Sunday, April 22, 2012
Hello, goodbye.
If anyone has managed to find themselves on this blog and still continued reading up to this point, I'll ask you the same thing I'm asking myself now, "Why?" Right now, I guess the feeling of the keyboard on my fingertips just feels strangely refreshing, nostalgic even, if you're into that sort of thing. I digress at this point but, I'm really not the sentimental type of person although I'm more than familiar with nostalgia, and the melancholy it comes with. At this point, I wish I could go on but I don't want to make an wordy yet empty post linger on an longer. So If you've made it this far, I thank you for indulging an aging person, and an even older soul like I am. It was just nice to see that a person like me who doesn't have a future had a past that at least made an insignificant blip on someone's life, here and gone with a single click. CLICK.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Maundy musings
The holy week and the holidays that follow always has a personal meaning to all and while I am not against merriment during holidays, or any day for that matter, I’d usually treat these days like a stopover at a gas station. Sure, it’s nice to travel and inch closer to a destination, but like all long trips, you just have to stretch your legs and stand still for a little bit, and usually in my case, empty a very engorged, about to explode bladder. Sure the stopover bathrooms are dirty, you should always start hoping for a ceramic bowl to shoot in, and pine scented wall to wall carpet, but then you just go, and after the anxiety and stubbornness, you’ll feel glad that you did. And this is my year’s bladder stop.
Just having this much time to think just happens to be one of the times I start looking forward, thinking of the future I usually deny and make fun of. Perhaps it is the loss of control and the feeling of dread it entails for me that keeps me from thinking what happens tomorrow, because life, in 23 glorious years has taught me that you can’t ever be prepared for anything, and somehow, someway, you will never be able to fully see or comprehend what’s coming next, and what’s going to happen to me after. But, I find it truly amazing that I find myself writing about this now, almost like surviving death itself. Though I cannot say that I came out of everything unscathed, I must say that everything that has transpired has made me become more learned. I was forced to answer, “What do you really want out of life?” And the sooner that I realized that that was a rhetorical question, the sooner I made something happen because I found that something was more important than finding answers. Finding answers is easy, deciding if they are the right answers is the difficult part, and the part you accept the answer is the tricky part. If you can’t find the answer you’re looking for, maybe you’re asking the wrong questions. Thankfully, life is not limited to 20 questions and there are no stupid questions, and the trick is to just keep asking. As a final note, you don’t learn everything from the answers or does meaning come from the questions but, the asking will always open doors, and with faith and hope, that is all you will ever need.
Just having this much time to think just happens to be one of the times I start looking forward, thinking of the future I usually deny and make fun of. Perhaps it is the loss of control and the feeling of dread it entails for me that keeps me from thinking what happens tomorrow, because life, in 23 glorious years has taught me that you can’t ever be prepared for anything, and somehow, someway, you will never be able to fully see or comprehend what’s coming next, and what’s going to happen to me after. But, I find it truly amazing that I find myself writing about this now, almost like surviving death itself. Though I cannot say that I came out of everything unscathed, I must say that everything that has transpired has made me become more learned. I was forced to answer, “What do you really want out of life?” And the sooner that I realized that that was a rhetorical question, the sooner I made something happen because I found that something was more important than finding answers. Finding answers is easy, deciding if they are the right answers is the difficult part, and the part you accept the answer is the tricky part. If you can’t find the answer you’re looking for, maybe you’re asking the wrong questions. Thankfully, life is not limited to 20 questions and there are no stupid questions, and the trick is to just keep asking. As a final note, you don’t learn everything from the answers or does meaning come from the questions but, the asking will always open doors, and with faith and hope, that is all you will ever need.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Final Set
My definition of regret is about to be overwritten with my definition of redemption. The feeling when the concert tickets was handed to me, just hit me again and now, it’s just starting to set in. More then the want, need, and sheer tenacity to be there was the absolutely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy as I count the few remaining hours to an event which I feel, is my rightful place to stand and bear witness. The feeling of euphoria in anticipation is making me miss keyboard strokes and clouding my unconscious coherence to write, perhaps, in response to my perceived utter futility in trying to contain this emotion into verse. And so in my final words, come hell and high water, I make my pilgrimage to the Final set.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Sickandtiredofthiss
To whom it may concern:
Nursing is not a job. Contrary to definition, though you are compensated for your “services”, every after Eight hour shift, it takes something from you and you leave something behind that neither worldly honor nor material gain can ever replace. Tending to the sick and dying is not a job. No suffix to a name can ever quantify the feeling of bearing the suffering of others nor the forced apathy of the sound of the last heartbeat and the sound of life itself exhumed in a final breath. Calling Nursing a mere profession is belittling the suffering and mortality of humanity itself. It is foremost a choice, and a choice not made lightly on the basis of compassion, empathy, or even greed and ambition, things that youth, ignorance, inexperience, and impatience that often lead to another death. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you might as well have been holding the gun. And so with that, I am going to make that choice, when I am ready and not any other time, otherwise.
