Nicolean Dizynamite

New Addictions

2011-03-22T15:25:00.009-05:00

"Consistency of your commitment trumps intensity of your commitment."

As most of us prefer both, we all know it doesn't always happen both ways. Lately, being 25 years old and grown now, it's about time to get it right. For those who know me, my vices aren't exactly healthy, and God knows we ain't gettin' any younger. A new HEALTHY addiction has emerged.

After high school graduation, I wasn't on a basketball varsity team, a gymnastics team, or consistently playing every single intamural sport. Went to college, joined cardio-kick classes, joined the gym, and stuck to a few intramural sports here and there along with the P90X workouts. Then I graduated again, put it aside to study for the NCLEX, minor sacrifice, right? Being a nurse, I must have really blocked out the health section about how your muscles atrophy and metabolism decreases with age. And I also ignored the fact that increasing my endorphins through exercise would have made studying probably that much easier, efficient, and productive.

So, as painful as it is physically and financially, I joined a gym, with a trainer...who manages to be so awfully nice and still kick my ass every workout.
Right now, my body is at war with itself, and I'm loving every single burn and pain in my body because at least I know it's progress. And, for once, it's the good kinda pain.

For anyone interested, I love this gym. Phenomenalfitness.com

The Risks We Take

2011-03-22T15:04:00.001-05:00

A friend once told me that, though risks may be scary, sometimes they pay off in the end. I get that, I couldn't say that I didn't agree with him. But what happens when the journey to the payoff becomes unforgiving? Your faith shook to its core and new fears transpire along the way? The feelings felt and the hurtful words spoken in trying moments which ended in regret can sometimes make me feel cowardly, and all the efforts put into fulfilling that expectation can almost seem worthless once it makes me feel like less of a person.

And then there's the "bad" end of the spectrum. What happens after the risk wasn't worth the fight? Keep on keepin' on, yeah I've heard that, done that, it feels great. I get that once you're burned, at the end of the day, it's a lesson learned. Now, I've done well in school, and enoyed learning some, but I'm so not a fan of getting schooled in whatever life has to teach me. I'd rather just learn from someone else's mistakes. Trust me, I may have learned my lesson, but usually I get stuck with vices and developing bad habits to pass the time of the frustration of failure. And the good habits, well, it just doesn't feel nearly as good and rewarding.

Sometimes, you just can't win. My motto: Think Simply, Live Simply.

A Man's Best

2011-02-04T15:40:00.012-06:00

"If a man does his best, what else is there?"
- General George S. Patton

I think that General S. Patton is on to something. You ever here anyone claim that the "honeymoon period" lasts about 3 months? I have. And during those first 3 months, the guy always puts his best foot forward. Don't get me wrong, girls practice the art of deception, the fascade of miss independent, nothing phases me, and I am in control of my emotions. But to have expectations, even reasonable as they may be, there's a certain amount of disappointment to follow. The opposite sex does not function the way us women want them to. That's why it only happens in movies, in a fantasy world. Why do you think those movies make so much goddamn money? Like my roommate says, "damn you Nicolas Sparks for raising a standard that doesn't even exist."

Ahh, the reality of it is, if a guy puts his best foot forward, you get to see his greatest potential to be that "great guy" and then when it's, so called, in the bag, he gets comfortable. COMFORTABLE, not conformable when he slips away from the random good deeds of spontaneity. And guess who's insecurities begin to resurface to the point of irrational behavior? Us girls. It's unfortunate that our heart lives in our vagina these days.

Easier said than done, lets try not to expect too much. Far too many expectations lead to huge disappointment and then you're kicking yourself in the ass for letting your pea sized emotional sized brain think so far ahead. And guys, screw the best foot forward, I'm an amazing catch bullshit. Living a life with no standards? I guess it's the way to go. I've had it all wrong this whole time. Why strive or search for something that is statistically made to fail? As far as I'm concerned, go for the guy with the looks, the career, and a minute history of relationships gone bad. Then, do what you gotta do. At the end of the day, at least he's a good lay (please spare me the penile hubris) and is really nice to look at.

I don't need Mr. Right, I just WANT Mr. Right now, and if there's some God given chance that he turns into Mr. Right, then mother flippin' kudos! But you can bet on your grave that I'm sure as hell not holding my breath or hoping for the best. And yes, I am a pessimist. "The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds, and the pessimist fears this is true."(James Branch Cabell) And goddamnit, we all know that we don't. Girls, believe me, I strongly agree that we hold the Power of the Pussy, but like good ol' Sharon Stone mentioned before, "Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake a whole relationship." So be careful girls, the world has always been cruel, and nothing's ever gonna change.

