Let’s Go On A Roadtrip…..

 

As most of you know by now, I have begun my third year of college and my second semester.  In preparation of another semester being knocked out of the ball park and the thrilling journey of will I like my subjects; I have been posting throughout social media various images.

Form of procrastination over the preference of studying for my pharmacology exam, having been deferred or simply out of the curiosity of me.  No one will ever know and possibly me as well.

These images I have shared on my Instagram, much to the annoyance of those who follow me, have been lecture notes being undertaken.  Finely scrawled notes lying on a bed of crisp, white lined paper and the occasional thought/question as to what I believe this semester could be like.

Optimism at the end of the day is something dearly important to me.  Even though I am told by Lois on many accounts, ‘you tend to have more moments of being a pessimist than an optimist’.

Deciding Lois was borderline on being correct because you can never confirm to your parents that 99% of the time they are correct; I decided to change that frown upside down.  In other words, I started thinking as an optimistic person.  Rather someone who used to spend most of her day walking around going, ‘we are going to die eventually’.

That’s really great especially if the time is 07:06 and you are on your way to the local train station.  All that is going through your head is, ‘I could be hit by a car right now because some idiot isn’t paying attention’.

My new framework of thinking was put under a couple tests over the past few weeks.

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First of all, Red and I had a blow up which lead to Word War 82 prt 2.  Since we are both mature aged adults and at the end of the day, even when I am not talking to my parents because they have fucked me off, I still love them.  So the final parting bit of WW 82.2 is Red and I made up, forgave each other and hugged it out.

A couple of days later, my once again new theory were put under strains when college decided to release not only my results and my elected units a few days before classes started.  I soon discovered only one of my units for the semester had a syllabus which could be printed off and lugged around.  The other two, I felt like I was starting to lose track of my ‘optimistic‘ views on life and revert back to ‘why is it so hard to spend 20 minutes….

However, I managed to pull myself together and went through my Blackboard.  Where I soon discovered under my assignments and learning resource tabs, they had included an online syllabus permanently fixed to the tabs and the assignment dates were listed.  Fast forward a few weeks of this new belief thoughts experience and I can say it has been working.

I am no longer waking up in the mornings, feeling as if I am suffering from an emotional hang over from the bullshit I have been lugging around.  Plus, I feel like I can accomplish my goals that I set out each morning at the dining room table in my planner as I get ready for day.

Due to this pattern and the feeling of less stress being in my life, I have been able to enjoy my last amount of holidays without fearing that time is going by too fast and I haven’t been able to accomplish things I had originally set out to do.  So instead of spending four weeks relaxing, reading and soaking in the moments that are one of kinds; I have often resorted to cramming it into the weekend before I leave back for college.

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This whole ‘New Year, New Me’ is certainly having a positive impact on my life.

While I was in the shower Monday morning after having stumbled out of bed, it suddenly clicked that I have less than 32 weeks of study.  This means after these 13 weeks of semester, two placements over summer and extending into 2016; you can officially call me a soon to be graduated Registered Nurse.  This means after all of the effort of having applied for college while pretending to not wear a hole into the carpet as I paced back and forth; my time as a nursing student was officially underway.

Now in a roundabout way, it’s about to conclude.

It entails me having to bear Lois licking her finger on the presumption of removing imaginary dirt from my face.  The move all mothers do when they are trying to overcome the immense sense of relief and pride.

That their baby is not only graduating college but they have watched them through the years, taking that stumble like a newborn foal before becoming that galloping horse around the paddock.  Before the overall thought of, ‘my child is going to be successful’ confirms to them what an incredible job they have done by raising you as a person.  Who not only has morals, ethics and they also have the determination of a bull.

In my case after four years of hard slog, I have spent countless hours poring over textbooks/lectures until the wee hours and sitting those exams that make me feel as I have just lived an incredible adrenaline rush.

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As a result, I found myself into the late hours of the night either in the warmth of my college’s library or within the comfort of my bed, pouring over my laptop.  Typing paragraphs and paragraphs of information, that by the time I am ready to hand it, I have absolutely no idea what I’ve just spent 48 hours writing.

I can state that I believe I’m more than ready to graduate from college and with that, I am so fucking proud of myself.

For having achieved the unimaginable that once upon a time, I would have sat here and confirmed I had no idea where I should start and when.  Not listening to that pesky inner voice telling me to postpone my studies for, well forever; after having the intention of never returning to studies again.  Also, I managed to conquer my fear of math where I can now calculate math on the spot before administering medications.

