"I used to dress up all the time when we first started dating," I told [Supergirl] once.  "But I guess now that I'm comfortable around you, I dress more and more like a slob.    I think it's your fault for making it too easy for me."

"Well..." she smiled, "when we first started dating I used to wear a lot more makeup."

"Oh really?  Well, you look better without makeup," I said.  "I mean, not that you don't look beautiful with makeup too. But, like. You don't need to.  Because you look great without it.  But if you did wear it, you'd look better so it wouldn't be wasted effort, y'know?"

"Flatterer," she tells me.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"You'll make me all big headed."

"It's just so I'll feel like less of an asshole all alone here at the top," I laugh.

We're silent for a few moments.  "I started wearing less and less of it though," she explained.  "I mean, it's annoying.  But I figure, he'll have to get used to me without it, so I'll just wear less and less of it.  I don't feel I need to wear it for you"

And it's true that I don't need her to wear any of that stuff.  I am not saying this facetiously, or superficially, or in any blinded way.  In a very intellectual, calm and unclouded judgement, she's beautiful to me.  I don't need to explain it because there's nothing to explain, and if I leave it at that that's because that's all I need to say.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I'm sitting in my living room as I write this.  It's one of those bachelor kinda days-- my roomies, [Terminator] and [SoCool] are both in and awake, and I'm typing away as I eat a meal of cold rice, vegetables and kimchi.  At the same time, they're playing Tiger Woods on the Xbox, trash talking eachother the whole way. Even Zoe, Zack's cat, is sitting around just taking it easy.

It's times like this that I appreciate having people in the apartment.  It's a slowish day, and I'm supposed to be sleeping as we speak since I was working overnight yesterday and will be again tonight.  But meh. Sometimes it feel just nice to hang around with people, even if it's to do nothing and talk about nothings.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I'm too tired lately to really do any meaningful posting.

It's tough keeping up the habit of trying to write at least once a day.  It's not so much that there's nothing to talk about-- there always is-- but I just get tired of it sometimes, you know?  At a certain point it feels like work.

I suppose it is, in a sense. I'm not necessarily keeping a blog out of the craft of writing itself, it's more because I want to remember things.  What's the point of living and all that if not for experiences, and what's the point of an experience if you forget it as easily as I do?

Then someday when I'm feeling less myself, I can hide away in my own words.

Location: @Work
Time: 3:57AM Nov 10, 2009
Batteries: 80%

I was walking with [Supergirl] earlier and unfortunately, i was in a bit of a hurry so it didn't last as long as I might've wanted (we were walking her to the metro before I rode off to work) but I remember mentioning one thing to her about work. It was on the subject of patients' parents; sometimes, parents screwed up, and that was why their kids were in the hospital, and when this happens either they were completely submissive or they were totally agressive.

It goes in both directions.  If they're totally submissive it's because they feel really guilty about what they did, and will do anything to right that wrong.  Drop a teapot on the kid's head? Forget to block the way to the stairwell?  When you get totally submissive parents, you could probably get one to slam his head into a wall if they thought that it would somehow make their kid better.

On the other hand, you have the over agressive parents who are so embarassed by their kid's injury or the circumstances of the illness that they try to cover up the details of the problem and demand some sorta 'no questions asked' service.

Both scenarios sort of stem out of bad parenting I suppose, but then again, what're you gonna do?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

If there's one thing that I cannot stop reiterating, it's that age doesn't really mean anything.  I'm not specifically refering to the age difference between [Supergirl] and I, but that could be an example I think.

It's just that as people get older, they don't necessarily get smarter.  They don't necessarily learn more about the world or how to interact with it-- if anything, they become more entrenched in the way they are.  And though I think 'being oneself' and all that self-esteem stuff they teach you in afterschool specials is important, I think that some people are just assholes and they need to learn how to interact properly with society.

Part of the reason why people are assholes is because they start off small. First, they get away with some snide remarks here or there.  Nobody drop kicks them so they think they can get away with it, and that just reinforces in their heads the idea that being an asshole is okay.