Gotta Love Chicagoans

2011-01-31T00:20:00.003-06:00

Remember when I said I was going to blog every day? Yeah, obviously that didn't happen, and I don't care. I have no actual followers on this blog, and really, I'm a girl with a tendency to mouth off and go on a rant. So, I remembered this ridiculous blog that I had started due to some kind of emotional anxiety attack and a need to speak without end (gag). Anyhow. . .

"To be loved is to be fortunate. To be hated is to achieve distinction." I've said this before, thanks to good old Facebook, some of you had read this before. And I truly believe in it. That being said, and I'm not claiming to be a Chicagoan born and raised (and again, I've said this before, because I know how you true Chicagoans feel, I felt the need to be redundant), but Chicago is the place to be to be so fortunate to experience both. I've lived here long enough to know that the people of the City of Chicago are God damn opinionated. And if that holds true, then there is no middle ground. It's a city of unforgiving haters and lovers, no one in between. Some may claim to be indifferent towards others, and I don't buy the bullshit. You have an opinion about everything; either you like it or you don't. And no one settles for mediocrity over here either. You Chicagoans are assholes and are good for an opinion and are one of the most judgemental people, but we like to say "we're just keeping it real" and I love it, which is why I find it hard to leave this damn city. And all in all, you still have been one of the most accepting cities I've been to.

Now, I wouldn't threaten anyone or try to scare anyone into not moving here. In fact, I encourage it. Need a backbone? You'll find it here. Worried about finding your niche? Trust me, it's here. We've been claimed as a melting pot. We're a clash of cultures, not of color or race. To further my point, I've found my niche, quite easily actually. I belong to the group that always strolls the streets of Chicago, most times more often than not, in Wrigley, 20+ people deep looking like the damn rainbow coalition with quite the foul mouths with no disregard for others around us. Yeah, that's my niche.

New Wounds vs. Old Wounds

2009-10-14T10:58:00.003-05:00

"What's worse? New wounds, which are so horribly painful, or old wounds that should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us of where we've been and what we've overcome. They teach us lessons that we should avoid in the future. That, we like to think. But that's not the way is it? Some things we just have to learn over, and over again."

Expected and Unexpected

2009-10-13T14:01:00.002-05:00

"We all think that we're going to be great, but we feel a little robbed when our expectations aren't met. But sometimes, our expectations sell us short. Sometimes the expected pales in comparison to the unexpected. You gotta wonder why we cling on to the expected. It's because the expected keeps us steady, standing, still. The expected is just the beginning and the unexpected is what changes our lives."

Invasion of My Personal Space

2009-10-07T01:31:00.006-05:00

So I've already fallen off the whole plan of blogging every day for 31 days of October. The difficult thing with blogging and actually writing something worth sharing for that many days in a row is the tendency to talk out of your ass, and it just gets boring. And sometimes, I really talk out of my ass. For those who know my brother, it's something that happens often with a Dizon who goes off on rants and bullshits you just to see how long you're willing to listen to the crap we say. Next thing you know, I'm talking about what I ate for breakfast, or how I accidentally put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. I have no intention in getting to that point.

Continuing on. The work I do on my unit is all about invading someone's personal space. About 1/4 of the job is passing out the right medication at the right time. The rest of my time goes to examining broken va-j-j's, humiliating a woman who's just delivered a baby by pushing on her stomach that looks like she's still 7 months pregnant, and grabbing titties to help her breastfeed. I do all this with a smile on my face. One of the things you'll learn as an OB nurse is to bullshit. You seriously become the biggest bullshitter. You walk in with a smile, high pitched voice, and you're more than enthusiastic to help your patient, and I'd like to say most times I am. The minute you close the door behind you, you're cursing out to the high heavens because you're so sick of putting on that bright and shiney fascade. At times it's understandable because postpartum women, especially the pretentious ones you end up caring for in a high-end hospital like Northwestern, just piss the crap out of you. Other times, it's just because you're a worn out nurse who gets flack for working on a floor that's not considered a high-risk unit. It's the happy floor, where the sun never stops flippin' shining. Sometimes it'd be nice if every once in a while the sun would just set.

