Why Does It Always Rain On Me?
Middle of February, middle of Toronto, it's raining. Doesn't this bother anyone? Perhaps it's my cooky small town upbringing but come on guys, where's the freaking snow. Man.
So busy these days yet not really sure what I spend all my time doing. Work, friends, gym, etc. I guess it's the etcetera that always eats away at time, as it's prone to do. Now that school's done, I come home with no obligation to do anything except arrive at work for my next shift not hungover. (Not as easy as it sounds!) During the summer I revelled in this idea and was the queen of exponential idleness, but now, for some reason, I've convinced myself there's more to a person's day than debating on whether having a streak of grey hair is good or bad. (Oh yeah, it's good alright). Never enough time in a day, or enough days in time for that matter. There's always that one last thing on my list that never gets done because the sleepies beckon. Oh the things I would do if I did all that I could. Some guy said that, don't know who but he was briliant.
I do stuff that's interesting and I do stuff that's not interesting. I've been told that it's the little things that become everything in life sometimes, I haven't figured out whether that's a good or bad thing. Tonight my mind is tired so I'll take the short cut and give you the uninterestings bits. Maybe they're all that I have.
Finally have picked up that thing that's been sitting in the corner of my room for the past 5 years and realize it's a guitar. Like picking away at it, making up ridiculous little ditties and singing the night sweetly to sleep. (Okay, maybe not sweetly.) Am taking lessons with my friend Yoka so will for sure be the next Jimmy Page by fall 2005. Very therapeutic. Work is rough sometimes and when I get home I want to get as far away from it as possible. No further place than my music and my books. I have a feeling my art side and my science side will never be at one with each other, always fighting for the upper hand. Ironic somehow, the more I play guitar, the more callused the tips of my fingers become. The harder the tips of my fingers become, the harder it is to feel veins in order to draw blood on a patient. I need both though, I need the balance. I need work to keep me challenged, I need art to give me peace. Always the middle path.
Love doing these things now that I never had the time to do. Feel Western kinda drained me of my once vibrant abstract mind and I wonder now whether I'll ever get back to that point in my life where I'd be considered a good writer. I used to have so many crazy little stories floating around in my head that I wanted to write but now they've been replaced by the signs and symptoms of hypokalemia and what to do when an immunocompromised patient spikes a fever and why caspofungin should never be mixed with anything but normal saline. Almost a lobotomy in a sense that all I had for 4 years was science and 7am clinicals. Hanging around with U of T English majors doesn't much help a gal's artistic self esteem either. Hmmmm, what could have been......Amy Messham, writer extroardinaire, but now just another soul lost to that evil nursing empire. Meh, what am I complaining about though? There'll always be forks in the path, you just have to make your choice and stick with it. That's what I did, no regrets, not for a second. I'm a nurse. I'm changing the world in my own little way. Publishing rights to follow.
Whoa......mellow mood. Love the late nights, nothing finer than you and the moon and the rain. How is it that I'm a nighthawk through and through, yet still somehow afraid of the dark? Too much monster potential I guess. Man I hate monsters.
Have just realized I've written really nothing that belongs in the "Day in the Life" section, just total incoherant ramblings. To make amends I'll part with a story of intrigue and adventure, non-fiction of course. Just to make amends. Perhaps one of these days I'll be able to part with a fictional story. I'm working on it......
So folks, as you may have noticed, Toronto and I bicker all the time. Hadn't been out of the city since Christmas and I was getting antsy. A roadtrip was definitely in order, so Jolan and I jumped in my Cavy Chevalier this past weekend and took our endeavours to Tobermory, the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. Incredible - we had our own little cottage right on the lake, perfect weather, amazing sunrise/sunsets, and oh the starry starry nights. Amazing time had, getting out on the trails, reaching the Grotto, then eating cheese sandwiches in this crazy little nook on the cliffs. Nights were movies, games, cards and the j's, Amy even winning $20 off the usually unbreakable Jolan at poker. What more could you need? Definite highlight of the trip though was getting pulled over by troopers twice, first time was nothing, second time not so lucky. They were out to get me this weekend, I fought the law and the law won. Back to the city now, bickering resumes. Toronto knows I love her, I'll just never admit to it. She's just mad that one day I'll leave her for stars in other lands.
