"Serving Suggestion" and other strange topics

The other day, while I was cleaning house, my mind wandered off into its usual strange places. I started thinking about the dinners in my freezer (graduate school staple food), and noticed that the covers have the fine print, "Serving Suggestion." As if we are so gullible that we would believe that a little package of frozen dinner would come straight out of the box with a beautiful bowl, cutlery, etc. I supposed someone had believed it, hence the fine print.

Anyway, I started wondering about this. What if I joined one of those online dating services like "Match.com," and found a picture of some twenty-something gorgeous blond, put her in my profile, and added the disclaimer "serving suggestion?" Of course, I have a feeling that most people wouldn't get it. Not that I have any immediate plans to try an online dating service. A couple of years ago, I tried "eHarmony," and was inundated with so many creeps and weirdos that I actually went back to my personality profile to make sure I hadn't filled it out wrong. I told them to get my info the h*ll out of their database after a couple of months. My creep homing beacon works just find without help, thank you very much.

In other subjects, I have noticed a couple of rather strange adverts for medications. The first one that I noticed was a medication for restless leg syndrome (I don't remember the name of the medication). One of the warnings was that patients should call their doctors if they experienced sudden urges to gamble or strong sexual urges while taking this medication.

The other ad was for a sleeping pill, that came with the warning that the patient should contact his/her doctor immediately if they were driving, walking, or doing any other activities in their sleep. If they made it safely back to bed, how would they know what they were doing in their sleep anyway (unless they had a spouse/partner who noticed the patient taking the car out for a drive, going for long walks, or baking bread in their sleep).

It's a strange world we live in, isn't it?

Bleh--A Movie Review

I did something that I have never done in my life last night: I walked out of a movie because it was that bad. I am part of a group of people who get together almost weekly to see movies, plays, or whatever else looks good. I have missed their get-togethers many times because of work/school obligations, but I was free last night, and decided to see the Movie Of the Week with them. Well...

I had seen a few trailers for this movie: Eastern Promises. I didn't pay much attention to what it was all about; it just looked like another action movie to me. I thought, well, action movie, I love those, Viggo Mortenson has a part in it, he's a good actor and fairly good looking, how bad could it be??

Well, I found out. The movie, or at least the part of it that I saw, was focused on the Russian mob. Now, I have to admit that it might have been at least a decent movie, but anyone who knows my movie preferences will know that I will never knowingly go to a movie about the mob, mafia, or whatever they are calling themselves these days. I have never seen any of the Godfather movies, and if my television accidentally ends up on the channel that is playing reruns of The Sopranos, I will quickly switch the station or shut the TV off. I don't care how good the movie is. I think there is enough injustice, pain and violence in this world that I don't need to waste my time watching anything that focuses on a group of people who make breaking the law and viciously killing people their main business in life.

Anyway, for my $8.50 (or whatever the cost is--The Movie Group goes to a restaurant that has a dinner/movie special), I got to see people's throats being slashed, a mob guy (played by Viggo Mortenson, BTW) cutting off a dead guy's fingers and pulling out his (the dead guy's, not Viggo's) teeth so he wouldn't be identified, graphic sex with a member of the boss's "stable" as a rite of passage, more throats being slashed...you get the idea.

The pacing was also rather slow, so I vacillated between wanting to throw up and wanting to go to sleep. Also, Viggo's wardrobe was (unintentionally, I assume) hilarious. Black trenchcoat, black suit, black sunglasses...he might have just worn a big sign that said, "Hey! I'm in the Russian Mafia!"

If anyone is actually reading this (heh) and is wondering why I can love action flicks but hate mob movies, it's because in general, action movies have either a ridiculous plot or some good guy who saves the day at the end. I go to movies to see fiction, not another reminder of the many ways that we can be vicious to one another.

Since I work in a large hospital that sees quite a bit of traffic from area prisons, one might wonder why I would find mob movies so objectionable. But most of the prisoners that I met in the course of my career were basically people who had made bad decisions and/or were addicted to drugs or alcohol. If any of them cut off fingers for a living, they weren't telling me about it.

I remember one guy who confided in me that he had quit drinking the last time he was in jail. I "high-fived" and congratulated him. Gotta celebrate those small triumphs in people's lives when they don't have much to look forward to. Anyway, I'll take my crack dealers, jailbirds, wacky homeless people, etc. over calculating mobsters any day.

In Commemoration September 11, 2001

Sometimes it seems as though it happened in another lifetime. Sometimes it seems as though it happened yesterday. Strangely enough, it was the tragic events of 9/11/01 that inspired me to write creatively again. I had been journaling, and writing for classes and work, but I suddenly needed an outlet for all of the confusion and pain that I was feeling after the attacks, and in dealing with the emotional impact of the response of the United States.

Today, it almost seems as though reports of Americans dying in Iraq or Afghanistan, or terrorist threats, are as commonplace as the weather report. I am not anti military--I admire and pray for those who see it as their mission to try to make the Middle East, or the world in general, a safer place for all of us.

