Wherein I Become a Nurse

I had a vivid dream last night that I was a RN at this very busy hospital. My first job was to get this transient-looking guy prepped for an organ transplant. Unfortunately, I lost him--I mean, like I couldn't find him. He ran down the escalator and out of the doors. In the dream, I remember thinking, "Of course I'm a nurse! Why didn't I think about this career before? I love nursing!" But then I woke up and remember my days as a volunteer candy striper and how most of the time, we just did things like carry sputum or shit samples to the lab in clear plastic vials. I'm sure that nurses do other things, but don't they also have to clean up vomit and take swabs of icky things and see people feeling bad. I think in my dream, I also realized that I was in the ob/gyn track. I'm sure that all of this is a deep psychological response to the fact that I now know of three women younger than me who are all three months pregnant and having their babies in August. So, "nursing" might have multiple connotations. It's fine. I'm TOTALLY fine with it!!!!!!!!!

I also dreamed that I was teaching my writing class and I said something very snide (not a big stretch), and one of the students got really offended (a girl from a previous class, not the current one. She's very nice and mild-mannered in real life, so she would've never reacted in real life the way she did in the dream). And then, I dreamed that Dan was giving a yoga massage to a guy I had a crush on in high school. I don't know what a yoga massage is exactly, but don't worry, the dream didn't progress beyond light petting.

In my art history class on Tuesday, I learned a lot of stuff about the Muslim faith and the architecture of mosques, none of which I have retained. Mostly in class, I write notes about my other classmates, one of which is a very boyish-looking young girl who always falls asleep in class. But then, I had a disconcerting moment where she appeared to be taking a picture of me from across the room with her camera phone. Did I make that up? It might have just been something in my life of vision, like this other woman's funky water bottle, but it made me feel invaded (even as I was writing about her in my journal). I might do my final project on the French performance artist/photographer/writer/feminist, Sophie Calle. Can't decide. I'm going to check out some books on her from the Fine Arts Museum later today. Here are a few examples of her work. When I have some more time, I'll try to detail the kind of pieces she creates. Really interactive and interesting, though you might not be able to tell that just from these photos.




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