It's Not You, It's Me

Hey there Blogger, how have you been? It has been awhile, now that you mention it, since I've actually written a real blog. What's that? A week? Maybe more? Well, who's counting. You look good Blogger, you look good.

Where have I been? Oh, yeah, about that. Maybe we should sit down and talk about something. Blogger? Did you hear me? Blogger...I need to talk to you. Blogger...pause the damn game this is important.

Here, hold my hand. First let me just say that you're awesome...just...awesome. I mean look at all the friends you have! You're fun, and nice and just, awesome. Super awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I think you deserve better. We deserve better, don't you think?

Exactly. We deserve better. Better than this. What? Someone else? Noooo, there's no one else...there's...no one...else...

Okay fine, there's someone else.

Sorry! It wasn't like I went looking for Wordpress, it just sort of found me. And out of respect for you, nothing happened. Hear me? Nothing happened. We've just been hanging out: visiting over coffee, a few late night conversations...just...getting to know each other. At first I thought maybe it was just a phase I was going through. You know, like a mid-life blogging crisis or something, but it's gotten me to re-examine our relationship and now it's all I think about. I just can't live like this anymore. I have to be honest with myself. I have to be honest with us.

Please throw that in the garbage, I just cleaned yesterday. Or throw it on the floor, whatever.

Oh come on, did you really not see this coming? You used to be so attentive and caring; my blog uploaded at breakneck speeds and whenever I had a question you were always there to help. Lately though, as our lives have grown more complex (I added more features and you added more friends), we began to drift apart. Now, my blog is slow to upload and difficult to edit, and nothing I do seems to make you happy. I can't for the life of me figure out why I have two different fonts on my Weight Loss Community Page, and the font colors have become a serious pain in the ass to work with.

And the jealousy, what's that all about? You've not only deleted followers without my permission, but you've even deleted whole posts without my permission...who does that? You say you're letting me follow other blogs, but then I hear from them that you won't let me. It breaks my heart that you would go behind my back like that.

And while we're being honest, the new interface? Really? It's a boring gray color that makes it difficult to read and navigate. Yes, I've already told you that, numerous times, but you just ignore me...like you're doing now...Blogger! As I was saying, it's ugly and cranky. God, I feel like I don't even know you anymore.

So let's just call this for what it is: a fling that's run it's course.

Admit it, when we first got together it was wild and exciting. I was sneaking off in the middle of the night to spend time with you, and you opened my eyes to the exotic world of blogging. Neither of us wanted anything serious, and that's what made it so much fun! But things are different now. I've grown up and what I need from our relationship you just can't provide. I need more than a simple outlet for my writing, I need an advanced layout, one where I can add as many pages and links as I want. I need the ability to upload videos and photos without worrying about bringing my load time to a seemingly excrutiating halt, and I need the freedom to adjust my blog accordingly. Not to mention a little customer support every now and then.

Can you put down the Funyuns for just a second, we're kind of breaking up right now...

Thank you.

Where was I...oh, right. Well, I can honestly say I have no regrets. I mean we did have our good times, didn't we? Remember that time I won a blogging award? That wasn't all me, you contributed too. And I'm sure I'll think fondly of all our familiar places...on the couch, in the bedroom. I've experimented more with you than any other blog hosting site. You were my first, and I'll never forget that. I hope we can still be friends. 

Most important though, we have the followers. They're so beautiful and innocent, and we never would've had them if we'd never gotten together, but that doesn't mean we should stay together for their sake. I've known other bloggers who did that and in the end everyone ended up getting hurt. Besides, the followers are old enough now to understand that we're just not as good together as we used to be. It's better this way, for everyone. Just because you're here and I'm over at Wordpress doesn't mean we're going to screw up they're lives...as long as we stay civil, that is.

And don't worry, I'm not going anywhere just yet. I still have to pack and my new place is going to take a lot of work before it's ready. Plus there are a few things we need to sort out, like which posts I'm going to take with me and how to make this as easy as possible on the followers.

Well I feel better now, I think we needed to get all of that out in the open. Is there anything you wanted to ask me?

No, Blogger, you can get your own damn beer.

Nightshift vs Dayshift

Fun fact: I'm a nightshifter. At a psychiatric hospital.

As in I work nightshifts...not some mythological shape-shifter super hero...although that sounds way more awesome...

But there’s a number of reasons why working nights is better for me: I get paid more, and by nature staying up all night just comes much more naturally than staying up all day. Plus there's a definite personality shift from day staff to night staff, and I fall into the latter.

So here we go:

5 Reasons Why Night Staff is Better than Day Staff:

1.) Night staff gets my sense of humor.

Day shift:

Nurse on lunch break holding an apple: "Oh darn, I forgot to wash my apple this morning."
Me on lunch break holding an apple: "Oh yeah...me too."
I take a bite.
Nurse: "Wait, aren't you worried about eating a dirty apple?"
Me: "Nah, I'm more worried about the meth I did this morning."

Silence.

Example #2:

Nurse #1: "Oh look, we're getting a patient named Heaven."
Nurse #2: "That's such an interesting name, I haven't heard that before."
Me: "That's totally my stripper name."

