I could be brown. I could be blue. I could be violet sky. I could be hurtful.

I could be purple. I could be anything you like. So, I don't own that nifty piece of catchy lyrics that I used as my title and beginning sentences. The singer MIKA sang it first, probably wrote it too. It just fit my thoughts today.

I had clinicals again today. The first for this new semester. I went with nine other girls, two of whom are in the traditional program that I am on, and the rest from the Fast track program. This day was just our orientation day so we didn't choose clients nor did we help with anyone. All we did was choose which floors we were going to be on at the hospital, clarify when our paper work is due (Saturdays at midnight), when and where to meet for lunch and post conference (12-1PM, cafeteria), meet with our clinical instructor, and get our schedule for our OR experience (mine's April-ish). And the rest of the time we rode elevators, ate, and laughed like the serious, professional and competent student nurses that we are. It wasn't really a frazzling clinical day, unlike the first one I had last semester, hence the laughing and the sarcasm.

I was actually pretty zen, well except for the part where I thought I was going to be late due to the freeway traffic on my way to the hospital. But mostly, I was zen, since there was no clinical paperwork to turn in, no twenty-something medications to pore over, and I actually slept early (10 at night). What sort of annoyed me though was how one of the fast track girls acted and reacted. Okay, so back story slash flashback scene moment, our program has two main cohorts - the traditional group, which I belong to, and the fast track (FT), or the group that graduates a semester earlier than ours will. Anyway, most of the FT already have previous degrees and are coming 'back' to school for a BSN. And our group consists of people who are getting their first degree. Previously, we've had a separate schedule and professors than they did, so no drama there. The thing is, the FT believe that their schedule is way more chaotic and complicated than ours was, that they were learning more stuff and stuff that was more advanced than ours, and life just sucks for them, but in reality (or according to Ms. J, the instructor), "Dude, no, you guys are learning the same stuff and have the same materials except for the days you go to class and who your instructors are". Moving on, we were put in on the same class as them last semester and it was ridiculous with what weekly complaint they had and their 'we're better than you' attitude. Not that all of them were like that since I know some of them and they're decent. We didn't outright fight with them but we just didn't mesh. Even our professor (the lead faculty) said they had trouble dealing with change since they keep saying "We already know how we learn best and the way you teach isn't that way". Whatever.

I digress on today's happening. Well, so I got along with them today, since it is only polite to be nice. Except for this girl whom at first I felt sort of sorry for since she was totally frazzled like I was on my first day before. She arrived last, couldn't find a spot for parking, looked frazzled, forgot her stethoscope, and kept clumsily spilling water on her scrubs. So I felt a kinship with her because she is normally me when I leave better parts of my brain under my pillow. She's self-deprecating and acts silly unintentionally. Maybe I don't know her enough but she just made an impression on me, a negative one. I just didn't like the fact that she acted so impatient with our clinical instructor. I get the part that today wasn't the most exciting day of clinicals and that we didn't do anything except for orientation. But that was sort of the point of today's clinical, for orientation. And yes, some people, like our instructor, are quiet and soft-spoken and have to do stuff slowly and thoroughly, even with walking. It's called a leisurely pace. Try it sometime.

Dear this girl, I felt bad for you this morning when you woke up on the wrong side of the bed and got harassed by mischievous fairies who govern the laws of available parking and Mr. Murphy. But it's really inappropriate to make snide remarks like "really, how slow can one person walk? does it need to take you the whole day?" or "do i look like i care about a bunch of pictures on the wall?" or only care about things that interest you when someone is just doing their job to orient you so you don't look like a frazzled piece of headless chicken when you go to clinicals for real next week. And yes, it might have been funny the first few times but it's mean and selfish disparage someone just because you think they are taking your precious time away from you and you want to go home, especially when they're just making sure that they go through everything correctly so that you will too. I get the fact that yes, I too, am being mean and wrong as I write these things about you and that my impressions of you might be wrong, the way your impression of our instructor might have been wrong too. But the difference is, I am not writing these words to make fun of you or hurt you. I write these because I think you were wrong. So let's just all grow up and be serious, competent and professional. Being whiny and snarky isn't the first step. You may think that I'm saying this because I'm trying to get brownie points from our instructor, but what does she know of what I write about? Honestly. Next time though, I will just keep out of your way and stay clear so that I won't have reason to be annoyed. In this case, what I can't see won't hurt me. Out of sight, out of mind. I know that I can be mean too, and I can say more cutting and hateful words, but I choose not to. Not because I'm too cowardly to say it to someone's face, but because I refuse to hurt people just to make me happy. People have this thing called feelings and we have this ancient rule called politesse, you can also say that as politeness or etiquette, it's what we use when we want to respect what people have called boundaries. Dude, chill. Just be thankful for the down time.

Sincerely,
Kat

the f word

I don't really like cursing or swearing. I usually make up my own phrase or sentence to express my frustration. And I do have lots of frustrations. Especially when I drive. Yeah. Just, yeah.

So it goes like this, five minutes into driving on the 101 freeway bound home, this dark blue two door car cuts in front of me, nearly missing a van from his lane. I ignore the car since Arizona drivers tend to be insane anyway. And it's not like honking will change anything. But then a couple of feet away, he (yes, he) decides to stick out his arm out the window and raise his middle finger. Yes, that universal F sign that was spontaneously invented to replace verbal use of the word. Surprise, surprise, it caught on. He waves his smug sign for a couple of seconds before putting his arm back inside. So who was the sign aimed for? Me? Maybe. For some other driver? Probably. For all of us? Highly likely.

I raise my eyebrow at that and stop myself from thinking of ill of him. Too late though, a sick smile has already spread on my lips as I think avidly of how morbidly ironic it would be if he suddenly gets blindsided out of nowhere. Or he suddenly rear ends the car he was now behind. Ah, the possibilities. I only sigh though as I watch him exit off the freeway and go his merry way.

I wasn't really mad at the guy. For the life of me I can't think of why he would do that and if it was indeed aimed at me. Only God and him know. But still, isn't he concerned that if he did that to someone else the person would probably chase after his car and shoot him? I mean, Arizona is one of the states that have a lot of road rage incidents. And I would not want to encourage anyone with anger management issues to blow my brains out. I have enough of seeing people reported on the news who got shot after angering a fellow driver.

I was thinking that God would deal with that idiotic asinine of an ass, but then as I exited Thomas Road, I felt foolish enough to just ask God to forgive me and that addled brain half-bake. The next time I meet another dullard dumdum on the road, I will stay clear of their path lest I catch their dumbass and foolhardy manner. After all, some are born stupid, some achieve stupidity, and some have stupidity thrust upon them. But stupidity is not passed on by ancestors but it is their own hard-worn accomplishment. Kudos to you, driver of the dark blue two door car. May you always have bliss. Since ignorance of stupidity is bliss.