Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.

It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while we all experience moments of perfect calm.  Today, I had one such moment.  There is a piano piece that I’ve been playing with and rewriting, but very rarely do I play it through perfectly, with all the right notes, good tempo, and feeling.  After a few false starts and one rushed play through, I took a moment to breathe.  I just sat there with my eyes closed and let my mind wander.  To play a piece well, you need some sort of inspiration or memory that fits the mood of the piece, and this particular song is melancholy yet hopeful.  After a minute or so, I focused my thoughts of a flame that had great potential but never came to anything.  While thinking of him, my mind lost itself in memories of his voice, his face, his laugh, his smile… Without so much as a thought to the notes or tempo, my fingers played the piece better than I’ve ever played before.  In that moment, I let go of every thought, every emotion, every stressful situation in my life and just thought of him.  These moments of peace don’t need to rely on a paramour: it can be a memory of being on a boat, or on top of a mountain, or a family member or friend.  In these memories, we let go of all of the things holding us back and just live within the moment.  There is no future, there is no past, there is only the memory of the joy and peace you felt.  Life is cluttered and messy; it is difficulty and unexplainable.  However, in something as simple as remembrance, we can make the clutter disappear leaving us perfectly content.  

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Well, I never heard it before, but it sounds uncommon nonsense

Learning styles, always a controversial topic.  Kinesthetic? Auditory? Visual?  Multi-Modal?  Everyone's got a style, or a mix of styles.  That is a fact.

Now, today's blog isn't going to be a educational bit on the learning styles of individuals.  It's more about the way people see and understand learning styles.  Today, I was telling a family member about the online component of my textbook which is actually quite cool.  There are quizzes on various parts of the textbook with auditory, visual, and kinesthetic style forms.  Said family member rolled his eyes when I mentioned how cool it was that the program catered to various learning styles.  When asked why, he said "the real world doesn't offer choices, no one's going to help you out with different learning routes."
I beg to differ.
When I started out as a secretary, I knew nothing about the job.  My boss didn't come up and say "This is what you need to learn, would you like to hear it, see it, or learn it with your hands?"  Instead, she told me how to do things, I read about them in the office manual and I tried them out by trial and error.  The real world doesn't sit you down and offer you three choices, but let's face it: no matter what kind of learner you are, you can figure things out with today's technology.  YouTube videos, Google, instruction manuals, 1-800 numbers, customer support, etc.

In short, I would like to disagree with my skeptical relation and say that the real world does offer us the three learning routes, if only we have the initiative to look.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

But then, shall I never get any older than I am now? That'll be a comfort, one way -- never to be an old woman -- but then -- always to have lessons to learn!

Well, after two semesters of co-requisites, standardized testing, and essay writing, I finally got into the nursing program.  The fact that I got in is not the point of this blog, however.  The point of today's blog is how silly some parts of the learning process are.

For instance, I just read one chapter and am in the middle of another on patient assessment and critical thinking.  Now, you might think these are excellent skills for a future nurse to have, and I assure you they are.  However, the book lists off all these wonderful things you should keep in mind and ties the paragraph up with this: "Practical experience and the opportunity to make clinical decisions strengthen your critical thinking" (Perry & Potter, 2009).
Now, if this had been the only mention of the importance of practical experience, that would be fine.  But it seems to me that every couple of paragraphs they say something along the lines of "This is what you're going to do, but you won't be very good until you have experience under your belt."  I understand that completely: the longer you're a nurse, the better you'll be at assessment.  Is that honestly the best you can do though?  Give us lists of common symptoms, red flags, or something!!  Honestly, telling you how to do something which you don't yet have the knowledge to do?  I understand the reasoning behind it, but it is most frustrating.

With that said, I'm off to continue reading the Fundamentals of Nursing.  To be honest, I almost enjoy reading this.  Bizarre really, but true.  Ciao!

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?

