Sunday, May 30, 2010

Rule #1: Don't get attached.

I cannot sleep.
For the past two weeks, I have been restless and irritated....on edge. Maybe I just miss seeing my "nursing school" pals everyday because we have all been busy with life and work and doing things we didn't have time for during the semester (Like re-watching seasons 1 and 2 of The Tudors...way better than anything I was taught in European history). Maybe I am developing a tolerance to my antidepressants and need to have them increased.
Or it could be something else.
WhatsHisName hasn't tried to call or text me since we last saw each other except for to ask if I made it to class the next morning and to tell me he had fun.
I know that it was just a hookup and there was no reason to have expect anything at all to come of it but it still kind of sucks. Mostly because of the realization that instead of him being my "booty call," I was his.
I keep thinking I did something wrong or said something stupid even though it shouldn't matter to me because we were just going to have some fun.
And I don't really even think it is him not calling that bothers me as much as the tiny voice in the back of my head that is still holding onto the "good Christian morals" I was raised on that keeps telling me I am a whore. Because I knew that there was nothing really between us and I was okay with it.
Whatever. It is probably the antidepressants that have me feeling this way.

See?!? This is why I shouldn't have too much free time. I spend too much of it thinking about stupid shit like this and getting myself worked up over nothing.

Monday, May 24, 2010

ZOMG. Links!!1!

  • The Best of Craig's List. It's like the collected psyche of all the perverts and hipsters in the world. Awesome.
  • It seems like everyone in the blog-o-sphere has gotten a real life outside of the Internet and no longer posts their adventure for the world to see. This makes me so sad. :-( But I have discovered a new favorite blogger who also illustrates her posts (to drive home the point). Hyperbole and A Half. Click it. You know you want to.
  • The Vice Guide To Giving Head. This is exactly what it sounds like. Definitely nsfw.
  • How to Grow Hops. My next project.
  • I have the worst time getting to sleep without some noise in the background. That is why I am so happy I found this website: Sound Sleep. This past semester, I also used it while I was study because flute music, rolling thunder, and raindrops where much less distracting than the music I usual listen to while doing homework.
  • Oh, Oatmeal. You did it again. This is why I love you. How The Male Angler Fish Gets Completely Screwed.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

And the Award for Best Search Term Goes To....

Oh, you dirty dirty British people.
You all have the image of being such prudes but now I know the truth. ;-)

My lovely readers.
I have just had the best blog search term hit ever.
Ever.
Way better than "lust on a cellular level" or "free-balling in basketball shorts" or "nurses + sexy party".


Oh, you poor misguided British person. I know you were probably looking for some hot aquatic porn but you ended up here. sigh. Such disappointment, I know.

One question. How the hell did this lead you to me? As far as I know, I have never misspelled the word "suck" before. Nor have I ever mentioned underwater fellatio.
xoxo
Firefly

Friday, May 21, 2010

Your Love Is My Drug...also crack is my drug too.

Yes. The beginning part of the title is a Kesha song. Don't judge me.

Dearest Firefly.

This is your common sense. I know we haven't spoken much over the past few months but I really need to talk to you before you do something we both regret.

  • Learn to burn bridges. There is no reason to have an ex's number in your phone. Hell, in that case, burn the bridge and torch the villages on both sides.
  • While we are on the subject of ex's, stop emailing and calling them at 2am. It will never end well. It only serves to 1) prove to them that you are, in fact, just as crazy as they thought or 2) puts you back in touch with them (which you don't really want, do you?).
  • Wear high heels even if you are worried that the guy you are with might feel insecure. If it makes you feel sexy, go for it.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

End of a Chapter

The semester is officially over.
I should be letting out a sigh of relief but, alas, I am not.
I never expected when I started nursing school that I would get so close to some of these people.
When we were all competing for spots in the program, it was cut throat. Hell, they wouldn't even let us use scalpels in the anatomy lab for fear that we might "accidentally" try to take out the competition ("Try to insert a Foley catheter with 3 fingers, bitch!").
I never thought that I would cry when I found out some of them might not be continuing this journey with me.

