Nice Girls Don’t…

A few years ago I was sitting on my couch enjoying a beer. My son walked up to me and started explaining “nice girls don’t drink beer.” 

Imagine my horror when I realized I was raising this child all wrong. He went on to say “Beer is a man’s drink.” In response I felt it necessary to have another beer. 

I did not have the energy for a civics lesson at that moment. All I wanted was to drink my fantastically delicious Stella in the privacy of my own home. 

Apparently, nice girls don’t do a lot of things.

We don’t drink, swear, or have premarital sex. 

We don’t discuss politics, religion, or any other controversial topic in public. 

We don’t dye our hair bright colors, get tattoos, or pierce anything other than our dainty little ear lobes. 

We don’t argue with our elders or anyone in a position of authority. 

Nice girls don’t ever embarrass our Mommas. 

Nice girls are docile, pretty, and smell like a walk through a spring garden. They don’t discuss their periods, burp, or fart. We certainly never risk offending other people by defecating in a restroom someone else may need. 

Nice girls follow behind a man and look to the nearest man for permission and guidance.

Nice girls never rock the boat. 

Nice girls don’t have opinions. We are able to carry on a conversation that is stimulating for men, but we always avoid out shining the nearest male. 

We don’t argue, debate, or criticize. 

Nice girls don’t gossip or worry their pretty little heads about current affairs. We would not understand them anyway. 

Nice girls don’t compete with men for professional gain. Nice girls don’t attempt to break through the glass ceiling. 

Nice girls don’t make the decision to not have children. It’s just not right. Nice girls stay home and have dinner on the table by six. They raise respectable boys and girls who conform to society’s ideals. 

Nice girls don’t raise their children as single mothers without searching for a replacement father. They are always on the hunt. 

Nice girls don’t kiss and tell. They don’t wear provocative clothing. They don’t want to distract the boys. After all those boys have important matters to focus on. They have to protect all the women and children. 

Nice girls don’t watch porn or masturbate. They don’t fantasize about sex. They don’t look for a hook up on Tinder. Nice girls don’t eschew relationships in an attempt to just have a good time.

Nice girls don’t willingly stay single. They are all waiting for some prince to come sweep them off their feet with an amazing marriage proposal so they can make a home and provide suitable heirs. 

Nice girls don’t write blogs making fun of nice girls. 

Most important: Nice girls don’t say “fuck” on Facebook. 

Nice Girls Don’t…

Airplane Photos

I suppose my new hobby is taking crappy photos with my iPhone and trying to edit them in Enlight. 

Let’s keep in mind, I don’t know a thing about photo editing in any platform. So, I’ll keep turning up the contrast and stuff. Perhaps I should do some reading on the subject. 

Also, I need to add to my list of stuff to do. 

1. Learn to use camera. (After all, I bought the thing for this purpose. I just got busy.) 

Maybe someday I will manage a good photograph. I suppose the main thing is to keep having fun with it. 

Airplane Photos

Home Sweet Home

Sometimes I think it would be nice to drag my family and all my friends around with me as I travel for work. 

I imagine a huge tour bus with enough beds and room for the menagerie of pets. The cats and the dogs would be dramatically unimpressed. I’m not sure how the family would like it either. I imagine they would revolt and go running for the Texas border. 

Other days I fantasize about finding some little hideaway island where I can listen to the waves and read all day. Floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed with adventures and magical tales, music and movies filling my days. 

I know this is not reality. 

Wouldn’t it be nice though? 

Home Sweet Home

Let it go

I did not know how it was going to feel to leave. I was afraid I was destined to be heartbroken. In the weeks leading up to my departure I imagined driving down the highway a sobbing mess, listening to Sam Smith on repeat with a little Adele sprinkled in for good measure. I had convinced myself I was going to regret the entire experience. 

None of this happened. Not in the slightest. I was fine. It’s funny when you stop and think about it. It was a chance meeting which turned out to be so much fun. It was also never going to be long term. I think this fact has been my safety net. I never pretended it had anywhere to go. It was always going to fit neatly into a box. For those of you who don’t know me, I have a thing for boxes. Boxes, containers, bags, and drawers. You will never catch me willingly throwing out a box. I may need it. 

It sounds ridiculously cheesy but I am learning to accept things for what they are. I am learning to have a good time in the moment. Most important, I am learning to let go of the little things. It’s really not that big of a deal. 

Let it go

Some People

I find myself feeling judgmental and bitchy about others all the time. The irony is that I am judgmental about the judgmental stuff they say. 

Why can’t people just be nice? Why can’t I just be nice? 

I suppose it comes down to the fact if I don’t like you as a person, I am not going to like anything you have to say. 

