Tuesday, January 28, 2003

Well, that was quicker than I suspected.

Got the call today.......another damn rejection. Should I say the LAST damn rejection as I won't be pursuing a nursing career any longer. Someone asked me today, "Are there any other options?" to which I responded, "Yes, there are," but there comes a point when you have to ask yourself if it's worth losing your house, biting your pride, stretching a dollar so you can buy toilet paper and rationing petrol so you can get to where you absolutely have to go? Maybe for some, but NOT for me.

Color me PRIDEFUL.

I'm gonna have to chalk this up to one of the most difficult things I've ever done in my life. The toughest part, for me, was retaining my pride and remaining humble in the face of patronization. The irony here, is the fact that I am currently studying the concept of self-monitoring in the context of interpersonal communications. It seems I am a "Low self-monitor," described as being unconcerned with the image I present, communicating my thoughts and feelings openly, without trying to manipulate the impressions they may create.

Short for, "Don't give a damn."

"Things could be worse." That all-to-familiar phrase......but lately and quite by accident I have been studying the history of Cambodia in my recreational time. The Zero Years of Pol Pot time and the terrible genocide which occurred prior to the present Prime Minister Hun Sen and his sidekick Head of State, King Norodom Sihanouk.

Or is that the other way around?

Well anyway, there is always a worse-case scenario somewhere in the world that helps ground me and keep me humble during times when I want to scream like a little spoiled American. I'll hit the streets soon and find something out there that will allow me to make a buck or two. This country has it's benefits, that is for sure. The opportunities are out there for the person willing to pursue them. The one I was recently pursuing; however, just wasn't meant to be.


Sunday, January 26, 2003

It's been a rough few weeks here on the home front.

This venture I am on is proving to be a total bitch of an undertaking. I tend to vacillate between thinking I made a terrible blunder in judgment, to renewed hope that I will fight to the bitter end for my cause. One of the most difficult things about all this is the wait. In this age of speed, with microwaves, DSL, SMS, so-on-and-so-forth, everything in my life has been, "There will be a six week processing phase..." "You should hear from us in a month."

My first interview on December 31st, with a local hospital to the south of me seemed positive. They said, "You'll be hearing from us by the end of the week." I was psyched! This was it! It was going to happen!!!! My hard work was finally going to pay off. Well, almost four weeks later, after repeated phone calls, voice mail messages and e-mails, I was finally called (from a person I hadn't even met) to say they couldn't contract with me. Meanwhile, my mortgage company called to wish me a Happy New Year and to inform me of the impending foreclosure proceedings. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Of late, I've had another interview with a local hospital, which took the motivation right out of me. Ever have a conversation with somebody who holds a lot of power? I had forgotten just how bad the power struggle in nursing was, especially for a male nurse and SUPER DUPER ESPECIALLY for a male nurse with a disciplinary hearing in his past. I was informed that I was attempting to enter a field that was dominated by women! Damn! I'm glad they clarified that for me. Hell, looking at this woman, the irony was the fact that I had entered the medical field when she was probably still filling her diapers.

What an idiotic statement. How the fuck was I supposed to respond to that?

Well, I've had to bite that sharp tongue of mine lately and that is part of what is taking the wind out of my sails. I don't like bending over and spreading my ass cheeks to anyone, but I don't have the flexibility to express my true feelings to some of these power hungry, patronizing shit heads. It's also getting old, my having to dredge up my dark, felonious past, assuming the position, my ass in the air awaiting their phallic degradation.

There's so much a guy can take.

So, here it is the weekend and I'm pausing and reflecting. I'm waiting for an answer from this hospital and the power dyad I spoke with last week. If the results are positive I shall go forth and conquer but will most likely lose my house in the process. If the results are negative, I've reached the point where I must leave well enough alone, go get a job and cut my loses.

My support system consists of my wonderful lady Wanda and her girls, a handful of local friends and my tremendous support system spanning the globe. Without you guys I'm not sure I would have gotten this far, so I thank every last one of you for your supportive comments, the laughs you've given me during tough times and rooting for me to have the courage to forge ahead.


Saturday, January 25, 2003

Will somebody give this poor kid a laxative?

Or one of those BIG, RED Eminema bags filled with warm soapy water with the six inch plastic insertion tip?

Sunday, January 19, 2003

Okay, here goes....

For some darn reason, my blog seems to be S-T-R-E-T-C-H-I-N-G out, or not showing up at all. I didn't DO anything! Honest! Oh well, at least it can be read! Maybe, as my big Sis puts it, "It will probably reset sometime..." But being a wannabe perfectionist, this just bugs the crap outta me.

It's freezing here. Some unbelievable temperature out there, not fit for man nor beast. The air outside is filled with warm house vapor, steaming from the rooftops, not another movement anywhere and my pipes are frozen in the back of the house again. This morning I discovered a megacicle. An icecicle of HUGE proportions, clinging to my back roof. I called the Guinness Book of World Records and they say they are on their way. I'm not sure whether to leave it or chop the thing down. Oh, the joys of winter.

