signs you may be a nursing student

your social calendar is packed with labs, study parties, and lunches before Med-Surg prep.
you forgot your best friend's birthday because it was during midterms.
"but you have a whole week to study!" elicits a fear worse than death.
you had Hep G, ectopic pregnancy, a life-threatening arrhythmia, possible CVA/TIA, and respiratory failure in the last month.
your doctor's office has cut you off from Wellness visits.
"am I dying" texts of varying personal nature and probability arrive in your inbox daily.
you consider stabbing a friend whining about an English course.
required reading is more effective than the Ambien regimen you've only recently started.
you know how your professor prefers to handle a penis.
you can curtsy in scrubs.
you are no longer flattered by the question, "Are you a doctor?"
you have a love-hate relationship with your recorder.
you abhor the color white. and pale yellow.
you've never been more affection-starved than mornings of clinical.
HIPAA requires you to talk about your homework like it's special ops.
you brag in code.
you're suddenly really good at crying.
you lose the freshman fifteen when sophomore lecture extends through lunch.
you gigglesnort at the phrase, "lead by example."
you haven't slept for more than four hours since summer vacation.
your [already sh***y] running blog goes seriously downhill after September.
your neck disappears a little more each day. you propose to a classmate who works out a kink.
you age faster than the President -- maybe. who knows what he or she looks like any more.
you relish a challenge. you don't dig the smell.
you reminisce about the day you stood around watching colonoscopies.
your cuticles are a goddamn nightmare.
you forget how to dress yourself on days without scrubs.
you value the work you do for free more than the work you do to pay for school.
"personal growth" is a dirty word.
it takes several minutes to decode a text or email from someone using chatspeak because in medicine, there's an abbreviation for that.
the right answer is also the wrong one.
if all else fails, wash your hands.

painting the town red, white, and blue.

AMERICA!

Today, I voted, bought popcorn from Boy Scouts, and ran. (oh, and excellent patient care.)
I have to go eat something with bacon on it and speak my mind, and I will be the perfect American.

The question is, will I be 2 for 2 in Presidential elections?
It will be most interesting to see how the state questions will be answered.

dissatisfaction

November is almost as terrible as October was wonderful.

"guhhhhhhhhhhhh" is the only thought I have entertained today.
Off to go manufacture some endorphins naturally.
Maybe get back to that self-hate baseline.

-headdesk-

UPDATE: after a run and a little message-reading on my profile, I'm rocking a superficial self-esteem boost. I wish I had signed out before I read this message, however: "you can come over and cuddle if you wanna. nothin sexual about it, just wanna sleep tonight."

I... what? hi, person whose first name I don't even know. I would totally love to show up at your house at eleven pm for no sex. does that typically work on girls? is it nice that we're not heading back to my place and therefore, you insinuate that you trust I'm not a psycho who will burn down your house? is it nice that you're not pressuring me? because I feel like it's a little weird to skip straight to snuggling... and knowing addresses.

call me old-fashioned.

oh. my. word.

Men like to perpetuate the myth that women are the crazy ones, when in reality, their territorialism and acts of emotional terrorism make them the less sane sex.

On the previously-mentioned dating website, I told someone who expressed interest in me that I like coffee. He creates a whole day around the statement (which, great. I'm extra indecisive. make as many decisions as you like) and tells me he'll email me with the details about when he can do it. okay, let's.

... two days later, I return to thirty-one unanswered messages. 31! (oh, but zero e-mails) The last of them told me to tell the guy I was with that he (the speaker) won because I trusted him [about what place on Main Street has good coffee] but he's walking away like a man with dignity and that I'm probably a whore anyway.

right. dignity.

I reply with a message that essentially says "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" his only reply is, "oh, I will follow through and email you later." I almost want to say, 'honey, you are out of your damn mind if you think that I am going anywhere near you after that outburst. I think you entirely missed the point of what I was trying to say.' But saying such things would only encourage more conversation. and that, I'd like to avoid.

gor-RAMN.

so...

I signed up for an online dating service last night. I confessed that I decided to run a marathon on my profile, AND OH MY GOD. I should be more precise with my wording.

I decided that I am going to run a marathon. I didn't say I can run a marathon next Sunday with you. aye ya-ya. oh, and French pop? yes, I like that mixed tape my high school French teacher made for me... and several songs I discovered through DDR.