Why am I paying attention to the words of people I don’t respect? The same reason I read trash like People. I don’t want to miss out! I need something inconsequential to talk about. 

Besides, the people who I thought were so much better than I am turned out to be only human after all. Ha! Jokes on me. 

So, I may continue to roll my eyes, sigh, and groan at the crap coming out of some people’s mouth. I may not like most of what you say and do. 

Secretly, I am kinda hoping you don’t ever get your shit together. I need the distraction. 

If you manage by some miracle to stop being such a Trainwreck, I’ll enjoy watching that show too. 

Yep. I am probably not a great person. I tend to believe I am just honest about what we are all doing anyway. 

Some People

Tulsa Time

You know that moment you realize life is going pretty much okay? Despite all my desperate attempts to convince myself it is not??? 

I’m sitting here in the airport. Five hours early for my flight because I hate to be late. Drinking my trendy strawberry concoction from Starbucks. Watching Game of Thrones on my iPad. With free wifi. Seriously, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. 

I wonder what it feels like to be content. I keep trying to find the answer to this question. How do I lighten up and go with the flow? I keep thinking I have finally made it to that fantastic mystical place in my life, only to find myself wallowing in some self-imposed idea of what I should be doing. Although, if I am being honest, I never actually have any idea of what exactly it is I should be doing. 

I read this article yesterday explaining how you should not judge your job based on whether or not you love it. Perhaps sometimes it is just a job. The thing you do to make a living. Except, I do love my job. Sure there are things about it I don’t like. I imagine that holds true for everyone. 

So where does this constant angst come from? Maybe it’s time to grow up and just decide to be happy. Because I really am happy! I think I think too much. Isn’t there a saying about a well-examined life? Well, I turn mine upside down as often as I can. It’s ridiculous. 

Is this normal? Do normal people do this to themselves? 

So, I am probably going to continue to struggle with this, and I am going to have to keep reminding myself to get over myself. It can’t all be that serious. At some point I need to just chill and be cool. 

Tulsa Time

The Secret of Life

Sometimes I get discouraged. Things don’t seem to be working out the way I always thought they would. There are petty differences that are simply annoying. I can’t stand to watch the news. I feel a little isolated and at loose ends. I feel inadequate in so many ways. 

These are probably normal feelings. It certainly doesn’t make them any more pleasant. 

I find myself craving a way to make a difference in the world. I want to be useful. I want to have a positive impact. I used to believe these feelings were a sign of some sort of arrogance on my part. Who am I to think I have the ability to make a real impact? Perhaps I should leave these important matters to people more capable. 

What??? Just think if everyone believed this crap. 

How does a person facilitate change? How can one person make a difference? It almost makes me understand the painfully misguided actions of martyrs. 

I wonder if it still counts if you just try to make a positive impact on the people you come into contact with in your daily life. Can you make a change if you just start small? Will offering someone support and kindness actually change the world for the better? 


Maybe that is not the point though.

Who knows the real secret of life? Who knows what makes a life successful? 

How do I live a life that makes me feel proud? Am I really a good person? 

The secret of life is…. 

Well, I’ll have to get back to you on that one. 

The Secret of Life

Just Stop. 

The whole world has lost it’s collective mind. Have we made any progress as a species? Are we doomed to leave behind a legacy of ignorance and hate? 

I feel like I am being constantly bombarded with one-sided inflammatory rhetoric. I do not even know where to find the truth. 

I do know this much. In my personal and professional life I seek to serve the public. I feel a kinship with all public servants. I have never witnessed someone receiving less care because of their race, financial status, or religious views. This is the norm. 

I do not care what race you are. I don’t care if you believe in God or what God that may be. I do not care how much money you have. I will take care of you. I will fight for you. I believe this is true for almost all of us. We don’t choose this life out of hate. We choose it to help. 

There may be a few outliers, and I assure you the majority of us want them rooted out of our profession just as much as anyone. 

I would also like to point out the lack of protection we have when we go to work in potentially dangerous situations. We cannot fight back. We cannot defend ourselves. We are heaped with verbal and often times physical abuse. Do we let this prevent us from treating you? No. Do my brothers and sisters in police and firefighter uniform use this as an excuse to not respond? No. We don’t. 

So, excuse me for taking offense when people try to justify brutality against us. Someone needs to stand up and say “enough.” There is no excuse for the attacks on police officers. There is no excuse for the attacks on prison guards, nurses, and teachers. 

We are part of the solution. We will continue to defend and protect our society. I would appreciate it if society would grow up and offer us the same courtesy. 

Just Stop. 

Hitchens on Everything

In an attempt to grow as a writer, I have committed to reading a varied diet of authors other writers mention in their writing. I am also reading more by writers the people I respect read. This has led to a fascination with the late Christopher Hitchens. 

