Another meme from Susan.
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
Opening Credits:
"The Child is Gone" by Fiona Apple
Waking Up:
"Hollywood" by The Cranberries
First Day Of School:
"Raining on Our Love" by Shania Twain
Falling In Love:
"Because the Night" by 10,000 Maniacs
Fight Song:
"When You're Hot You're Hot" by Jerry Reed
Breaking Up:
"Why Should the Fire Die?" by Nickel Creek
Prom:
"It Takes All Kinds" by Aimee Mann
Life’s OK:
"Trains" by Jill Sobule
Mental Breakdown:
"Gone" by Kelly Clarkson
Driving:
"Leave" by Barenaked Ladies
Flashback:
"Soldier, Soldier" by Natalie Merchant
Getting Back Together:
"The Hardest Button to Button" by The White Stripes
Wedding:
"Sad Songs and Waltzes" by Cake
Birth of Child:
"Driving Rain" by Paul McCartney
Final Battle:
"Sinking Feeling" by Roisin Murphy
Death Scene:
"Happiness" by The Weepies.
Funeral Song:
"Particle Man" by They Might Be Giants
This exercise taught me that there are a lot of songs on my computer that I haven't listened to for YEARS!
Sep 27, 2006
Sep 22, 2006
Brenna: A Map
I can't get to sleep tonight, so I'm playing with Google Image search.
I really wish I understood what this map was about. Cause it's crazy awesome. Like the cannon ball with antlers? I would totally have included that in a map of my psyche. Scary, man.
Sep 20, 2006
Another Enthralling Adventure
There are those who think I haven't been prolific enough of late.
To those, I say:
Well, honestly, I don't really have all that much to say. Other than: you probably wouldn't want to read about my life these days anyway!
Point in fact -- following is the story of the most exciting thing that happened to me today.
I am on my Emergency Department rotation now. This afternoon, I was scheduled for the Urgent Care clinic. Colds, rashes, yada, yada (not unexciting to me, but not worth much discussion.) The last patient of the day was like the textbook definition of The Patient You Don't Want To Pick Up Last In A Pediatrics Urgent Care Clinic. Seriuosly, picture the patient that you would like to see last in the day, and then picture a patient that is diametrically opposed to that.
(I always love the chance to use the word 'diametrically')
Anyway. That's not the Story of the Most Exciting Thing That Happened to Me Today. That's just the set up for why I didn't get out until 7:30, and why I was tired and distracted on the drive home.
Because today, for the first time ever, I spaced out and totally missed my exit. Actually, that's a lie. I didn't totally miss it - I un-spaced out about a quarter mile before I needed to exit, but I was in the wrong lane. I could have risked life and limb to make it, but my father's teaching came into my head at that moment. The driver's education I got from my dad, boiled down, consisted of "Don't be an idiot."
Or, translated into Oregon-speak: "Don't drive like a Californian."
And applied specifically to this occasion, meant "don't swerve across traffic to get your exit."
So, I got off at the next exit, turned around, and then got home.
Where I proceeded to sit on my butt and do zippo.
So there. The Most Exciting Thing That Happened to Me Today. It would have been better had the story culminated with me stopping a fleeing band of bank robbers while rescuing a bag of kittens that had fallen from the back of a very rich man's limo as he was on his way to reunite with his estranged grand-daughter, thus earning both a reward from the bank and the undying gratitude of the rich guy, who thanks me by paying for weekly pedicures for the rest of my life, and then writes me into his will.
But it didn't culminate that way.
It never does, darn it.
Which is why I have not been prolific. Of late.
Do you think Jane Austen would have kept a blog if the internet had existed in days of yore?
To those, I say:
Well, honestly, I don't really have all that much to say. Other than: you probably wouldn't want to read about my life these days anyway!
Point in fact -- following is the story of the most exciting thing that happened to me today.
I am on my Emergency Department rotation now. This afternoon, I was scheduled for the Urgent Care clinic. Colds, rashes, yada, yada (not unexciting to me, but not worth much discussion.) The last patient of the day was like the textbook definition of The Patient You Don't Want To Pick Up Last In A Pediatrics Urgent Care Clinic. Seriuosly, picture the patient that you would like to see last in the day, and then picture a patient that is diametrically opposed to that.