Silence.

For the record, I do not do meth and I'm also not a stripper. Night staff laughs at that stuff. Point: nights.

2.) Night staff are as close to vampires as you'll get.

Night staff has no one to impress. We also shriek in the morning when people turn on the lights, and we walk to our cars in awe of this strange thing called "sunlight". Point: nights.


3.) We make better coffee.

Please, point: nights.


4.) Night staff are better at their jobs.

Yes, this is a stretch, but I'm going to say it. See, at a psych hospital, we are a part of the "real" hospital, so therefore we have to follow all staffing orders that are hospital wide. To save money, the hospital staffs short on nights. For the rest of the hospital it makes sense. People are sleeping at night. But in psych....oh honey...

People don't sleep in psych. They are always awake. When you tell someone it's bedtime, there's a good chance they will tell you that they are an orange and you are a carrot and as such they have superiority over you. There's really no way to argue with that.

Therefore, nightshift has to do the same jobs dayshift does, except with considerably less people. Point: nights.

5.) We look out for each other.

There's a million people to fill in for days. But nights? Hardly anyone. If we're short there's a list of about 6 people we can call, and we all know it. Dayshift has the luxury of not coming in for any extra shifts because most likely someone else will cover it. Nights? Not so much. You get called you come to work. There's no one else to call.

There. I've vented and now I feel better. Also I'm going to bed now.

Lesson 14: Go For It

Fun fact: I've never seen an episode of Jersey Shore. Ever.

But I have watched the Monarch Butterfly Migration countless times, mentally putting myself in central Mexico when they take off in the millions. I also can't tell you what the latest fashion trend is, but I can quote you airline tickets to any continent at any time of year, because the last time I checked was probably less than an hour ago. And I wouldn't recognize Kim Kardashian if she hijacked my car, but I'd probably run down a random man from 100 yards away because my vision-flawed eyes convinced me it was Anthony Bourdain from the Travel Channel's No Reservations. Personally, I'd think I were doing him a favor. I'm sarcastic, he's sarcastic. He's funny, I think I'm funny. He'd want to meet me, right?

Er, right. Plus he kind of has my dream job, traveling around the world documenting his experiences with food and culture, all the while narrating with the clever sense of humor I find so brilliant. Ah the skill of storytelling, of connecting.

And that's what I want to do. If you've checked in on me from time to time you may have witnessed first-hand my difficult realization that the office-bound, paperwork-flooded career I've been pursuing in counseling is, in fact, a terrible fit for me. On top of it, I've been up countless nights, giving in to the guilt and shame brought on by thoughts of my impressive student loan history being used for something I was never even passionate about in the first place. I feel as if I'm being snobbish and picky, like I've spent $15,000 on a new car only to refuse to drive it because the color green just "isn't my taste". Here we are in an economy where jobs are few and far between, and I've got a leg up on the competition and I'm not going to take it? What's wrong with me?

Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. It's taken a lot of tears to accept the fact that the path I've been following was started by someone else, but that doesn't mean I'm condemned to it. Furthermore, it doesn't  mean I should feel guilty about deviating from it. And the end result? I feel liberated.

This is the first time I have actually felt excited about what I might be doing for a living. The kinds of jobs I sought out in high school (photojournalism, cake decorator, florist) are the creative, fast-paced, hands-on jobs I not only loved, but was good at too.

So lately, I've been working with a photographer in town, for free. She's incredibly helpful, she's passionate, and she really knows what she's doing. The information I'm learning from her is priceless. And a bonus? She was in a similar situation as myself. Switched from her RN to photography after a realizing she hated her current career, and never looked back. Makes me feel right at home.

In the meantime, I'm still working per diem night shifts at the hospital, which pays fairly well and allows me to make my own schedule. As an added bonus, on slow nights (like tonight), it allows me the freedom to research in depth information.

Like how I might go about getting hired as a writer for a local newspaper or magazine (or just intern there), and making sure the camera I want is the right one for me.

Oh and which camera is that, you ask? The same camera I've had my eye on for the last two years: the Canon EOS 7D. (In reality, I want the Canon 5D Mark II but let's be honest people, it's going take another year minimum to save for that sucker.) But at least I know the cheaper alternative is a good match.

So for all the negativity that seems to be surrounding my situation, I feel I'm actually pretty lucky. I know the gear I want (I've researched it thoroughly) and I'm excited about the idea of gaining experience writing in the "real world". As an added bonus, I know my education is not going to waste. My training in counseling (e.g. knowing the right way to phrase questions to allow someone to open up) has given me an edge when it comes to interviewing people. Hmm, maybe someday I'll be so lucky as to trade verbal punches with a grimy politician of some kind...yes I think I would like that very much.

So consider yourself warned, Anthony. While I may not be gunning for your job just yet, I am attempting to loosely follow in your footsteps of sharing other's experiences through the art of storytelling, in whatever way that may be. Oh and if we ever do meet? Watch out, I'd like to think I'm pretty damn hilarious myself.