I’ve overcome the first year jitters and freshman 15.  Not mention the feeling of being incredibly alone because of having moved away from my family and friends.  Finally, the ability of being able to transition from living on 20 acres of tussock, wild kangaroos jumping over our fences and the next door neighbours cow mooing out to us.

To living in a metropolitan city where I can hear the next door neighbours going to the toilet, having a shower or what show is currently being watched.  Where I left a small country college that didn’t expect much apart from you graduating to a college, who had more expectations than my parents and grandparents all rolled together.

As a result, I soon learnt to deal with the knowledge that I do not have a name on campus.  Rather am now known as having a blank face and a number attached to my forehead.

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These past two years of being at two differently colleges therefore becoming two completely different people, has not only been one of challenge but has been one of fun.  Fun where I get to dress up, experiment with different thoughts and expectations.  Expect when I came home, wipe off the make up and slip into my over-sized, cotton pj’s; I am still little old me.

The reason why I’m looking forward to graduation is because I am not only going to be wearing an outfit that has been hanging in my closet for 2 years as a ‘fitness inspiration’.  But I also get to wear the title of survivor of college, weight loss achiever and finally, extraordinaire nurse.

A nurse who will bathe your forehead if you have a temperature, who make sure your pillows are comfortable and if you need anything.  Who will spend a couple of minutes out of my busy day to talk to your family and partner, making sure as to how are they going and coping?  And if there is anything I can do.  Who will no doubt hold your hair while you are vomiting into a sick bag all the while trying not to gag along with you.

I will be wearing Registered Nurse em-blazed across my chest like Superman until the day I decide whether or not I want to head towards medicine.   Because I am secretly a sucker for making someone’s day a little bit brighter.  While being realistic to know that not every day is going to be filled with rainbows, lemon drops and all things nice.

It means by the time I am 35, I will be sitting on a nice nest egg while owning my home/s.  Knowing these opportunities occurred because I had set a goal, a time frame and I strived through with determination in moments that resulted from sweat, blood and tears.  Where at the end of the night or morning shift, I can slide my key into the lock and flip it with a wrist and step into my house.

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A house built or structured to provide my level of comforts while maintaining a rustic and home like vibe feeling.  This does not mean it will feel as if you have just stepped into a museum and you are afraid of moving around or siting on the couch, for fear of leaving a crease.  However before I start counting my eggs before they have hatched, let alone be laid; I found myself talking to Lois and Red about my graduation.

I was told countless times after calling it a hat thingy and cape, I would be wearing a mortar board and cape when I graduated.  Palming off Lois’ comment like whatever, I had an image as to how the day would span out before walking or rather gliding across that stage.

Least to say, the image I had suddenly pop up in my head can only be described as fucking horrible if Satan’s Hand Maiden were to be invited.  As I suppressed a shudder, my image without Satan of course would unfold something like this.  I wake up (here’s hoping!) after little to no sleep.  After having spent the night dreaming of walking across stage in my dress, only for it vanish and experience the ultimate embarrassing ‘naked dream’.

Or my personal favourite dream of where I am walking across stage, only to trip over oxygen in my gorgeous heels and somehow, end up tit over arse.  Having woken myself up from my delightful dreams due to my alarm blasting away in the background, I park my arse down.

This leads to professional hair creation magicians, otherwise known as hairdressers, who make sure that my hair does not end up in its usual format of a bun or high pony tail.   Or the possibility of it resembling fried ends when I stick my finger into the electrical socket after my hair isn’t cooperating with what I have planned.

Unlike most girls my age who are planning their engagements, weddings and future children’s names; I am planning for graduation.  To me, this day symbolises the dedication and courage I have endured throughout those four years and essentially, I am marrying a profession.  So guess I better pick out a white dress then.

It means after four years and 12 nervous hours later, I get to enter stage left.  Where I of course, gliding across the stage and not tripping in the slightest before I come to a stop, next to the Dean of my college. This is soon entails the uncomfortable hand shake resembling a wet, limp noodle and words that have been uttered countless of other times, before pausing for a quick photo opportunity.

Can I grab a selfie during this moment do you think?

All the while hearing my mother, screaming from the stands: “THAT’S MY DAUGHTER!  GO SCARLETT!  I LOVE YOU!”

What I am not mentioning is the large banners that have my name and face printed on them.  Which are waving madly above the heads of the other student’s parents and partners, sitting in the stands waiting for their person to graduate.