So I'm NextBlogging this morning, playing talent scout and surfing for a new blog to headline. Boring city. But have you noticed that blogs tend to run in themes? Well, at least I have. There's your:

Political Extremist Blog
Silly Teeny Bopper Blog
Preppy Blog
Complaining Blog
Bitching Blog
Gay Blog
Angry Headbanger Blog
College Life Blog
Musically Oriented Blog
Lonely Hearts Club Blog
"I've Just Broken Up With HIM and HATE Him" Blog
Country Life Blog
Sports Freak Blog
Brain Numbed City Blog
The common, "I Can't Get Two Words Down Without Typing A Profane Word" Blog
The even more common, "My Life Is Crap And There Is No Use Living So I'll Tell The World About It And Hopefully Someone Will Pity Me" Blog
Recipe Blog
Craft Blog
Family Blog
Work Related Blog
Cultural Blog
Foreign Language Blog (in various formats noted above)
Journalistic Blog
Traveling Blog
and for the life of me....the, "I dOn'T KnOw hOw oR wHy I CaN'T sEem To QuiT AltErnAtiNg BeTwEEn UpEer CaSe ANd LoWeR CaSe" Blog

Well anyway, I didn't find anything interesting out there. Usually, when I hit paydirt it's when I click on a link from somebody else's blog. My pal Benjamin who lives in Ghana just e-mailed me and told me he likes my site. That's cool. Guess I figured I'd scare him off with my off-center humor. I'm feeling a little philosophical today, so in pondering the meaning of life and other small theories, I query YOU, my philosophical reader.....

If one is NextBlogging and comes upon their own Blog....is there a sound?


Tuesday, January 14, 2003

Los Loncheros

Honk! ooowwwaaa! Honk!
Loud and strong, weak and warbled, loud and strong
A short in the wiring
Signaling time for break

We round the corner, catching
Los Loncheros
Framed against a mural covered wall
Suffering masses trudging across Rio Grande in Catholic undertones

Buenos tardes!
The proprietor calls as he lifts the diamond patterned
Metal sides, liberating
Smells of coriander rich menudo, fresh flour tortillas and chorizo sausage

The barbed wire tattooed proprietor leaves our side
To deal mojo, crank and Pabst Blue Ribbon from the rear
Trust implicit or lack of a choice
Hurried glances guard against the illegality

We line up to pay
The proprietor’s greasy hand and toothless grin
“Gracias Gringo,” a thanks and judgment
Wrapped into one neat little package

by Jeeem

Sunday, January 12, 2003

Annie's Chicken Riceball Theory

My good friend Anne Charmaine is at it again with her ideas about Malaysian history. Remember her theory of the "Bad Foot Durian Fruit?" Well, this one isn't quite as exciting, but still a good example of Annie's inventive mind.

Anne took a short vacation last November, away from the big city of Kuala Lumpur to spend a couple days in Malacca, the region where her parents had lived the first few years of their married life. While there, she relaxed and reflected on childhood memories of traveling around town in a trishaw....

During her stay, Annie discovered several Chicken Rice Ball shops and became fascinated at the popularity of these road side restaurants, observing throngs of people flocking to these restaurants to eat a meal of Chicken Rice Balls, which are simply rice, cooked in chicken broth, salt and oil, shaped into little balls by hand and served with a choice of roasted or steamed chicken. Simple enough. So she had to stop and try some.

Annie finally settled on "RESTORAN FAMOSA" off Jonker Street and once seated, her mind began to work on a theory explaining the popularity of these small, simple little rice balls....

"A lady, brought her children to dine at a chicken rice shop, and she had difficulty trying to feed one of the children. The chicken rice man tried to help her out by fashioning the rice into balls, like lollipops to coax the child into eating his meal. At a table nearby, a customer thought the balls were cute, and asked the chicken rice man if he could make the balls for her too. Soon, every table asked for the balls that by the end of the day, the chicken rice man found his business for the day had doubled. He decided to make Chicken Rice Balls a daily affair. Upon seeing the Rice Ball man’s business thrive, others followed suit, hoping their business would hit the roof too."

Sounds like a palatable theory to me (no pun intended). Well, as it turns out, the Chicken Rice Ball story is not quite as exciting as Anne Charmaine's theory, which I actually preferred.

Annie explains that the truth to the Chicken Rice Ball theory goes like this:

In the olden days, rice was a messy affair to pack for men working in the farms. If it was filled with gravy, it was even worse, because there was no water to clean their hands with. The women would therefore, cook the rice a little longer till it is sticky, shaped the rice into balls and wrap the balls in paper for their farmers. The farmers need only use the tip of their fingers to scoop the rice balls into their mouths.

Not very exciting, but interesting all the same. Maybe Annie will do some more research into the actual truth of the Bad Foot Durian Fruit so I can post her thesis on this blog.