It's not.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Time: 9:27AM Nov 10 2009
Location: @work (STILL)
Batteries: 20% =_=

I'm working 3.5 hours overtime today. So, it's about 9:30AM and I've been here since 00:30AM.  I've had an hour break since I started. I'm a bit tired, and admittedly, I'm getting a bit bitchy because I'm also hungry.

With regards to the last thing I wrote, I should point out that there's a flipside to this story, and that's that half of the problem is the uniformed, idiotic public.  The other half of the problem is stupid managers.

My manager came in this morning at about 7AM and started getting on my case, assigning me work and whatnot, that's technically her job.  I half-called her on her bullshit, only restraining myself because I was tired and I don't make very good judgement calls when I'm tired.

"Do you take care of the strepts?"

"I do, when I have time," I replied.  I was still sorting through a crapload of ER sheets.  Not only did we have a record number of patients during the overnight, but there was also a record high during the evening and day that lead up to that.  Naturally aside from dealing with the crazy amount of work that I'm responsible for, I also had to pick up after the previous shift.  As far as I'm concerned, I pulled off a double miracle: I managed to get my work done, and I managed to clean up after my colleague.  Before the end of my shift though my boss came in, and as usual, she was basically interrupting my miracle.

"Excuse me?"

"I do it," I repeated, more slowly, "when I have time."

"Excuse me?"

"I do it," I said once more... then I realized that she hadn't misheard me, but she was for some reason repeating her question for some sort of dramtic emphasis.  So, I matched in turn, slowly, for dramatic emphasis: "when I have time."

"You know these strepts are very important, right?"

"Yes, I know. But I have other things to do also."

"[Jinryu], these are important."

"Look, okay," I started, losing my patience. "[Jay] and I have been working nostop since we got in."

"There are two night clerks.  There is no excuse to not finish on time."

"I'm telling you, I've got other things to do as well.  When I get this done, I'll do them."

"Do you normally do them overnights?"

"I do, when I have time."

And after that I just chose to ignore her questions as if I was so caught up in my work that I couldn't hear her.

You may think that immature, but the reality of things falls under that golden general rule of upbringing that says "If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything."

The thing is, my entire department has once rallied to get my boss fired.  The coup d'etat failed because there wasn't enough dedication behind the rebellion.  As such, me even talking to my boss about anything is just a waste of my time.  The status is such: it's almost impossible to get her fired.  Conversely though, it's almost impossible for her to fire me.  So we arrive at a stalemate where really, we're just gathering up sticks and stones because nothing else will really do.

What I wanted to say was, look, bitch, don't talk to me about what [Jay] and I do and don't have time to do.  You haven't work the overnights in ten years, it's not the same setup since whenever you were coordinating.  The numbers speak for themselves-- we had 361 patients last night.  Normally, during the peak of winter (around January and February) those are the numbers.  That means that if trends continue from this baseline, we're looking at higher numbers this winter than any previous one.  I'm not making these predictions up-- I'm actually loosely paraphrasing what was discussed at an Emergency department physicians 'business' meeting that I attended, just to get a better idea of what's going on.  To put things in perspective, our department is theoretically optimized to handle something in about the low 200s, as far as patients go, taking into account the number of physicians, nursing and support staff availble.  The fact is that we're so overwhealmed that a fair double digit percentage of patients actually leave the hospital untreated, simply because they don't have time or patience to wait.

And she's you're going to tell me that "there's no excuse why two clerks shouldn't have time?"  Bitch, please.  Get the fuck out of my kitchen!  Do you realize that er sheet logouts alone that spilled over from the previous shift took me about two extra hours to do?  What about the MD labels? That took another forty minutes.  So on my standard 8 hour shift, you're going to start me off with a 2 hours and 40 minutes handicap, and then you're going to get on my case because I'm not done everything that I'm suppoesed to be done?  Lady, it is 7:15AM-- my shift has 45 minutes, and I will get that shit done, if and when I have time.  You are goddamn lucky that I'm cleaning up the EC's mess, and making sure that I take the time to do my job.

In fact, I managed to get all of my shit done before my 8AM (when my shift ended) so not only did I clean up someone elses' mess but I also finished my own tasks so that none of my stuff would spill over to the next shift.  And this is my NORMAL working pace-- this isn't me doing favors, this is just me seeing that X amount of stuff needs to be done, and calculating how much time I need to get it done.