But I don't believe that the final answer to our problems will be military. The taking down of one dictator has never stopped another from taking power at some other time or place in the world. I believe that as human beings, we need to evolve as individuals, and as a race, before dictators, terrorist attacks, and wars stop. I don't think I'll see that in my lifetime, but will continue visualizing humanity living as one with each other, our planet, and all of her creatures. I would rather plant the seeds of lasting peace, knowing that they may grow at some time beyond my sight and being, than assume that war and strife and violence will always be the way of the human race.

I have decided to share a poem that I wrote back then. I have gained in skill and experience since writing this fledgling poem, but I still feel that the emotions that it came out of are genuine.

Prayer for the Homeland

Today, I feel anger twist
through me like flames
shooting through
the ruin of buildings
and lives
destroyed by
our own hands
turned against us.

But when I pray,
I pray for compassion.

I can shut my eyes and
still hear the screams.
I can smell the smoke
and feel the anguish
of thousands of innocents.

But when I pray,
I pray for understanding.

I want to spill blood
as surely as it has fallen
on my own homeland.
I want to beat my plowshare
back into a sword
and draw it against
this evil.

But when I pray,
I pray for peace.


And from those who are wiser (and better writers):

“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.” J.R.R. Tolkien in Lord of the Rings

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred let me sow love,
Where there is injury let me sow pardon,
Where there is doubt let me sow faith,
Where there is despair let me give hope,
Where there is darkness let me give light,
Where there is sadness let me give joy.

O Divine Master, grant that
I may not try to be comforted but to comfort,
Not try to be understood but to understand,
Not try to be loved but to love.
Because it is in giving that we receive,
It is in forgiving that we are forgiven,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.


The Final Analysis

"People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; ...Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; ...Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; ...Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; ...Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; ...Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; ...Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; ...Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; ...Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway."

Adapted from Mother Teresa enlarged and framed sign, hung in the front lobby of her Nirmala Shishu Bhavan, the children’s home in Calcutta.


Praying for Peace,

Willow

Love, and other misadventures

Okay, I will confess: Earlier in the year, I fell completely, madly in love with someone. The kind of love that had me dreamily staring off into space, writing bad poetry, and listening to sappy love songs on the radio. Unfortunately, this relationship ended suddenly and mysteriously. Basically, the man with whom I was in love with walked out of my life without explanation. We'd had what I would have considered a minor argument, but something must have really gotten to him, as that was the last I saw of him, other than a polite "hello" if we ran into each other.

At first I thought he was just angry with me, although I still have no idea what I did or said to set him off so badly. So I emailed, and left a voicemail, with apologies--for whatever it was that I did, requesting that he a least call and tell me what I did wrong so that I could make amends. But I heard nothing back, ever. I had to conclude that whatever minor thing had happened between us, he had either gotten some mysterious "emotional button" pushed and never wanted to see me again, or he was just a plain creep, or a bit of both.

So I spent at least a month dealing with the heartbreak, writing bad poetry, listening to more sappy songs, etc. My friends cheered me up with elaborate plots for revenge (none of which I carried out, although at one point I had an urge to sneak down to his car when he was at work and spray-paint "unmarked police car" on the passenger side of his car, where he would presumably not see it. But this, or anything else my friends and I cooked up, were just ways of blowing off steam and getting me to see some humor in the midst of my heartbreak. I only go on about this because I wouldn't want any chance blog reader to think I would actually do anything malicious to someone just because he broke up with me).

Anyway, time passed, and my inevitable optimism helped heal my pain and confusion over this experience. I have to admit, though, that when I went for an MRI of my back the other day, and was being asked if I had any metal objects in my body, I almost said that I think someone implanted a "creep homing beacon" somewhere on my body and I still hadn't been able to find it. But anyway...

Several blog ideas have been rolling around in my brain about this breakup. So I decided to share my lighter look at Things Willow Could Have Said To A Man To Completely and Immediately Alienate Him:

"I'm thinking of starting a call-girl business. Can I use you as a reference?"

"Oh, did I mention that strange disease I picked up while on a safari in Africa? Don't worry, the boils only last a couple of months. But you might want to think of taking some time off work, or seeking out a plastic surgeon."

"I've decided to try and get into the Guinness Book of World Records for longest armpit hair." (Yech, this one makes me want to break up with myself!)

"I'm actually a man trapped in the body of a woman."

"Let's get matching body piercings." (Okay, this one might get me into more trouble than I want...)

"Let's meet in the morgue for a romantic tryst next time we're at work together."

"By the way, here's the 17-page questionnaire that my father requires that all of my boyfriends fill out. He'll be calling to meet with you next week" (This one is probably most amusing if you know Dad).
">Okay, I was trying for ten, somewhat like David Letterman's Top Ten, but I'm stuck here and need to go get breakfast, so here is The Number One Thing Willow Could Say To A Man to Completely And Immediately Alienate Him:

"You know, I think Dubya is really hot!