Nursing is not a job. Contrary to definition, though you are compensated for your “services”, every after Eight hour shift, it takes something from you and you leave something behind that neither worldly honor nor material gain can ever replace. Tending to the sick and dying is not a job. No suffix to a name can ever quantify the feeling of bearing the suffering of others nor the forced apathy of the sound of the last heartbeat and the sound of life itself exhumed in a final breath. Calling Nursing a mere profession is belittling the suffering and mortality of humanity itself. It is foremost a choice, and a choice not made lightly on the basis of compassion, empathy, or even greed and ambition, things that youth, ignorance, inexperience, and impatience that often lead to another death. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you might as well have been holding the gun. And so with that, I am going to make that choice, when I am ready and not any other time, otherwise.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
As Noah
I am one of those people who enjoy rainy days. I like sunshine as much as the next person but, its rainy days that fill my senses with nostalgia leaving me both a feeling of solace and awe. The rain never seems to fall the same way twice at yet the pitter-patter of the leaves as the shower rolls over the trees or the dripping that births countless ripples in every puddle like an unknown symphony seemingly all too familiar. Even I who sits alone in this cold marble porch cannot escape its dampening embrace as the wind cradles a frigid whisper caressing my skin with an icy touch and filling my lungs with a gust that seems to chill my down to my very soul. Basking in the glory of this deluge that can seemingly reduce all of existence into drowned nothingness, amidst the almost chaotic harmony of its drip, dribble, and natural flow, its frightening yet at the same time calming, as if coming face to face with mortality, standing on pedestals of sand. Like needles from the heavens to flog the impurities earth as all stand witness with no ark to be their cradle, all the earth stands defiant as if imposing their wills upon each other, ultimately one must perish. It is within this shade encased by the wall of water I sit, and bound in this mutual silence with the storm, even the warmth of the tea upon my lips is rendered naught, and yet upon the last drop, I return and share the same company for another cup. ----graydarksoul----
Friday, May 9, 2008
Nursing retrospective:Epilogue
It was a Monday morning, and the first day after my resignation. I stayed in bed for a while, still remembering what had happened just days before. I had always done this before when I was still working, and a sense of dread and morbid anticipation filled my lungs as I took a deep breath and as my heart started to skip a beat. It was the feeling of calm before a storm, and the realization that I was going to capsize, drown and be fare game to sharks as soon as I was on the clock, and as soon as my feet hit the floor, I could almost taste the saltwater go down my throat. This morning was different, I was seldom happy when I just woke up, but I could swear that I was smiling right before I opened my eyes. It felt that I had just awoken from a nightmare, but I knew that everything that had happened was real, but I knew that for now, the dreadful sleep will no longer haunt me and instead of reliving horror, it became nostalgia of relief.
Cold water dripped from my brow as I stared at the reflection from the bathroom mirror. And no matter how long I stared, I knew that I was a different person, and the face of the stranger that I had long despised was something I grew accustomed to. Although that didn’t mean I hated what I had turned myself into any less, I still wanted what had been taken from me, and, though futile, I would never stop searching. I looked like a mess, the invisible scars bore my hardships and shame, and the silent wounds the bled out my soul, are etched into my being, and my reflection was a ghost, a testament to what I had learned and lost, and the reason I search for redemption. And as I walk away, I always hoped that the next time, I would see someone I knew and actually wanted to see. And since that day, it was the new reason why I woke up in the morning.