But damn, after our final on Monday, we had one hell of a party.
Something very interesting happens when you put a bunch of 20- and 30-something under the most intense pressure they have ever felt, only to suddenly release it and give them alcohol. Secrets come out. Very quickly. And you know, because we see penises and vaginas all the damn time, 98% of what we talk about while we are drunk is sex.
Oh, the confessions. After listening to a male classmate claim that he was a "not so average Asian" and one of my study buddies saying that she would suck dick all day just for the look she gets from the guy during it, we somehow got on the subject of fetishes. Handcuffs and choking are quite popular among the nursing student crowd. ;-)
I don't think I said anything too damning. The worst might have been that the last guy I was with turned out to be married with 3 kids. To be fair, I had no idea at the time [but damn, he was a great kisser]. I also think I told the same study buddy that I would sleep with her to keep from calling him. I meant it as a joke but she seemed quite content with that arraignment.
How am I suppose to look at these people come fall semester? Hopefully they will drink enough over summer break to kill all of those little memory neurons.
xoxo
Firefly

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

RoleCall

Hello my loves.
I just wanted to tell you all how truly sorry I am for the past few weeks and the amount of depressing posts that have been registered here. I swear I am not normally such a Debby Downer. School and family crap just have me on edge but it should be better soon.

I was recently on my tracking website for this blog and I noticed something interesting. Last year, I only had a few regular readers and I could recognize them from their town names on the tracker. Today, I had no idea who most of ya'll are. I may only get about a dozen hits a day but I still want to know to whom I am spilling all my dirty, little secrets.

So, tell me. Who are you?

xoxo
Firefly

By the way, have I been misspelling "ya'll" this whole time? Is it "ya'll" or "y'all"? Not that it really matters because I will continue spelling it how I damn well please despite the suggestions that Blogger makes. I know, baby. I'm a rebel. ;-)

kiss*kiss

Feeling quite a bit better compared to the other day. Here's why:
  • I found out if, in fact, I do fail my nursing classes this semester (which is highly unlikely now that my partner in crime and I have figured up my grade), I will be in good company. This also is a negative considering some of my favorite people in the class are not doing so hot.
  • My sex bruises are healing up quite nicely.
  • I spent the past eight hours studying and do not feel like causing myself great bodily harm because *gasp* I am actually getting the material when I have a few hours of sleep and some Redbull under my belt.

xoxo Firefly

PS- I was totally kidding about the sex bruises thing.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Damaged Goods

I believe that Catholics would call what i am having right now a crisis of faith.
It goes deeper than that even though I was always told that out faith is the root of who we are.
I am having a crisis of self.
Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever believed to be true about who I am and what I am capable of is fading away right before my eyes.
The sex and the alcohol and the textbooks that have been my life and coping for the past few months are breaking me. And do you the worst part about it? All I can think about while I am hyperventilating from the second panic attack that I have had in the past 24 hours is hypercapnia....a build up of CO2 in the blood.
How fucking pathetic is that?

Thursday, May 06, 2010

Quote of the Day

Location: School, sitting outside the nursing department
Matt: So I signed the panties for her. It is a lot harder to write on underwear than you would think.
Me: Geez, Matt. You may want to say that a little louder. I think there might be a few people downstairs who didn't hear you.
Matt: IT IS A LOT HARDER TO SIGN PANTIES THAN YOU WOULD THINK.

I love male nurses. :-)

Sunday, May 02, 2010

Giving Them Something To Talk About

  • I have Train's "Hey, Soul Sister" stuck in my head. It was okay at first but now I want to take a drill to my temple.
  • I hate myself for admitting this but I love crappy poppy dance music. Yes. I know, I am a complete sheep and I love whatever corporate America tells me to. But Kesha's "song" *Blah, Blah, Blah* might be the funniest/most tragic/best dance song since Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. My favorite lyrics: "Boy come on now, Get my rocks off. Come put a little love in my glove box, Wanna dance with no pants on, Meet me in the back with the jack and the jukebox." How could you not consider that 21st century poetry?
  • The med-surg rotation on oncology officially ended last week. For the first time to almost two months, I feel as if I can breathe. It is an odd sensation. Like when you are underwater for too long and you start to panic. The moment you break the surface and get the first bit of oxygen in your lungs, and everything seems okay again. That is what this feels like. It worries me though, and makes me wonder if I am strong enough to be a nurse. If I can physically and emotional meet the demands of my chosen profession.
  • My group and I have a make-up clinical this week for mental health because the instructor had H1N1 earlier in the semester. Instead of forcing us to wear those god-awful scrubs and fake interest in a 13 year old's "depression" (Kid, your parents are right. Stop smoking pot and study more often.), we get to go to her horse ranch and do equestrian therapy. I have no idea what that is but from what she says, horses are magic or some shit like that. They have auras of love and beauty, and if you brush them, they cure your colds. As long as I don't have to spend an afternoon on a psych unit, I am game.
  • Things are getting very, very interesting in the love department. Nothing serious. Just interesting. ;-)