It helps that he has written about secularism in a witty, informative manner which leaves me feeling a little more enlightened. I feel the need to be completely transparent, so I admit my relief to have purchased electronic books which has facilitated my use of the “define” button with ease. One of my bad habits is to skim very quickly through material and if I see a word I do not immediately recognize, I skim over it and assume I can get the gist of the article or chapter if I just keep reading. This leads to a lot of missed opportunities for me. It also explains why I can reread so many things and never get bored. It’s always a new experience because I miss so much the first 12 times I read it. 

Hitchens is not really light reading for me. The man’s command of the English language is a bit intimidating for a girl who has spent much of her life trying to blend in and avoid accusations of snobbery and elitism. Essentially, I have been accused of trying to use words separate myself from others to the point I stopped trying to elucidate my thoughts using more specific and clear language. I just wanted to fit in. I have since realized my mistake. I have a rabid fascination with words. My dictionary app is one of my favorite apps. I make note of new words when I hear them and I take great pride in trying to learn how to appropriately use the new words I have learned in casual conversation. This is what I consider a good time. 

I find the assimilation of vocabulary into my life a useful tool for making myself understood in a more accurate way. I have spent too long copping out by assuming no one would ever understand what point I am trying to make. I have also assumed no one could possibly be interested. 

My fears of offending people and causing the people I love pain and embarrassment has made writing difficult for me. I have spent much of my life trying to understand the complexities of argument and honing my debaters mind to see the opposing argument as well. This makes it difficult at times to make a point and stick with it. 

Frankly, it has left me paralyzed. 

However, I digress. (Learned that word from a book about a vampire bunny. I wish I could remember what book that was. I loved it.) I was talking about Hitchens. I could go on about this thing or that thing he wrote, however I think you should just go read him on your own. I just wanted to share how much reading him has inspired me to work harder to develop my skills as a communicator and thinker. 

I want to be able to articulate my ideas in a clearer and more concise manner. I want to be able to express how information has influenced my life. I want to be able to demonstrate how I have changed and grown as a result of my experiences in my life. I want to be able to show how it was all still meaningful, even if I don’t believe in immortality. 

I suppose I just want to not waste my life on earth planning for some unimaginable future existence. I want to take advantage of the life I actually have. 

I won’t be dishonest or hide truth as I understand it. I won’t be unshakeable and rigid to accepting new ideas as I learn more. I will never live by the ignorant edict of “that’s the way we have always done it.” I will be openminded and look for evidence. I will continue to value truth above all else. 

I will keep reading, watching, and searching for answers. Maybe someday I will have something interesting to say. If nothing else, perhaps I will be clever in the same way I find Hitchens clever. Wouldn’t that be a riot? 

Hitchens on Everything

Third Time’s a Charm???

Sunset arriving in Tulsa. It is beautiful. Until I walk through the sweltering, damp heat to the rental car.  I am sure I am destined to drown in the humidity. Get to the window and wouldn’t you know it? There is a line. I stand there and sweat. Ask politely for a car with Bluetooth. Get a rocking minivan. 

This morning I wake up exceptionally early. I do not have to be at work until two, and I am up before seven. 

Finally, it’s time to head out to work. I’m nervous and probably should not have eaten Jack in the Box for lunch. I just love fried lettuce. I can’t help myself. 

Get to work, find the right building, and walk in for my appointment. Training on the EMR. This seems to be rather simple. I’m relieved. This is one of the hardest parts of working this way. Lots of new programs to learn. New docs and nurses. So many names and new hallways. I always feel a little overloaded and lost for a couple of weeks. 

I am never sure how much to talk. I have a tendency to either babble or sit in sullen (not intentionally) silence. This new doc seems pretty cool. 

I follow a gregarious NP. He really cracks me up. It is such a relief to be around friendly people. At my last job, I was shunned a little at first. This is so much better. 

I watch these providers carefully, sizing up their professional interactions and monitor their sense of humor. I need people who don’t take themselves too seriously. I like work to be fun. This job is hard enough without the added stress of working with pompous assholes. 

Listening to patient/ provider interactions and I feel like I could work here. I am finally back in a world where I know what to expect. Critical care just makes sense to me. The providers seem to balance the work fairly among each other. I feel like they work well as a mutually respectful team. 

This is what I have been missing. I think I am going to enjoy this assignment. I appreciate how everyone is welcoming me into the mix.

Honestly, I wish I had come here six months ago. I know it has only been one day, and it was a “easy” night, but I like the atmosphere. Perhaps the third time is a charm. We shall see. 

Third Time’s a Charm???