I had gone back to my habit of taking long walks whenever I could. But unlike before, going to and coming home from work, it wasn’t about getting to where I was going and going back and forth, it was about the walk itself. And as I paced aimlessly, I always asked myself if by making choices the way I did, that I had cheated myself out of a good thing and gave up the chance to live what most would consider a fulfilling life. Even to this day I ask this question, but I remain undaunted, for I believe and live by two absolute truths in my short lifetime, one, regrets keep people from taking a full step forward and two, I am not most people. What most consider the way to live an accomplished existence, I consider selfish and superficial. The way I see it take away the frosting and rainbow colors from the bitter pill they shove up you’re a$$ called “life”, its work for money, propagate your species and don’t get in the way when you become useless, and die. If my tenure at that horror show of job has taught me anything, its that fulfillment and a life lived to the fullest, surpasses the superficial realm of material satisfaction, it has to reach an entirely spiritual, even existential plane. Family, wealth, love, prestige and power don’t mean anything to me if deep inside, I know I never got what I wanted. If it means defying conventional logic, then ill live and linger outside the box, and if it means starving to death naked while under the mercy of the elements, then let a piece of nameless stone mark my grave. My decision indeed was like trading in my old life, but I know that I was given a chance to pursue what I believe is my calling and the only path to true happiness and I will make certain that every step I take from here on will be toward the life carved by my own hands, the life that I would want to live.
Nursing my old friend, once my passion, now my burden, beginning that day, each morning you remind me of a promise to myself, to never lose sight of what really matters to me and to continue moving forward towards happiness, and a truly fulfilling existence.
-graydarksoul-
Cold water dripped from my brow as I stared at the reflection from the bathroom mirror. And no matter how long I stared, I knew that I was a different person, and the face of the stranger that I had long despised was something I grew accustomed to. Although that didn’t mean I hated what I had turned myself into any less, I still wanted what had been taken from me, and, though futile, I would never stop searching. I looked like a mess, the invisible scars bore my hardships and shame, and the silent wounds the bled out my soul, are etched into my being, and my reflection was a ghost, a testament to what I had learned and lost, and the reason I search for redemption. And as I walk away, I always hoped that the next time, I would see someone I knew and actually wanted to see. And since that day, it was the new reason why I woke up in the morning.
I had gone back to my habit of taking long walks whenever I could. But unlike before, going to and coming home from work, it wasn’t about getting to where I was going and going back and forth, it was about the walk itself. And as I paced aimlessly, I always asked myself if by making choices the way I did, that I had cheated myself out of a good thing and gave up the chance to live what most would consider a fulfilling life. Even to this day I ask this question, but I remain undaunted, for I believe and live by two absolute truths in my short lifetime, one, regrets keep people from taking a full step forward and two, I am not most people. What most consider the way to live an accomplished existence, I consider selfish and superficial. The way I see it take away the frosting and rainbow colors from the bitter pill they shove up you’re a$$ called “life”, its work for money, propagate your species and don’t get in the way when you become useless, and die. If my tenure at that horror show of job has taught me anything, its that fulfillment and a life lived to the fullest, surpasses the superficial realm of material satisfaction, it has to reach an entirely spiritual, even existential plane. Family, wealth, love, prestige and power don’t mean anything to me if deep inside, I know I never got what I wanted. If it means defying conventional logic, then ill live and linger outside the box, and if it means starving to death naked while under the mercy of the elements, then let a piece of nameless stone mark my grave. My decision indeed was like trading in my old life, but I know that I was given a chance to pursue what I believe is my calling and the only path to true happiness and I will make certain that every step I take from here on will be toward the life carved by my own hands, the life that I would want to live.
Nursing my old friend, once my passion, now my burden, beginning that day, each morning you remind me of a promise to myself, to never lose sight of what really matters to me and to continue moving forward towards happiness, and a truly fulfilling existence.