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As a grin is stretched across my lips at my success, I pause for exactly ten seconds before exiting stage right with my degree.  In a nut shell: four years over and done within ten seconds.  Thank you for the recognition College…. totally appreciate it.

Hope you enjoy knowing that I am now 50+ thousand dollars in student debt and those student amenity fees I have been paying.  That now has been used to put barriers up at the car parks at the bottom of the hill at J block.  Now to top it off on that high note of potential success, I want to do it all over again.  But with an additional six to eight years in the hopes of becoming a doctor.

Allow me this time in a blink of an eyelid and a quick flick of my fingers to tell myself this… Girl, you is fucking nuts!

There I said it on behalf of all who are reading this, on behalf of my family, friends and the occasional lover who has come across my shoes; who have dealt with ‘psycho Scarlett’.  I promise LBS will be hooking me up with some Xanax and anything else that will make me fly….smoothly and be less stressful.

After four years of being a highly strung and crazed nursing student, I believe I can claim myself as a professional.  I will be describe myself as being an extreme case of procrastination but also a professional, who has managed to pull out some decent assignments from her own arse and head-shaking worthy posts.

I sat down last Friday at one of my two favourite spots when it comes to thinking and writing in The Little House, with a cup of steaming hot coffee.  Having made a dash to buy more lactose free milk because I had run out and managing to eradicate half of my taste buds; I found a photo of myself back from my very first day of being a ‘on-campus’ college student.

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I thought about that person who had spent a month Googling and researching with the intent of trying to find information as to what she needed for college, what supplies, textbooks and how much parking was going to cost.

Even down to the little nitty-gritty details of how she was going to take notes.  How were they going to be taken whether it would be in dot points, randomly thrown over the page or in section sentences?  Very military based of course with no faults or errors being allowed at all costs.

Before that very day I’d been dreaming of arrived and I pictured myself standing on the very edge of campus.  I believe I must have resembled a weirdo, just standing there like she was about to enter the Dark Forest.  With what can only be described as nervous air surrounding me.

That February morning back in 2012, I could sit there and say my world was starting to appear like it was the pearl to the oyster.

With mud covering the tops of my boots, I stared at the flags lining the driveway to the college I was about to enter.  I knew this college had not only offered me a place as a first year nursing student.  This college allowed me the possibility of stepping out of the shadows that had been following me for years.

Those flags would later become a parting symbol when I decided to relinquish my place to someone who deserved it far more than myself.  Someone who had craved to have a position at that college as I steadily packed my things into boxes all the while; looking for a bigger and brighter picture.

The picture soon to be delivered to me via email in January 2014 was the bustling city life and skyline of Brisbane City.  This just so happened to be same skyline I had left those years beforehand and vowed to never return.

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I tore my eye off the flags and glanced down to catch a glimpse of the childhood story book I had brought along me.  The book was used in times I either wanted to escape into the magical lands of printed words or when I couldn’t deal with the factor of not knowing anyone.

Staring at the brown edged, tattered looking and dog eared pages, I realised I had brought the support of my family and the three Amigos.  As the feeling of calmness floated over me and my heart stopped beating like I had just run a marathon, I knew my dream life was about to be recreated again.

This was to be done by simply not reading what lay in between those tattered, brown edged and dog eared pages of Harry Potter.

But it meant my once crushed and destroyed spirit had the ability to rise again like a phoenix.  Where I got to live out my dream of tending to the ill, bandaging a bruised arm or tending to newborns who needed that little cuddle while their Mum sleep.

I knew because of the way I was starting to act and behave, some people wouldn’t like me.  It was something that I had come to accept because they couldn’t deal with the fact I was stepping out and calling attention to my dreams and goals but also, they had grown to not know me as a person.

Not to mention, who I really was a person.

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Which was the complete opposite as to the person who decided to wear fancy, clean pressed clothes while opting to wear pearls and brightly applied red lipstick.  Because her Mother and Grandmother had always raised her that people form their first opinion as to how you are dressed.

My time during that year was spent either with my head in a textbook, slugging hard hours wiping someone’s bottom for a living and being told I should give up my position as a nursing student.

These were the downside factors that I openly discussed in my blogs not only as a nursing student but also a person.  Like many down moments in our lives, I realised there are times which can only be described as the good, the bad and the downright ugly.

