This song.

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Suicide.

It happens.  I think about it a lot – the idea waxes and wanes with the years.  Clearly I haven’t made it a reality yet.  So many times it seems like the answer.  On the whole, it’s a ridiculous idea – we’re all going to die anyway, so why?  The why is a hard question to answer to many people, I think.  For me, it ends up being one answer:  I’m tired.

That’s it.

I could be a nurse.

I am, actually, on paper.  I have an RN, extant in both New York and Ohio.  As I say, on paper.  I got a good degree with good grades from a good institution.  Passed my boards with no problem.  The thing was – I loved my job at the time.  I would still love it if the job still existed, so I never actually practiced nursing.  Now I am in such a corner, at such a damned crossroads with regard to my life slash career…  I really could turn this blog into something if I could get past the block in my head, if only to tell my own ridiculous story!  Anyway, I don’t want to be a nurse.  There, I said it.  I did beautifully in clinicals with actual patients, and I am very engaged by medicine, especially of the infectious disease variety.  I could be a good nurse.  The thing is, though – I love plants.  I love agriculture.  I love being outside – I love trees and dirt and animals and working my ass off.  I love tractors and being muddy and working in the rain – and in the sun.  From what I have witnessed regarding the nursing culture?  No thank you.  I posted a simple question on a popular nursing message board and was piled on by all kinds of nurses in all kinds of ugly ways – over the topic of how nurses treat one another.  Answer enough in itself.  So.  I have been underemployed for nearly two years now – in ag and in a greenhouse setting – but you know?  I still want to do it.  Probably stupid.  Likely stupid.  It’s what I’m good at, though.  It’s what I’m passionate about.  It makes me not want to kill myself.  I suspect nursing would have me on the side of a tall bridge before very long.

So I guess we’ll see.  I’m supposed to start an RN to BSN program next month, and I have been laid off for the season at the job I care about.  Conundrum.

Meh.

My cat.

So, I’ll just go ahead and say it:  I’m a cat lady.  It’s true.  I only have a single cat, but I love him dearly.  The past two years of my life have been sort of disastrous and horrible in many ways; he has been my best buddy and my solid fuzzy rock.  He didn’t start out that way… he came to me through a car window in a grocery store parking lot (Shop Rite in New Paltz, NY!) from a friend who was overwhelmed by wildlife babies.  I told her I would take the tiny sick kitten she was also trying to care for.  He was about two and a half weeks old when I got him.  He weighed 8 ounces.  He had a severe respiratory infection, goopy eyes, and he was flea-ridden.  The vet told me she’d heard worse lungs, but not much worse.  Anyhow…  I told everyone I was just going to foster him and then find him a good home.  No one actually believed that tale but me.  Fast forward to today?  My baby is a luxurious four year old with thick, glossy black fur, a bright white badge on his chest… and a bum right eye, the leftovers of his kittenhood illness.  His doctor asked if I wanted her to remove the eye, but he still had vision in it – still does – it’s just cloudy.  And it tears – scarred tear ducts, I’m sure.  He is kind of a punk, but he is learning to be gentle, and if nothing else, he is a total mama’s boy… which is fine by me.  Right now I feel as though it’s me and him against the world.  I am so glad to have him by my side.  He’s a fighter – he never would have lived otherwise – so I will try to take that lesson from him.  My bub, my Remington.