-graydarksoul-
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Nursing retrospective
Im a weird kid, I could belong in a lot of places, but stay an outsider most of the time and nursing was no different. I considered it one of my proudest moments, practicing my profession. To be employed as a nurse was the first step to bigger things in the future, a future of course involving a salary that would buy big things. I never saw it that way though; thinking of the future made me twitchy, what hasn’t happened yet would only mean something to me when I actually get there. Nursing was my passion, I hated taking care of other people, but I usually find myself doing it well. I wanted something easy, but nursing buried me with mass quantities of information and intricate skills, but the deeper I sank, the harder I swam. And four years and a board exam later, I was a full fledged nurse. Then came my first nursing job, I was employed as a CCU-ICU staff nurse. The first few days were fine, my work area I consider the proving ground for all would-be RN’s. I loved it; death at a moments notice, the work was nothing short of brutal. It was a job that spanned long after the eight hour shift. I tasted it when i ate, dreamt it when i slept, and it ran through my veins before I knew it. It wasn’t all fun and games; I was embarrassed countless times and ridiculed by the people who were supposed to guide me and every mistake I made was made a statement of my character, my questions only seemed to fan the flames. I never forgot their words til’ this day. Yeah, they were sh*t heads, I never bothered knowing them outside of work. I wanted to separate myself from what I hated, putting as much distance as I can when im not working. It was like being raped emotionally, and I just let them do it everyday, and I was turning into a whore, because other people and part of myself, is telling me to like it. Often times after shift, id go to the nearby church to cry a little and pray for these people but it didn’t take the taste of shame out of my mouth. Even after all that, I wanted to stay, after all it was work, and it was a job.
One day I noticed that when I did well or made mistakes when I worked I felt nothing. The praise or scolding that came seemed to lose meaning It was a numbing feeling that haunted me wherever I went and whatever I did. It was apathy, like a cancer it crept inside of me and now piecing me apart. Food didn’t taste as good, I laughed less loudly, didn’t enjoy the long walks, found nothing beautiful anymore, was always uneasy, and I wasn’t able to write compositions. I had lost myself, because my work had inevitably consumed me. I wasn’t sad, I didn’t miss my old self, I imagined that this must be what a prostitute felt after whoring for a long time; perpetual numbness and a drowning shallow existence. My epiphany came when I saw myself in the mirror, I had aged, my eyes were as a blank stare, sunken cheeks, unkempt hair, I had turned myself into a stranger. I realized I had lost everything, there was no guilt, after all this is what everyone turns to eventually, but that thought only made the burden harder to bear. Money or titles can never guarantee happiness; I was so miserable because of what was taken away from me and the fact that it took me this long to realize it. Now, I was no different from the people im taking care of, I my not have tubes stuck in my mouth or a ventilator to breathe for me but I was fighting for my life, my essence, my soul, and it was a losing battle.
The smell of death and suffering always left a trace and no amount of cleaning and bathing could erase the scent, it was crawling under my skin and I took it everywhere. I loved nursing, but each day even as I grew proficient working, a part of me hated it. This was nursing and each day I became more of a nurse and the feeling of hate flourished with it. I hate being around death so much, I hate some of my sh*t head co-staff, I hate having to give up doing the things I love, and everyday I got to thinking if I hate nursing itself as well. I was sad when I thought of myself then, but I was overcome with a silent agony every time I thought of what I would be tomorrow.
It’s hard to imagine paying someone to be around the sick and dying, and ironically, dying inside a little each day is part of what I do for a living. Ever since my first day on the job, I found myself praying more. Stopping at the church beside my hospital became routine before I went home. Perhaps it was despair or just looking for answers like always but I always felt better after every visit. Working in mysterious ways is always taken into context and eventually I was growing to accept my fate or just giving in to despair. Then I believe that the events that took place next were truly an act of God.
My overseas, nursing career was in crisis, it was on the verge of destruction without me even doing anything, and I would just be left with that dream in my head. Long story short, The local board had to be retaken and passed, with a US license at stake. Everything was starting to lose sense personally at that point, this was just the cherry to the perfect sh*t sundae. Hey, this job was technically killing me so why stop when I’m not dead yet. Even though I’d accumulated so much remorse and hatred for this job, I was quite hesitant about my options, quit the job, take the exam and pass, or remain, take the exam and surely fail, no there is no third option for me, I know what I can do, and gambling a losing bet is just stupid. But nursing is like a prodigal son to me, sure you can take away everything in my life I enjoy and just replace it with trophies of experience and even scraps of money, yes that should be enough, but I had developed a blind devotion to it, and id always hope that by some miracle it would magically come back. It was once my passion, and even though it turned into something I abhorred and lost love for it, part of me desperately wanted it back. But even so, with a lot of people urging me to stay and a part of myself also wanted to stay, I still resigned. My last duty was uneventful, it was a nightshift and work was light. Morning came and i punched my time card the last time, one of my co-staff bid me farewell, I expressed my gratitude and it was again a proud moment for me, even though I was walking away from what I had worked so hard to achieve. Stepping out the door I saw the morning light again for the first time, it burned my eyes but it was beautiful.
