I have long believed that Math would be the death of me. Taking "Math 125S :Statistics To Make a Sane Mind Weak:" is upholding this belief. Whilst sitting in class I am often perplexed, but after the teacher explains things S L O W LY, and brings the conversation down to a 5th grade math level, my calcifying brain is usually able to glean shiny nuggets of information that I hurry to scribble down in my notebook, lest they exit my brain as quickly as Shaun being chased by a zombie. Once home, I kiss the ancient carpet of my threshold and thank God I have survived yet another attempt to make me put me in the same boat as Poe.
Once safe in the arms of my abode, I am sucked into the tyranny of the urgent and soon forget the oppression math brings to my soul. I clean, I cook, I dare to have a normal life. I relax in the promise that my scribbled notes will bring my memory to life. Ha! I have been lulled into a false sense of security! I innocently approach my work, confident that I will knock out the lab in the time it takes me to sip my hot and tasty Chi tea. Once the books are re-cracked and the notes pulled out I feel as though I am reading cruneform! When trying to use my computer to assist, I ruefully discover it is in on it! It isn't just math, all the 1's and 0's have it out for me! Scurvy knaves! Needless to say a whole afternoon has been wasted thanks to my prehistoric laptop and it's inability to allow anything to update, download or, HORRORS, help me!
For the time being I shall admit defeat. I will sit back in my recliner, sip my iced Chi and allow the wasted afternoon to become yet another uncomfortable math memory. I will allow the loving and easily interfacing pages of Facebook and Pogo to sweep me away to a wonderful world where math doth not dare to rear it's ugly head....at least not where I can see it!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Begin the Beguine
I have always fancied myself as somewhat of a writer. I feel I have the writers spirit. I certainly express myself best in print more than any other medium. So after having this blog for 4 years I guess I am going to finally put it to some use. With the stressors of life becoming greater and with RN/BSN school looming in the (hopefully) near future this will be a chronicle of my time going through it as well as getting my brain back in writing mode! Two for the price of one! Your lucky day!!!
How does one go from wanting to write to being a nurse? Laziness and lack of focus, mostly. Being a nurse is very hard work but being a writer is harder. For me writing is like giving birth, sans the blood, for the most part. At least for me, it is a painful experience. I have all these great characters and interesting scenarios in my head and they pretty much just want to stay there. They are perfectly happy right where they are and take quite a bit of pushing to get them out. My kids births were like this, except I had drugs that helped speed things along. Having no desire to end up like Poe, Dick or Hunter S. I shall forgo the drugs and alcohol.
My Dad is a wonderfully engaging writer. My brother (adopted) Tom and his lovely wife (ironically named Robin) are fantastic writers. I have met and even shared beds (but nothing else) with fantastic writers. Though perhaps not writers by profession, they are writers at heart. I want to be a writer at heart, not just in spirit...
How does one go from wanting to write to being a nurse? Laziness and lack of focus, mostly. Being a nurse is very hard work but being a writer is harder. For me writing is like giving birth, sans the blood, for the most part. At least for me, it is a painful experience. I have all these great characters and interesting scenarios in my head and they pretty much just want to stay there. They are perfectly happy right where they are and take quite a bit of pushing to get them out. My kids births were like this, except I had drugs that helped speed things along. Having no desire to end up like Poe, Dick or Hunter S. I shall forgo the drugs and alcohol.
My Dad is a wonderfully engaging writer. My brother (adopted) Tom and his lovely wife (ironically named Robin) are fantastic writers. I have met and even shared beds (but nothing else) with fantastic writers. Though perhaps not writers by profession, they are writers at heart. I want to be a writer at heart, not just in spirit...
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