I’m an organ donor on my driver’s license which is so weird becuase you pretty much have to die in a hospital to be an organ donor. And you figure if you are in an hospital your family is there and they hopefully already know you want to be an organ donor…
Oh well. I would be honored after death if I could be used for some greater purpose!
So I have never been a religious person, but I have recently come out of the closet as an atheist. It’s actually been quite liberating in one aspect because I now look back and realized I’ve been trying to conform to something I didn’t believe in for a long time. I am however scared because my husband’s family is very religious and I know the onslaught is forthcoming! I also have always thought that if something came between my husband and myself it would be religion….he got turned off from his parents pushing it down his throat, but has recently decided to start attending church again. I hope that a Pastafarian and a Christian can live together in harmony.
I’m really trying to figure this out. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on Major Depressive Disorder and reading books by people who have been through it and I’m just like wow… I mean I know tons of people who are “depressed” and “on meds”, including my dad who tells me all the time he knows how I feel. But his depression stems from PTSD, which is different. I read these pages and I’m like wow, someone gets it, the apathy, the not being able to get out of bed to shower, the idea that life is scarier than death. It’s a strange comfort to know that there are people who have been there, that bad.
I should be able to do this more, but I am in a sort of feud with the person who signs up during the day. I should not let this stop me as it is not the patients fault. I miss running with my husband as we made such a great team on the ambulance. I have gone on a few fires in the last few weeks, but what can I say….I need a good trauma to get me back in the spirit of things.
“It’s not that I want you to get hurt, I just want to be there when you do” – Trauma Junkie
Yeah, so I am really having so issues with this. I think I am mega-stressed. My dad almost forcefully took me to the ER last weekend because my legs looked so bad. I even thought they looked bad enough to show him. I convinced him to let me put some neosporin and band aids on them for the weekend and see how they did. They are looking better, but they are definitely going to scar…and I am still picking them. They are still infected, but I don’t think I have blood poisoning or anything like I did last weekend. Why can’t I stop? I have never done anything this bad before.
I got to donate double blood, or plasma, on Thursday. I can’t figure out why everyone that can do it doesn’t do it. I know a lot of people can’t, for example people who traveled to certain countries, getting a tattoo within the last year, and lots of other things excludes you. Being afraid of needles is not an excuse. What if it was your mom that needed the blood?
Doing the plasma donation is such a trip. You end up giving 2 pints instead of the standard 1 and they take out a pint, put it in machine that separates the plasma from the platelets, then they keep the plasma and put the platelets back in you and they do that twice. It takes about 45 minutes, but supposedly it’s not as hard on your body even though they are taking more. I always get really cold and feel woozy and get a metallic taste in my mouth when they are putting the platelets back in…very strange.
SO WORTH IT THOUGH!
So I still haven’t had “the talk” with the hubby yet. After the social work debacle/breakdown I’m scared. Plus I haven’t gotted off my lazy ass to write my essay. Who knows if I’ll even get in the program.
He keeps telling my I need to get a job that pays good so he can get a lower paying job that he actually likes as opposed to the the okay paying job he doesn’t like he has now. So I guess I have ammunition to go to grad school. Of course at the rate I’m going I’ll have more student loans than a med student. Eeek.