--graydarksoul--
One day I noticed that when I did well or made mistakes when I worked I felt nothing. The praise or scolding that came seemed to lose meaning It was a numbing feeling that haunted me wherever I went and whatever I did. It was apathy, like a cancer it crept inside of me and now piecing me apart. Food didn’t taste as good, I laughed less loudly, didn’t enjoy the long walks, found nothing beautiful anymore, was always uneasy, and I wasn’t able to write compositions. I had lost myself, because my work had inevitably consumed me. I wasn’t sad, I didn’t miss my old self, I imagined that this must be what a prostitute felt after whoring for a long time; perpetual numbness and a drowning shallow existence. My epiphany came when I saw myself in the mirror, I had aged, my eyes were as a blank stare, sunken cheeks, unkempt hair, I had turned myself into a stranger. I realized I had lost everything, there was no guilt, after all this is what everyone turns to eventually, but that thought only made the burden harder to bear. Money or titles can never guarantee happiness; I was so miserable because of what was taken away from me and the fact that it took me this long to realize it. Now, I was no different from the people im taking care of, I my not have tubes stuck in my mouth or a ventilator to breathe for me but I was fighting for my life, my essence, my soul, and it was a losing battle.
The smell of death and suffering always left a trace and no amount of cleaning and bathing could erase the scent, it was crawling under my skin and I took it everywhere. I loved nursing, but each day even as I grew proficient working, a part of me hated it. This was nursing and each day I became more of a nurse and the feeling of hate flourished with it. I hate being around death so much, I hate some of my sh*t head co-staff, I hate having to give up doing the things I love, and everyday I got to thinking if I hate nursing itself as well. I was sad when I thought of myself then, but I was overcome with a silent agony every time I thought of what I would be tomorrow.
It’s hard to imagine paying someone to be around the sick and dying, and ironically, dying inside a little each day is part of what I do for a living. Ever since my first day on the job, I found myself praying more. Stopping at the church beside my hospital became routine before I went home. Perhaps it was despair or just looking for answers like always but I always felt better after every visit. Working in mysterious ways is always taken into context and eventually I was growing to accept my fate or just giving in to despair. Then I believe that the events that took place next were truly an act of God.
My overseas, nursing career was in crisis, it was on the verge of destruction without me even doing anything, and I would just be left with that dream in my head. Long story short, The local board had to be retaken and passed, with a US license at stake. Everything was starting to lose sense personally at that point, this was just the cherry to the perfect sh*t sundae. Hey, this job was technically killing me so why stop when I’m not dead yet. Even though I’d accumulated so much remorse and hatred for this job, I was quite hesitant about my options, quit the job, take the exam and pass, or remain, take the exam and surely fail, no there is no third option for me, I know what I can do, and gambling a losing bet is just stupid. But nursing is like a prodigal son to me, sure you can take away everything in my life I enjoy and just replace it with trophies of experience and even scraps of money, yes that should be enough, but I had developed a blind devotion to it, and id always hope that by some miracle it would magically come back. It was once my passion, and even though it turned into something I abhorred and lost love for it, part of me desperately wanted it back. But even so, with a lot of people urging me to stay and a part of myself also wanted to stay, I still resigned. My last duty was uneventful, it was a nightshift and work was light. Morning came and i punched my time card the last time, one of my co-staff bid me farewell, I expressed my gratitude and it was again a proud moment for me, even though I was walking away from what I had worked so hard to achieve. Stepping out the door I saw the morning light again for the first time, it burned my eyes but it was beautiful.
--graydarksoul--
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