AND I saved your sorry ass by working 3.5 hours of overtime.  Do you have any idea how precious this sleep is to me?  Whatever you're paying me for overtime, it's not worth it-- I'm doing this because I don't want you guys to be fucked, and I don't want you guys being fucked to trickle down to me for my next shift in less than 16 hours.

I'm going to be having dinner with Supergirl and, for the first time, her mom, who's visiting from Asia for the next little while.  I'm going to show up for this dinner already on half batteries because the maximum amount of sleep I will have before this dinner is probably 7 hours. It occurs to me that this year more than any previous year, I keep catching illnesses-- it's partly because it's ER, but also partly because this is a job that I throw myself into 100% and the lack of sleep, coupled with the stress of a terrible immovable boss, I think, is having a serious impact on my immune system.

Cry me a river?  Fuck you, boss.

I am pissed because I can't change my boss, because I like my job and I like working hard at it but I can't stand the shit I have to put up with politically.

As much as I like this job, I think I'm reaching that point as with previous jobs where I'm caring too much.  What follows is one of two options, neither of which I like-- either I burn out and stop caring, and do the job just like anyone else trying to earn their next paycheque.   I hate that, because I firmly believe that job satisfaction is very important-- it's of paramount importance that you believe in what you do, and have your spirit behind it.  But while philosophically I love what I do, logistically it's sometimes infuriating.

And the other option is to find a new job.

Perhaps things will be different when I wake up.

So, I was down in the CSR department, which is where we pick up odds and ends of medical supplies and instruments.

"That thing costs HOW MUCH?" [CSRGuy1] looked at the screen in disbelief.

"Man, that's ridiculous," says [CSRGuy2].

I look closer, and the two of them check the numbers to see if they're right.  "Mi-KEY Low Profile Gastrostomy Feeding Tube.  14FR." The thing is, the ordering system that we use for the CSR inventory and purchasing  was made probably back in the late 80s.  The system is 80 characters of ASCII text columns by 24 rows, and resembles more like an oldschool-style  "Holy shit! Y ou have a 2400 baud modem??" style bulletin board interface more than anything you'd expect of the age of Internet.

[CSRGuy1] opens up the package. "But you only need this part right?"

I nod.

"That's only like... 5% of this fucking thing.  What'll you do with the rest of it?"

"No clue," I shrug.

"Aww stop fucking making problems," says [CSRGuy2].  "It's the same piece. You get paid either way, what do you care?  Except that the one he brought is still fresh with someone's juice in it."

"Eww that's fucking gross!"

"Well, that's why he put it in a ziplock baggie, ain't that right?"

"Yep," I nod.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I should mention that for all the hype about H1N1, after actually catching it officially about a week and a half ago, I can now officially tell everyone to shut the fuck up.  I get all these people asking me all the time if I'm getting vaccinated, and I think it's bullshit.

In my opinion, you should take the vaccine if you're weak.  Beause those are the only people that the swine flu actually kills.  If you're over 70 years old? Maybe you should take that vaccine. Then again, maybe you should just be smart enough not to hole yourself up in rooms full of coughing people, and maybe you should wash your hands every now and then.

I caught swine flu, probably from working at the hospital, though really it's just as possible that I caught it out on the streets.  It really wasn't that big a deal.  I had it bad for about 2 days, when the fever and cough had me pretty weak.   But aside from that, it felt like a typical bronchitis (which is, in effect, often a secondary illness that comes out of the flu anyway, so it might actually have been bronchitis but I didn't bother to get tested).  Today, a bit over a week later, I'm feeling okay.  It really wasn't even as bad as some of the flus that I've had in the past.


Now, the healthcare system is being bogged down immeasurably by H1N1 because of media hype.  I'm not denying that perhaps this is a huge deal in Mexico, where many many people have died as a result of it.  But in most parts of North America, you have adaquate access to healthy food and liquids, and yeah, some plain old tylenol, to really just get through this without too much trouble.

