The Midterm Effect

Fcuk. I knew this was coming… but I kinda hoped it hadn’t because it sucks. Bigtime.

I don’t even have to reveal my QPI for people to know how my existence is hanging by a thread lately. Hint: I need to pull a miracle in order to survive the ordeals of nursing education. Tricks won't do this time.

I’ve got this question about my class standing and certainly I already had the answer. Particularly if the question is, “am I in BIG trouble?”.

I don’t have to answer that, do I?

Best assessment ever

It’s that time again… time to reflect on all my accomplishments of the last semester. Unfortunately, what accomplishments I can lay claim to generally involve… wait, I don’t have any accomplishments this past 5 months. Or am I just being too hard on myself? Well this isn’t the first time.

It’s official. I failed Medical Surgical Nursing. Umm, yeah, that happened. Now, moving on…

OK, fine… since I’m getting weird stares and all, I just want to say that, even if I’m all smiles (according to leanne) and had inappropriate affect (according to ma’am Dablo), I am affected just like everyone else who failed (well, maybe with the exception of Jai2x). I may not match their intensity, the crumbling on the floor and weeping kind of stuffs but that doesn’t mean I’m not affected. I am. I really am. I’m just not over-the-top. It’s not like I expected to pass considering everything that I secretly went through, my complacency and my preoccupations with what people refer to as useless informations. Besides, I already had the gutfeel ever since I came back from the yearend break. I already knew. I assessed. And in my entire nursing life, that was the only assessment I was sure of. Sadly, it turned out right.

One BIG mess

Sometimes we want to do things for the wrong reasons. Case in point: why I want to transfer to another school. Somehow, after so many months, I realized that I have not fully recovered from the emotional trauma I got from Ma’am Tecson. A certain part of me still believes that she’s the devil packed in a body of a cute and chubby Chinese cherub. Funny, because of all the reasons I’ve came up with, this topped the list. Way to go bitch. Thanks for destroying my self-esteem.

But anyhoo, this is the rundown…

I don’t want to be stared at like the word LOSER is written all over my forehead. I don’t want to be silently judged or get pity stares from my Clinical Instructors. I highly revere Ma’am Alasagas and Ma’am Quilang so much that I don’t want them to see me as some letdown. Maybe I am stupid. I can accept that. Also the thought of me sitting with the audience while my batchmates don that black toga will just reaffirm that. Not that I really cared about what they think because I know my capacity. I know I’m smart. Heck, I’m smarter than… ok, too much. I don’t have to validate myself. I know my entrance exam scores. I am not mentally-challenged. Academically- uninclined, perhaps, but definitely not DUMB.

So for now it looks like I’ll be spending quite sometime in school. Major bummer (read: I have other plans.) But gee, I guess there’s no use in blaming myself now. My life’s a one great mess. But unlike Pollock, mine doesn’t sell millions. Failure will never be a selling point.

P.S.

If this helps, there isn’t anyone on our college who is as pop culture savvy as me. I know a lot. But in the end, does knowing who Jackson Pollock and the mess he made matter? Like I’ll get an A for that.

Rub it in

Screw all that “maybe-God-has-other-plans” texts. It doesn’t help. That F mark would still be a friggin’ F after a million texts. Truth be told, most of the time, those kind have all but one aim; to rub it on your face that you failed MedSurg. Then again, there are people who love life, spew rainbows and stuffs and are just downright genuine.

But then there are people who are blinding-flash-of-the-obvious fakers who suddenly asks “if I already knew?”. I mean, like, God, I may be “academically uninclined” but I’m not that stupid enough not to know that I failed. She evidently was rubbing it. So I had just to rub back with “What? About the show? We’ll start taping soon and the spiels are now almost ready… Yeah, I know. I failed. Congrats to you.”. And so I rubbed back by saying that this stupid guy could be
hosting a new local show soon. Backoff.

Get over it

Think of grades, and the usual set of words come to mind, from “Boy, am I in big trouble” to the “Fuck, what have I done” cussing. (Pardon, that’s just my vocabulary) But what do those sentences suggest really? In my case, those words are synonymous with F and some Ds. But am I complaining? Hell, no. Usually, I get mad (at myself) then swear to change (at myself again).Besides, I knew I was going to fail. And that I deserved every bit of it. I knew. I assessed.

