Things I have lost

My new-found ability to misplace things runs contrary to my continual protestations of not being too tired nor too stressed. 

Things I have lost*

1. A water bottle and a reusable coffee cup
-I can only hope that someone, somewhere is reusing them

2. My car in the parking garage
-This only happened once, but that one time I had to check multiple locations before I found it

3. My watch, which was a college graduation present from my parents
-This was literally ATTACHED TO MY WRIST....  How is this even possible?

4. Time, all the time
-I'll think it's 2PM all afternoon 

5. Three (yes, I really do mean THREE) pairs of sunglasses
-I managed to lose my favorite pair, backup pair, and the backup-to-the-backup all within about 2 weeks

6. The Christmas sweater I bought just to wear on Christmas in the hospital to spread joy and cheer
-This is the only one of these that I've actually found, but of course, I FOUND IT AFTER CHRISTMAS which does not bring anyone joy or cheer

7. One earpiece …

Year's End - 2017 in Review

Y'll know I don't post a ton of photos here, but that's mostly because I'm lazy, not because I don't actually take photos. 

So here's 2017 in review, in photos.  Enjoy.

Special Skills (part 2)

If you're confused as to the "Special Skills" reference click here.  But I promised y'all another terrible interview story, and I always deliver on my promises.
Now, in this story, I was going to warn you that I'm gonna use a lot of potentially NSFW words, but then I remembered that the level of socially acceptable discourse in this country has changed recently.... 
Scenario #2: I'm at the pre-interview dinner at a residency program in the deep-deep-deep South just before the presidential election.  We're at a steakhouse.  There are only two residents there, both of whom are male and from the deep-deep-deep South.  The interviewees include me, another woman, and a man. 
Now, this is one of the weirdest dinners I've been to- the senior resident has ordered multiple meals to-go and asked us, the candidates, to lie the next day and say that there were more residents there in order to explain the high bill.
These residents seem strange and like they don…


A couple of years ago Babydoll gave me this positivity guide for Christmas.  It says a lot about that year (and probably me) that she felt like a zine entitled Sh-t's F-cked would appeal.

She wasn't wrong though, I loved it and have reread it many times.

It offers great and timeless advice for when things are tough, like "find your boundaries and honor them," "borrow your friend's dog and go exploring together," or "eat good food at regular times."

My favorite piece of advice though, the one I keep coming back to is the one about making an annual theme.  The author advises us to "use themes to direct your year and help with indecision."

"What should I be doing? How should I be doing it?  Does it perfectly embody my annual theme?"

My theme for this year was: What Would Beyonce Do?

It's been my guiding principle for the year.  When I'm confused, when I'm sad, when I'm lost, when I'm scared, when I'm hur…

Five-Year Plans

In senior year of high school I took a (world?) history class with a professor named Dr. Schmidt.  I don't remember what the class was called, or, really, a ton about the content in general.  Dr. Schmidt was sweet, but a little drone-y and I had a difficult time maintaining alertness, but I tried.

To Dr. Schmidt's credit, ten years later, I still remember him talking about Mao and his famous (infamous?) five-year plans for China.

Now, senior year of high school is a point in life where everybody and their brother thinks they have a right, no, a need, to ask you what your life plan is.  And saying that you didn't know is simply unacceptable.

As a high-schooler this enraged me.

I was 18 years old, barely old enough to vote, not even old enough to drink, and everybody from Great Aunt Linda to my favorite cashier at Publix wanted to ask me what my plan was.

And every time someone asked me to describe in detail this epic plan that they just knew I had for myself all I could thi…

Why my eye is twitching

A thousand billion trillion years ago my sister and I worked together for a power-hungry monomaniacal middle management dictator.

Working with my sister was great, but the whole working in the sort of environment where mistakes aren't... tolerated, was, well, stressful, to say the least.  We did all sorts of things to make work less painful and it was mostly okay as long as no one asked questions or bungled anything.

While at work, when there was down time, we would read Yahoo news.  (Yes, that's how long ago this was).  One day, my sister started cracking up.  She was laughing so much she felt the need to read this article out loud to me.  It was titled something like "7 Secret Signs of Stress."  It did not sound funny.  I did not understand why she was laughing.

It turned out that it was funny in that horrible terrible sort of not-actually-funny way because none of the things on the list were "secret" signs of stress.  And the one that we loved the most, …