(I always love the chance to use the word 'diametrically')
Anyway. That's not the Story of the Most Exciting Thing That Happened to Me Today. That's just the set up for why I didn't get out until 7:30, and why I was tired and distracted on the drive home.
Because today, for the first time ever, I spaced out and totally missed my exit. Actually, that's a lie. I didn't totally miss it - I un-spaced out about a quarter mile before I needed to exit, but I was in the wrong lane. I could have risked life and limb to make it, but my father's teaching came into my head at that moment. The driver's education I got from my dad, boiled down, consisted of "Don't be an idiot."
Or, translated into Oregon-speak: "Don't drive like a Californian."
And applied specifically to this occasion, meant "don't swerve across traffic to get your exit."
So, I got off at the next exit, turned around, and then got home.
Where I proceeded to sit on my butt and do zippo.
So there. The Most Exciting Thing That Happened to Me Today. It would have been better had the story culminated with me stopping a fleeing band of bank robbers while rescuing a bag of kittens that had fallen from the back of a very rich man's limo as he was on his way to reunite with his estranged grand-daughter, thus earning both a reward from the bank and the undying gratitude of the rich guy, who thanks me by paying for weekly pedicures for the rest of my life, and then writes me into his will.
But it didn't culminate that way.
It never does, darn it.
Which is why I have not been prolific. Of late.
Do you think Jane Austen would have kept a blog if the internet had existed in days of yore?
Sep 16, 2006
On Stockholm and Eighty Hour Weeks
In 1973 a group of people were taken hostage in Stockholm, Sweden. They were captive for six days, and at the end of it, they were actually defending their captors. This phenomenon - the victim identifying with their victimizer - has come to be known as "Stockholm Syndrome."
Today was my last day in the NICU... and it seems that for all intents and purposes, I may just as well have been holed up in a bank in Stockholm. Because, despite the torture and the long hours and the frustration - I had a hard time leaving! I never thought I'd feel that way. The NICU is a small microcosm of the world - and I have basically lived there for the past month. Or been held captive, depending on your point of view.
In all, I ended up working 299.5 hours these past four weeks - 89 of those hours within the last seven days. That averages out to almost 75 hours a week. Which means that I could have legally worked another 20.5 hours this past month.
And... I almost wish I had. I'm not referring to Stockholm Syndrome here, either (okay, maybe I am) - I just mean that I missed 20 hours worth of learning. I've always been in favor of the Eighty Hour Work Week for residents. I think it is dangerous to the welfare of others - patients, family members, spouses, pedestrians, grocery store cashiers, etc. for residents to work much more than that.
But, had I not worked 74 (point eight-seven-five) hours a week in the NICU, there is no way that I could be feeling any semblence of competence in managing NICU babies. Not that I'm an expert by any stretch of the imagination. (excuse me while I laugh uproariously at the thought!) I figure that my almost three hundred hours expanded my knowledge base by almost three hundred percent.
But since I started with a NICU knowledge base of about 0.01%, that means I know about, oh... 3% of neonatology.
So, anyway. In the end, after some stressful days, some restless nights, and several of rambly, rant-y blogs, the NICU actually ended up being a lot of fun. Though I haven't actually described any of the fun parts here...
Maybe that's part of the Stockholm Syndrome.
Today was my last day in the NICU... and it seems that for all intents and purposes, I may just as well have been holed up in a bank in Stockholm. Because, despite the torture and the long hours and the frustration - I had a hard time leaving! I never thought I'd feel that way. The NICU is a small microcosm of the world - and I have basically lived there for the past month. Or been held captive, depending on your point of view.
In all, I ended up working 299.5 hours these past four weeks - 89 of those hours within the last seven days. That averages out to almost 75 hours a week. Which means that I could have legally worked another 20.5 hours this past month.
And... I almost wish I had. I'm not referring to Stockholm Syndrome here, either (okay, maybe I am) - I just mean that I missed 20 hours worth of learning. I've always been in favor of the Eighty Hour Work Week for residents. I think it is dangerous to the welfare of others - patients, family members, spouses, pedestrians, grocery store cashiers, etc. for residents to work much more than that.