I anticipate several funny and/or sob stories will result from this decision. stay tuned.
also -- in case you were wondering, I didn't go running the last three days. Hurricane Sandy and all. I stayed in and did cardio/weight workouts OnDemand. still counts.

a month in one-liners.

The world is slated to end on my sarcastic uncle's 50th birthday. Well played, Mayans, well played.
And what would have been my mom's 54th. not as funny.

There is no more joyous place than a Primanti Brother's eatery after a Steelers win.

I am far more productive on non-school days. well, not all the time.

"Caitlyn, I like you. Are you gonna sleep with us?" 4 year olds don't mess around!

I am familiar with the adage "if you don't use it, you lose it," but how long till you get it back?

Wanna dress up like a turkey? :D

I wish I had the sex life people judge me for all the time. My skin would probably be better.

"Remember when you didn't know anything about Harry Potter and I didn't wear mascara? Those were good times, simpler times."

Open bar? I knew all along that Beth was my favorite.

Tacos, margaritas, and Presidential debates are for America-lovers.

Kale is not for eating. It is for storage in the fridge to impress yuppie friends and wellness by virtue of ownership.

Heels are not for walking. Homeless guys in the South Side are kinda hot.

"Do you even know who Joss Whedon is?"
"Pretty big talk from a man who has never seen Firefly or Serenity and just saw The Avengers two weeks ago."

Pumpkin EVERYTHING.

I have issues. I am more concerned with a bag of Twix's safety than I am about coffee dumping on my white lab coat or my homework's general well-being. No amount of training myself to enjoy healthier living seems to help with my chocolate habit.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" in Caitlyn language means, "TELL EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN WHO WILL PROBABLY NEVER ENCOUNTER THIS PERSON IN LIFE AGAIN (or ever, depending on how juicy/depressing the news is)!"

"You must be a teacher. They were so nervous to say hi to you!"
(is visibly hungover, wearing a cheerleading hoodie that has seen better days, leggings, and disproportionately dressy boots) 
"I sincerely worry for the future of our children if this is what your teachers look like."

To those whining about Hurricane Sandy NOT decimating their homes: you are the product of billions of years of evolutionary success. f&*$ing act like it.

Amish ice cream? Pretzel Taurus.

Pro tip: if you're not young, thin, pretty, or creative as Regina George, being as big of a bitch as her isn't doin you any favors.

The theme of my life these days is "Caitlyn gets sad at parties, Patrick cheers her up."

I did not perfect the art of running in the rain.

A current trend in running right now is minimalist running. The belief is that without shoes to boss the muscles in your feet around, more muscle layers are engaged and running is more natural. I was more than happy to tap into my evolutionary roots for running full speed, but no shoes + acceleration = count me out. I tried that once a couple of weeks ago, actually.

Not on purpose, mind you. My real reason for going outside was to get the mail, so I deemed shoes unnecessary. (I know, too lazy to put on shoes. This is the sort of motivation I am working with here, people!) Once I was outside, I thought 'well, if I don't go running now, I just won't do it today.' Yes, first I was too lazy to put on shoes to get the mail, and then too unmotivated to go back inside, so I ran. I am a weird amalgamation of spotty logic, mild hypocrisies, and bizarre contradictions.

I made it across the street, took about four steps in the cranberry bog, landed on the natural equivalent of a Lego figurine on a carpet, and almost hit the ground. I tiptoed gingerly back onto the pavement and ran home. None of those creepy toe-shoes for me. No barefoot running through the woods. Give me my Ryka's or give me... a day of rest.

If you're wondering what I did after my disastrous au naturale run, I put on my tennis shoes and took the elliptical for a spin. I figured I had had enough nature for one day.

Speaking of environment, I felt dedicated enough to take a run on a day whose forecast predicted a 40% chance of rain. I don't believe I even own a raincoat, and I wasn't about to run with an open umbrella. I am not to this level of fitness yet:



But seriously, though. I'm not. Will accept as a Christmas gift, however. I wonder how much those weigh. Erm, anyhow. The improbable floodgates opened overhead while I was making some good progress. I was peed. I booked it back to my abode and spent some quality time with my elliptical and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart reruns. I should raid my closets for a weatherproof jacket of some sort. Cape Cod isn't exactly known for its lack of precipitation, though goodness knows everyone drives in it like they've never seen rain before.

>.>

P.S. it's almost wedding tiiiime. =D