More cold, wet, whiteness falling from the sky. More weeks of slush and tromping about with wet feet.

Spring should really put some hustle in its bustle already.

Labor and delivery clinicals continue.

Today I failed to be awed by the miracle of birth.

Does that make me somehow defective? Insensitive?

Cold?

Should not my heart be all aflutter?

I think it was fairly impressive, don't get me wrong.

All of the biological workings that go into it I find somewhat fascinating.

It just didn't inspire any deep longing within. I wasn't moved to tears.

Whatev.

In related nursing school news: My clinical day in the OR got cancelled tomorrow.

Effin' snow.

Boo! Hiss!

Today our classroom smelled like burnt coffee and microwaved hot dogs.

Don't know if either or both of those things were actually in attendance, just letting you know what it smelled like.

All of our classroom work is smooshed into two days so we can drive, drive, drive, to clinicals the last three days of the week.

There are dishes in my sink and clean laundry stacked on my dining room table waiting to be put away. Still.

I just dumped two packets of Emergen-C into a mug of hot water. Now I should be full of life and ready to commence a flurry of activity.

Right?

This morning is combining two of my favorite things: The craphole and small children.

Gross.

Quite often I feel like writing about nothing at all.

Thus the existence of this blog.

I sometimes like to waste time, typically at work, reading other blogs.

Though they aren't about nothing.

I read a lot of sex blogs, which I'm sure you all find shocking.

I think it would be quite something to write your own sex blog.

Perhaps I'll start my own anonymous sex blog, blogging about all of my sex, and none of you will know it is me.

Probably somewhere in the twisted web of the internet there is an anonymous sex blogger whose next door neighbor reads of her x-rated exploits that go down right under his nose.

And wishes he was getting some o' that action.

(See...writing about nothing...try it, it's fun.)

Dear Universe

In regards to my post of a few days ago, regarding somewhat deviant acts of a sexual nature:

Please note that this was a general remark, as well as, a specific invitation to one monogamous lovah. (One that was, for the record, rather well received.)

It was not an invitation for septuagenarians to try to grope, slap, or otherwise come in contact with my ass. No matter how cute it looks in that particular pair of jeans.

Also, in regards to my previous post regarding nursing school and rubber arms:

If it is a choice between bitter sucktastic "I hate nursing students" work-with assignments and pretend patients:

Bring on the mothah fuckin' rubber arm, beotch.

Yours truly,

Me

P.S. You're not funny. Really.

This whole nursing school gig feels really manipulated and artificial right now.

"Here, look at this rubber arm. What would you say to this patient about xyz?"

Wha..?

Luckily I seem to do better with the real deal and next week starts the real deal three days a week.

Also as an aside, deciphering some nurse speak, in regards to the piece of copper recently inserted into my body:

It seems "this is going to be uncomfortable" means "this is going to hurt like a mother, try to hold still and not scream. Lemme know if you're gonna pass out."

I wonder if this is helpful? Is it better to expect pain and have anxiety about it or to have it catch you by surprise?

I'm sure there is some kind of enthralling nursing research literature on just that subject.

Hopefully I can find it and read it until my eyes bleed.

Fun!

Birthday Wishes

Brought to you by my never-ending quest to avoid both the work for which I am paid and the work that is assigned me by my professors:

Hotness.

I'll have what she's having.

Thanks.

Flush

Today I pushed around furniture.

Made a new home in my kitchen for some of the rockin' things I got for Christmas.

Percy Mayfield Loose Lips came on one of my Pandora stations and briefly filled my head with thoughts of oral sex. Not that it takes much to fill my head with thoughts of sex of any kind.

Bundled the bed up all warm and inviting with freshly washed sheets and blankets.

Bedroom is kinda small so the bed is shoved up into the corner to make more floor space.

Making the bed is a pain in the ass.

I was working out this grand theory on the positioning of the bed in the room and also where people sleep in it as a reflection of the health of relationships. It was actually fairly interesting..in my head. Went to type it out here and decided it really probably wasn't that interesting to anyone else.

Whatev.

And in case you were wondering (because I know you were) my monthly gushing forth of blood is winding down. It skipped a month as it tends to do now and again and has been making up for lost time.

Without getting too new age super spacey my mojo is back in whack: It feels...better.

Like there is some kind of bad juju that got built up and needed to be flushed out.

Change the oil.

Starting to feel like am settling into the new year/semester 'here I go again on my own' Whitesnake style routine.

Only then it strikes me despite geographical technicalities am far from on my own.

I feel very supported and accepted.

I feel very warm and loved.

I feel...partnered.

Feels pretty fucking nice.

Word to Boyfriend. Thanks for putting up with me.

I like you lots.

Come on up and see me sometime, hot stuff.

