Benedith

Tonight I made great use of my time...

...and took Facebook's "Who Would Be Your Celebrity Boyfriend?" Quiz, of course!

If only I had planned ahead and placed it on my To-Do list, then I could have at least checked something off. But alas, the winner is....

Would I be totally lame if I took it again, changed a couple answers, just to see who else I would pull? Like, Robert Pattinson? Cuz I did. Only to find I got Ben Affleck, again. Must be fate.

P.S.- Is anyone else convinced Robert Pattinson is the most adorable creature alive? I thought I already knew this, but his audio commentary during Twilight on the DVD absolutely sealed the deal. Now all I have to do is fly to Vancouver, sneak onto the New Moon film set, give him one good look at me in my navy blue scrubs, and he'll be sold.

Mobert, ya'll. Mobert.

Short Fuses

"No one can make you feel inferior, without your consent." -Eleanor Roosevelt.

One of my favorite quotes. One that I wish more of us would attempt to live by. And one that is so applicable to my current state of mind; though inferior may need to be substituted for different emotions, the wisdom will still ring true.

Angry. Disappointed. Frustrated. Sad. Upset. Confused. Short tempered.

Fighting all of the above. Fighting the good fight.

But the battle certainly is not made any easier when my windshield wipers decide they need a vacation from bipolar Salt Lake City weather, right when the sky decides it needs to vent and offer up a good cry.

Pulling over every block to manually manipulate the windshield wipers and driving with my head awkwardly cocked to the bottom left corner as to peek through a tiny 2x2 piece of streak free window will not be forgotten. Nor will my appreciation for black plastic sticks that act as automobile eyebrows go unacknowledged.

I have not been, and will not be, defeated.

Spring Cleaning

It's Friday, and the bewitching five o'clock hour has chimed it's beautiful sound.

The windows are rolled down in my car, and my right foot is subconsciously heavy on the gas pedal as to allow for the wind to graze my cheek, and the sun's radiating heat to warm my core.

And with an hour to spare before meeting a friend for dinner, I knew this unusually warm spring weather must be taken advantage of. I knew just where to go.

I pull into Sugarhouse Park, cease my engine, and a smile steals across my face to see the free spirits of young children running around, screaming and laughing as the ducks eat the bread from their fingertips. I secure the tie of my new sale priced J. Crew khaki jacket at my waist, slide my car keys into my pocket, and put one robin's egg blue shoe covered foot in front of the other.

Runners and walkers of all shapes, sizes, and genders run past me at varying speeds; dressed in spandex of varying colors, many follow the exercising courtesy "we're all in this together" wave and smile. I do love that simple courtesy.

With my hands in my pockets, my fingers fiddling with my keys, and my tortoise shell Jackie O. sunglasses protecting my brown eyes, I allowed my racing thoughts to somehow organize themselves, only to be proven unsuccessful. But then the solstice turned equinox sunshine reminded me of the beauty of this day.

A gift from Mother Nature herself.

A Dedication

For you.... For your efforts since knowing you in the days of gap teeth and Abercrombie popped collars, are now finally paying off.... For your determination and work ethic, even when it meant being compensated, oh what was it, $2/hour to rid the world of it's current bubonic plague, more infamously known as cancer?... For your foresight, humility, and absolute genuine and unyielding interest in medicine.... For your naturally gifted mind, and finding quantum physics both easy and interesting (no wonder opposites attract).... But most of all, for being the passionate life seeker with which you let direct your life, and for allowing me to witness, and feel, your successes right beside you.

Harvard's or Stanford's Medical School will be so damn lucky to have you. And especially since we have already established the fact that red is your color, you truly cannot go wrong with either establishment.

All of me,
Meredith

20/20

Turquoise most certainly can be found within the green family.

And with a limited selection of options for work scrubs, I had to make do.

So contrary to popular belief (and a coworker sincerely posing the question), I am, indeed, not color blind.

Sock Hop

Abigail, my sweet baby sister, this is for you.

