The Story of...

I am writing this because I literally have to. I forgot how much I needed to do this. It is essential. Not as essential as air, or food, but more like that vacation you take, or a jog around the block. I am starting this post by letting off steam; and if you know me, you know that means we could end up anywhere by the end of this. No topic is too random or off limits. How liberating. That's why I need writing. It isn't a schedule. It isn't structure. (The only structure I need is to be grammatically correct. Which I don't even really look at very closely. It usually comes pretty natural. Ha.)

I'm at a weird place in my life. But who isn't, I guess. For the first time, I feel old. I feel like all of the youthful years in my life have passed me by, and I better get to growing up, or else I'm going to be the only one left at the party, and who wants that? However, in my search for finding that balance between frivolous youth and "maturity" I have come upon some major stumbling blocks.

Obviously, I am back in school at my attempt at a second degree. I'm confident I'm making the right choice, but it has proved to be much more difficult than I initially thought. Nursing couldn't be more different than English. in English, I found myself analyzing everything. I looked at the world as always having a hidden message, waiting for me to figure out. Every person in my life became a character. My life had a plot, a setting, a problem, a climax, a resolution. Beauty could be found in anything. Even pain could be beautiful. And everything had a meaning. I learned how to make myself look at everything from a distance. Quiety observing, going through the details over in my head as a Coldplay song played as background music. Nursing is not like this. In nursing...everything is so REAL. A part of me finds this thrilling, because I still feel as though I'm not a part of it, just observing. Like a tourist at Disney World. Or someone who isn't a gothic person who goes to a gothic place and pretends to be gothic because it's fun. Or something. I'm trying to teach myself to focus more. To be literal. Stop analyzing. This is real people. And real life stories don't always have a clear beginning, middle, or end. Old habits die hard, though. And my grades are suffering probably because of it.

See? I'm doing it again. I have to have a "problem" I have to analyze myself. I can't just say, "I made a bad grade because I didn't fully understand the material. Because that's boring. No, I want to hear the coming-of-age story about the girl who triumphed over her English degree past to become a successful nursing student.

I'm going to go study anatomy now. Lymphatic system test in an hour. Also known as "The Story of How Our Bodies Fight Infection."

Stay Tuned,
Court xo