Anyways, all shame goes out the window on this type of unit. There's no such thing as modesty. The real point I was trying to make before I started venting is the fact that no one likes it when their personal space is invaded. I have a box that surrounds me that no one is allowed in. I like my space. So when I come home, solitude is much appreciated. Me Time is healthy. Or if I'm in a bar with a friend, engaged or not in conversation, sometimes it'd be nice if the greasy guy down on the next bar stool kept to himself or at least kept a safe distance away from my face. I like liquor, but I could do without the smell of it on dude's breath. Fine, it's an ego boost sometimes, especially if the guy is half decent, but nonetheless, acknowledge the box that surrounds me please.

Interrogation is another form of personal invasion of space. There's nothing wrong with asking questions. But I hold the right to share only what is relevant and what I want to share. Know this. Now, I don't really consider myself a person who is all that shy about sharing. Obviously, some things I share too much of. However, I do keep things private that are meant to be private. Once again, acknowledge the box.

On the other hand, I think invasion of that box that surrounds many of us is necessary. Maybe not the interrogating or the display of broken women parts. But sometimes, a certain amount of personal invasion is important. Hah, I say this after I rant on for 3 paragraphs.

At one point in time in our lives, things become so routine. We get tunnel vision and we do what we do. We don't stop and we keep on walking. Nothing wrong with that, except that I really have no desire to become a robot. Even as a nurse, an occupation labeled with compassion and care, you become a robot. You have to be personal enough to establish that rapport, but not too emotionally attached because it will cloud your nursing judgment. Balancing act.

But I'm human. Invasion is imperative. As irritated and out of my comfort zone as I am when someone invades my personal space, my controlled and maintained emotions, I'm greatful. Sometimes my friends overstep the boundaries, but at least it stops me dead in my tracks. I get to take a break and actually reflect on what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. All of a sudden I'm not so numb, the lidocaine wears off, and you feel every good and bad feeling. And that's when I know that I'm actually living and not just existing. As painful as that can be or as joyful as that can be, I'd rather feel that than be numb. There's nothing more frightening than that.

Chicago Girls are as Moody as the Weather

2009-10-05T18:17:00.004-05:00

To live in Chicago, or anywhere in the Midwest, you need to have a large closet. Even more of a necessity is for that closet to be filled with clothes, ranging from skirts/shorts, tanktops, short dresses to hoodies, down jackets, dress pants, and turtlenecks. I've lived in the Midwest pretty much my whole life, so I'm not gonna say that you never know what the weather may bring. We know exactly what it's going to bring, we just don't know when.

Just last week I was wearing jeans, a short sleeve v-neck, and a thin short cut jacket. Today, sweatpants, a hoodie, jacket, beanie, and gloves. Ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago and I love the fact that I have a good reason to own a lot of clothes, but I'm just never comfortable or ever ready for the weather, especially when it gets cold. It makes getting out of bed that much harder. This morning, I was still awake at 7, but everyone else was asleep, so I decided to wait for everyone to wake up for work before I started moving around and making noise, thanks to wood floors. Next thing I know, its 6pm. Apparently, to those who've been keeping in touch with me, my insomnia comes in waves. I only sleep when I don't need to, and I'm dead awake the days and nights I have work.

So why are Chicago girls just as moody as the weather? I don't know why, but when the weather changes so does everyone else. Girls live up the night-life during the warmer days, out with their girlfriends, out on the prowl, whatever you wanna call it. Once the cold weather hits, they wanna settle down, be homebodies and relive the hidious dreams of cuddling up next to someone by a fireplace. Guys? Sure, some get lonely and once in a blue moon think the same, but once we're into the fall/winter season it's their hayday! MLB is coming to a close, not that it matters because neither team made it into postseason, Blackhawks are starting, and the Bulls are in preseason. And the Bears, even with our depleted linebacker core, are playing. Who needs QT and PDA when you've got sports! So girls, good luck. You are no longer #1 on his top interests when a game is on, especially if he's a fantasy league player. Nope, sorry girls, don't argue it, and if a guy says that's not true, he's lying. Unless he's not into sports, and then I'd have to automatically assume he's not from Chicago. And guys that are dating, sorry for the upcoming mood swings and sudden increase of neediness.