Part of the problem with the way things are going though is that there's a lack of educational ressources for the general public.  People watch the news, hear about how another kid has kicked off because of the swine flu, and then (in Quebec) they call 811.  811 is the Info-Sante hotline (literally, "information-health" in French) which is where people call when they have basic health questions.  A nurse picks up on the other end and will suggest to you what to do based on their over-telephone diagnosis.

The problem is that 811 keeps telling people "go to the hospital, just to be sure."

The assumption is that nobody at 811 wants to be in a situation where they tell a parent to keep their kid at home and then the kid dies, and it all gets pinned back on 811.  So, to be on the 'safe side,' 811 refers their pediatric cases of fever-cough to our hospital.

This is a retarded course of action for several reasons.

First of all, our hospital does not do testing for H1N1.  So if you come up here with a fever and a cough, in most cases we're going to tell you to go home, take some acetemenophen and some cough supressant.  Stay hydrated.  We are NOT going to tell you to start taking Tammy Flu cocktails or whatever, because Swine Flu doesn't normally require anything but a week or so of rest and patience. And even if it were the case that you have swine flu, since we don't do swine flu testing here, we wouldn't know that, so we wouldn't give you anything special for it.

Secondly, swine flu doesn't kill people!! I know this isn't really a relevant reason but GOD.  Stop showing up for it!  Stop asking if your kid is going to die!  If you want an honest answer, yes, your kid WILL die, but probably not for another 80/90 years if he/she plays his cards right.

I guess the best reason though is that if you don't have swine flu, if you come to the hospital I can almost guarantee that you're going to catch it.  All it takes is one jackass in the room who doesn't listen when we tell them how to put on their masks, and then voila-- our entire waiting room is a cesspool of H1N1.  Need I mention all the other things that are present in the waiting room that aren't even flu related?

Basically, I'm of the opinion that you should almost never go to a hospital unless you're about to die, or have something that will kill you. Because if you don't have one of those two things, believe me, you will probably catch sometime of that fancy here.

Easy for me to say that of course. I mean, how does someone know what is and what isn't a life or death situation? And especially when our affliated educational healthcare infrastructural services ,like 811, as well as local media, give everyone the watered down 'dummyproof' edition of everything important?

That is actually the weakest link, and that's the problem with this situation.

-=-=-=-=-=-


I should also point out that last week, I infected [Supergirl] with my H1N1 as well.  At the time, neither of us knew it was what it was.  But I guess you can say it was a bonding experience.

She took it pretty well, and in her typical fashion, didn't get upset even after I told her, "Huh, the Occupational Health department just called, they made a mistake. I don't just have Influenza type A, apparently the differential test reveals that I have full blown H1N1."

She was like, "[Jinryuuu]!! >_< " But that was mostly it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The difference between us:

I was having dinner with [Misty], [SiB] and [Supergirl] last week and the subject came up of that trailer for that movie that'll be out soonish, The Box.

The basic premise of the box is as follow: a man shows up at your door with a box. Inside this box is a big red button.

If you push the button, you get a million dollars, but, somewhere, someone will die as a result of your button push.  Do you push it?

My question, which ran somewhat similarly to what [SiB] was thinking, was "... do I get to push the button more than once?"

At which point Misty just stared at me, and Supergirl hit me on the arm "Jinryu!! >_<"


I mean, seriously...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I think that one of the things that Supergirl brings to my life, and I can't mention this enough, is the stop and smell the roses sorta pace.  The entire week that she and I were sick, I stayed over at her place.   Our days consisted of lounging around her house, cooking, eating, talking, and sleeping in.

Despite that I had H1N1, I can say that it's perhaps one of the most relaxing 'vacations' I've ever had.

It's very different from with my previous girlfriend where the close quarters for a week straight of vacation, basically in eachothers' company for the vast majority of every day and night, are what did the relationship in and made me realize how we couldn't stay together.  With Supergirl on the otherhand, nothing went wrong, and if anything, it just demonstrated how easy it is just to be with her.

Things just seem so simple.

I have so little to write about when I'm with her because it all just seems natural and not noteworthy, in the way I suppose that no news is good news.

-=-=-=-=-=-

We had a lot of fun playing shuffleboard last week... but, I think that it's long overdue that we all head out to a karaoke joint, get drunk, and start singing.

