn't even believe the make work projects I've been undertaking, just to keep myself out of trouble. If civilization fell tomorrow, and years from now archaeologists came back to study what remained, they would be amazed at the orderliness of my paperwork. This is the stuff of legends, categorized by year and type of whatever. I've been cooking like the stove is gonna die later today.
Speaking of cooking, I had a little dream come true action last week - I met a cheftestant from Top Chef Canada. It's quite a story. I was BEYOND excited to meet this guy, but unfortunately for all concerned, I was just south of hammered when I did. At 1 in the morning. In the parking lot of the Legion. Jesus save us all from a drunky Help, because lemme tell you, I laid it down for this guy.
He was pretty unimpressed with the fact that all the bars in the city were closed (everything round here closes at 12:30 on weeknights). So he walked by me, trying to get into the Legion, and when I realised who he was, I called out, and told him the place was closed, but that I was super frigging excited to meet him. This is where things kinda hit the skids; he asked who I thought should have won Top Chef, and I replied with drunken honesty - Connie. Wrong answer. He actually turned away from me, and started to leave, whe one of his friends told me I was supposed to say "Dustin" (as this was the top chef standing in front of me). What the what?!? I'm not gonna start lying just cause you're on tv, fool. So I got a picture, and dismissed him. Heh.
The only other bit of news - my darling one has moved to the north, and we now live together, two nerdly peas in a queen size pod. It was our anniversary a few weeks ago. He gave me a beautiful silver and ivory ring. I gave him a video game, and oddly, he was totally happy with that. Must be a dude thing.
The Help
So! I finished school, my very first year of nursing. It was AWESOME!! Ok, ok, totally hard, full of tears and sacrifice, and worth every minute. Turns out that all that crazy hard work I did added up to something (say what?!? True story). I have some of the highest grades in my year, and my overall average, while not an A, sure ain't bad. It feels like an A.
Since school has finished, I've worked some, but mostly, I've been doing a lot of nothing. For possibly the first time in my life. And the thing about that is, it sucks, doing nothing. I am NOT cut out for sittin on my ace, watching life go by. You wouldn't even believe the make work projects I've been undertaking, just to keep myself out of trouble. If civilization fell tomorrow, and years from now archaeologists came back to study what remained, they would be amazed at the orderliness of my paperwork. This is the stuff of legends, categorized by year and type of whatever. I've been cooking like the stove is gonna die later today.
Speaking of cooking, I had a little dream come true action last week - I met a cheftestant from Top Chef Canada. It's quite a story. I was BEYOND excited to meet this guy, but unfortunately for all concerned, I was just south of hammered when I did. At 1 in the morning. In the parking lot of the Legion. Jesus save us all from a drunky Help, because lemme tell you, I laid it down for this guy.
He was pretty unimpressed with the fact that all the bars in the city were closed (everything round here closes at 12:30 on weeknights). So he walked by me, trying to get into the Legion, and when I realised who he was, I called out, and told him the place was closed, but that I was super frigging excited to meet him. This is where things kinda hit the skids; he asked who I thought should have won Top Chef, and I replied with drunken honesty - Connie. Wrong answer. He actually turned away from me, and started to leave, whe one of his friends told me I was supposed to say "Dustin" (as this was the top chef standing in front of me). What the what?!? I'm not gonna start lying just cause you're on tv, fool. So I got a picture, and dismissed him. Heh.
The only other bit of news - my darling one has moved to the north, and we now live together, two nerdly peas in a queen size pod. It was our anniversary a few weeks ago. He gave me a beautiful silver and ivory ring. I gave him a video game, and oddly, he was totally happy with that. Must be a dude thing.
The Help
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod!!
As we all know, I'm in nursing school. Today, my classmates and I went to the hospital to shadow nurses for the morning. So even though it was the crack o freaking dawn, and I am so not a morning person, I was still pretty excited. I arrived at the hospital at 7 this morning (and no, I haven't been home yet. I work until 10pm), and was placed in day surgery.
What I was thinking would happen: I would sit in a corner, shunned by all as being a green know-nothing.
What actually happened: doctors and nurses alike treated me with the bestest....mostest......aaahhhhh!! they were all just frigging amazing. Very interested in my success. AND, double plus bonus, I GOT TO OBSERVE A SURGERY. Like, not from a viewing gallery, I was in the room. It was the wildest, coolest, scariest, best thing I've ever seen. Going into the OR, the head nurse mentioned to me that if I felt sick or faint that I shouldn't worry, it happens, and I just need to take my leave and wait it out. NEVER! I would have offered to do the surgery myself if I knew my ass from my elbow. It didn't bother me at all.
I change my mind a lot about what kind of nurse I want to be, and something that I've been saying all along, I'd like to delve into the world of psychiatric nursing, but my horizon was so broadened by this experience today.....well, surgery may be the life for me. I felt like I had won the lottery as I was leaving the hospital today.
In other news, tomorrow is my last day of work. I will no longer be The Help. Can you imagine? It's hard for me to even process the idea- I've worked here the entire time I've lived in the North. For better or for worse, this is my 2nd home. It will be strange and exhilarating to leave it behind. I can't pretend I'm not excited however, 'cause so help me, if one more person tells me I look tired.........
Three days until my darling arrives. Yeah, that would be THREE DAYS!!! SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!
The Help
As we all know, I'm in nursing school. Today, my classmates and I went to the hospital to shadow nurses for the morning. So even though it was the crack o freaking dawn, and I am so not a morning person, I was still pretty excited. I arrived at the hospital at 7 this morning (and no, I haven't been home yet. I work until 10pm), and was placed in day surgery.
What I was thinking would happen: I would sit in a corner, shunned by all as being a green know-nothing.
What actually happened: doctors and nurses alike treated me with the bestest....mostest......aaahhhhh!! they were all just frigging amazing. Very interested in my success. AND, double plus bonus, I GOT TO OBSERVE A SURGERY. Like, not from a viewing gallery, I was in the room. It was the wildest, coolest, scariest, best thing I've ever seen. Going into the OR, the head nurse mentioned to me that if I felt sick or faint that I shouldn't worry, it happens, and I just need to take my leave and wait it out. NEVER! I would have offered to do the surgery myself if I knew my ass from my elbow. It didn't bother me at all.
I change my mind a lot about what kind of nurse I want to be, and something that I've been saying all along, I'd like to delve into the world of psychiatric nursing, but my horizon was so broadened by this experience today.....well, surgery may be the life for me. I felt like I had won the lottery as I was leaving the hospital today.
In other news, tomorrow is my last day of work. I will no longer be The Help. Can you imagine? It's hard for me to even process the idea- I've worked here the entire time I've lived in the North. For better or for worse, this is my 2nd home. It will be strange and exhilarating to leave it behind. I can't pretend I'm not excited however, 'cause so help me, if one more person tells me I look tired.........
Three days until my darling arrives. Yeah, that would be THREE DAYS!!! SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!
The Help
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