To dance or not to dance

I don't dance.

I cringe inwardly when people ask me if I dance.

For one, it's awkward. For two, I cannot even picture myself cavorting on the dance floor, as if I do not have a care in the world.  It makes me blush merely thinking about it.

But of course today I was asked that cringe worthy question by none other than the individual who inspired me to start this blog (see my first ever entry: "How to Dissaude a Pursuer")

For the last few months, I've been bumping into this guy repeatedly when I've gone to the library to study. It's still pretty awkward when I see him, I'll be honest. But I overcompensate for awkward moments by talking non stop. Maybe it'd work better if I just sat there. In silence.

His dog has cancer though, so he comes in to the vet clinic a lot to get her pain medication. And I talk about (what else) Biology and how nicely the semester is progressing.

But then....then he asks:

"Do you ever go dancing?"

Maybe he saw my inner cringing. Or my face turning red. Or maybe I made a face. In any event, I explained that no, I do not dance. It's been long suggested to me that I need to get out there and do it, but try as I might, stepping that far out of my comfort zone is, in a word, IMPOSSIBLE.

Perhaps at this points he suspects that I am suspecting that he is asking me out, so he restates himself and says:

"We could go dancing in Boulder. As friends of course"

Why of course! Friends!

I feel that if you have to include the term "just friends" as part of your speech, then the opposite is true.

I'm just not the dancing type.

About a boy: part two

Another slow day in the emergency department.

Thirty minutes before my shift was scheduled to end, we finally got a patient. As the poor woman is retching and suffering from vertigo, I quickly become aware that there is a man staring at me. I glance at him, at his EMS clothing and go back to assisting the woman.

We're in small room, there's not a whole lot of people save the patient, her friend, the nurse, me and....this weird bearded guy who is obviously keeping an eye on me.

Wait.

Blue dickies. White polo shirt. Student badge.

Return of the EMT student. (If you're confused, read my post from 09/25/10)



In my mind, this is all I could see

Except he has a beard. And I don't mean a beard, because most beards are okay in my book. What I mean is a BEARD. Like a "I haven't shaved in two decades" beard. As in "I can grow massive facial hair" beard. As in "whoa, I don't even recognize you" beard. If he were a fugitive on the run, it's a safe bet he'd get away with the crime.

In between our patient lying on the bed, shaking and retching and all sorts of glorious things, he oh so carefully says "hey how are ya?" and puts his hand on my back to "get around me", but really folks, there was no reason for touching my back unless.....he was trying to give me that dumb boy/girl thing of "I am aware of your existence but am trying to not show it too much"

All I can see though is his beard.

Let's just say.....it made it pretty easy to not make a fool out of myself this time. We conversed for a bit, had a nice chat about how we've been (pretty strange catching up with a virtual stranger), but he did ask me:
"Did you lighten your hair? It looks really nice"

Thanks to that beard, there was no more tachycardia, no more feeling flummoxed, no more blunders.

I win.

:)

Only human

How I look today. Right now. Spitting image of a man, yes?

Take a look at the above picture. Do I look to you that I might perhaps be a man? A boy? A guy?

I did two things today that I do not often do. I wore my glasses and pulled my hair back into a bun. I know it's not the most attractive thing for a young woman to do, but hey, I was only going out to study and run a few errands, not go on a photo shoot.

Walking into the post office, an elderly but spry man holds the door open for me, I thank him and he says:

"Sneak right in there. That's what you're supposed to do for girls."


*pause*


"You are a girl, aren't you?"

Whoa. Thoughts? Comments? Anyone?

Blondes have more fun



Before



After



I used to be a brunette. Earlier this summer, I highlighted my hair for the first time ever, and the result was mostly brunette with some blonde. Then late September, I decided to get a "few more highlights" and my stylist, on a crazy hair coloring spree decided to make my once dark brown locks just about all blonde. Initially, I was NOT pleased. No, in fact I was this close to dying my hair back to my original color. But, being that I had just spent a reasonable amount of money on my hair, I decided to ride it out, and see what happens.



                        

A month ago, before I "re-dyed" my hair, a classmate from my biology approached me looking confused and asked "Have you been here the entire time?" 'Entire time' meaning, "have you been in this class the whole month it's been in session?" Confirmation enough that I was quite un-noticeable to the general public. I'm not one to make a scene in class anyway; all I do is go to class to learn and leave with my noggin full of knowledge.

Fast forward, I get my hair re-done and I feel like the world's biggest idiot. I'm nothing short of hating my hair and feeling terribly self conscious, as if I am prone to the entire world noticing, pointing, staring and mocking me. (My imagination runs deep)

Going to class, the girls that I usually study with say nothing. In fact, no one in class says...anything. Sweet relief! Maybe it's not that noticeable! 

Except the following week, the classmate who was not even aware of my existence shyly approaches me, looks at me and right before he speaks I internally freak out wondering what sort of comment he'll make. Instead, he says:

"I just....I just wanted you to know that I really like your highlights. I just didn't say anything because I thought you'd think that I was weird"

Aww.

And then earlier this week, as our class is doing a science experiment, Mr. Biology approaches me again, with the same look on his face. He asks me what my group is doing, I tell him and he says "know what my group is talking about?" I inquire and giggling he says "Lesbians!!!"