So can you just imagine my utter disgust to people who couldn’t get over their low marks on a certain evaluation? You failed. We get it. So can we just move on now?... Also, I don’t have to tell you that moving on means no retaliation to those that evaluated you low, do I? That is so not classy. And what would that tell us about you?

fill in the blank

I wish I were a multiple choice question. At least I'd have an answer. Because next year, I'll be celebrating my 2nd decade of existence on earth and I still don't know what I really want. This thought just keeps on building up like a pile of crap and all i do is bottle it up.
I'm thinking of doing Crystal Meth to find that solace and answer I'm looking for but I know I shouldn't unless I ant to unleash the mentally ill person in me.
I'm taking up nursing all for the wrong reasons. Sometimes, I think of committing suicide but I couldn't break my parents' heart. They've already invested a lot on me. I should have done it years ago when I didn't owe them that much.
I'd do anything to be dj or be on Globe Trekker... a tour guide or just simply write or just bum around.
I flunked pharmacology because of my plain stupidity. I took for granted stuffs I should have given attention to because I thought I was gonna get laid. Heck, I didn't even get a kiss. Lately, I think I'm falling and it sucks! No matter how I try to keep the door shut, love has a habit of coming back.
I wish I'd be given answers to choose from. But no, all I got is a blank and I have no idea on what to put on that void. I don't know. I just don't know.

Too Much Information Can Kill You

I got killed last night because I knew too much. I'm just probably too hard on myself. My practice teaching didn't really suck that much. In fact, I think I did well. I had audience rapport going on in there, backed up with eloquence and slight confidence. I have every right to brag! It even came to a point wherein my classmates were drawn towards me. Problem is I got so overwhelme d with all the attention that I ended up dropping useless information all over the place. Those infos kept on falling like bombs over Baghdad. I ended up not finishing my topic!

I think I'll have minus points for poor time management. Ma'am Dean probably thought I was trying too hard to impress. I thought i'd do good making the whole thing like Mo's Good Times on radio. I think I'm paranoid. I think so much, don't I? Maybe if she din't expressed how she'd wait for my performance a week ago, I wouldn't be feeling like this. To be commended for having the gift of gab by s omeone I look up to and respect so much was all I ever wanted but that whole incident just totally jinxed it. That was way too much pressure!

Well maybe I did try too hard to impress. I got an F for the midterms! But I swear I didn't read those stuffs for the sake that I could drop references come practice teaching. I knew most of it way before I was assigned to do the topics. I read too much useless information that in the end it remained still as futile as hell.

Funny how the only thing that made me think highly of myself was the same thing that pulled me down. I may know a lot but in the end it didn't matter... because sometimes, too much information can kill you. I should know. I just got killed last night.

Prozac for Everyone

When our class brainstormed for our pharmacology project proposal, nothing came up but a website and a documentary. I suggested a Free Prozac for Everyone Campaign but nobody took me seriously, like they always did by the way. Well, yeah, I wasn't serious. Actually, I was thinking more of pushing through that documentary with less documentary and more indie short film kind of vibe and upload it on youtube but they shunned my opinion. again. I was serious that time- and near genius! But tarpaulin it is.
How about accepting things for a change? I asked myself. Instead of pulling a Simple Plan whine on how the world sucks, why not try to pull an Alanis and rock that hand in my Pocket optimism? Uh, no thank you. Moreover this isn't about that project. I couldn't care less about that thing. I've never been the academics kind of guy anyway.
This is more about the things I just have to accept because I couldn't do anything about it. Kind of like the effect of fascism imposed way back in this country. Take Ma'am *e**** for example. She abused me verbally. She made me feel stupid and got me all misty (secretly, of course) and I couldn't counter that unless I want to get booted off the College of Nursing. It's not like her temper or "accidentally" pricking of some students with syringes or her (citation needed) favoring of fellow Chinese girls will give her the boot. I'm just an ant against an ant bully and all I could ever do is blog about it. Words of Sarah Silverman from the 2007 movie awards, "She needs structure. She needs someone who could take some time to tell her that she's one rude little pig." should have been made for her.
Then there are my house mates. Until now, I'm still wondering if they were taught of as kids the word cleanliness because their spoiled food always remain in the fridge for months, theirs dishes left unwashed on the sink and clothes whether clean or not, scattered everywhere. I live in a pigpen in plain english. Too bad I don't do other people's dirty work. I'm proud to be squeamish. Hey, if you found out that your underwear was used by your house mate, who wouldn't be?
Last is the weather. Last weekend, I found myself walking to the other slide of the landslide and did all that only a few hours after my minor toe operation. Hey, that is no ordinary feat when you have to traverse mud, rocks, water and kilometers of queueing vehicles. I could only pray for my wound not to get infected.
How's that for an experience. So can you blame me if I think I need Prozac?