Thank Annie for yet another exciting story from the jungles of Malaysia!


Sunday, January 05, 2003

The Number One Selling Item of Christmas 2002!

“Sphincterine is like a breath of fresh Air”
Bernie D. –Boston, MA.

While heading to my interview on Tuesday, nervous as hell and driving in freezing rain, I heard a local radio station singing the Sphincterine jingle after finding it on the net. When I heard it, I couldn't help but crack up laughing outloud. It put me in a better mood and I was a bit more relaxed when I got to my destination. The radio announcer was female and I have to admit she did a better job singing than on the SPHINCTERINE SITE. Evidently, this stuff is legit.

Go Bernie!


Saturday, January 04, 2003

It seems my Weatherpixie hasn't been working correctly. Something has been amiss. It was showing a partially cloudy night with stars in the background when just outside my window it was a raging snow blizzard. So, I investigated and it seems the weather boys at Laconia Airport are just sitting around eating donuts and getting fat, neglecting their responsibility of reporting the local weather to NOAA.

Those bastards.

No worries, I just switched to the Lebanon Airport and those guys are right on the ball. No donuts for them! Nosiree! Those guys are reporting the snow as it falls! Right now we've got about 8 or 9 inches on the ground and after all is said and done, we're supposed to have a total of 20 inches of new stuff. That will mean a grand total of thirty eight inches (96.52 Centimeters) of snow! Wow! Too bad I don't ski. Haven't seen this much snow in at least three or four years here. I'll try and get a good picture of the snowbanks around my house sometimes this weekend, after I dig out. I'll scan it and post it as soon as I can.

Well, it's well past my bedtime so I'll say goodnite but stay tuned as I have quite the agenda for 2003!!!!

Contrary to popular belief that all I do is sit around and play games all day, I DO study. On my breaks however......

You gotta check out this one called CITY JUMPER. If you liked Stick Death dot Com, you'll love this game! The Leader Board has it's usual ratings of players (typically young kids) who have reached unbelievable levels of anywhere from 35 to 115. I was lucky to get to level 9, but I'm sure with practice I'll double that.

Hey, I suck at online games, but this one is fun whether you win or lose. At least you get to severely mangle your jumper for kicks, if you want. Complete with blood spatter! Give it a try!!

On the weather front, we've gotten another six inches of snow over Wednesday night and now we're looking at another 12 to 18 inches by Saturday afternoon. It's snowing as I speak and already there is a good two inches or so on the ground. No worry though as I have my hot spiced cider here next to me and my fluffy slippers on.

Zippy and Zooey are just today venturing out into the house after a five day reign of terror with Cleo here. Cleo means well. Heck, she just wants to play with the kitties, but to a cat who hasn't seen a dog in a while, she represented THE BLACK MOP OF DEATH. So, with Cleo gone, the cats are now venturing out and once again claiming their space.

On the unemployment scene, I had my interview at the hospital and although it looks good and sounds good, I won't know until I hear from them. Sadly enough as it is, if this doesn't pan out, I may have to abandon this idea and hit the unemployment office. I never thought this was going to be easy but I never knew it would be this tough. Without Wanda, her girls, Sarah DA bomb, Cleo, Zippy and Zooey, my neighbors, my pals in town and a ton of cyber-friends all over the world backing me, I don't think I would have gotten this far.

So, coming into the weekend, I'm finishing up module five, beginning module six, tackling my assignments for my Interpersonal Communications class that begins Wednesday and striving for level fifteen in City Jumper.

Life is hard....so keep it simple.


Friday, January 03, 2003

Jimothy is Kewl...

I just survived five days with four women. Yep, Wanda, the Koribean, Sarah (a.K.a., Da Bomb), and Cleo all piled in here on Saturday and stayed through Wednesday. It was a blast. We all cooked, played, ate, danced, went sliding, watched T.V. and generally went crazy as the law allows.

Wednesday afternoon we went innertubing and as innertubing will go, there was a small accident. Wanda woman took a face slider into the hard packed snow and left a piece or two of herself on the snow bank. Currently she's recovering with a bit of a snow rash, but none worse for the wear and pretty as ever.

I never made it to New Years.

The girls said something about my mumbling something and falling back asleep while on the couch. The girls stayed up and met the New Year as it rang in on TV. They didn't have confetti or streamers so naturally, it would make sense that they should pop popcorn and throw it all over the living room. Yeah, that works. Wanda eased me into the news of the state of the living room before I had a chance to get up, but hey....it's only a living room and New Years only comes once a year. At least they had fun.

I learned a lot about SpongeBob Squarepants, Sandy Cheeks, Squidward Tentacles, Mr. Krabs and Patrick Star. I found that you can go from total DORK to Kewl in less than five minutes in a ten year old's mind. I learned that it's easier than I thought to just let go and just dance, go crazy and have fun. I can't wait to do it all again.

I've been missing a lot in life.

Good old fashioned fun is the only way to go.

I think it's gonna be a good year...

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