"So... does that mean there's some sort of correlation between foster home kids and learning disabilities?" I asked.

"Seems like it," shrugged my sister, [Muy]. "I mean, a pretty good number of the students are foster kids.  At least in my classes."

She teaches in a special education highschool for kids with special needs, mostly reading related learning disabilities.

"Huh."

---

Later in the evening, I was over at a tenant's apartment, listening for over half an hour about why the jackass wouldn't sign the documents I'd brought him.

I'm all for being prudent about what it is that you're going to sign, and reading the fine print and all that, but for god's sakes-- say what you've got to say once and then let me get the fuck outta here.  I don't need to hear you trying to sound smart and responsible and all that.  A simple yes/no will do.  I've already done my pitch-- if you're not convinced, there's nothing more for us to say.  You're not going to convince me that I don't need your signature.  So why are we having this conversation?

Yet he persists in doing so.

The stupidity of the situation is that, really, it's in his best interests to sign this document.  What it basically pertains to is the water damage that the apartment suffered during a flood several weeks back.  By signing the paper, he's testifying that the insurance companies (ours, not his, since he doesn't have any) have repaired the place and done a good job, and that he can't ask for anything more out of this.  He claims that this is between the insurance companies and my family, which is true-- but the insurance companies basically want a receipt of sorts.  We (my family) covered the apartment's repairs with our own insurance; the alternative was that the tenant pay for all the repairs and temporary relocation himself out of his own pocket, since he doesn't have insurance.

If he doesn't sign, he'll have to foot a bill of around three thousand dollars. If he signs, it's all taken care of.

He doesn't want to sign because he wants to negotiate the terms of that paper. Which is ridiculous and tedious and a waste of everyone's time-- what he's doing is trying to bargain for little bonuses now that the apartment is being redesigned. Like, why not add this or that while we're at it, and charge it to the insurance company or whatever...?

So he spends a good amount of time pitching his story at me.

I think that because I'm often polite, and because I'm often asked by my parents to handle landlord/tennant operations for the properties we own, and I put on a good game face, people sometimes are under the misguided imperssion that I give a flying fuck about their problems.  I don't.  And it's not that the tenants are bad people prima facie-- but they're trying to use me.  Our relationship is strictly business-- if I'm at your door, it's because there are issues that need resolving, usually because of something that you've done bad.  You are not in a position to negotiate.

I don't like it when people try to con me or convince me or to play me.  I find it disrespectful.  I'm used to disrespect I suppose-- there's not much you can teach me about eating disrespect, considering I work in healthcare-- but I take special offense at people wasting my time.

Do people do this kinda thing on purpose?

At what point are people mature enough to just realize that this is just a royal waste of time, and we shouldn't even bother?

---

Everytime I go home to my parents' place, I find that it's harder and harder to get along with my dad.  Forced retirement isn't really setting well with him. I mean, it's a step up from slaving away at his old job at his age, but, I think it's not just the job or the retirement-- I think my dad is just becoming more and more grouchy as a person.  He's on a much shorter temper nowadays and I can break through to him with empathy or sympathy or whatever.  The only way I can get him to stop when he gets on a ranting rampage is to get pissed off at him; it's almost as if it's the only language he understands nowadays when I see him.

It saddens me a lot.  I'm trying to really talk to him about it, but he's reflexively dismissive of those kinds of talks, since he and I were never really very close throughout the last few years.

I can see the strain that it's putting on the relationship between my mom and my dad, and it kinda bothers me, but... what am I supposed to do?

It's not my job to make my dad happy.   I'm leaving as many opportunities in front of him as I know how, but I can't make him step through any open doors.

The fact is, I respect my family a lot for all they've accomplished, and all they've done for my sister and I.  But, I wouldn't run a family the way that they do.

I have this list of things to do in life.  It's hard to say exactly what's on this list because sometimes I forget about something on it and then don't remember about a particular goal for a couple of months, maybe even years.  But the list is made up of some of the most random shit ever.  How things make it onto the list isn't a consistent affair either.

When I was younger, I decided at some point that I wanted to write a novel.  So that's on the list. That's not quite done yet.  I have tried: started perhaps 8 times, gotten a fair amount of writing done on each project, but I've never been able to really finish anything.  Hello Nanowrimo again this year: see you all in the loser's circle!