It's 1996. White Pine Elementary. Room 4B is empty, devoid of Mrs. Tate and the bustling 4th grade students learning cursive and multiplication. The red apple perched on the corner of the teacher's black metal desk is the only color found in the darkened room. The tiny drinking fountains, now knee high to my 21 year old body, are absent of kids waiting their turn to quench their thirst.

But alas, the gym is filled with 1950's rock tunes, disco lights, and children and parents of all ages be-bopping from the sugar high found in cookies and punch. It is the annual Sock Hop dance; a chance for me to choose between my pink or red felt skirt, embroidered with a poodle and a leash. To throw on mid calf length white socks and pair them with my black Maryjanes. (I so desperately wanted a pair of white and black saddle shoes, but a once a year wear didn't dignify spending my parent's money). To wear my thin brown head of hair high in a ponytail. And best of all, a chance for me to wear the reddest of reds, the va-va-voomest of all va-va-voom, lipstick.

I knew, and I knew, Luke Balbas would be there. His blonde hair, his heart palpitating smile, and his feet grooving to the beat (and would he actually be shoeless?? Missing a piece of clothing??). And then there he was. I blushed. I gushed. I reverted back to my shy days from years previous.

And the first thing he said to me was not "hello." It was not "how are you?" It was, "Nice red lipstick."

And I.... was.... CRUSHED. DEFLATED. Utterly heart broken. How could he? He must have known I had worn it for him. How did he have the nerve to degrade my reddest of reds lipstick, and thus, degrade me as a person?

Naturally, I darted for the bathroom. Whisked myself into the first open stall. And I cried. I cried Niagara Falls right in the middle of the White Pine Elementary bathroom. And not only did I cry, but I stayed in the bathroom for the Sock Hop's entirety. My friends went and found my mom, obviously retreating to the last resort in an attempt to have my long awkward string bean skinny legs out of that bathroom. Of course the situation was just only worsened upon her entrance and the first words out of her mouth, "Meredith, are you really going to do this again?"

Duh, mom. Of course we are. How dare you! Your daughter's heart has been smashed to pieces and you don't even care!

(Ay yay yay, remind me never to have a daughter between the ages of ten and twenty).

Needless to say, I moped on home, the disastrous red lipstick smeared all over anywhere but my lips, and I scurried up the stairs to my bedroom. Naturally the first thing a girl between the ages of ten and twenty does is find a way to only make herself more miserable. It's just what we do; no big deal. Hence, I quickly flipped through my meager CD collection and turned on Donna Lewis' "I Love You Always Forever." And the tear ducts emptied their final reservoirs, allowing myself to drown in self pity.

Though not much has changed, I certainly learned something that night. First, a boy is never worth that many tears (just one good 30 second pout, maximum). Second, even though you feel like it's the end of the world, and that red lipstick and Luke Balbas are the devil reincarnated, it's actually not doom's day.

And Abigail, just like that spelling bee, and as much as you wanted to do well... We all know you are smart and gifted. You didn't need a spelling bee to prove it. I never even got a chance to compete in a spelling bee!

You are a sweet girl, with an energetic spirit and a very smart, and super creative, mind. You have a bright future; so forget about the red lipsticks and the misspelled words. In the end (or at the least the end of your 21st year), it's how you bounced back from those moments that matter.

I love you like a sister,
Meredith

Hyperglycemia

As Jesse McCartney serenades me via iTunes, inquiring of my sleeping habits, I am moved to think of all those burning questions left unanswered. They run through my mind like a hamster on a wheel. I won't bore you, as the only conclusion I have to my scattered thoughts is that no conclusion is necessary.

Thanks to a boy 400 miles away, a father at 267 Old Saybrook, a boss at St. Mark's Hospital, and a God one prayer away... I can share these thoughts, and seek wisdom that instills light into my flickering bulb of a brain.

I love to think about what's out there. Space; earth; BC, AD; the eternities.

Hell, next weekend! tomorrow! tonight!

And so I shall sleep in my fifteen dollar queen size bed, wrapped in gray sheets, my tummy getting some face time with the mattress and my arms tucked inside ready in defense should the cheap and surely insecure mattress offer any "shouldn't have eaten that last mint brownie" commentary.