The end, until next time.
So busy these days yet not really sure what I spend all my time doing. Work, friends, gym, etc. I guess it's the etcetera that always eats away at time, as it's prone to do. Now that school's done, I come home with no obligation to do anything except arrive at work for my next shift not hungover. (Not as easy as it sounds!) During the summer I revelled in this idea and was the queen of exponential idleness, but now, for some reason, I've convinced myself there's more to a person's day than debating on whether having a streak of grey hair is good or bad. (Oh yeah, it's good alright). Never enough time in a day, or enough days in time for that matter. There's always that one last thing on my list that never gets done because the sleepies beckon. Oh the things I would do if I did all that I could. Some guy said that, don't know who but he was briliant.
I do stuff that's interesting and I do stuff that's not interesting. I've been told that it's the little things that become everything in life sometimes, I haven't figured out whether that's a good or bad thing. Tonight my mind is tired so I'll take the short cut and give you the uninterestings bits. Maybe they're all that I have.
Finally have picked up that thing that's been sitting in the corner of my room for the past 5 years and realize it's a guitar. Like picking away at it, making up ridiculous little ditties and singing the night sweetly to sleep. (Okay, maybe not sweetly.) Am taking lessons with my friend Yoka so will for sure be the next Jimmy Page by fall 2005. Very therapeutic. Work is rough sometimes and when I get home I want to get as far away from it as possible. No further place than my music and my books. I have a feeling my art side and my science side will never be at one with each other, always fighting for the upper hand. Ironic somehow, the more I play guitar, the more callused the tips of my fingers become. The harder the tips of my fingers become, the harder it is to feel veins in order to draw blood on a patient. I need both though, I need the balance. I need work to keep me challenged, I need art to give me peace. Always the middle path.
Love doing these things now that I never had the time to do. Feel Western kinda drained me of my once vibrant abstract mind and I wonder now whether I'll ever get back to that point in my life where I'd be considered a good writer. I used to have so many crazy little stories floating around in my head that I wanted to write but now they've been replaced by the signs and symptoms of hypokalemia and what to do when an immunocompromised patient spikes a fever and why caspofungin should never be mixed with anything but normal saline. Almost a lobotomy in a sense that all I had for 4 years was science and 7am clinicals. Hanging around with U of T English majors doesn't much help a gal's artistic self esteem either. Hmmmm, what could have been......Amy Messham, writer extroardinaire, but now just another soul lost to that evil nursing empire. Meh, what am I complaining about though? There'll always be forks in the path, you just have to make your choice and stick with it. That's what I did, no regrets, not for a second. I'm a nurse. I'm changing the world in my own little way. Publishing rights to follow.
Whoa......mellow mood. Love the late nights, nothing finer than you and the moon and the rain. How is it that I'm a nighthawk through and through, yet still somehow afraid of the dark? Too much monster potential I guess. Man I hate monsters.
Have just realized I've written really nothing that belongs in the "Day in the Life" section, just total incoherant ramblings. To make amends I'll part with a story of intrigue and adventure, non-fiction of course. Just to make amends. Perhaps one of these days I'll be able to part with a fictional story. I'm working on it......
So folks, as you may have noticed, Toronto and I bicker all the time. Hadn't been out of the city since Christmas and I was getting antsy. A roadtrip was definitely in order, so Jolan and I jumped in my Cavy Chevalier this past weekend and took our endeavours to Tobermory, the tip of the Bruce Peninsula. Incredible - we had our own little cottage right on the lake, perfect weather, amazing sunrise/sunsets, and oh the starry starry nights. Amazing time had, getting out on the trails, reaching the Grotto, then eating cheese sandwiches in this crazy little nook on the cliffs. Nights were movies, games, cards and the j's, Amy even winning $20 off the usually unbreakable Jolan at poker. What more could you need? Definite highlight of the trip though was getting pulled over by troopers twice, first time was nothing, second time not so lucky. They were out to get me this weekend, I fought the law and the law won. Back to the city now, bickering resumes. Toronto knows I love her, I'll just never admit to it. She's just mad that one day I'll leave her for stars in other lands.
The end, until next time.
posted by messh68 @ 2:26 AM
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