Because all experiences are valuable.

Sunday, September 30, 2012


I couldn't let the month of September pass by without posting at least once. I have never missed a month yet.
Starting back to school has been a huge effort. It's getting to be too funny how many people tell me they had no idea what it took to become an RN.

I'm having a bit of trouble typing because I sewed through my finger earlier this evening. hahhaha...it happens. Watched Captain America last night on DVD. Yawn. Visually stunning, though.

I have thought all month about things I wanted to write about, but honestly haven't had one spare moment.
Between class, clinicals, reading, studying and assignments, I believe I am not exaggerating to say I am putting in 14 hour days.

I always post about Dragon Con, which was over Labor Day weekend. I did not break anything this year thank goodness. Security was tighter there this year, which means there were far fewer real freak shows. What a shame. Freak shows are what make Dragon Con a blast. Ok, I'm exaggerating.

I just wanted to say I am not gone. It's important for me to keep up with this.

It's nine pm. I've been studying all day. I feel like I should keep at it till I get my clinical journal done, and I need to look at dosage calculations for insulin. I'm trying to keep balanced. I still do creative things...bake things. On that note I should attempt a poem. It may be awful. I'm just going to let the chips fall and see.
Who can it hurt? Indeed.


"Does this hurt?" she asked and asked sincerely but the reply was muffled.
Muffled by the sleeve of a dusty olive sweater,
muted by the passage of time in diffuse pain undocumented,
an erosion of what were nerves at the ends of appendages that used to connect
to something that recorded this and cried out, but no more.
She passed him a paper cut out puppet, a flat lacy man on a stick
reminiscent of black Thai shadow shows and all the humanity they portray
with only a simple filigree human on a stick.
"Show me where it hurts...show me with the figure." She wanted to help, would have helped
but a truckload of eiderdown had grown in his throat,
and binders the weight of a hundred books kept the sounds under the quilt.
He ranged his gaze through a routine of pleading to intense disinterest,
It was all he could do, after all.
Sometimes all she could do was hold him in her arms.
"I know, baby."
I know.

-Tara Sylace

Aries Full Moon September