"Understanding Human Relations"

I was browsing others' blogs, and came across one person who had listed one of her interests as "understanding human relations." Since I am in one of my "hermit" modes, it caused me to wonder how much progress this blogger had made in this understanding.
Basically when I go into a "hermit" mode, it means that I want to control any contact with other humans. For example my phones are turned off, and I am sequestered in my bedroom with a good mystery novel. Although I pleaded a back injury to get out of a couple of Labor Day weekend engagements, I probably could have gone if I had really wanted to.

Hermit modes strike me from time to time (as I would think they strike many writers, who may want to spend uninterrupted time writing), but this one is different. I really haven't felt like either writing or revising any of my works in progress. I believe this intentional isolation was brought on by complete and utter emotional, spiritual, and physical exhaustion.

I have alluded to some of my difficulties with my nursing position in previous blogs, but I think I'll just tell it like it is, so to speak. About six months ago, I was told that I wasn't a "good fit" for the ICU, and was basically told to resign, "or else." I was also accused of taking a narcotic medication on the job, an accusation that could not only put my job in jeopardy, it could put my license and therefore my livelihood in jeopardy. If the accusation had not been so serious, I probably would have laughed--not only had I never taken any narcotic medications in my life, but I am very sensitive to medications--I don't even take a Motrin while working because it would make me too sleepy.

Being the stubborn person that I am, I didn't resign. Instead, I consulted with an attorney, and on his advice, requested a copy of my personnel file--which had nothing incriminating in it.

Anyway, the rules of this hospital are that you have to stay in one position for a year before you can transfer out, so I had several months of waiting until I could find a better position. The trouble is, I loved what I was doing. ICU nursing was fascinating to me--I never knew what I was going to encounter when I walked through the doors on any given night.

During this time, I experienced almost daily nightmares because of this situation. I literally didn't know from one day to the next whether I would have a job. My grad school grades plummeted, and to be honest, I have basically been living off junk food and ice cream-if I eat at all. But the more I worked, the more I received feedback that I was really doing a good job--I basically didn't fit into the "clique" of nurses that had worked there for years. And to think I thought I'd left that sh*t back in junior high school. Go figure.

So when I saw this phrase about "understanding human relations," it got me thinking about a conversation that I had with one of my spiritual teachers. I explained that it's almost easier for me to understand the zealot who would crash an airplane into the World Trade Center, than it is for me to understand the everyday meanness and maliciousness that I have encountered over the past several months. My spiritual teacher said that I had happened upon one of the great mysteries of the universe.

My line of thinking goes: a zealot not only has been indoctrinated with some sort of belief system that he or she thinks is the path to Heaven, and that he or she is doing the right thing. The zealot also is not usually personally acquainted with his victims. But people that spend days and/or nights together, why would they want to spread malicious rumors about someone who they know and will presumably be working with for some time?? I find this disturbing especially in the realm of ICU nursing--patients can get worse very suddenly, and you need to know that your teammates have your back in a crisis.

Anyway, I have rambled on enough about this. The good news is that I finally have found a different position in the hospital, thank goodness.

Snapshot from the ICU

Well, work seems to be straightening out a bit (or at least none of the rumors spread about me have made it back to me, heh), and my at one time promising love life has apparently crashed and burned. I am considering giving up on relationships and buying a dog but that is another story (and one that should probably include my cats' opinions as well). Anyway....

The setting:

Two o'clock in the morning, in the cardiac ICU of a large metropolitan hospital. The telephone has been ringing and ringing, but there is no one to answer it: there is no unit clerk and the nurses (all three) are in their patients' rooms. A consulting neurologist sits at the desk, finishing up his notes.

Willow comes out of a room in which she has been trying to care for an elderly patient who has been trying equally hard to bite her. She sees the neurologist, looking a bit confused, reaching for the telephone. "Don't worry about it, I'll get it," says Willow.

The voice on the other end, from a nurse on another unit, is irritated. "Why don't you people ever answer your phone?!" Willow replies, "Because we're all in our rooms helping our patients." After a short conversation, Willow hangs up the phone and mutters under her breath, "Don't ask me stupid questions at two a.m.!"

To which the neurologist replies, "Welcome to my world."


Hey, if you can't have a sense of humor in the ICU where can you have it?

And yes, in a large teaching hospital, it is possible that consults are done in the middle of the night. So if you are in the unfortunate situation of being in a cardiac ICU, and the cardiologist can't find anything wrong with your heart, you may find yourself awakened by someone in the middle of the night who starts testing your hand grips and asking you strange questions like, "What is your name?" "When were you born?" Take it from me, it's best to answer truthfully, lest you be diagnosed with some weird neurological condition.

Well, this was interesting...

I hope this comes out. Jimmyjames, who always seems to find interesting flotsam on the Information Highway, had a quiz entitled "Which Tarot Card are You?"

Here is my result:

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I have always had a bit of a Jungian inclination to my philosophy, and I have for a long time considered Tarot cards to hold many of the gifts and wisdom of the collective unconscious. I have known people who have really taken the literal meaning of Tarot cards (as well as other spiritual teachings) a bit too seriously. However, I find that they are one of the tools that I use for becoming closer to Creator, as well as for developing insight into my own spiritual progress.

That's probably more than you wanted to know about me, but, well, it's my blog. Heh.

Willow