I unfortunately happened to live in the bad and the downright ugly for a year and a half before picking myself up out of my ‘oh woe is me’ pity party for one.  It was in those times and moments where I couldn’t face getting up in the morning only to drive 2 hours to college and sit on my arse for 6 hours; that I had some pretty inspirational and amazing people.

Who not only took it upon themselves to call me, just so they could ask how I was going with a particular assignment or how my day had been?  I also had my darling Mac and Cheese and Mrs. Bear ask or rather drag me out of the house for special birthday dinners.  Not to mention gym sessions where I swear I spent more time lying on the floor, not being able to breathe than actually work out.

I also had a partner who was understanding and caring at the time when I was highly stressed/anxious over an assignment and I couldn’t spend the weekend, watching him game.  Most of all, I had an understanding Lois who would allow her weeping daughter to cuddle up against her body, head on her breast and soothe her by patting her hair.

Or in times of extreme death-core hard racing towards the finish line of handing in an assignment, she would make me something to eat at midnight or a milk coffee.  All the while ignoring the mess of papers, textbooks and clothing articles spread out across the floor as I fluttered from one article to the next.

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During the year of being a first year nursing student, I got to experience moments such as eating lunch with Doll face after having rushed (drove) madly to get to my 8 o’clock tutes.  Therefore having skipped the utmost important meal of the day and in some cases, did not consist of a dry martini with 3 olives on a swizzle stick.

I secretly counted down the hours until the class where I knew I’d be entertained by the incredible Vin Diesel.  Her re-enactments of our tutors, slugging away on our assignments/lectures, more assignments and her family made my day.   Not to mention being asked if I had had lunch, a warm jacket and scarf in winter since it used to feel like I lived in Antarctica in Toowoomba; before being sent off home with a hug from the ever wonderful, Mrs. Hunk.

Without those people who I have mentioned both near and far, I wouldn’t know how I could have possibly survived my first year at college.  I don’t know how I would have survived my first day at college without having accidentally bumped into those delightful people in my first lecture based on chemistry and physics.

Having just said that I have to thank the USQ ninjas for giving these wonderful people a placement.  Not to mention without them and my placement, I wouldn’t have started my blog nor kept up with the fortnightly updates as to what is happening and what has taken my fancy.  Or rather, who has taken my fancy.

Which to this day, here you are reading it.

It also gave me the excuse to start up various platforms of different social media sites.  On the context of following people with the intention of interacting with those, who come from far and wide.  Not to mention the ability of following fellow bloggers, who like you, keep me hanging on the line like a captured fish.

If I hadn’t made the decision to actually stick to something like writing a blog and not give up when the moment got hard or boring;  I wouldn’t have stumbled across a blog named Heaven On Bourke (HOB).

I have previously stated in many different blogs, I am positively in love and probably a die core hard fan as to the adventures and road trips undertaken by HOB.  Like me, if you are interested in following this creative blog, and then feel free to click here.

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Ms. P & her heavenly adventures..

The legendary woman behind this phenomenal blog can be said to be one those women, who just so happens to be described as ‘Hello….My Name Is Fabulous’ and is simply one of a kind. Unlike many other blogs I have read over the past two and a half years; she has not only been able to keep me hooked waiting for the next update.

But somehow has managed to encourage me to get out there, experience life and different things coming my way with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. In a variety of different ways.

Over these past few years, HOB has stated between her cleverly delivered little antidotes, that there is nothing wrong with stepping out the structured glass house you have created for yourself.  Where the rules upon entering consist of them being set and chiselled into stone.  Therefore cannot be changed nor did they hold any possibility of negotiations.

This of course led me to change my format of thinking as to how I wanted to be treated as a woman.  What I wanted in regards to experiences created and sustained within life but also the bedroom.  This necessarily didn’t always come second or third down the list of things to do.  It meant with a stroke of pure genius of behalf of HOB and a shot (three) of vodka, I was rewriting my goals for the years to come.

This meant I was going to shake off my grandma attitude and start to live the life of a single twenty something year ol’ gal who just so happened to live in an incredibly huge fish bowl.  Except in my case, the fish bowl was the size of Brisbane City.

I realised with the loss of heavy high expectations of both my Grandparents and myself, I was able to live a life that involved having freedom.  Where I wasn’t asked highly personal questions about my dating life, who I was snogging and sleeping with which meant and I could be a stranger walking down the road.

This anonymity past the bold red lips and quirky smile, provided me to the opportunity to find on days ending in ‘y‘ a delightful looking man.