I remember a conversation my sister once had with my mother.  She said "no one from my roommate's graduating class, or any of her other classmates, have died."  That may seem like an innocent statement but, the truth is, our high school has a rather high mortality rate. I'm not talking inner city school mortality rate where kids are getting shot in a drive-by, but compared to most of my friends from college, the number is pretty high.
From my first day of high school in 2005 through today, I can think of at least six former classmates that have passed away.  Skateboard accident, knife fight, overdose, car crash, cystic fibrosis, and diving accident being the causes.  Now, the young man with CF?  Yes it was unexpected since he'd just had a lung replacement, but there had always been that fear of his death.  But the other five?  There was no warning, no preparing yourself: it was just an ice cold slap in the face.
I write this today for the young man who passed on from the diving accident, Kevin Piper.  Now, I wasn't best friends with Piper.  In fact, I'm not sure if he even knew my name.  But I dated his neighbor for nearly two years and drove by his house every time I went to the boyfriend's house to ride the boat or watch movies.  The boyfriend, who we'll call David, was sort of a big brother to the kids in the neighborhood.  There were a number of boys on the street, and they all played football and went fishing with David.  I'd love hearing the stories about how David had to go out on the boat and tow so-and-so back in, or how such-and-such had caught a good sized snapper, only to have a shark come up and take it.  I feel like I knew all of these boys better thanks to these stories.
Last night I went out with a friend downtown.  I'd gotten a text from David saying he wanted someone to talk to, but I didn't pay much attention and figured it could wait until I got home since my phone was dying.  When I finally got home, plugged my phone in, and had it come back to life, I had a text from one of my best friends.  It stated merely "Who is the Kevin kid that everyone is talking about on Facebook?"  Naturally, I hop onto my Facebook page and the first status I see is from a younger neighbor of mine saying, simply, "RIP Kevin Piper."  Now I'd run through the Kevins I knew in my head, and little Piper wasn't one of them because he was always "Little Piper" not "Kevin."  Immediately I call David and leave a message, begging and pleading, asking him to tell me it isn't that Piper.  Not 16 year old Piper the spearfish junkie and cashier at my grocery store. Not that Piper.  How could it be?  He's only 16.  He can't die.  He's barely lived!
But I search for him on Facebook and up pops Kevin Piper, bagger and cashier at Publix, with a wall full of "Rest in Peace"s and "I can't believe you're gone"s.
The shock of seeing the news of the death of someone so young.... It's indescribable.  I had seen him a few weeks earlier when he'd rung up my groceries.  I'd hoped that he hadn't recognized me because I'd had a bad day at work, I was in sweats and a t-shirt, and buying ice cream, Oreos, milk, and a trashy magazine.  He just kind of smiled with a look that said, "Rough day, eh?"  I just swiped my card and left before he recognized me.  Who'd have thought that would be my last time seeing him?  Like I said, I didn't know Piper well, but he was sort of a fixture at Publix.  His dad was the manager, and Piper Jr. had worked there for years.  You go to Publix, you see Little Piper: that's just how it was.  I go to David's, I see Piper.  That's just the ways things are.  And to think that the next time I go and buy my bad-day antidotes, I won't get a sympathetic glance from Little Pipe is just impossible.  It's inconceivable.  It's ridiculous.  It should be blasphemous.  But, sadly, it is the truth.
Arthur Schopenhauer once said "All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident."  Truer words were never spoken.  I almost choked when I saw the name "Kevin Piper" attached to an RIP status.  The mere idea that this vivacious 16 year old kid could be resting in peace?  He was so full of life, that the idea that he was gone from this life was unthinkable.  Ridiculous.
Once it began to sink in... That's when the violent opposition came.  I called David, begging him to tell me that I was wrong.  That Little Piper couldn't be gone.  I went downstairs and told my parents, then adamantly refused to believe that he could have gone in a diving accident.  It's SCUBA 101: you don't dive alone.  Surely no one would dive to 120 feet by themselves.  The mere idea!  He could have buddy breathed to the top.  His buddy could have reminded him that time was almost up and he needed to hit the surface.  He wouldn't have made that mistake.  The people wishing him eternal peace were mental.  He couldn't have just died.




"Grief is the agony of an instant, the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life." - Benjamin Disraeli


To dwell on the grief would not only be counterproductive, but selfish.  I wasn't his parent, I wasn't his sibling, I wasn't a relation, I wasn't a friend, I was barely an acquaintance.  I read the postings by his girlfriend and sister and knew that if they could put on a brave face and get through this, then what right did I have to wallow in grief?  There will be time for that when his memorial occurs.  For now, it is time to put on a brave face, get back to work, and send my prayers and thoughts to his family.  If I felt such pain for someone I barely knew, what agony must they feel?
But, such is life.  Everyone dies at some point or another; many too soon.  All we can do is support their family and friends, send strength, good thoughts, and prayers their way, and acknowledge that he is in a better place.  Kevin Piper Jr. was certainly an adventurer and, as J.K. Rowling so aptly said, "Death is but the next great adventure."  Best wishes on your great adventure, Little Piper.  Until we meet again...

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

But I don't want to go among mad people

But the entire world is mad, so that is a rather hard request to grant.
Recently, the FDA announced that cigarette packages must feature images of the effects of smoking.  “We want kids to understand smoking is gross —— not cool —— and there’s really nothing pretty about having mouth cancer.” says FDA Commissioner Margaret Hamburg.  Images of a guy with an oxygen mask, a mother and child with smoke swirling around them, and a man with a  tracheotomy with smoke coming out the hole are among the pictures that will be required to appear on half, again I say half of the packaging, front and back.  
Now, I am no smoker.  In fact, I dislike the idea of smoking.  I'm not going to judge someone for a bad habit; it's their life, their body, ciggies are legal, so have at it.  However, these packages a) probably won't have much effect on kids because smoking still "looks cool," b) habitual smokers are going to continue smoking any way, and c) the government is intentionally harming a companies marketing abilities.  If the government is going to require that Camel, Marlboro, etc. have pictures of lung and mouth cancer on their packaging, should McDonalds and Buger King be required to put pictures of morbidly obese people and their hearts on the bags of Happy Meals?  Should Delta and Southwest be required to put pictures of crashes on their tickets?  Should Advil be required to put pictures of stomach ulcers on their bottles?  Should Hersheys and Nestle be required to put pictures of cavities on their packaging?  Should Porsche be required to put a picture of Ryan Dunn's crash on the sides of their vehicles?
I believe the firm and undeniable answer here is "no!"
Just because you smoke does not mean you are going to get cancer from that smoke.  Just because you eat a Big Mac doesn't mean you're going to get a heart attack from it.  Not every flight crashes into the Atlantic. It isn't fair to companies that employ hundreds of thousands of Americans to be singled out and villainized.  Camel, Marlboro, Newport, etc. aren't doing anything illegal.  They are selling a product, a potentially deadly one, but what product isn't deadly in some shape or form.  I mentioned some above, but think about it.  Really think.  Do you see pictures of suffocating children on the boxes of Legos?  No!  The new commercials the government has put out recently, with the black-lunged guy and the tar-mouthed girl, and they are plenty gruesome.  I've never had the inclination to take a puff, and I certainly don't have one now, but I feel that the FDA has taken this a step too far.  They either need to put these kinds of warnings on all products (which, I have no doubt, would be fought tooth and nail) or these kinds of "warnings" need to be discontinued completely.