But, had I not worked 74 (point eight-seven-five) hours a week in the NICU, there is no way that I could be feeling any semblence of competence in managing NICU babies. Not that I'm an expert by any stretch of the imagination. (excuse me while I laugh uproariously at the thought!) I figure that my almost three hundred hours expanded my knowledge base by almost three hundred percent.
But since I started with a NICU knowledge base of about 0.01%, that means I know about, oh... 3% of neonatology.
So, anyway. In the end, after some stressful days, some restless nights, and several of rambly, rant-y blogs, the NICU actually ended up being a lot of fun. Though I haven't actually described any of the fun parts here...
Maybe that's part of the Stockholm Syndrome.
Sep 12, 2006
Whinge
In Britain, the word 'whine' has a G in it.
I don't know why.
But to add a sense of Occasion and Properness and Grandeur to this blog I'm about to commence writing, I'll say that I'm 'whinging.'
I'm tired. And though I had a fun clinic today, it was the sort of fun that involved attempting to keep a GIGANTIC toddler from ruining every piece of equipment in the room, getting a parent to focus on actually telling me a story in a comprehensive manner that didn't skip from one symptom to another, and topped off with two grade school twins determined to out-do their sib. Fun, yes. Exhausting, you bet your bottom. Dollar. Bet your bottom dollar. Hey! That phrase actually makes sense -- assuming you keep your money in some sort of semi-vertical stack say like in your pocket. Or pennies in a jar buried under your grandmother's porch. My wallet is organized more horizontally, though.
Anyway. Clinic. Fun. Exhausting.
And only a precursor to my Penultimate Call.
Hi, my name is Brenna, and I have an unhealthy obsession with the word "penultimate."
Call tonight. Busy. Crazy. Patients getting transferred from all over kingdom come and arriving ALL AT THE SAME TIME crazy. Nurses demanding (though nicely) admission orders post haste on the five patients that arrived within two hours of each other crazy. Not eating dinner until 11 pm crazy. Doing 10 pm rounds at 1 am crazy.
I'm exhausted. And I'm sick of the NICU babies. And... I want to go to sleep. And I don't want to have to get up and be HERE again tomorrow morning. And round. And then go home, fall asleep, and do it all over again the next day.
You know... I don't think adding a G to 'whine' makes it any less appealing to listen to. Or read.
I think I'll go to bed now.
(Oh, yes. And two-and-a-half points to the person who gets tonight's post's movie reference.)
I don't know why.
But to add a sense of Occasion and Properness and Grandeur to this blog I'm about to commence writing, I'll say that I'm 'whinging.'
I'm tired. And though I had a fun clinic today, it was the sort of fun that involved attempting to keep a GIGANTIC toddler from ruining every piece of equipment in the room, getting a parent to focus on actually telling me a story in a comprehensive manner that didn't skip from one symptom to another, and topped off with two grade school twins determined to out-do their sib. Fun, yes. Exhausting, you bet your bottom. Dollar. Bet your bottom dollar. Hey! That phrase actually makes sense -- assuming you keep your money in some sort of semi-vertical stack say like in your pocket. Or pennies in a jar buried under your grandmother's porch. My wallet is organized more horizontally, though.
Anyway. Clinic. Fun. Exhausting.
And only a precursor to my Penultimate Call.
Hi, my name is Brenna, and I have an unhealthy obsession with the word "penultimate."
Call tonight. Busy. Crazy. Patients getting transferred from all over kingdom come and arriving ALL AT THE SAME TIME crazy. Nurses demanding (though nicely) admission orders post haste on the five patients that arrived within two hours of each other crazy. Not eating dinner until 11 pm crazy. Doing 10 pm rounds at 1 am crazy.
I'm exhausted. And I'm sick of the NICU babies. And... I want to go to sleep. And I don't want to have to get up and be HERE again tomorrow morning. And round. And then go home, fall asleep, and do it all over again the next day.
You know... I don't think adding a G to 'whine' makes it any less appealing to listen to. Or read.
I think I'll go to bed now.
(Oh, yes. And two-and-a-half points to the person who gets tonight's post's movie reference.)
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