Also

Speaking of the laundry room at work:

This morning right before woke disgustingly early was dreaming that was on a back porch, somewhere, and something smelled awful.

There were lotsa people there, none of them I knew, and I kept saying that something smelled.

"It smells like something died."

And there was an industrial washer and dryer like the one here at the craphole, just sitting there out on the porch.

I opened the washer and there was a partially decomposed body. In my dream I could smell it.

Then as I was trying to get someone to go get the police the body started to move.

Started to come out of the washer.

And I shoved it back in and turned the lock dial so it couldn't get out.

Is this normal?

Why don't I have more sex dreams and less dead body make me wake up creeped out dreams?

Discuss.

Tree is down and put back up in the closet.

With minimal help from the cat who decided it would be fun to launch himself from the table and into the side of said tree in trying to attack a bulb. (This because he had already knocked off all those in easy reach.)

Work now.

Holed up in laundry room pretending to fold towels, but really just huddling by the dryer for warmth.

As you can tell I continue to be stunningly awesome...

Drizzle

Can I switch gears and blame my funk on the weather?

Cold and gloomy.

Being cooped up inside listening to the frozen rain spattering against the bedroom window.

Have done absolutely.nothing.productive today.

Maybe spend the next hour before going to my shitty job, oh, I don't know...taking down the Christmas tree?

Now that it is the middle of January.

50/50 chance at this point.

Jesus H. Christ I suck.

Breeding

Starting tomorrow, for one of my classes, have to attend a child birth education class.

And then start spending two days a week in L&D.

Aaaak.

While it isn't probably socially acceptable for someone with a vagina to admit: Babies kinda creep me out.

Ok, actually really a lot they creep me out.

So get excited.

In related news: Tuesday am having one of these shoved into here so I can have plenty o' this without any of this.

Rawk!

Long Vision

First day back in class today.

Semester schedule passed about.

Quite ambitious at that.

Feels better to know what the hell is going on even if there is a whole helluva lot going on.

114 days until summer vacation.

If anyone knows of some little bit of magic that will

a) Motivate me to do anything besides crawl back into bed

and/or

b) Stop the incessant flow of saltwater down my face

feel free to send it my way.

Thanks.

Reunited with familiar friend last night.

The numbness feels nice in the moment.

Toxic this morning.

Every drop of hot water in the house steamed into the tub.

Little bathroom heater cranked full blast.

Candles. A little incense.

Trying to burn off the post-holiday malaise with a quick burst of heat.

Like de-glazing a pan.

Tomorrow comes unpacking (finally).

Perfectly lovely little red teapot that would like to be introduced to it's new home.

Matches the walls.

Take down the tree.

Put fresh sheets on the bed. Stop crashing on the couch.

Last day to get my shit together before the semester starts chugging along.

And I want to make mushroom soup.

Should be ready by dinner time.

Come over and have some.

Sabotage

I struggle with transition.

Makes me feel battered and defeated.

Weak, ineffective.

Blue.

Starts old habits of obsessing over things that are senseless in the here and now.

Unwarranted. Unworthy of energy.

Yet it is consuming.

Old wounds and current insecurities blur together. Tumultuous overlapping of memory and feeling.

Spiraling.

Hard to shut down.

Short list of coping skills self-destructive as much as effective. More so perhaps.

Seeking to replace new found ache with a dull numbness.

Flurries of activity mask the fear. Blunt the emotion.

So long as there are no breaks.

Hours, minutes, seconds.

Idle time becomes an enemy when this feeling sets in.

Sleep is an elusive though alluring partner. So long as she is dreamless.

The little voice in my head, once so loud, recently muffled, sees her opportunity to begin her battle cry anew.

Rally defenses. Rebuild walls. Bury recently uncovered vulnerability.

She is ruthless. Knows all the tender places to poke. Relentlessly rub raw.

She likes to be alone. Whispers doubt to ensure it. Schemes at ways to make it happen.

Fancies it stoic, honorable.

Safe.

I wish desperately she would call it a day. Pack it in. Leave me be.

She won't. She requires attention. Convincing.

Proof that safe doesn't have to mean alone.

I don't know that I've the reserves currently to make the case for her.

Makes me tired.

Of her. Of me.

I need an exit strategy.

I'm breaking up with myself.

Christmas

And the New Year.

(Including previously mentioned midnight kissing.)

With the kindest, most thoughtful man I have ever known.

Sweet string of quietly content days.

Starting new traditions.

Enjoying beautiful, simple things.*

Preview.

Absolutely amazing.

*Including, but not limited to; Christmas lights, gingerbread, thunder, beets, magnetic poetry, fuzzy blankets, fires, hot chocolate, walks, grocery lists, poofy pillows, sunlight, cooking, flower pots, tea, basil soap, chickens, rain, guacamole, candles, movies, naps, kisses, and ice cream.