Sunday, January 30, 2011

Gazing in the Hobbit Pool

Listening to: the Stone Roses - Self Titled
Reading: Barrel Fever - David Sedaris

On the advent of Chip calling me an emotional hypochondriac, Heidi saying that I "put it out there", and the fact that I vent on facebook, I think I'm just gonna start blogging again. If I can't talk out my frustrations, maybe I can just write them.

Anyways, I'm having big time problems at work. I feel that I'm intentionally combative, and really have no filter on my mouth anymore. I'm a little worried that I'm subconsciously trying to get in trouble (since I can't quit, I might as intentionally self-destruct), and I don't think that's super healthy. Both of these factors make me feel like my mother, who I always viewed as a problem employee. I dunno, after 12ish years at Not My Hospital, and the fact that I'm burned out, I think entitles me to feeling burned out. Case in point what happened this morning:

Matt: "Hey, I have a critical calcium to report."

Dr. R: "Okay, go ahead, but I'm not caring for this patient."

Matt: "According to the computer you are, so that's why you're getting the call."

Dr. R: "I understand but they're standing orders."

(at this point, it's a clinical problem, because doctors either, a. need to stop ordering timed tests or b. the nurses need to order each test but both are too lazy to fix it)

Dr. R: "You need to call the SICU resident. Just type in the pager S ... I ..."

Matt: "Thanks, I got it. I'm not dumb, doctor."

Dr. R: "That's not what I'm saying, I ..."

Matt: "Forget it. I'll call the nurse. Thanks."

When these things happen, I can't help but think that this is my life. This is what has become of me, taking shit like this, daily, from people who will now start to become younger than me. It's a bitter pill to swallow when your greatest disappointment, in life, is yourself. I don't know how to fix that. I don't know how to get over it. I certainly don't know how to forgive it. Well, on the plus side, I didn't slam the phone down ... I just said "BITCH!", played some Trey Anastasio, and went back to reading my Peter S. Beagle book. The easy answer is to just quit. But then quit and do what? I really feel that I have 0 skills, other than bitterness, cynicism, and being a smart ass. Oh, sure, I can talk up music, books, movies and shit ... but really, where does that lead to?

Well, I've also decided if that I'm going to kvetch, then I'm also going to talk about something positive. Peter S. Beagle is really great ... I dunno how I missed reading him in my youth. It's too bad a lot of his stuff is out of print. I'm also a little bummed that, apparently, the library has lost their ONE copy of Peter David's Howling Mad. Maybe I can get it used on Amazon someday.

We went to team Russian's to celebrate Kimmy's 40th birthday, and to see the baby. That was pretty great, and I had a lot of fun. I was sitting here thinking about it this morning, and Russian really pulled of a Mushmouth Cahan, really planning that shit down to every detail ... in retrospect, I thought it was pretty funny. Good for them.