Cream Rises

So it's been a very long week in Nursingland, and a long week in general. It seems that the week before an anticipated break, in this case spring break, always is very, very unnecessarily long and I usually don't mind it, but this week was almost hellish in manner.

So Nursingland is very different from the land of the living. For the most part, nursing students can be categorized into a few very distinct groups. The first are the super smart people who just get it and never really have to do much to get it and get adequate grades on their exams. The next group are the people who work their butts off and either fail every exam or at the mediocre level that allows them to pass every class just fine. The last group are the people that do ridiculously well but don't even really seem to study and you just don't get it every time they pull out a 95 and you've gotten your third 70 in a row (77 is passing, by the way).

And so, at the end of the first exam period, I find myself having failed both of my exams by--not a large margin--but enough to make me feel bad about myself. And now I'm sitting here and I'm thinking a few things like:

Am I really dumb?
Was I really cut out for this?
Did I choose the wrong major?
Why am I doing this to myself?
Maybe there's a mistake?
Even though there's probably not a mistake, it's only the first test right?
No, I'm definitely dumb. Six semesters later and I've messed up.

And now I'm little mad and sad at myself but this is when things get dangerous. And danger is not something I want. I just want to get through the semester and graduate with a degree. So I refuse. I refuse to let myself surrender to these stupid feelings concocted by my own brain because it's not healthy. And even though it's an absolute nightmare to have to sit through three months constantly thinking Am I going to make it? Am I going to make it? it has to be worth it. I'm going to make it worth it because this is my dream.

So I'm going to let go of these feelings and those test grades and everyone else's voice and just kick 'em to the bottom of the milk jug. Cream rises.

See you at the top.

Soulmates

This weekend, I was a princess. Maybe not quite like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty or Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but I was definitely like Princess Mia in Princess Diaries 2 (Go, Anne Hathaway)!  I say this because when I'm with my soulmates, that's how I'm treated. You definitely read that right. Soulmates. With an "s." Because, I am blessed with more than one. And no, I'm not sleeping with or dating or "talking to" more than one guy. There is an explanation, I assure you. And it lies with them.

A year and a month ago, in December of 2012, I embarked on a journey to Rome and Assisi. I've probably alluded to it in a number of different posts, so I'll save the history, but basically, it was on one of these wonderful nights in the foothills of Perugia that we (meaning Mark, Lauren, Franki and some others along with myself) had a wonderful conversation about what a soulmate really is. To most, it's the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, the man (or woman) you are meant to be with, the single person that you felt a strong connection with, that felt a strong connection with you and that--no matter where in the world--felt a bond that never faded.

That's where I disagreed, I mean we all kind of did.

We ended up agreeing in the end that soulmates are just people you're meant to meet, be friends with, love, cherish and grow with. And some come, and some go, but in the end, your souls are still as much a part of each other as when you first met. And let me tell you...when you've got forty of them, it's hard to believe, but I can honestly say, although it has been difficult to keep in touch over the last year, when we were all under blankets watching The Hunger Names, eating chips like it was our job, reminiscing about Assisi and talking about our futures, it's like everything has changed, but nothing has changed at all.

#PGA

Franki, Lauren, myself and Mark with some matzoh ball soup!

Eskimo Kisses

Nemo is giving the northeast a run for it's money. I am snowed in at school and the view from my window is one of a winter wonderland... parking lot. The poor man plowing has probably gone by more than four or five times and I think he's all but given up now, being that it just keeps on coming down. I want to go outside and give him coffee, but I've got none in my room and I doubt that they have any in our nighttime convenience store. Ah, college. (Note to self: try not to get snowed-in at school next time there's a blizzard).

All classes after 1:00pm were cancelled today and we were left to our own devices. With all the extra time on my hands I managed to say goodbye to a supervisor who's on to bigger and better things, find out about an exam I took yesterday (not good), take a nap, read a book, do drug flashcards and drug sheets for two different clinicals, read about leukemia and lymphoma and get inspired by the snow. I'm not usually one to like the snow so much either, but as I was watching a few of my usual shows, I realized... for something so cold, icy and freezing, so many find joy within its embrace.

It's almost a conundrum, although paradox would be a better word. Because I remember sitting down on my love seat snuggled with my pillow and throw and the only think I could think was Boy, isn't this great cuddling weather. And I stopped myself. Because I didn't want my brain to say what it wanted to say next. But my heart felt it. And in these moments, I catch myself and wonder what it is I'm doing wrong or if there's anything I'm doing right and even though I'm not the only girl in the world who doesn't have a special someone, why does it still feel like I'm sitting on a petri dish looking up through the butt end of a microscope.

I guess those are questions I'll never be able to answer.

Someone asked me if a companion or partner was something that I felt was completely missing in my life. And I said no. And that puzzled me because you'd think that with all the heartache and tears and all the wondering and all that is written on my heart, that it was something that I've planned on Pinterest or have bookmarked on my favorites bar on Chrome, but it's not because I'm not ready and I'll never be ready and I don't think I want to be ready.

Sometimes, preparation takes the fun out of adventure.