No sugar plum fairies nor mint brownies will be dancing in my dreams (wish I could say the same for the pouch sitting at the end of my esophagus); nothing except for a black screen of nothingness will blind the spontaneous electric synapses from reaching my conscious mind. Nothingness.

Or perhaps a sugar coma.

The Real Deal

So ever since I have been working post graduation, I have called myself an RN (a registered nurse). From emails, to phone conversations, even down to my new business card, RN has followed my alliteration namesake.

Yes, I graduated from nursing school, so yes, you'd think I was an RN. It was safe enough I could get away with it.

But now...? Ever since last night....?

I AM a registered nurse!!!!!!

I passed the nursing boards!!!!!!

(I typically stray from using more than three exclamation marks- don't ask why, but the "power of three's" rule my mother taught me doesn't only apply to decorating. But THIS called for DOUBLE exclamation points.)

The RELIEF and BURDEN that has been lifted is so great. This has been the bain of my existence since last August when I first began to study and prepare, when the anxiety began to ride my nerves like Danica Patrick at the Daytona 500.

And as my palms were sweating and my breathing was quickening, it was marvelous to be surrounded (literally) by some of the people I love most to read the online results (for which I had to pay a lousy $7.95).

And of course, I cried.

So that RN written on my business card is now 100% certifiable. I am now a Real Nurse.

My plans for celebration?

A Cafe Rio, Pork Barbacoa salad.

And one massive Diet Dr. Pepper (spiked with a little Absolut, perhaps...?) in a cup filled with pebble ice.

And I will eat the WHOLE Cafe Rio divinity, tortilla included.

Feeling Sappy

You know it's beautiful, and right, when you have someone

"...who knows how to love you, without being told." - Natasha Bedingfield, Soulmate

Can't get much better than that.

Not even when I walk outside this morning to go to work sans winter jacket, and my core temperature is perfect (my hands and feet never seem to follow suit; hence, they do not get any recognition for obedience).

Not even when I ran my first ever support group in Orem, Utah tonight and I felt that these patients are my friends. And I realized I had truly helped someone today.

And especially not even when I slave away in the kitchen 'cuz I've got those blue box blues (aka Kraft macaroni and cheese; aka gourmet cooking is clearly my mantra). I cozy down and curl up in my bed to do some studying and research, and my eyes begin to feel.. so... heavy... so I blog instead.

Nope, not even then.

Because when that cell phone rings and Snow Patrol's, "You Could Be Happy" sweetly sings me a welcoming lullaby.... I know it is my lifeline calling to me.

(And ironically, if I ever embark on my lifelong dream to meet Regis, or another Meredith- Meredith V.- he would be the lifeline.)

Pour Le Pied

So maybe I know a little French. So maybe google helped me out a little bit. So what if institutions of higher learning often requiring two years of a foreign language in high school is a total joke. (okay, I digress).

But these little numbers are not a joke. In fact, they are real, and they sit perfectly perched on the floor next to my white wicker armoir as we speak.

The perfect shade of robin's egg blue. And just in time for SSPPPRRIIINNGG!

Thanks Forever 21. (however, henceforth and forevermore, the wonderfully inexpensive clothing store shall be affectionately know as F-21. just a little FYI per future blog posts. 'cuz it will save me so much time, you know).

{Side tangent}: When divulging the store of said shoe purchase with my older brother, he jokingly said, "Oooo do you want to be 21 forever?"

And when I disclosed my age to my gynecologist last week, she said, "What a great age. It really is."

Either I should be sincerely enjoying the remaining months of my life in its 21st year, or I should be fearful of what is to come on June 25th, 2009.

I am always puzzled when I hear a comment regarding one age being better than the other. Because inevitably age is only temporary. Should we not look forward to our future, more wiser, years...? Am I just a naive twenty one year old without crows feet and gray hair...?

And I think I just officially made my {side tangent} longer than the true post.

Alas, I digress!