The rare specimen I speak off, can only be found in small circles where they aren’t interested in the bullshit context of needing everything to be fast and well used.  Rather are interested in forging pathways to optimal success.  Both within their business working life but also within the family dynamics called home.

These rare breeds would know if a single woman agreed to a dance or a drink, it did not mean trying to flirt their way into their panties on the whim of getting lucky.

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Lady Blacksnot III & I.

Post burning of my Bridget Jones panties, I learnt there was no reason as to why I should feel extreme guilt if I decided to fuck studying and spend the night out with Lady Blacksnot.  Sampling the fine delicacy of alcoholic beverages served in a mason jar or experiencing my first ferry ride down the Brisbane River, one incredibly drunk night.

Instead, Lady Blacksnot and Heaven On Bourke encouraged me to get out there and actually enjoy being alive.  As a result I decided to throw a relatively small hunk of caution to the wind and became a rebel overnight.  If this meant going to a bar to celebrate St. Pattie’s Day with a bunch of Irish lads and dance the night away until the wee hours; than we were going to do that.

Before making our way back to the house and staggering to our bedrooms.  Especially in the circumstances we decided after a few too many shots and martinis, we would drunkenly find images of a certain celebrity.  Having told each other that we were 100% sure they existed on the net, in the midst of our drunken giggles, conversations and naked dick pictures; we soon discovered people needed lessons on how to use photoshop correctly.

After a few hours later of meticulous searching and retyping, no such photos existed much to the disappointment of a certain person. As a rebel, I got to sample some of the mouth popping candy being offered.

In my lessons of ‘how to pick the right flavour’, I sampled different varieties of candy.  Some left a nasty taste in the mouth, reminding me of eating off lemons and was not pleasant at all, to say the least.  However when I was offered a second different flavoured candy that was cloaked in black wrapping, it left my mouth watering and craving for the next round of popping candy rocks.

Which funnily enough I can get from my local shop in the candy aisle.

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Like seasons as they came and go, I have decided to turn over a leaf or a page and I am going to do this semester completely different.

I am no longer going to be the old Scarlett, who spent all of her day in an anxious riddled bubble that surrounded her and her morning motto was, ‘you’re going to fail’.  Just so then if she did fail something, whether it be an exam or assignment, the little cut wouldn’t turn into something that can only be described as infectious.

Rather I have formulated a plan as to how I want my semester to span out.  So at the end of the day, I am somewhat cool, calm and collected and not automatically reaching for the bottle of mascato.  Because after three years of nursing and living life as a college student, one of the main factors that escalate health illnesses apart from smoking, drinking/drugs, lack of exercise;  just so happens to be stress.

Stress could potentially kill me one day and if I can slowly release and let go of the anxiety and stress, I going to be a lot happier.

As a benefit of turning a new leaf due to having burnt my Bridget panties and experiencing life to the fullest, I am no longer going to resemble doubting Thomas.  Rather, I am going to look at things as a hands on kind of metaphor.  Where I get down and dirty while keeping true to who I am as a person.

With that, I have formulated a relatively easy plan that I am going to do over this semester.

Because having not only passed my assignments last semester using some of these methods but I have managed to pick up my GPA.  This means when summer placements begin for clinicals, I might get to go bush and feel the dry dirt between my toes.  Or camp it out in an operating theatre.  You never know, Dearest Reader where the winds may take me along with my determination to succeed in gaining my confidence back. So in conclusion to my blog post, here are my plans for the semester.

Wake up every morning.
Remind myself as to why I started this road trip of a lifetime and reconfirm how far I have come in strides.

Be positive about how much I have left to go.
1 week down and 31 to go before graduation.

Smell the coffee beans, roses or stick my head in the freezer when I start to feel overwhelmed. 

If frost bite concerns me due to climate change, than number four is a better solution.

Exercise, Scarlett.  Exercise. 

This means skipping that lift because you are too lazy to climb the stairs, for fear of sounding like you are dying from lack of oxygen.
Trust me, our heart and arse will thank us one day.

Revise for exams because that 60% for Cardiothoracic…… 

Its a large number but we can totally accomplish this.
Remove the 0 and you have 6, easy peasy, lemon squeezey.

Start assignments early.

Preferably not 72 hours before they are due but rather at the beginning of the semester.

If I don’t think I can accomplish or finish my assignment…

Look at this.  This was the first assignment ever started, edited and handed in when beginning the journey of a life time.  It is a reminder that you can do it!

 Finally…..  Treat your success by attending the nurses ball in October.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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