*SILENCE*

And then today....

Mr. Biology approaches me after class and says "what's your name?" We make introductions, with him initially giving me a fake name. We begin walking down the hall together and he asks:

"Are you yourself?"

(Folks, I am proud to announce that indeed, I am myself!!!!)

He quickly rephrases his question and asks "Are you married?"

After I respond with "no" he then proceeds to ask me if he can "walk me to the nearest exit"

I accept, and we get to talking. He asks me if I'm ready for our upcoming Biology exam. I respond with the typical "no way" response.

He says "well.....the people I sit next to in the back dared me to ask you to study with me"

(Let's pause here, for just a moment. Are we teenagers again, or are we in our twenties? I remember hearing about dares and what not when I was much, much younger. But here? Now? In 2010?)

Giggling, he makes his way through the conversation.

Sensing his nervousness, I take advantage and ask him what made him speak to me in the first place. First he looks around. Then he looks down at the ground and then at long last he says "I think you're really cute. And I really like your hair. The first time I saw it, I was like 'wow'. But I also like looking at your face. And I really like looking at the back of your head. You have a nice back of your head. (He sits waaaay behind me in class)

As our conversation progresses, he asks me where I was born. I respond and ask him the same. He tells me a story about how he was born in his living room with....bridesmaids all around assisting in the birth.

Bridesmaids?

He corrects himself with the term "midwives", yet as he shares the story of his birth, he continues to revert back to the term bridesmaids.

I tell him I have a friend who is studying to be a midwife. I explain how part of their training is that they get to "see births". As I go on in my explanation I realize that he is giving me a blank stare. And why is this, you may ask? He thought I was talking about "sea births" Sea, as in the ocean.

All in all, it provided a comical conversation as we talked about muffins, people watching, hiking, studying, Biology, nursing school, the arts and of course, bridesmaids....err midwives.

As he left, he told me looks forward to Monday and to "seeing my head"

I think I like being a blonde.






About a boy

I met a nice guy today at the hospital. Nice as in, attractive. There I was, having a ho hum kind of morning, the ED was as slow as all get out, and I was staring blankly at my computer screen. I notice a car drive by, park, and in walks this guy with a stethoscope draped around his neck, white polo top tucked into blue Dickie's. Wait. That outfit is familiar....it's a EMT clinical uniform.

So, he walks in and introduces himself. We make small talk and I casually let it slide in that "hey, I'm an EMT. And not only that, I'm IV certified" thus upping my cool factor.

The day goes by, the ED is slow, and we make small talk on and off most of the day. The more we talk, the more I think to myself "hey, this guy is kinda cute" but alas, when that thought crosses my mind, I am then officially unable to act like a cool, or normal human being. Out the door goes suave Sarah and in walks Sarah the walking, talking, awkward specimen of a woman.

I'd say though that I kept my cool while we talked....or flirted (according to my co-workers). But as we were discussing vital signs, a Nurse told him to go check his own vitals with one of those machines you get hooked up to in a hospital.

I tag along, and we finally get his pulse oximetry level and pulse rate displayed on the screen. A cool 90% pulse ox level and a nice 50 beats per minute heart rate. The nurse walks in, we get her vitals, and she too is in the normal range. Sensing that it could soon be my turn, I go to leave the room because I hate having my vitals taken by an attractive male. But then he says "Hey Sarah! Let's see yours!!"

Minutes later, my vitals are on the screen.


Pulse ox: 98% Good.
Heart rate: 130. WHAT?!? NO!!! SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG!! IT MUST BE BROKEN!!!

Maybe the machine was malfunctioning. Maybe I was that tachycardic. Maybe I can't function normally around attractive males. And you know what he says? "Maybe Betty (the nurse) makes you nervous"

Ack.

After that awkward dilemma, we talk some more, I help him print out some stuff, he tells me I'm cool, blah blah blah, and then comes time for him to leave.

Last time for a good impression.

I'm standing there, being cool with some co-workers. He walks up, and says that it was nice to meet me and that he'll "see me soon"

He will? 

Out of all the normal, cool person responses one could think up, I instead come off as a major loser.

I say: "When?" but according to the laughs of my co workers, it came across more like:
"WHEN?!??!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" 

Fail. 


He said he'd be back for a second clinical next month, so maybe, just maybe I'll have a chance to redeem myself. But maybe not.

 

Epistaxis

The past three days, I've had a bloody nose. But the term "bloody nose" does not even begin to describe the amount of blood loss that I have undergone. Suffice it to say, it looks like my home has undergone a small massacre.

So, I went to the doctor today. And, the diagnosis was: my nose is "fried"

My jovial practitioner thus prescribed me some nose spray and.....KY Jelly.

He made it into a joke, and wrote on the tube:
Not for internal use, and told me that I'm "bound to get married some day"

?!?
Oh, awkward.

Thyroid Transplant!

Text  message convesation with a friend:

Me: I think my thyroid is on the fritz again
Friend: You should get a new one
Me: Thryoid transplant....yes!
Friend: How much is that usually?
Me: Impossible actually...
Friend: Oh. I knew that.

:)