But there's stranger stuff on this bucket list than that.  One of them was to "own cufflinks," and that goal comes out of nothing but consumer whorism.  Basically, the only reason that cufflinks are on the list is specifically because cufflinks, to me, represent something truly useless.  Modern shirts have buttons. Much more convenient. I suppose they look pretty spiffy (which is something I say nowadays in retrospect) but when i first decided I wanted cufflinks, they were symbolic-- symbollic of me finally having cash to burn on something absolutely frivolous.  So, I bought cufflinks one day while I was in South Korea.  It was hardly a momentus occasion-- I ordered a set on Gmarket, and it came with a matching tie clip.  The whole set cost me less than 8000won at the time (less than 8 dollars canadian today).  Spending pocket change like that is hardly some sorta indication of living life in the fast lane.  But, I did spend almost a hundred bucks on a British made silk shirt, that is, essentially, 'black'.  So in terms of the essence of that goal, which was be at a point in my life where I to waste money and be able to afford it,

Another goal that came out of my childhood was to own my own martial arts school.  That came out of watching Ranma 1/2 as a kid-- I wanted to start up my own school of "Anything Goes Martial Arts."  Well, I never exactly became a grandmaster of anything, but I did study a fair number of different techniques over the years and although I wouldn't say that MAC was my school, Numac certainly came close. It wasn't so much that I wanted to be a grandmaster-- although that would've been nice-- it was that as a kid, I liked the Saotome lifestyle.  It was madness.  Everyday you'd have to fight someone different and with a different set of rules and techniques, everyday you had to be on top of your game.  And the only way to make it through another day was because along the line, you'd made rivals who turned out to be friends who likewise liked the lifestyle of a martial artist: blood, sweat, tears.  Even though Numac wasn't a school, it fit the bill of that childhood dream of opening up a place where people could be in a situation for that kind of dedication, and those kinds of memories.  The kind of stuff that makes men out of boys, or at least, decanters the boys out of the room.

What I'm getting at is that a lot of the times, when you come up with a goal, you've got this specific way that you want the dream to be, but sometimes you achieve it and you actually don't notice.  The fact that you got there might be the essence is right there, and that's the feeling, that's the certain je ne sais quoi that you've been hunting all along, but perhaps you overlooked the success of it all because the packaging isn't exactly like the dream you imagined.

I have some other goals, and one of them was to be in a action hero moment where I'd have a damsel in one arm, and a gun in another.  In case you remember the days of NES, you might recognize this image very clearly as the cover of an unlicensed NES title called Rolling Thunder:

Yeah, that's pretty much what the dream looked like.  Not so much that the damsel was dead. That's not the goal.  But-- I suppose, to have someone to protect.

And no, I haven't purchased/stumbled upon a laser gun, but, last night, I did have a dream that myself and two friends were fighting 'the good fight.'  I can't remember exactly what it was we were fighting for, but I know that, as per usual, the situation involved ninjas, and lots of them.  I, in this particular situation, wasn't using my martial arts prowess in this particular dream-- this time, I seemed to have myself an Auto-9 (Robocop's gun) and I was shooting the crap out of anything that got close.

At some point, we needed to run up the side of a skyscraper to make dustoff on the roof helipad (although why you'd need a helicopter if you were capable of running up the side of a skyscraper, don't ask me).  My buddies yelled: "Let's go!"

And all of a sudden, [Supergirl] materialized in one of my arms.  I couldn't run up the side of the building.  And the reason why was because in the real world, she was lying in bed next to me, in one of my arms.  I had her close.  She'd just stirred in my sleep and half brought me out of my dream in the process.

Somehow my dream consciouness decided to remember this and at that very moment, I couldn't wake her.  I decided at the same time that I wasn't going to abandon her.

"You guys get in the chopper!  I'll catch up!"  They didn't question me, so I stayed there in the midst of the mob and continued to shoot ninjas like nobody's business.





And yeah, to answer your question, I felt awesome, as one always does when you get that few 'n far between feeling that somewhere in life as you are, you're where you're supposed to be, doing what you wanted to do.