To make matters worse, if your a girl who's got some sense of pride, your mood swings are even harder to read. Instead of begging, crying, complaining, or whatever you do to get your guy's attention, you just get plain nasty. You give snide remarks, the evil eye, and some even get really vindictive and spiteful. Guys, where did you go wrong? In all honesty, you probably didn't do anything wrong, but you'll never get the answer out of the girl. Most times the answers you'll get are, "nothing's wrong," "whatever, do what you wanna do," and then there's the silence followed by the walk off. Just a little secret, when the girl walks away, chase after her. She says she wants you to leave her alone, but you know she wants just the opposite. If this is a repetitive thing, then you may consider putting her in her place and let her walk the walk of shame until she cracks and finally admits to being a girl demanding time and attention.

The upside to all this? There's a good chance that your Chicago girl is a sports fanatic. So just take her along every once in a while. And hey, dating a girl from Chicago, despite the weather, never gets boring.

Obviously this doesn't apply to every girl or every guy. . .but it definitely applies to many. I may have outted us girls pretty badly, but there's 31 days in October for a rebuttal. So sit tight, there's more to come.

What's My Diagnosis?

2009-10-05T01:46:00.003-05:00

I've always worked on an Obstetrical unit as a student and after I graduated, so I always wondered the difference in conversations nurses and aids would have on their floors. Especially night shift conversations. When the clock hits around 2am-4am, everyone's in a delirious state of mind and the jibberish that comes out of our mouths sometimes is far out there.

I come into work and I complain that I feel sick. Automatically on an OB floor, the question asked, "are you pregnant?" I could literally be complaining of a stomach ache due to unrelieved gas (for fear of the smell of death lingering in the hall and everyone knowing it was you) and everyone has to ask that question. I could have a toothache and the same question is asked as long as your statement starts with, "I'm not feeling good." Starting out on this floor, you'll notice you have a secret stash of the stick that turns - or + because you've become so paranoid, even if you aren't active. Hell, maybe you sat on a toilet seat infested with super sperm and got pregnant. Trust me, at one point in time, if you've ever worked on an OB floor, you've bought the stick just in case.

So like I said, I always wondered what it would be like to work on a different unit, perhaps oncology. If I were to complain of a headache, would everyone jump to the conclusion that I have a brain tumor? That would suck. Say it enough times every time I come into work feeling ill, I might believe that I could. Although, those tests to confirm whether or not I have cancer are a bit more expensive than the pee stick.

What's in Store for October?

2009-10-05T01:44:00.002-05:00

I have a lot of plans for this month. I guess you can call it a resolution, not a new year's resolution since I don't believe in making them and I wasn't anywhere motivated or driven to do this at that time. October seems to be my month so I'm starting today. I hate blogging. Personal things should be kept personal and I always thought it was odd when people put themselves on blast. Even more awkward when they put other people on blast in public. But I have no intention of doing that. I simply am starting to blog because some of the thoughts that cross my mind are either completely random and I think that those who know me would get a kick out of it and hopefully find it humorous rather than offensive. Whatever.

Things I plan on doing this month. . .
1. blog (call me a hypocrite. It looks like I'll be subscribing to a blogsite. . .*sigh*)
2. learn to play the guitar (already bought myself a fender)
3. learn to play the ukelele (and I also bought a mitchell)
4. play the piano once again (picked up my keyboard last week)
5. perform at as many open mic spots in chicago (if I'm that bad, at least the crowd has liquor to drown me out)
6. buy a plane ticket in the same week I plan to travel (not that I haven't done that before, but we'll see if this happens this month)
7. ride the eL and people watch/meet random people and fabricate a grand story if they choose to converse with me
8. speed date with coworkers/friends and afterwards remind myself how pathetic I was for doing it
9. relive my 21st birthday without the blackout
10. compose

I probably have more to add to that list. . .and some of the things on this list may not even happen. So whenever these things happen or whenever I have a story to tell about my attempts to make it happen, feel free to mock, laugh, agree, or add your opinions :)

Robbing the Cradle

2009-10-04T20:12:00.001-05:00

The amount of thoughts that can run through your head in a day can be overwhelming and you would think that writing every day for 31 days shouldn't be hard. Unless I couldn't find humor in my thoughts for the day, I wouldn't write anything. And there's a lot of sarcasm, satyrs, and humor that I experience every day, lucky me, but this 31 day thing is kinda kicking my butt.

Well, the last couple posts were really geared towards my fellow nursing friends so I could talk about something a little more general, more applicable to the general public.