My dad, who is half Italian, was stationed unaccompanied in Naples for 6 months in the military. My best friend and I visited him over our spring break when we were 19. It was cool because he taught himself Italian so when he was able to join us we had a translator. When he had to work, we took tours. We got to see Rome, Naples, climb Mt. Vesuvius, Capri, the Amalfi Coast, and Calabria which is where my family is from. We went the the teeny tiny village where my great-grandfather came to the US from. My grandfather actually still has first cousins there he just found out about. I want to go back to Rome so bad as we only had a quick day there, including literally RUNNING through the Vatican Museums to see the Sistine Chapel ceiling as it was closing. But I got to see it, that’s all that matters! :-)
I need that song, those trusty chords will pull me through – Alkaline Trio
And all that followed fell, like mercury to Hell – Alkaline Trio
Like Hell we are anxiously waiting, like Hell burning sliently strong, somehow we fell down by the wayside, somehow this Hell is my home, right now this Hell is my home – Alkaline Trio
I fear that I am ordinary, just like everyone
To lie here and die among the sorrows
Adrift among the days
For everything I ever said
And everything I’ve ever done is gone and dead
As all things must surely have to end
And great lovers will one day have to part
I know that I am meant for this world
My life has been extraordinary
Blessed and cursed and won
Time heals but I’m forever broken
-Smashing Pumpkins
God damn the people who left you in pain
God damn the father without face, without name
And god damn the lovers who never showed up
And god damn the wounds that show how deep a word can cut
-Toad the Wet Sprocket
I am a picker and always have been. Any bump on my body, I hate. My face isn’t too bad, luckily I only get the occasional oil bump which I promptly destroy. Of course sometimes that gets imflammed and then scabby and I keep picking. My biggest problem is like if I get a bug bite or I cut myself shaving I can’t leave it alone. The second it scabs over I pick the scab off. It’s such a disgusting habit, but there is a perverse satisfaction there. My legs right now look like shit. It’s 109 outside and I can’t wear shorts because my dog scratched my legs and I picked and my legs look like a crack addicts legs.
I’m thinking that my nail biting and picking is like one step away from self-cutting. And I wonder how many pickers also nail bite and vice-versa.
Check out www.venganza.org
Let His Noodly Appendage Enlighten You!
Or at least make you smile.
not having a job and living in limbo (currently in LDR with husband) makes me a horrible sleeper. I stay up late and wake up late. I can’t wait until our plans get settled and I can move and have a routine again. Though I will admit I like being a night owl…my pets don’t like it though…they want mom to go to bed with them!
I met Bono in the Boston Airport the day after seeing U2 on their Zooropa tour. They were flying back to Ireland between tour legs. I was at the Delta counter and the ticket agent tells me in this hushed voice “The band UB40 is down there” pointing to the other end of the counter. So I think “Cool..Red Red Wine…I’ll just go have a look-see”. So I walk down, wearing my concert shirt I procured the night before, and lo and behold Bono and The Edge are standing there with Paul McGuiness and some Delta people. Yeah…U2, NOT UB40!!!I stop in my tracks, my jaw drops, and I literally gawk like an idiot. Bono, being the God he is, sees me, the idiot I am, and motions for me to come over. I walk over and shake his hand….he asks if I enjoyed the concert and I could barely talk. I shoved my plane ticket at him asking him to sign it. He asked for a pen and I go to my backpack where I realize I have my ticket stub so he signs that instead. Only later, after my brain has resumed working, do I realize my CAMERA WAS IN MY BACKPACK TOO!!! DOH!!! I still have my ticket stub that says “To Gina Bono 97”. I will never forgive myself for not getting my picture taken with him though!!
I am lucky (???) enough to be height/weight proportionate to be able to donate plasma. This means I can’t donate as often, but they take the plasma and put the platelets back in. It’s a very weird thing because when it goes back in it stings and it’s cold. But I donate as often as I can because as a volunteer EMT I see enough people that at some point will need blood and it inspires me.
I think this would be a great thing to do, especially on a rainy Sunday with Chinese takeout. One day…
Forensic Psychology is less touchy-feely than social work and it’s much more interesting. It is a great match for my Criminal Justice BS and my need to help people. I only wish I hadn’t rushed into social work.
So Social Work wasn’t for me. I can’t be the first person to, what amounts to, switch majors in grad school can I??
My husband and I have 5 cats. Shelly, Tony, Harley, Pooky, and Dallas. We would have more but they told us they didn’t want anymore by way of rejecting the strays we have rescued and tried to keep. We now spay/neuter the strays and find homes for them instead of trying to keep them, which is probably the best thing. I joke that we’ve reached our maximum cat saturation point.
I lived in Northern Japan my junior and senior years of high school. I would love to go back someday. Being a hormonal teenager when I was there I didn’t fully appreciate the experience at the time. I do have a fondness for anything Sanrio and styrofoam wrapped apples.