Except for maybe two people out of my group of friends, I'm pretty much the youngest person amongst my friends in Chicago. Now that we're all pretty much done and out of school, the partying, late night hangouts, and wal-mart runs have pretty much come to a stop. . .well, not really, but the wal-mart runs have stopped considering we don't have wal-mart out in the city. But we have slowed down. We're not driving back and forth from Michigan and we don't pay cover. Rarely ever will you find us in clubs anymore, just dive bars and lounges.

I'm sure other people feel the same way, but it's so much harder meeting people outside of school. You've gotta be a lot more cautious and really consider where you're meeting these people. I mean at school, if someone screws you over, you know the person's major, dorm room, phone number, and you just know where the bastard is and you can send whoever over, or go over there yourself, and beat the crap outta him yourself. Not that I've had to do that.

But back to being the youngest. I constantly need to remind myself that even though I'm the youngest out of my group, I'm more than likely considered a part of the older crowd at some of these clubs, bars, and lounges. There's nothing more lethal to a girl's ego when a cute guy comes over, hits on you, buys you drinks, and then asks, "so what school do you go to? What's your major? Do you live on your own? I'm totally moving out after my freshman year." AWESOME. Kudos big guy. Oh, and congratulations on graduating from high school, by the way. And another one bites the dust.

Thankfully that's not always the case. I have met guys that are around my age and are successful and done with school. But then, you think about how you meet them under the influence. In a flippin' bar/club. CLASSY. Yep, just walk away. I guess it's not the worst circumstance, but it's definitely not ideal. I think I've met about 2 guys outside of the party scene since I've graduated. One of which was still in school. And not grad school either, undergrad. I try not to judge considering he was only a year younger, but by then, I had already outlived my college life and I just didn't feel like babysitting without getting paid.

By no means am I calling myself old. I'm only turning 24, I'm still a baby. Well, I guess I'm a toddler and everyone else I meet are babies. Either way, I'm young. Making friends or going on dates, I have no worries because I know it'll happen. If only I can skip out on meeting college cuties and getting accused for robbing the cradle or being the Asian girl from the Babysitter's Club.

Working night-shift and having a day-life?

2009-10-03T19:17:00.002-05:00

Let me tell you. Most times I'd probably be annoyed coming home after working a 12hr graveyard shift to people either hungover and rowdy, or just still plain drunk. But the other day, I was quite enthusiastic about it! For those of you who work this schedule, you know what I'm talking about.

So, I walk in my apartment to find a few friends still drunk from the night before. 9 in the morning, I finally have someone to have a few drinks with. Day-life sucks. It's actually kinda lonely. I mean, what loser drinks alone at 9am? Oh, right, that would be me. But not that morning!

When I used to work 7am-8pm, I was tired but so was everyone else who had a job and we'd still go out. Nowadays, everyone's already at work by time I get home. I have no real night-life and day-life is filled with eat, sleep, getting ready for work, and repeat. Granted I technically work 3 nights a week, some of those days on the weekend, so when I do go out, and if I do meet anyone, it takes an average of about 3 weeks to finally ever meet up with them again since most people work the 9-5, 5 days a week. By then you question if it's even worth the effort.

Then there's the option or possibility of dating someone who works graveyard as well. But really, all you do is sleep. So instead of having someone to daydrink with or do things with while everyone's at work, you're just two losers sharing the same bed. To those who I've dated that worked graveyard, no offense intended. All in all, night-shift does not bode well for your social life. I take that back, you can have a social life, it just means less sleep and more effort.

I've gotta give it to people who work day-shift though. It's no fun waking up early and dealing with the whole rush of people on public transportation. But, you also get to see all the gorgeous people in the morning. Another downfall of working night-shift. After 12 hrs of working in a hospital, you look hit as hell and you know you look and even smell like shit walking onto the eL. Seriously, there are some really fine-ass looking people you can scope out in the morning. Unfortunately, if you're night-shift, you are NOT one of them. Another reason I'm bitter every morning getting out of work. I could fix myself up right before I leave the hospital to look presentable, but who does that? No, I do not do that. But really? Sometimes I wish I was on the eL going the opposite direction with all the good looking people. It's kinda like PG13 morning porn. Maybe just PG. (Keep in mind, I've been up all night talking with deliriously tired women nurses on a floor filled with other women, their men, newborn child, and raging hormones.)